#I should have waited LONGER to read these books so the third one would be out!

[cottonlemonade]

A Night In The Country

word count: 3626 || avg. reading time: 15 mins.

pairing: University AU!Sakusa x chubby!Reader

genre: fluff with a pinch of spice

warnings: mdni

request: medium custom peach lemonade for Sakusa!♡ Custom: You thought your crush was one-sided little did you know... || fluffy-spicy, getting stranded with seemingly one-sided crush Sakusa

Sakusa leaned back in his seat. His long legs elegantly crossed, he took a sip of his iced hazelnut americano, tapping and scrolling aimlessly on his phone, his mask tucked neatly under his chin.

The lecture hall was filling slowly and the chatter of the dozen or so students that already waited just like him was quietly buzzing in the air.

Sakusa didn’t pay much attention to any of it. He already scanned the room and saw that you hadn’t arrived yet.

But only a moment later, his shoulders tensed slightly when your voice wafted over to him, like the sweet smell of a craving he’d had. He didn’t turn around but he angled his phone a little to catch your reflection. You were laughing with a friend as you walked down the steps, trying to decide where to sit. He was lucky today. You shuffled through the benches behind him and settled a few seats away.

“So it’s not gonna be fixed in time?”, he heard your friend ask somberly.

“I mean, it could be probably, but I don’t have the money right now. New brakes are so expensive, I’ll have to at least pull two extra shifts at the store to afford them. I was looking into some buses but because we live so far out there is no direct route and I’d arrive at the station some time after midnight and then would have to wait until morning for another bus and yeah… I’ll make it work somehow, but it sucks.”

“And asking your parents to chip in for a taxi?”

“Nah, that defeats the whole purpose of a surprise.”, you replied with a sigh, “Plus I don’t think they have any signal at their cabin so they couldn’t even send it until they get back on the road home.”

“Maybe I could ask my brother to take you?”, the friend offered.

He listened to you ponder. The thought of you spending possibly a couple of hours with some other guy alone in a car was unacceptable.

“I can drive you.”, he heard himself saying.

“Hm?” Both girls looked at him when he turned in his seat, casually waving with his coffee, the ice cubes rattling softly as he did.

“I can drive you.”, he repeated, “I was planning to drive home tonight anyway (lie), so it wouldn’t be a problem to take you. You live close to Nakagawa, right? I have to head in that direction, too (lie), so it wouldn’t be too far out of my way (lie).”

“Uhm. Are you sure?“ You only ever talked to Sakusa for questions on notes or when you were too short to get a book down from a shelf at the library. You definitely weren‘t close enough that you would have felt comfortable asking him for a ride.

“Yeah, no problem. I have training tonight but it ends around 8 if that‘s not too late for you.“

“No! 8 is perfect! Thank you so much!“

You checked the clock on your phone for the third time in as many minutes. You looked around, grabbing the handle of your old travel bag with both hands and rolling back and forth on your feet.

It wasn‘t quite dark yet but the parking lot next to the gym was already illuminated by street lamps. The sky was a pretty blueish gray and the cicadas were busy telling the world that summer was not over yet.

You smoothed out your linen shorts and adjusted the tuck of your shirt. Deciding on an outfit appropriate for a road trip had taken way longer than it should have. Especially since Sakusa was only doing you a favor. It didn’t mean anything so there was no reason to overthink it.

Of course, it was unsurprising that you found him attractive. Half the class was crushing on the anti-social volleyball star and the other half was just slightly better at hiding it.

But when you spotted him in the group spilling from the opening gym doors a few minutes later, your heart stumbled despite your better judgment. Sakusa split from his teammates walking towards the bus stop and lengthened his stride when he saw you.

“Hey, did you wait long?”, he asked and led you towards a sleek black car that most likely cost more than your tuition. You shook your head No as he clicked a button on his car keys to open the trunk, neatly placing his gym bag inside and reaching out his hand to get yours as well.

Somehow, even though freshly laundered, your clothes looked dirty next to his. Aside from the questionable neon yellow and green of his old training jacket, flung onto the backseat, he looked like he was ready to go to a dinner party. His hair was still damp from the post-training shower (his teammates had shrieked in surprise when he joined them for the first time ever in “those germ-infested stalls“) and the car quickly filled with the refreshingly cool smell of his shower gel. It made you feel cozy and light-headed at the same time. It had you imagine for a split second, how Sakusa would take you for a ride after training to grab some late night ice cream and watch the city lights dance on the river while holding hands and talking in his car. The sudden rumbling of the engine pulled you out of your little daydream and you also may have forgotten to breathe when his hand came up to hold the back of your seat as he turned to reverse out of the parking lot. This was going to be a long drive.

Sakusa kept one hand on the steering wheel, the other was propped against his temple, his elbow resting on the door. The road was smooth and barely traveled once you got out of Tokyo traffic. Nakagawa was about two and a half hours south and according to his GPS your house was another 20 minutes further out. All throughout training he had tried to listen in on casual conversations his team members had with each other to get some kind of indication what smalltalk he could bring up but it was mostly concerning volleyball or workout routines or an extensive ranking of protein shake flavors - not much he could use with you.

“Cow.“, he said, pointing out the window to a ruminant-shaped blob that practically blended into the meadow with how dark it had gotten by now.

You followed his eyes and confirmed it was indeed a cow, then smiled politely and went back to selecting music on your phone.

Sakusa felt like an idiot. You lived in a rural town. Cows were nothing novel to you. So back to square one.

He tried a few different approaches.

“Are you reading anything currently?”

And thinking he wouldn’t exactly be interested in the fantasy romance series that was splashed all over your social media, you just shook your head.

Meanwhile, Sakusa didn’t want to readily admit that he had picked up the books after the fourth time you posted about them and even less that he genuinely enjoyed the story. He pursed his lips and just kept his eyes on the road.

“What does your family do?”, he’d ask a few minutes later.

“They’re apple farmers. They also make everything from cider to wine to applesauce.”

He nodded, trying to find an angle to keep you talking.

You on the other hand didn't want to “bore” him with anecdotes about what it was like growing up on a farm. So you fell silent once more.

Sakusa wondered if he was doing something wrong. Usually, when he snatched a seat near you in the lecture halls, you were very talkative and could easily hold a conversation - in most cases ending your stories on a completely different topic than where you started. It was one of your most ridiculously entertaining and endearing qualities that made him notice you in the first place. Who, after all, could ignore a girl that talked knowledgeably about autapomorphies of any given taxon and then wondered in her next breath if crocodiles had a concept of friendship.

“Do you… like food?”, he asked and resisted the urge to bonk his head on the steering wheel. He had meant to be a lot more specific but it worked!

You had frowned at him for a moment, then chuckled, then laughed and said, “Yes, I do enjoy food. How about you?”

“Half an hour to go.”, he informed you when he turned off onto a bumpy dirt road between two rice paddies. The past hour he had talked and laughed more than he had all semester and even though his voice was getting hoarse, he was disappointed that the drive was nearing its end. Sakusa winced when he hit a pothole in his attempt to miss another. The car shook. It really wasn’t meant for off-roading, but it soldiered on. Until it didn’t.

After a couple more hits from rocks and uneven terrain, the engine sputtered and then stopped.

“Huh.” Sakusa turned the key in the ignition once, twice but never got more than a - described generously - weak little stutter.

“I’m so sorry.”, you said earnestly, but at the same time tried to suppress a snort at his incredulous expression.

“It’ll be fine.” He plucked his phone from the holder on the console and began searching for car workshops nearby.

You waited patiently for the realization to hit.

“Oh.”

And there it was.

“Should have figured that there are no 24h auto shops in the countryside.”

“Sorry to disappoint.”

You two looked at each other, then broke into laughter, still giddy from your pre-pothole conversations.

“Looks like we’re walking.”

With a flourish, you opened the door and got out.

“Walking?” He followed your example and met you at the trunk.

“Yup!” Your village-born “get to work” attitude sprung to life when you waited for him to push the button so you could retrieve your bag, “We’re only a few minutes out of Nakagawa. We can walk there and ask for help. And if all else fails, we can at least find a place to spend the night.”

Spend the night? Sakusa felt his heart stop and then pump hard to make up for lost time.

You shouldered your bag and grinned.

“Let’s go!”

Holding your phones aloft to illuminate the pitch dark a little, you hiked along the dirt road, always switching between checking your next steps and zeroing in on the few town lights that dappled the not too distant horizon. You picked up the conversation where you left off and learned about his high school years and the team he used to play with. You yourself were part of the archery club at university and had played a bit of softball in high school. Sakusa was asking question after question, feeling relaxed whenever you talked for a long time. He listened intently as you recounted key moments from your childhood and the one softball tournament you played in your first year, how you got hit in the face by a curveball once and then decided that maybe a different sport would be more suited for you.

“Oh, don’t you wanna call your folks?”, you asked suddenly, when the dirt road finally turned to asphalt and a large sign announced the entrance of Nakagawa.

In the dim cone of light from your phone you saw him frown.

“Why?”

“Cause you said you were headed my way today to go home. They must be worried sick by now.”

“Oh.”, he averted his eyes and felt his ears burn in embarrassment. “No, they’re not.”

“Hmm, I bet they are.”, you smiled, then obviously got an idea, “Oh! Maybe they can come pick you up! Where do they live?”

“Aoyama.”, he said it innocently and quickly as if ripping off a bandaid.

“Ao- wait, isn’t that in Shibuya?”

“Uh huh.” He walked past you, reaching the still surprisingly lively main road of town, feigning interest in a pub to his left.

“That’s the north of Tokyo.”, you noted.

“Yes.”, he agreed simply.

Your stomach flipped. Of course you didn’t want to assume anything but if his behavior tonight was any indication then…

He turned around, ripping you from your thoughts. “We should find a place to sleep first.”, he said, typing on his phone, “And then we can grab something to eat.”

“Right.”, you said, still wondering if the puzzle pieces in your head fit together or if you were just delusional.

“Seems like it’ll be difficult to find two single rooms on such short notice.”, he muttered, scrolling, then standing next to you so you could check the screen as well.

“These are all double beds.”, you so keenly observed.

“Right.”, he said slowly. Your proximity made his head swim. “Then we should probably look somewhere else.”

“Right.”, you agreed, clearing your throat.

“Or we could book two double bedrooms.”, he suggested, his calm tone not matching the excited panic rising his chest at all. Sakusa really hoped you would say No.

Being quite a bit taller allowed him the privilege to have you look up at him with your big (e/c) eyes.

“That seems reasonable…”

Were you disappointed? He searched your face for any hint. You were fairly open about your feelings, carrying your thoughts on the tip of your tongue and heart on your sleeve. It was another entrancing quality he felt himself drawn to.

He didn’t want to be the pervert who pushed for sleeping in one bed. You might end up thinking he tricked you somehow.

“But-“, you began, biting your lip for a moment before continuing, “maybe it’ll be okay to share for one night?”

“Right…”

“Just if it’s alright with you.”, you hastily added.

An image formed in his mind. He was sitting on a freshly made bed, when the door to the bathroom opened and you stepped out enveloped in a cloud of steam. A towel would be tightly wrapped around you, not quite big enough to cover your curves - a slid on the side teasing more of your plush thigh. You’d sit down next to him, applying lotion to your legs and he’d be mesmerized by the little water drops still clinging to your skin. In his head you’d ask if he could help you with the lotion because you were worried your towel would slip and he was nothing if not helpful.

Back in reality he tore himself away from staring at your reddening cheeks and his finger hovered over the booking button.

“Y/n-chan?!” A booming voice from up ahead made you two look up.

A woman with a graying perm stuffed under a bright green bandana came up to you with determined steps, a wide smile on her face and she embraced you without hesitation.

“In town for your mom’s birthday, I guess? You’ve certainly grown a lot. Must be all that good food in Tokyo. You look more like your parents every day. I remember when you were still that round-faced little thing stealing strawberries from my garden!”, she tsk’ed her tongue playfully, “Is your brother coming, too? Haven’t seen him in a while as well, but that’s to be expected when he is always so busy. But you should make time for family at least. - And who do we have here? My, my. I don’t know the last time you brought a boyfriend home but he is certainly a handsome one, isn’t he? What’s your name?”

You didn’t even know where to start, feeling like most of her questions were rhetorical. And although you definitely wanted to tell her that Sakusa was certainly not your boyfriend, you also knew that that would bring on a whole new wave of interrogations.

“Sakusa Kyoomi.”, he just said with a deep bow and an even deeper blush on his ears which the night and warm lights from the surrounding restaurants gratefully hid.

Maybe he also figured it would be easier to just play along, you thought.

Meanwhile, Sakusa was just happy someone put the idea in your head.

The woman was only about half his height and took her time taking in every inch of his appearance, no doubt making mental notes to tell all her friends about it first thing tomorrow.

Your situation was quickly explained and the friendly neighbor just waved it off.

“Don’t worry, dearies. I can take you home, no problem. The truck’s this way.” You exchanged a look with Sakusa who just kind of stood there, unsure of what to do. “Well, come on, you two. No one is getting any younger here.”

The beige banged up pickup was only a few hundred meters away. The back was stacked full of large baskets holding different vegetables.

“Don’t mind ol’ Momo, but I think you two have to squeeze in the back.”

“Ol’ Momo” was a giant white Akita snoozing on the passenger seat. He lifted his head when they opened the doors and only gave a deep tired woof as a greeting, his tail wagging lazily when the women scooted in next to him behind the wheel.

Sakusa tried his hardest not to touch anything. The backseat was covered in dust and sand and housed more big plastic colanders with precariously stacked daikons, still dirty from the field’s soil. If the car wasn’t his worst nightmare he would have greatly enjoyed having you so close to him. Your thigh was pressed against his and he had flashbacks to his little daydream excursion from earlier. He was still pretty disappointed that he was robbed of the opportunity, however miniscule his chance with you might have been in the first place.

Off the truck went. Of course more dirt roads meant more potholes but unlike his fancy city car the sturdy little pickup truck had no problems trundling along. Apparently in no need of an actual conversation partner, the neighbor just kept on talking, bringing you up to speed on how her fields were doing, what her sons were up to and gave an exact play by play of how her husband managed to strike a bargain on new seeds for the following year. You nodded politely or asked an occasional question to keep her attention away from Sakusa, while he watched you being thrown around like a ragdoll during more turbulent road maneuvers. He at least had the luxury to hang on for dear life on the grab handle above the car window. You, sitting in the middle of the backseat with a non-functioning seatbelt, either dealt with your bumpy fate or tried to steady yourself elsewhere. The truck’s cabin jumbled again and you jerked forward, barely holding onto the back of the driver’s seat. His arm shot out almost automatically to wrap around your waist, pulling you back to him.

“Thank you.”, you murmured so the woman wouldn’t hear, “I’m sorry, I know you hate touching people.”

“I don’t mind.”, he replied.

Your eyes grew to the size of dinner plates when he unhurriedly let you go and looked out the window into the pitch blackness of the country night. Sakusa had forgotten how dark it could get without the constant neon lights of the city. In the reflection of the window he still saw you staring for a moment, then turning your head back to the front, answering some question of the neighbor. He stretched his fingers, your softness now seemingly imprinted in his memory.

Another minute or so passed before you were thrown forward once again. This time, his arm remained around you. “If you don’t mind.”, he said under his breath, “Just until the road gets better.”

You nodded slowly and robotically looked to the front again.

It was difficult not to milk this opportunity. Having Sakusa holding you close like this sparked all kinds of ideas of snuggling up against his broad frame, drawing patterns on his thighs and asking dreamily if he also thought spring was the perfect season for a wedding.

Sakusa hid a smirk behind his hand when your head lulled against his shoulder as soon as the truck reached a smooth road. He adjusted his seat so you would be comfortable and didn’t stop grinning until the truck pulled up to a farmhouse.

“There we are.”, the neighbor announced and then hushed her voice when she saw you in the rear view mirror, “Oh, look at that. Well aren’t you just the cutest love birds. You wake her up, I’ll get her bag.”

He really didn’t want to lose your warmth despite the remaining summer heat. You felt so perfect in his arms like this.

“Y/n.”, he said softly, “Y/n, you’re home.”

Carefully brushing a strand of hair out of your face he poked your cheek with his finger. No reaction. He poked again. You mumbled something and cuddled closer. His body was about to explode from cuteness overload.

His door opened. “No luck?”, the woman asked.

He shook his head and began to think. Making sure to pull you along with him, he stepped out of the truck and slid his other arm underneath your knees.

“Oh you’re not picking her up, sweet boy. You’ll break your neck trying to lift this one.”, she warned but Sakusa already brought you close to his chest. He would ask his trainer to add extra sets for muscle gain in his workouts from now on, but at this moment he was just way too satisfied with himself to carry you across the courtyard up the few steps to the front door. The cool night air made you stir in his arms. “Sakusa?”

“Great timing. Do you have the keys?”

art: @KUM07474_V on Twitter

a/n: so uhm, yeah this one just kept on going xD thank you so much for your request and continued kindness @melimelisworld, I hope you enjoyed it 🌟

[liliannadelaphinehartifelt]

Alastor - [ DEVOTION Pt. 4 ]

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A/N: This is all angst and fluff because I'm working on two other smut fics. Please accept this impromptu filler chapter for now (I'm sorry ❤️). I hope you enjoy it anyway.

WARNINGS: [ SFW ] + [ SLIGHTLY MATURE THEMES ] + [ FLUFF ] + [ ANGST ]

xxxxxx xxxxxxx xxxxx xxxxxx xxxxxxx xxxx

You waited patiently for Alastor, standing at the window, admiring the fading moon as the sun's rays gradually inked the sky. It’d been a longer night than you imagined, but you felt energized rather than overtly exhausted.

You supposed that's what having a child felt like: tiring but never lacking excitement. A smile crept onto your face at the thought, heart racing at the image of a small hand wrapping around your finger and the possible jingle of childish laughter following the gesture. It was all you could think about.

Would they resemble you or Alastor more?

A boy or maybe a girl?

Twins?… Oh, twins would be so extraordinary but troublesome!

Oh, who am I to complain… they'd be just as lovely as Alastor.

You jumped from one thought to the next, unable to keep track of your puzzling emotions but deciding your only concern should be the present. With a steadying breath, you gazed around the room, searching for something to do or a task to occupy yourself with since sleep failed you. The room was spotless besides your belongings, which you'd already reorganized after stealing one of Alastors dress shirts to replace your blood-stained nightgown. There was a bookshelf full of various stories tucked into a corner near an old rocking chair, and the idea of reading to relax didn't seem terrible.

“A good story can be grand entertainment…”

Your father coined the phrase and always followed it with an unbelievable bedtime reading. Those nights filled with his storytelling were your fondest childhood memories, and you considered passing the sentiment onto your child. You imagined Alastor more prone to telling bedtime stories; he had the charisma, the soothing voice for it, and you had no doubt they'd become attached to him doing so.

Your smile grew wider, getting ahead of itself as you waltzed over to the tall mahogany bookshelf. “Hm…what shall we read, little one?” you placed a hand on your stomach, gently rubbing circles against it as your other grazed the worn book spines. Each title caught your eye, all ranging in subject but consistent with what Alastor told you about his mother's efforts to advance his literacy.

“Some might say she willed proper speech out of me, but I wouldn't be where I am now without such vigorous practice…”

He was far from wrong; your father had educated you similarly, claiming that despite young women of the time being expected to rely on their beauty, you'd advance farther with brains.

“Let's see..” you mumbled aloud, reading a few titles to narrow your decision, “…perhaps Penny Dreadful? No, The Grim Brothers Tales’?..” A soft giggle left your lips as you considered how ridiculous you sounded speaking aloud, but it couldn't be helped. You were longing to talk, to shout with joy, but resisted the urge in fear of causing a minor disturbance.

Finally, a book held your attention, not as worn as the others but fairly withered. “Alice in Wonderland shall do.” You pricked it from the shelf, sitting in the rocking chair while opening its front cover. The words on each page were familiar, immersive as intended, and for a few quiet moments, you thought of nothing but its premise as you whispered nonsensical sentences in their written order.

Time passed quicker than you thought; by the third chapter, you heard the bedroom door creak open, and in stepped a refreshed Alastor. You beamed a coy smile his way as he shut the door behind him, returning your smile with tired eyes while walking over to you, “Mornin’ darlin’..”

“Good morning, mon cher. You look much better.” you muse as he leans down to kiss your head, “Thank you, sweetheart. Once I get some rest, I might feel better as well.” He doesn't stand up fully, content with being at eye level with you to converse, and you unconsciously blush from the intensity of his gaze. Strands of his hair were curled into its natural waves, dripping with tiny water droplets, slithering down his mocha skin with every breath he took. It was a miracle his glasses didn't fog up, resting neatly on his face and doing nothing but accentuating his piercing brown eyes.

You could get lost in his stare; that ocean of amber took your breath away effortlessly, and you wondered if the trait would pass on to your child.

Indeed, it would… surely he'd love it.

A lump formed in your throat as anxious excitement built in your chest. You needed to tell him calmly, but the longer you waited, the more you wanted to hide away.

Did he want this?

“I’d love you and our child more than anything…”

He'd said it himself, but it was hard for you to deny that Alastor was very vague with his genuine emotions. Even as his wife, you found him hard to read

There was only one way for you to find out, and stalling wouldn't solve anything. Alastor studied your expression as you thought, perceptive to the minor changes in your mood, “My dear, are you alright?” he asked firmly. You perk up, nodding slowly while clutching the book to your chest, “I-Im, I'm fine... It's just that I have to tell you something rather delicate..”

Alastor raised a brow, watching as you bit your lip and stared at your lap, “The news you alluded to earlier this evening?” His eyes narrow, glinting with prowess as he ponders the possibilities of your announcement.

With a heavy sigh, you nod again, shutting the book before placing it in your lap, gripping it tight with one hand as the other instinctively rests on your stomach. You feel his gaze shift from your face, fixated on your abdomen, as you stumble out an explanation.

“I. Well, I'm… “ you cut yourself off when words fail, reaching for his hand gently, placing it over your own as a nervous smile adorns your face.

Oh…does she mean to say?…

Alastor froze as the warmth of your skin settled against his palm, rising and falling in a gentle pattern as you willed yourself to breathe normally while gauging his reaction. His shadows quivered in the darkness of the room, able to hear two faint heartbeats underneath the drum of your own, and the definitive sound brought a grin to his face.

It seems she's given us exactly what we hoped for. Twice the yield as well.

How delightful.

Alastor knelt before you, placing both hands on your stomach, eyes soft with affection as he finally voiced his thoughts.

“My darling wife is going to be a mother..” pride laced his tone as he averted his gaze to yours, grin ever present as you nodded excitedly with a bright smile, “And you're going to be father..” you whisper.

Your words drifted quietly in the air, sinking into Alastor’s consciousness and stirring his specters into a giddy frenzy.

My wife is having my children…

Mine and only mine.

A laugh rippled in his chest as the possessive thought invaded his mind, growing stronger as he heard your delighted giggles join his. “Come here, darlin’…” Alastor lifted you with one gentle tug on your wrists, catching you in his arms as your feet hovered off the ground. “Alastor!” you yelped excitedly, smiling so hard your cheeks hurt and laughing more as he pecked your lips tenderly. You hummed into the passionate kiss, arms locking around his neck as you kicked a foot up gingerly. He tasted like mint, calm, and refreshing. A welcomed contrast to the waning heat you felt as your nerves winded down.

He was pleased to know, which filled your heart with relief.

——- ——- ———

“Oh, my stars! Al! Y/n! I'm overjoyed for you both!” Rosie shot up from her seat, dress flowing as she glided around the coffee table to squeeze you in a tight hug as you set out the platter of sweets you'd finished baking moments ago. “Thank you, Rosie. I still can't believe it myself,” you blushed as she squealed, drawing back a bit to cup your face with both hands; her eyes sparkled with admiration as she looked between you and Alastor -who sat comfortably in an armchair. He hadn't stopped grinning since your return home from the countryside, rambling on and on to his mother about the news until the last minute, and he insisted on telling Rosie as soon as you stepped foot in New Orleans again. She was his long-time friend, after all, yours as well, by extension, and so you didn't mind revealing the news to her. Just as his mother felt like your own, Rosie filled the space of an older sister for you. She was energetic, fashionable, and constantly aware of everyone's lives.

She was a true gossip girl, but you enjoyed her company more than others.

“Al, you devil! You could've waited another year to knock my dearest friend up! Now, who will I take out on the town?..” She huffed dramatically but couldn't hold her frown as you giggled softly while he waved a hand dismissively. “I'm sure you'll survive, my dear.” he quips. Rosie rolls her eyes, returning his nonchalant gesture with an equally smug smirk, “I suppose you're right. Although, my nights out won't be as thrilling anymore with you gone being a new father and such, Al.”

He sat straighter. You happened to catch the slightest frown on his face at Rosie’s comment, but it vanished when he felt your eyes on him. “I'll accompany you on occasion when time allows it.” His response is politely chaste, and one might deem it disappointing.

Was he bothered by the notion of having less time with Rosie?

You knew they ventured to socialite parties together regularly, something they'd done long before you married him, but you never questioned it since Rosie assured you it was their fun hobby. Still, you felt concerned that Alastor could regret the idea of children if it meant a less spontaneous party going with his oldest friend.

You opened your mouth to say something, stepping towards where he sat, but Rosie grabbed your hands and whisked you away to sit on the plush sofa with her. “We must discuss everything Y/n. Having a child is no small feat, and I know Al won't spare any expense.” She grinned, squeezing your hands gently, and you smiled back at her before sparing your husband a curious glance. “He spoils me too much already, so I think he'll naturally do the same for the baby,” a soft laugh floated from you, and he tipped his head reassuringly while pulling out his pocket watch to check the time. “Whatever their little heart desires, I shall give,” he replies calmly, standing to his feet and gazing between you and Rosie. “It's about time I head on over to the station. I don't suppose you’ll be leaving anytime soon, Rosie?”

You checked the grandfather clock that stood against the adjacent wall, noticing it was nearly time for his broadcast to begin, “Seems we lost track of time.” you smiled apologetically at Alastor. He shook his head while chuckling, “It's not your fault, darling. I got caught up listening to this one ramble,” he gestured to Rosie before walking over to the parlor room coat stand. He pricked his preferred overcoat, slipping it on quickly as she glared at his back. “Is that any way to speak of your child’s future honorary aunt and godmother!” she faked a skeptical look to which you feigned concern, “Oh, my dear Rosie, he didn't mean it, I swear!”

Alastor turned on his heel, biting back a more comprehensive smile as he admired the two of you carrying on, “I will not apologize for telling the truth, ma chère, but Rosie does have the privilege of godmother so that for I will ask for her forgiveness.” he stood behind the sofa, leaning down a bit to kiss you once then twice before pulling away with a content hum.

Rosie watched the sweet exchange, able to separate the manic version of Alastor she killed from the doting husband he was in your presence, proud to see him so controlled and happy. He pulled away from you, adoring the glimmer in your eyes as you reached a hand up to adjust his glasses, “I love you,” you whisper, and he blanks for a moment, hearing the endearing phrase.

Love…is that what this is?…

Would it be so wrong to say it back?…

A flash of vulnerability crosses Alastor’s face, and you're tempted to take your words back, but he beats you to speak. “Je t'aime aussi..” he mutters back, stepping away to bid Rosie a proper goodbye, “Take good care of her while I'm gone.” he kisses her cheek, and she swats his arm, “Oh, you know I will. Now run along before you're late!” He heads to her, scolding her out the door in seconds, leaving you in her company.

“I thought he'd never leave,” Rosie chirps, glad to have some privacy to speak with you and eager to get down to the details you had to tell. “Tell me, how do you feel, honey? I know this all might be terrifying you…” she spoke softly, pricking a freshly baked cookie from the platter you set out, and you nodded timidly in agreement while fidgeting with your hands.

“I'm scared, yes, but not of being a mother. You know I've always wanted to be one. It was my biggest dream when I came of age, and I'm glad it's coming true with Al..” You rested a hand on your stomach, feeling it flip at the mention of him, and luckily, no urge to throw up followed.

Thank goodness for Angelique and her tonics!

She'd given you a case of vials to take home, all containing a special brew made by her hand, and she'd given you a strict regimen for consuming them.

“Drink two of these twice daily, morning and evening, but only take it after you've eaten. Have Alastor phone me when you need more..”

Whatever was given had a wonderous effect on your mood, reduced your fatigue, and calmed your nerves. You were grateful for her assistance, but not everything you felt could be cured with medicine.

You hoped Rosie would understand, could help calm what the tonics couldn't, so as she peered at you curiously and asked, “What's the matter, dearest?” you inevitably blurted out your worst and only fear.

“I'm afraid of how Alastor will be as a father..”

She blinked, taken aback by your confession, but it didn't show on her face. “May I ask why?”

You hesitated, fidgeting with your hands again as you thought of what to say, but Rosie rested a hand on yours to still them in a gentle grip. “Y/n, it's alright, be honest. He may have been my closest companion initially, but you are my truest friend in this moment. I'm here to listen, not to criticize. He won't hear a word of it, I swear.”

You glanced between your conjoined hands and her kind smile, and after debating whether or not to spill your heart out, you decided it wouldn't hurt to express your doubts.

You could trust Rosie. Right?…

“Well, I know he wants children. He recently told me so, but it's how he'll receive them. Alastor is a complex man, we both know that, but I fear that complexity will make it hard for him to…to..” you tried to phrase the last of your concerns gently, unsure if what you said made any sense to her, but Rosie merely smiled before finishing the thought for you.

“You're afraid he won't show them love?..”

You nod, heart clenching at the thought, “Yes. I know how his childhood went; I was there through it all, so I know his father wasn't the best man. I know what he put his mother through and Alastor hates the idea of becoming like him..”

You forced yourself to take a deep breath, beginning to tear up as memories of Alastor coming to you in the dead of night, bruised and battered but stoic as ever as he asked to sleep next to you in your bed. He'd never tell you what happened, where his father was, or if he'd been majorly injured. You'd have to coax information out of him, promise him that you'd never betray his safety, or tell your father what went on in his family. Then and only then would he relax, let you mend his scars before huddling under the thick covers with you, and though you were both exhausted, you'd whisper stories aloud to each other until the sun peeked through the trees.

It felt odd to wish for times like that to return; they all resorted from darker places, but it brought you two closer. You were able to understand Alastor to an extent most speculated of. With all the insight into his life, you hoped the irrational fears you felt would wither away, but after the incident at his mother's, they just worsened.

It felt as if he were hiding something from you.

At first, the notion piqued your curiosity, but now it ate away at your conscience.

What was he withholding from you, and did you need or want to know more?

Logic voted ‘yes,’ but your trusting nature leaned towards ‘no.’

“He won't ever be like him. I'm sure, but he's only recently expressed he cares for me. Truly loves me, so I suppose I'm afraid of that same affection not being openly expressed to our little one as well.”

Rosie nodded, scooting closer and giving you a tight side hug to calm your frazzled state. “My dear, you have every right to fear such a thing. However, if I may vouch for Alastor, I do believe his softer side will show itself for your child.” You peered at her, hope in your eyes, “Really? You think so?..”

She grins, “I am certain of it! He cherishes you like no other! Unlike my husband, yours is a dime and a man who'd kill for you if necessary.”

You blush, surprised by her claim, “I don't think he'd kill for me, Rosie, but I understand the sentiment.” She scoffs, hand rubbing your shoulders, and retorts, “Yes, he would, and he'd show the same devotion to your bundle of joy.”

Her statement soothed your worries, but the seriousness in her tone made your heart skip a beat.

It felt as though she did know he'd kill for you…kill for your child.

A shiver racked your body at the thought.

I hope it never comes to that…

xxxxxx xxxxxxx xxxxx xxxxxx xxxxxxx xxxx

What do you guys think of the story so far? I'm just curious to hear your thoughts and theories.❤️

[ BONUS CONTENT + ]

He may be a monster, but at least he's dedicated to it; morally grey, but honest to his silly little murderous behaviors ❤️ credits to the creator

[flowerandblood]

Rhaenys's Letters

The Fall from The Heavens Universe Chapter

[ canon • Aemond x Strong • niece female ]

[ warnings: description of discomfort associated with menstruation, symptoms of depression ]

[ description: The messages Rhaenys sent to Aemond in The Fall from the Heavens over eight years. These are Aemond's favorite letters, to which he returned most often – her letters, which appear in the main chapters, are also added. ]

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

My other works: Masterlist

_____

The First Letter One day of separation

My dearest Prince, know that my heart is torn by despair and disbelief. I pray for you and your health every day. I hope that as soon as you feel better we can meet. I am sending you books that I thought might interest you. Your Rhaenys

The Second letter Five days of separation

My dearest Prince, I am writing to you to ask what is your state of health. I imagine that you must suffer terribly and that is why you have not found the strength to answer my letter. I promise to wait patiently for a word from you so that I may see you again. Your Rhaenys

The Third letter Two weeks of separation

My dearest Prince, Your silence worries me. I know that you are certainly angry with me and my brothers and I understand that. I want you to know that I am immensely, immensely sorry and I will do everything I can to ease your pain and suffering, if you will only let me. I miss you very much. Your Rhaenys

The Fourth Letter Two months of separation

My dearest Prince, my mother is about to remarry, which will mean that we will be moving to Dragonstone permanently and will probably be visiting the Red Keep very rarely. I ask you for this grace to be able to see and embrace you before we set off on our journey. Your Rhaenys

The Sixth Letter Six months of separation

My dearest friend, I've been practicing breathing fire with Larax today. Looking at her, I remembered how you visited her with me in the Dragon's Pit. I am convinced that my dragoness misses you as much as I do. I would love to know what your training with Vhagar is like. Your Rhaenys

The Eighth Letter Ten months of separation

Today I heard a powerful storm outside the windows of our fortress. Lightning flashed through the sky as if it were the gods in their anger wanting to show their fury. It reminded me of a legend you once told me about, that it is the enraged Warrior who throws them in fury at men who bring dishonour to their fathers.

The Ninth Letter One year of separation

It has been a year since I saw you for the last time. Gods witness to me that my heart breaks at the very thought.

The Tenth Letter One year and two months of separation

Although I smile, my insides do not feel joy. It seems to me that I am no longer capable of it. The days flow through my fingers and I don't even notice it.

The Eleventh Letter One year and four months of separation

Me and my family are heading to the Eyrie to pay a visit to my mother's relatives. I've never been there before and I'd be delighted to share my thoughts on the place with you when we return. Rhaenys

The Twelfth Letter One year and six months of separation

The Eyrie is a beautiful fortress seeming to reach for the sky. The legendary Moon Door we both once read about are terrifying and, indeed, leaves the doomed with no chance of survival. My cousin, on the other hand, is a very emotional boy, even more so if something doesn't go his way. I assume this is due to the fact that he only has a sister whose opinion he does not value. I suspect he wouldn't arouse your sympathy either.

The Fourteenth Letter One year and ten months of separation

Larax is growing so fast. Daemon says that one more year and I can try to ride her. I can't wait to fly to the heavens on her back.

The Fifteenth Letter Two years of separation

The Septa says that a lady should never hold a blade in her hand. I must admit that I do not understand this reasoning. What if there is no man beside her to protect her? Is it better to be dead but full of dignity than alive and worthy of condemnation? I regret that I never asked you to teach me how to wield a sword.

The Seventeenth Letter Two years and four months of separation

I reminded myself that in a few days it will be your Name Day. I hope my letter will reach you along with my warmest wishes. I ask you to take care of your well-being and your health.

The Eighteenth Letter Two years and six months of separation

Today, something terrible happened, and although I know these things don't concern you or may even cause you disgust, I can't confide in anyone else about my suffering. My bloody flower has blossomed. My mother says that I have now become a woman, but I feel nothing of the sort. I feel dirty, I feel pain, I feel ashamed. I don't want to be a woman. I don't want to be a wife. I don't want to be a mother.

The Nineteenth Letter Two years and ten months of separation

I feel terror, uncle. When I wake up and fall asleep, when I embroider and eat, when I take a bath and read. I have a feeling that something is about to happen, but only a sullen silence surrounds me.

The Twenty-second Letter Three years and two months of separation

Does it sometimes seem to you too that you are living in a half-sleep? That the people around you are a smudge, that what they say reaches your ears but not your mind, that you feel and experience nothing? In the presence of my family it seems to me that this is just a figment of my imagination, but staying alone in my chamber I find that I put on a mask in front of them, under which there is nothing but silence.

The Twenty-third Letter Three years and six months of separation

I have been reflecting on our childhood recently. How charmingly naive we were then, how simple our lives seemed to me, and what the future held for us. It was always safe in your arms. It was a feeling I had not experienced for three years and would never experience again. It was not your strength or bravery that caused this, but your words, how perfectly you always understood me. Your rejection is a torment.

The Twenty-fifth Letter Three years and eight months of separation

Do you think we were really in love with each other then, when I kissed you for the first time? I have often wondered about this. I remember that day exactly, your emerald tunic, the smell of the lemon cake I brought you as a consolation. The taste of your lips, moist, full and warm, your heavy breath, your trembling hand that touched my cheek and your later request. I felt as if, without the presence of the Septon, we had become husband and wife in that moment.

The Twenty-sixth Letter Three years and ten months of separation

My mother gave birth to a healthy boy today, who was named Aegon. I thought the heavens had mocked me and my brothers when I saw his snow-white hair. I hope you feel satisfaction, uncle.

The Twenty-seventh Letter Four years of separation

Ever since Dragonstone resounded with the squeal of an infant, a little hope has risen in my heart. Little Aegon is growing fast and is very loud.

The Twenty-ninth Letter Four years and two months of separation

Today me and Daemon took a walk among the cliffs. I'm glad that he treats me like an adult and speaks to me about important things. Apart from him, only you have never treated me like a child.

The Thirty-second Letter Four years and eight months of separation

It's been four years since I haven't seen your face. It makes me wonder how much you've changed. Are you tall like Jace, have your hands, your arms, your stature changed. I try to imagine you often, but I catch myself with horror that your face is blurred in my memories and I cannot see it clearly.

The Thirty-third Letter Four years and ten months of separation

Today I flew on Larax for the first time. It was a terrifying and wonderful experience at the same time – my heart was pounding like mad as we took to the skies together. I didn't know it would be so loud, the wind and speed completely stunned me, but for the first time in months I felt free. As I flew I thought of you and your Vhagar.

The Thirty-sixth Letter Five years and four months of separation

I recently read the reflections of a philosopher that I wanted to share with you. He writes that every human being is like a fortress. The more walls we put up around us, the more secure we feel inside, but also the more isolated we become from the world. If we don't take the threat and leave it, no one sees us as we are and we become like the stones of which it was built – without feelings, without desires, without hope.

The Thirty-eighth Letter Five years and eight months of separation

I can't believe it's been almost six years since I've seen you. I'd like to say I'm in despair, but that's not quite true. I feel a great emptiness, as if I have a hole in my heart. It's not painful, but it's a bit like a tickle that makes it impossible for me to have peace of mind. My desire is to stop feeling anything at all.

The Fortieth Letter Six years of separation

I am sending you a piece of poetry that made me think of you: and though she did not know why, her heart remained turned towards him her body went forward, and an emptiness lingered inside her as if it was no longer a part of her

The Forty-third Letter Six years and six months of separation

Baela asked me if I had ever desired someone, and I didn't know what to answer her. What is desire? Is it a purely physical sensation or something that happens in the mind? I craved your kisses because they were warm and soft, because they made you as close to me as possible, joined with me by your body. I craved all of that, not just the touch of your lips.

The Forty-sixth Letter Seven years of separation

I was reflecting today on what duty is. The duty of a husband to his wife, a wife to her husband, a son to his mother, a daughter to her father. I always wanted to be faithful to our family because I thought it was one. Now that it has been cut exactly in half, I feel that although I want it to be united, I am contributing by my very existence to its further disintegration and destruction. We control the dragons, but we cannot control our own vanity.

The Forty-seventh Letter Seven years and two months of separation

Have you ever wondered what Essos and the temples of Old Valyria looked like? How powerful was the kingdom of our ancestors? And what remains of it? Balerion is a mere skull, the temples are ancient ruins. Ashes and dust.

The Fiftieth Letter Seven years and eight months of separation

I'm being affected by that terrifying emptiness again, uncle. I thought maybe it was simple melancholy, but this is something else, more disturbing, as if someone is sneaking up on me in a dark room. My mind is constantly vigilant, constantly sharpened. Even when I sleep, I don't rest, I wake up in the morning more tired than the evening before, and my mouth, though many words would like to leave it, remains closed.

The Fifty-second Letter Seven years and ten months of separation

Sometimes I think I have gone deaf. My mother or brother say something to me, I look at them but I don't hear them or understand them. I respond with anything, I don't know what myself, and I return to my mind, locking myself in. I get distracted too easily and I don't know what it is caused by. Even when I read, I catch myself looking at a certain point for many minutes, being on the same page over and over again. I am in my chamber with my body but not my soul – I eat, drink, sleep but I experience nothing, nothing pleases or saddens me. I exist in a world that is nothing but an unpleasant disappointment to me, and whose strict rules I have long since come to terms with.

The Last Letter Eight years of separation

Dragonstone appears to me like a prison, like a black coffin, the sky above me full of clouds. I can’t remember the last time light dawned in my heart − when I wake up I wonder for a moment about the meaning of it all, only to realise that thinking about it is pointless, it only sinks me further into the darkness. It seems that the more I move away from what surrounds me, the greater the silence that settles in my head. After what happened something inside me died. Not in the aspect of my body, but in the sense of a conviction that something is missing, like when you look in a mirror reassembled from hundreds of pieces and, even though it is whole again, you can clearly see its cracks. I wonder, are you sleeping well, uncle? Are you having nightmares again? I often return in my dreams to that night. I see you and although I want to say something, I can’t get anything out, just as I did then. I wake up with the conviction that I am still a child. I pray a lot, although I don’t know myself to which gods anymore. I guess to any of who would be willing to listen to me. They don’t answer me, just like you.

[olderthannetfic]

re people regretting transition or detransitioning.

My little cousin experimented with gender for a bit in her late teens before deciding that she was a cis girl after all. The experiment involved clothes shopping, a haircut, and asking her friends to call her by different pronouns, and lasted for maybe two months tops.

Some of my our family members are generally supportive of that, and view it quite reasonably as a young person exploring various options before finding herself. The dumber and meaner ones, on the other hand, say she detransitioned and is proof that trans people are just playing around and that anyone teen who transitions will come to regret it.

And then they turn around and say they're happy for me and proud of my transition. Because I didn't get anything figured out until I was well into my twenties, and I didn't get to start HRT until I was past 30. These family members are actually dumb enough to think it's an age thing, and that my having to suffer for decades was somehow a good thing.

If the "worst" that happens as a side effect of trans acceptance is a bunch of teenagers getting dumb haircuts and wasting a few hundred bucks on clothes they won't wear again, I don't see how that's a negative side effect at all. That's just what teenagers do.

--

Grrr. Fucking assholes.

A lot of the "Oh noes, what if you regret it?" stuff comes with a huge side of "What if your WOMB is no longer able to make BABIES after you POISON yourself?" nonsense too. I see plenty of transphobia of all sorts in all directions, but the specific fretting over transition is so, so, so often about how every uterus should be used as a baby factory. People say this shit with a straight face who would never support that idea if you forced them to face the subtext of what they're saying.

There are, genuinely, rare people who do regret it, but it's way more common that someone either experiments with entirely reversible things or takes hormones for a while and then decides to stop taking hormones without actually characterizing it as "regret" themselves.

It's usually other people imposing that narrative from the outside, aside from rare cases where there was some level of coercion to do medical procedures the person was never that into in the first place (e.g. transitioning in order to be legally allowed to change pronouns on ID or getting a boob job at a partner's behest—a thing that afflicts cis women too).

I remember a friend from school years ago going "What if I'm wrong?" and even at the time, I was like "But what if you're right and then spend 20 years waiting to be sure while being miserable?"

In this, as in most other big life decisions, I think you should take your best shot, not second guess yourself, and if you change your mind years later, you can deal with that then. But yes, so many people think there's some sort of virtue in decades of misery as you either can't figure out what's wrong or know what's wrong and are denied access to medical care.

I questioned my gender in my teens back in the 90s. I just didn't do anything that made other people particularly aware of it at the time and ended up deciding that gender is a big lie and who cares. This is probably more common than people think.

The main upshot was that I ended up reading an incredibly dense book of journal articles on third gender roles that was a bit of a headache for a 14-year-old.

[dinaaaaee]

I don’t know if your doing requests. If you are can you please do reader x lucifer angst with no comfort wanting a break from him because he stood them up again and they are at their limit, with the prompt ‘don’t give me space, thats the last thing i need from you, we can work this out together’ thank youuu 🙏🏾

Space.

★ Heya anon! Yes I am doing requests now, thank you for requesting. ♡ I really enjoyed writing this and hope you enjoy reading aswell!

★ Lucifer x gender neutral MC. Angst with no comfort.

★ Synopsis: Mc gets stood up, not for the first time and decides enough is enough.

★ Warnings: Mention of reader drinking alcohol. Mention of food. Use of petnames.

⊱⋆⊰━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

17:00 pm - Entering the restaurant you could feel the warmth and delectable aromas welcome you, making you feel even more giddy knowing that you'll be spending some well deserved quality time with your busy lover. Grinning stupidly to yourself - You can't wait.

17:30pm - Hm. Waiting, for your lover you took your time to distract your self through skimming the black and gold menu. 'Ooo they have chocolate fondues?'

18:30pm - An hour has already passed and he is still not here. Sighing, taking your phone off the table, that you've been eyeing anxiously, in your hands and shooting a quick message: 'Luci, are you here yet?

Maybe he got caught up? Yeah, that must be it... he is coming now. Probably.

...

Suddenly, It no longer feels warm. He's not coming.

19:00pm - The chimes of the grandfather clock could be heard. The couple next to your table, laughter made you sick. You scoff, downing another glass of red. At least they're having fun. Like you should be.

19:10pm - Yeah, that's it. Stupidly waiting another ten minutes, having faith he would come. He didn't. Five missed calls, ten messages. Nothing. Nada. No reponse.

Couldn't he atleast have decency to message you? or did that affect his pride aswell?

You know he was a busy man, you understood this, even when you first got into a relationship with him. You couldn't help it, it was your third anniversary together. But then again, this is now a common occurrence isn't it? You come back home irritated, heartbroken, he tells you that he can't ignore his work and brushes you off, just like the workaholic he is.

More weary then angry, you step out of the dim lighted restaurant back home. You know what you have to do.

_____

Knock.

"Come in." The robust voice spoke.

Lucifer was sitting in his reddish velvet chair in front of you. In a dark spaced room with only the fireplace for lighting. White papers were crumpled all over the place. The smell of books, his perfume, and smoke were apparent. These smells had always soothed you, but now it was suffocating.

"What is it?" Mistaking you for one of his brothers.

"Lucifer."

Head shooting up quickly, at the lifeless of tone. "Hello, dearest." A fond but concerned smile adoring his handsome features. "You look astonishing, is there a special occasion?"

"Yeah, just our third anniversary dinner, that's all. No big deal." You wave him off, face betraying the causality of your tone.

Eyes widening at the realization. He's been so fixated with his paperwork as of late, everyday being the same: he missed today.

"Love, I-"

"Save it."

Knowing what he'll say. He would never apologize. His pride wouldn't let him.

"Imagine repeatedly getting stood up. Even so, getting stood up for your third year anniversary. I don't know why I've been taking it since you first stood me up..." Trailing off you add "Been so understanding and what have I got in return? You know what? I'm done."

"You don't mean that."

"I do, I really do. Lucifer, tell me honestly, was we real or for show?"

"Mc, now your over reacting." He says sternly. What do you mean for show? Do you really think he would do that to you?

Maybe you were over reacting, but enough is enough.

"Mc, I cannot stop my work, just for a date. My work is quite important, it affects the future of the crown, I am Diavolos right hand man afterall." He gets up from his seat.

"Righttt 'just for a date', because spending time let alone your third anniversary with your lover is just a date. Like you haven't been working under Diavolo for multiple of centuries, but a few hours would affect the crown?" You laugh in disbelief.

Did he really call your third anniversary just a date?

"I think we need a break, we need space." You say in a firm tone.

He goes silent.

A few minutes has passed and you both are just staring at each other. Its clear he wasn't going to say anything, so as just you was about to walk out of his study: "Don't..."

"What?"

"Don’t give me space... that's the last thing I need from you." He pleads. "We can figure this out together; I'll speak with Diavolo, Just-"

"No. You should have thought of speaking with him before I reached my limit, not when I am about to leave."

"Goodbye, Lucifer." Walking out of his study, not sparing a glance.

⊱⋆⊰━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

[hannahssimblr]

May, as a secondary school student in Dublin city, has never felt like LA, for spring is a time for studying indoors, barely glancing out the window at the changing seasons, blind to the emergence of summer. I barely register the cherry blossom tree that blooms outside the window of the school library. For weeks the streets are painted pink and white, but mid May brings a storm to tear the petals away from their branches and toss them onto the ground and in the drains like abandoned confetti in the aftermath of a wedding. I take note of them while stepping on them on the way to and from school, but soon they aren’t even beautiful anymore. Browning, curling at the edges, a mere inconvenience to be swept away by the street cleaners and shaken off one's shoes. 

“Only a leaf of our laurel hedge is torn— Of distant interest like a maimed limb, only a rose which now will never climb the stone of our house, expendable, a mere line of defence against him…” I mutter a poem under my breath, much to the chagrin of the girl sitting nearby who keeps glancing sharply at me over the screen of her laptop, but she doesn’t understand that this is how I learn. I cannot just commit something to memory from reading it, and if I don't say it aloud like a four year old child learning his ABCs then nothing goes in.

Explaining this to her would only mean I would speak more, and louder which I am certain is the opposite of what she wants, so for the third time that lunch hour I issue her an apologetic smile and a shrug, cute, though she doesn’t seem to understand that I am extremely charming either and sighs wearily as she goes back to stabbing the keyboard.

“Only a leaf of our laurel hedge is torn— Of… of distant interest like a…” I have forgotten the lines already, so I take a breath and go back to the beginning. “This dry night, nothing unusual about the clip clop casual iron of his shoes as he stamps death…”

 I am distracted by the library doors swinging open to the sound of the lunchtime hallways but don’t look up, I just keep my finger on the page and wait for the noise to die down but it takes longer than it should. The door slams shut, rattles, thumps, it opens to more noise and slams again, and finally I glance over. 

Michelle is furiously attempting to untangle the strap of her school bag from where it is looped around the outside handle of the door, pulling and yanking with increasing ferocity, clearly having decided that pulling repeatedly at it in flustered panic is the best way to free herself. It’s not just me that looks at her, it’s everyone in the library, and when she finally extricates herself and fixes her hair it's me that she looks right at, blush creeping up her neck from the white collar of her uniform.

I stare back and mouth to her: “Are you okay?”

She nods, tremulous hands smoothing her skirt and straightening the hem of her jumper. She does a scan of the library quickly, eyes hopping from table to table until they settle on the one next to me, the only one free. She approaches unwillingly and I watch her, her eyes on the floor, her fingers still shaky on the zip of her school bag as she stands next to me and begins slapping books out onto the table. 

“Come to do a bit of studying?” I whisper. 

“Yeah, just, um… yeah,” she dumps a pile of random notebooks and exam papers out and sits down to rifle through them. I notice that none of them are related to each other. The english textbook, a maths hardcover notebook, a crumpled homework assignment dated from a week ago all in a great dog eared heap. 

“What are you working on?”

“Uh… all of it.”

“All of it?”

She inhales sharply, “Yes. All this.”

“Wow, okay,” I turn back to my book and return to the top of the poem again, suddenly a touch more self conscious about my study methods when there’s a great ball of volatile energy directly to my left, so I try mouthing the lines instead while she rifles irritably through her pile, crunching paper and sending a rogue pencil rolling to the ground. The girl across from us grumbles under her breath, snaps her laptop shut and goes to find a quieter spot on the beanbags across the room.

After another minute or two of frantic rifling, I lean toward Michelle, “Are you alright?”

She doesn’t answer me, but her nostrils flare and that blush that started at her collar heats her cheeks the colour of her nails, cherry red and half peeled from where she’s scraped them with her teeth. She’s always done that, even though she knows perfectly well how much dirt is harboured beneath the crescent moons of her fingernails. She flicks them now, thumb against index and brings them to her mouth again.

I nudge her gently, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she says, then after a pause, “Well… no never mind.”

“You can tell me if you want, I know I’m not Jen, but…”

“Well, okay, it’s Evan. Evan and Carlie, they just tried to, like, apologise to me.”

I hesitate. I didn’t really expect my pleas for connection to work, but now here we are. “Oh, well…” I shift awkwardly in my seat, “What did they say to you?”

“They came and found me at lunch. Jen is with the counsellor, so like, I was just eating alone in the lunchroom and they just came over and tried to talk to me, so I got up and, like, hurried away before they could say anything.”

“That’s good.”

“Yeah but now I feel,” she holds her hands out for me to see how they vibrate with adrenaline, “Ugh, I feel horrible, my heart is going like crazy, I just…”

“I get it.”

She shifts around awkwardly, looking over her shoulder as though someone better to talk to might appear, but she must be desperate to unload because she says to me with reluctance: “Does it eventually get less terrible?”

“Yeah, 'course.”

“When?”

“I don’t know. It’s, like, different every time, and sometimes it’s just a bit worse and it lasts a bit longer. I guess it’s harder when you have to see them all the time and when they try to talk to you, I get what you’re saying. Evan probably shouldn't have tried to talk to you yet.”

Michelle doesn’t look upset, she's not the teary eyed version of herself that she’s been this past month. She looks vacant, staring ahead and out the window at the tree that used to be blossoming, but is now verdant with that intense neon green of spring. Her teeth worry at her lip, “What's it like to have to see Holly, then?” 

“Holly? That was different.”

“Yeah but she’s always around school, isn't she?”

“I don’t think about all that, it's been four years. Now she’s just another girl in the hallways, it’s really not the same, see, it’s not like I loved her or cared-”

“You don’t think about the history you had? You don’t wonder if she hates you?”

I snort, “What history? We were thirteen and we lasted three months. If she hates me she can go right ahead and do it, but if she’s still even thinking about me at all then that’s pretty depressing.”

She raises an eyebrow incredulously, “You don’t care if someone hates you?” 

“How do you know she hates me? Did she tell you that?”

She scoffs, “No, I don’t know anything about Holly. As if I’d ever talk to that bitch.”

“Nah, c’mon, I don’t like that.”

“Huh?”

“You saying that, it’s just part of that cliquey thing that everyone in this school is way too interested in, isn’t it? This person doesn’t like that person because of some superficial reason. Holly is on the hockey team, and you by default don’t like people who are sporty because you assume they’re all mean.”

“You’re assuming that of me. Which is pretty presumptuous.”

“I’m just saying. That’s what I’ve seen around here. If everyone just assumes everyone who isn’t exactly like them is an arsehole then-”

“That’s not why I don’t like Holly, obviously,” she hisses.

“Obviously? Why is it obvious?”

She stares at me blankly, so I repeat myself, “Why is it obvious?” 

“You can’t think of a single reason why I might not like Holly?”

“No.”

She starts scooping her books and papers back into her bag, “Well then you’re either a liar or an idiot.”

“What are you on about?” I'm not totally sure how she progressed from a state of flustered anxiety to one of complete fury in about two seconds and I watch her with alarm, “I don’t get it. Who cares about Holly?” I touch her arm and she yanks it away, “How am I supposed to know what happened?”

She shakes her head incredulously and tries zipping up the bag in spite of the papers still sticking out of it.

“To be honest, if this is something from first year or whatever… there’s no point holding on to something for that long.”

“I’d be nice,” she says in a shaky whisper, “to just not care about anything or anyone and to just think about yourself, but that isn’t who I am. Okay?”

I rear back, “That’s not fair, I don’t care about nothing…” But she’s already leaving, stalking back towards the doors with her half-zipped schoolbag bouncing furiously on her back. I barely even notice the library full of eavesdroppers as I heave out a sigh and wriggle my phone out of my pocket to text Jen as the door slams.

SOS I pissed Michelle off. You did? How? I dunno. Just did. You’re right lol she gets mad over nothing.  What did you say? Something about that girl I used to go out with.  Holly.  You talked about Holly?!!  Yeah. I told Shell to put whatever weird grudge she has against her to bed and she just stormed off. IDK what her problem was.  Seriously? Yeah huge overreaction.  Omg one day I think you’re going to die of stupidity. Huh?

I wait several minutes for a response that doesn’t come straight away. Sighing, I return to my books and my study though whatever shred of focus I had ten minutes earlier has left the building. Michelle’s words ring in my head, and as I think about what she said to me, about how I care about nothing and only think of myself I grow annoyed with her too. It’s not true, I do care, and just because my break ups have never been like hers and Evan's doesn’t mean I am some sort of unfeeling husk of a boy who is hollow and void on the inside, right?

Maybe one day I’ll fall in love for real with some woman who will eventually stomp all over my puny feelings and shatter my heart into a billion pieces. She might even do it deliberately. She'll turn me into one of those men who will never be the same again for having known her, irreparably changed, chemically altered by her and the void she leaves behind in me, and I'll be ruined in the same way that veterans are ruined by war, then make some unbearable piece of media about my torment so that everyone else must suffer with me. Is that what Michelle wants? I’ll prove her wrong and do it all to myself out of spite. 

My phone buzzes and I grab it. On the screen flashes one, solitary word from Jen. 

Idiot.

Beginning // Prev // Next

[im-out-of-it]

part 4 of season 1, episode 10

49. “I’m not letting jace sacrifice my sister for his girlfriends pointless crusade.”-can we at least talk about how angry Alec is????? he found out his parents lied about their history, how jace lied about taking clary back (not agreeing about the meliorn thing but it is added irritation for Alec.) to the institute, how he stole the cup, and now Izzy’s life hangs in the balance. and it may seem dramatic but it would mean Izzy could never be a shadowhunter ever again. Jace and clary running off while Izzy’s life is hanging by a thread

50. some may look at Alec and think he’s overreacting but you have to take a look at Alec and everything he has been dealing with. he’s broken so many clave rules for clary, “has” feelings for jace and is watching jace do things he would never do for Alec. this bond is so weak and half sided that I’m surprised it ever did repair. I think 100% jace is the issue because he’s the one who weakened it. he takes advantage of Alec and this is something I’m not willing to argue with. it’s very clear that jace expects Alec to do whatever he wants him to do. how many times have we seen or heard jace ask what Alec needs or wants? he’s always putting his needs before Alec’s.

51. “Promise you won’t let it break.”-hodge “Jace is dead to me.”- now that’s my Alec 🔥✨ I’m actually surprised how much Alec has allowed without going off on jace. I’m not as nice apparently lmao SORRY IM PETTY LMAO

52. want to make a small parallel:

53. the “to us” scene is almost the exact same as the one in episode 4, but also “to use” has a lot of meaning because this line has been used on three separate occasions. in episode 4, 10 of season one and also the third season finale. it’s got a lot of meaning ✨

54. I believe AU Alec and Magnus met up and just fell instantly in love and lived a happy life together and they had zero worries because there are no demons and no jace and clary to “protect”. they just do their own thing away from Malec as they fucking should. THEY ARE HAPPY OK?????? 🫶🏼

55. this is probably the most I will ever like jace (not counting clary since technically it’s the same clary) because he’s not being self centered that we see and he actually seems relaxed and not a irritating dick

56. I think it’s funny how clary has had barely an training besides with alec which lasted not even a minute and jace telling her how to hold a blade- that she knows how to fight now. she’s had barely any training and all of a second, a skilled shadowhunter? it doesn’t make sense and this realm, they no longer have need for shadowhunters. unless she’s had training before when they were needed (and if Jocelyn and Valentine told her everything and trained her as a shadowhunter- yes that does make sense) but it’s still weird that she suddenly knows how to fight (wait for Alec and clary training towards the end of this list)

57. oh no jace is injured. how awful for him

58. let the useless dickhead die PLEASE

59. Alec is like I tried little sis 😭

60. at least they are on speaking terms, right???? (I know it’s basically the same gif but it warms my cold heart)

61. goodbye AU alec 😭🥰 I JUST LOVE HIM SO MUCH OKAY CAN YOU BLAME ME

62. also another parallel that won’t be mentioned until season 2 for those who are reading and haven’t watched the show

63. bonus scene I didn’t get to add for episode 5:

64. I’m sorry but it’s just so fun to watch lmao she could’ve used that more often

65. small note- I really love the differences with show Izzy and Alec vs the books. when I read the books, I didn’t get the feeling that Alec and Izzy were all that close. but in the show, they’re super close with Alec growing and starting to tell Izzy things. izzy and Alec barely fight- except for this episode instance and when the demon enters the institute in season 2. also I like the fact that shadowhunters can shapeshift as in the books, Tessa is the only one known to do it.

66. Alec can fight on his whole and proudly handle his own affairs and business. he’s not displayed as some ratty weak fighter who can’t learn anything and has to wish he was like jace. he’s his own person. and this is something that is very important when it comes to Alec. from these first 10 episodes, he is trying to manage his emotions as best as he can while also figuring out the path for him. he obviously is attracted to Magnus but is fighting it the best he can in this cat and mouse game they have going on

67. Izzy is a wonderful sister. she’s such a girls girl. befriending clary, always having Alec’s back, being one of the fiercest fighters as well as aiding her family in any way she can, and constantly trying to do the right thing. I’m not a fan of book Izzy all that much. but that’s on the writing.

68. Simon has also been going through many changes. leaving his old life behind and creating a new one. I think he’s doing marvelously well and show Simon is so much better

69. Jace and clary are still insufferable but not as bad as book CLACE. oh and “valentine” is there at the end of this episode and basically taunts jace and clary in almost handing over the cup- just like Alec predicted 😬

70. I’ve already touched on magnus. he’s caring, supportive, opening his heart to a new love even if that love is tricky. warlock, fortune teller, spell enthusiast, PLUS LAWYER. I’d have him represent me ✨ I have so much love for show Alec and Magnus and I have already bothered so much of y’all about that. Matt and Harry made sure show Malec mattered and didn’t take a backseat like they did in the books

okay so 70 was the number today. I originally thought there was 5 parts but forgot the trial doesn’t take place until next episode. thank you for joining we love AU magnus and Alec and ugh more CLACE scenes WHY debate and discussion ✨ stick around for next episode aka malecs first fight lmao

and also thank you anyway who reads my content, much love to ya (THESE GIFS ARE NECESSARY)

[lia-land]

A Curse For True Love by Stephanie Garber

2.5/5

Spoilers for A Curse For True Love by Stephanie Garber

Why was this one of the worst books I have ever read? It's definitely the worst series finale. I’m too disappointed to even be mad. I’m being so generous with the rating.

I think this whole series is a perfect example of when an author has one good character that they really like, but doesn’t know what to do with them.

I’ve said in other reviews how much Jacks has stood out as a character in Garber’s books all the way back to Legendary. He’s an interesting character and was consistently more developed than any of the other characters. That isn’t enough to carry a whole three book series, though.

I read all the spoilers and discussions on this book before I finished it because it was just dragging on and we were given more questions than answers. I skimmed a lot of this and pretty much only read the dialogue because half of this book was just a recap of the previous two books. I can see why that might not be that jarring if you’d been waiting a year for this to come out, but I’ve been reading this series back to back. Someone on Reddit mentioned that all the recaps might have been to get the word count up and I think that’s very accurate, especially considering how short this was overall.

Apparently Garber turned off her insta comments at some point because of all the criticism? It would have been a DNF if I wasn’t still hoping for a glimpse of the Jacks we knew in Caraval. I also thought maybe it would be worth it when they got together but that was disappointing, too. We got like five pages.

I knew there was no hope when in the last quarter of the book, she introduced the storyline of Jacks giving up his heart. That’s not a storyline you should throw in at the end of a book. It was so incredibly rushed and then Aurora turns up saying Jacks beat her up and stole his heart back. That should have been a much bigger plotline. As I have said about a lot of recent books, how did this make it past an editor??? What’s going on in the publishing industry right now?

And where is Luc? Marisol?? Was there not more to Evangeline’s parents’ death? Is Castor going to keep going on killing sprees? Is Jacks now mortal since he’s in love? Where has Aurora gone off to? Why were the apples different colours? So many unanswered questions. This was all most likely set up for a spin-off series, but I will no longer be investing my time in an author who was happy to publish such a lazy book after knowing how big of a fanbase she had.

I really don’t get the point of the Valors. If this series was just set up for the Valors to get their own series in the future, it barely did a good job at that. I also feel like Apollo kept being forced into the series. It’s not like this is a TV show where the actor for Jacks had other commitments and they had to fill up screen time with Apollo. There was fully no need for him to have such a big part in this book. I can't imagine many people who read the first two books thinking 'I would really love the third book to focus on Appollo and his POV' so why was that even a thing? Evangeline was so unnaturally attached to him just to keep him a part of the plot. It got very tiring. He has barely any depth. Why was he in so much of this book? The author knows we’re mostly all reading this series for Evangeline and Jacks so why would she make the final book focus so much on Apollo and barely on any parts with Jacks? It was very lazy overall. Maybe because she knew that since the anticipation was so high for this final book, it would sell regardless? I guess you can go out with a bang or just go out with bank.

And to add to that, if it just wasn’t the right time for her to write it, then maybe don’t write it until you’re ready. She had this great legacy with her previous books and then we get this. Does anyone remember Michelle Hodkin, the author of the Mara Dyer books? She never released the last book of the sequel series and just disappeared off the internet. I don’t know if that was perhaps a better option than writing a lazy book like this.

[valerieofavonlea]

The Sanderson/Cosmere subreddit spoiler policies are absolutely ridiculous and discussion stifling, a mini rant

Exhibit the first: on r/brandonsanderson a poster put up a picture of a Bridge 4 onesie, and it got spoiler tagged by a mod. The reasoning? The Bridge 4 logo with Kholin blue is a WoR spoiler. I'm of the opinion that that is one of those things that is a spoiler only if you already know, and is imo overly cautious

Exhibit the second: any kinds of spoilers are banned from post titles, resulting in a sub full of titles like this:

Idk about you guys, but as someone who has read all of these books, I would have no way of knowing what any these are about without looking at them individually. How is this good for facilitating discussion?

Exhibit the third, the actual spoiler policy:

Exhibit the fourth, just this attitude:

It's a shame it's so arduous to talk about the cosmere in r/cosmere

I am actually a big fan of spoiler tagging stuff, and I have in fact yelled at people in this fandom before for not spoiler tagging, but this is too much. This is clearly catering to new readers, and idk about you guys, but I think that there's a lot of responsibility re: avoiding spoilers, that has to be put on the person who doesn't want to be spoiled. There's some common courtesy stuff like tagging any pre-release content, or brand new books for a reasonable amount of time, but for the most part, avoiding spoilers should be on the person who doesn't want to see them. If I were currently reading or planning on reading a series I sure as f wouldn't be wandering into the subreddit dedicated to that series. I get tagging stuff for the secret projects right now, but everything? Some of these books are approaching 20 years since publication. If someone has waited this long to read the book, then they can wait a bit longer to participate in the fandom. 🤷‍♀️

There are always going to be new readers, but it should really be their responsibility to avoid spoilers if it matters to them. Or at least do the bare minimum. Honestly I think that the mods over there should just throw a general spoiler warning up top in a pinned post and let people live

[chungledown-bimothy]

Nothing Will Be Fair Going Forward

my piece for @acocfictionzine, beta'ed by the incredible @secret-third-abernant-sister <3

Word Count: 2814

Summary: The war is over. Now the hard part begins. (A triptych of pre-canon Amethar and Caramelinda.)

Also on AO3

Y.o.B. 1195

Amethar paused and took a deep breath. I hope this isn’t some king shit. I’m not ready.  I’m not cut out for this.

He swung open the rock candy door to the king’s study, a cavernous room lined with more books than even Lazuli could have read in a dozen lifetimes. Sitting behind the massive desk in the center of the room was his father, King Jadain. An old, frail-looking man of lime hard candy, he seemed almost comically too small- there was easily room for two more people on either side of him before the space would even begin to feel full. 

As Amethar closed the door behind him, Jadain stopped fidgeting with his hands and looked up. “Ah, good, you’re here. Please, Amethar, have a seat.” He waited for Amethar to sit before he continued, “Now that the war is over, it’s time we talk about what happens next for you and Candia.”

Amethar’s jaw dropped, incredulous. “Rococoa’s funeral was last week! It’s too soon for all this!”

Jadain sighed. “Unfortunately, it isn’t. I am old, and the losses of your sisters and mother have taken a hefty toll on me. I don’t know how much longer I’ll have, so we need to have this conversation now. I know that you don’t want the crown, that you never wanted it, but the fact is that you will be King. The issue at hand is who will be Queen.” The image of a beautiful woman in the Dairy Isles flashed through Amethar’s mind. 

“You may be old, but I’m young! I’ve got plenty of time to fin-” he cleared his throat, remembering Rococoa’s words when she found out about Catherine. “To figure that out.”

“Amethar, you know better than anyone else how hard the war was on Candia. I will admit, I made a mistake in delaying our involvement, causing Duke Jawbreaker’s rebellion that’s showing no signs of stopping. In order for Candia to recover, we need to be united. We can’t afford a civil war, certainly not right now.”

“Yeah, and what does that have to do with me getting married?”

“The only one of your sisters who was wed was Lazuli. Do you know why she married Duchess Caramelinda of House Meringue?”

He nodded. “Yeah, they loved each other.”

A soft, sad smile crossed Jadain’s face. “They did love each other, but that’s not why they got married. We, as royals, are privileged in many, many ways. We are afforded freedoms and opportunities that most other people simply do not have. Marrying for love is not one of those freedoms. One of the strongest political tools is strategic marriages.”

“Yeah, I remember Rococoa saying something like that once.” He tilted his head and furrowed his brow. “Dad, you know I’m not the smartest guy; you’ve gotta spell it out for me. What are you getting at?”

“Meringue is not a large duchy, but it is in a very strategically valuable location. House Meringue is loyal to House Rocks, of course, but there are those within it who agree with Duke Jawbreaker. Having the backing of the crown would do much to silence the dissidents, and ensuring that with a more formal arrangement would make it effectively impossible for my brother to move on Castle Candy.”

“By ‘formal arrangement' you mean…” Amethar’s stomach tied itself in knots as pieces started falling into place. “Me marrying her? Lazuli’s wife?”

The king nodded. “Correct. This will have to happen rather quickly; the longer we wait, the longer my brother has to act.”

“No!” Amethar jumped to his feet, one hand instinctively reaching for Payment Day- even in his own castle, it was never out of reach. “You can’t be serious. Didn’t Citrina go on and on at their wedding about the holiness and sanctity of their love? This is disrespectful to all three of them!”

Jadain slammed his hands on the desk and stood as well, suddenly commanding the room more than should be possible for a man his size. “Amethar, this is not up for debate! The time of you being able to do whatever you please is over. It ended with the lives of your sisters. You will marry the Duchess. You will do your duty to Candia as its king. I do not doubt that you have it in you to be a great king, but first you must grow up!” He took a deep breath, and much of the fight in him dissipated.

“I am sorry that I was not more forceful in ensuring that you were prepared to rule should the unthinkable happen. But I wasn’t, and nothing can change that. So now it’s up to you. You can either rise to the occasion or let Candia fall to ruin and make it so every death since the war began, including your sisters’, was in vain. Do you understand, now, that this is not a conversation, but an order?”

Amethar bowed his head, shaken by Jadain’s all too rare display of strength. “Yes, father,” he mumbled.

“Good. Now go; the Duchess should have arrived by now, and the two of you have much to discuss.”

“Yes, father.” Without looking up, Amethar bowed slightly, turned, and left the room. 

As soon as the door slammed shut, Jadain collapsed onto his chair and clutched his chest, even smaller than he was mere minutes earlier. I’m sorry it had to come to this, my son. I’m sorry I couldn’t give you more time. 

Amethar was not surprised to see Sir Theobald Gumbar waiting for him in the hall. He started walking down the hall to the grand entrance without hesitation or a word. 

As expected, Theo rushed after him, quickly catching up. “Your Highness, good morning. Duchess Caramelinda has arrived. If I may be so bold, what’s going on?”

“We are to be married.” Theo stopped dead in his tracks.

“I’m sorry, ‘we’ who? You can’t mean you and the Duchess, right?” he called. The prince didn’t break his stride or acknowledge the questions in any way, leaving him stunned in place, alone in the hall.

Far too quickly for his liking, Amethar reached the entrance hall. A million thoughts were racing through his head as he walked, but the one he kept coming back to was I’m sorry, Laz. You know I don’t want to do this.

When he got there, a footman informed him that she had indeed arrived and was waiting in a nearby sitting room. He nodded and entered without a word.

Upon his entrance, Duchess Caramelinda of House Meringue rose to greet him with a hint of a smile, the picture of poise, beauty, and manners. He bowed no more or less than befitted her station.

“Your Highness, it is lovely to see you again,” she said after a brief but tense moment of silence.

“You as well, Your Grace. We have a lot to talk about; do you want to do that here, or should we take a walk?” 

“A walk sounds lovely.” She glided across the room and took his offered arm.

A few minutes of small talk later, they came upon the royal gardens, a massive sprawl of trees and flowers around labyrinthine hedges twenty feet tall. 

Caramelinda hesitated ever so slightly when Amethar started leading her into the hedges. Amethar immediately noticed and stopped. Confused, he looked at her, before realizing what had given her pause.

“Oh, no, Your Grace, I promise, I have no intention of compromising you. It’s just delicate stuff we need to talk about, and I thought it’d be better to do so with some privacy.”

She looked up at him, and her shoulders relaxed almost imperceptibly. “Very well, then. Lead on.”

Once they rounded the first corner, Amethar spoke again, this time without breaking his stride. “I assume you’re aware of the… arrangement?”

“If you’re referring to our engagement, yes, of course.” 

“Obviously, what you and Lazuli had was beautiful and special. The last thing I want to do is disrespect that, you, or her memory. But I was thinking maybe we could be friends?” Caramelinda stopped walking and took her hand off of his arm.

“I will do my duty to Candia as its queen and yours. With all due respect, Your Highness, I cannot offer you anything beyond that. I appreciate the thought and the effort, but this is just politics, nothing more.” Her tone was placid, so he was taken aback when he turned to her and saw a mask of steely determination.

His brow furrowed, and his hands started fidgeting at his sides. “Oh, um, okay. Yeah, cool, whatever you’re comfortable with.”

“Thank you, Your Highness. Now, shall we discuss wedding plans? This should be done sooner, rather than later.”

“Uh… I, uh… I’m not good with all that stuff. I feel like I’d just get in the way. Do you wanna just have it be the way you want?”

Caramelinda sighed, the path of her future life quickly taking shape before her eyes. “Very well. I will handle the planning. Given the recency of Rococoa’s death, a large event would seem in poor taste, I believe. The political optics of a united, thriving Candia can be satisfied with a historic coronation when the time comes.

That said, I assume there are a couple of…” she hesitated, searching for the phrase he’d use, “‘war buddies’ of yours you’d like to have in attendance, perhaps you’d like to send invitations to them?”

Amethar looked down. “I can’t write,” he muttered.

“What was that? I couldn’t understand you.”

He looked at her and threw his hands up, as if in surrender. “I can’t write, okay? Or read.”

Caramelinda’s eyes widened. “What do you mean you can’t read or write? How is that even possible for someone of your station?”

“I dunno, it was hard, and there were always people around who could do that stuff for me. It didn’t seem all that important,” he shrugged.

“I cannot believe this. I was married to the most brilliant person in all-” she was cut off when Amethar stepped into her space, eyes blazing and standing at his full height, a foot and a half taller than her.

“I’m not Laz! I will never be Laz!” He shouted, and she flinched but immediately regained her perfect posture. “You loved her. I did, too. Both of us wish she was still here, but she’s not. This is going to be hard enough as it is- if you expect me to be anything like her, that’s just gonna make things worse.” 

She stepped back and nodded slowly. “You’re right, and I apologize.” Her voice shook slightly, strengthening as she continued talking. “Things are what they are, and there’s no point in dwelling on the past. I will handle the wedding details. Think about who you’d like to invite, and we’ll discuss that later.”

He relaxed his posture. “Thank you, my lady.”

“Caramelinda, please. We are to be married, after all.”

“Of course. And you should call me Amethar.”

Neither of their smiles reached their eyes.

17th Harvestdusk 1196

“It’s time, Your Grace.”

Caramelinda thanked the servant and looked herself over in the mirror one last time. She couldn’t help but compare what she saw to how she looked on the happiest day of her life, when she stood in the same place and wore the same color some years before. She looked different now. More tired, mostly. There was certainly no trace of the love and light that had been so present in her eyes that day, and the brilliance of the pure white dress mocked her and the decisions she’d made, betraying the love of her life for patriotic duty. Time to go. She took a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and walked into the chapel.

Candia had no shortage of beautiful architecture, but the Cathedral of Saint Citrina was the most impressive of them all. Its intricately carved multicolor spires reaching two hundred feet into the air were rivaled only by its massive stained sugar-glass windows depicting Bulbian saints and iconography, including Saint Citrina herself. The early afternoon light threw a kaleidoscope of colors across the floor in a cruel mockery of confetti.

Seeing Amethar standing there at the altar next to the officiant, Chancellor Lapin Cadbury, she briefly understood the envious looks her friends had tried to hide when she told them about the engagement. As incompatible as they were, she had to admit he certainly looked the part of the dashing young prince and war hero. There are certainly worse men I could have to sire an heir with.

Then that moment passed, and as she walked down the aisle, the emptiness of the cathedral felt suffocating. The only other people in attendance were the king, Amethar’s right hand man Sir Theobald, and his best friend and advisor Lord Calroy of House Cruller.

She arrived at the altar, and Chancellor Cadbury indicated for them both to kneel before he began the ceremony, addressing Amethar.

“Most illustrious Prince, is it your will to fulfill the treaty of marriage concluded by your father, the King of Candia, and the parents of the Duchess of Meringue, and, as the Bulb has dispensed with this marriage, to take the Duchess who is here present for your lawful wife?”

She kept her head bowed, so she couldn’t see the look on Amethar’s face as he audibly gulped before responding, “I will.”

She felt, rather than saw, the chancellor turn to face her. She slowly raised her head, still not looking at Amethar. “Most illustrious Duchess, is it your will to fulfill the treaty of marriage concluded by the King of Candia and your parents and, as the Bulb has dispensed with this marriage, to take the Prince who is here present for your lawful husband?”

“I will.” 

The rest of the ceremony and small but still elaborate wedding dinner was a blur; the only thing Caramelinda remembered was how bitter the wedding cake tasted.

20 Highbright 1197

The midwife handed Amethar a swaddled, crying bundle of black licorice as Caramelinda screamed in pain again. “Take her, Your Majesty. Bulb willing, the second child will be here very soon.”

“Oh, uh, y- yeah. Of course.” He tucked her into the crook of his elbow as he’d been taught and looked down at her, bouncing and rocking her oh so gently. She was small enough that she could practically fit in his hand, but her cries were so loud. “Good set of lungs. You’re gonna be a troublemaker, aren’t you? I can’t wait to teach you all the shenanigans your aunts and I got into growing up.” She quieted down right as Caramelinda shouted with one final push, and then the room was silent. 

Three, four, five tense seconds passed. 

Amethar had stopped moving, so Jet started crying again. A heartbeat after she did, the red licorice baby in Caramelinda’s arms cried as well, and everyone started breathing again. 

He walked over to the bed and sat down next to Caramelinda, putting his free arm around her shoulders. “You did so well. They’re beautiful.” She sighed and leaned into his shoulder, exhausted.

“That they are. What should we name them? I quite like the name Ruby. She’s certainly more precious than any gem.”

He looked at the child in her arms and smiled. “Yeah, Ruby, I like that. And how about Jet?”

She looked at their two beautiful daughters and smiled as well. “Jet and Ruby. They’re perfect.”

“Yeah, they are. Here, let me take Ruby. You just went through hell and should get some sleep.” She nodded and helped get Ruby settled in his arm.

“Thank you, Amethar. As hard as things can be, at least we did this right. Our beautiful girls.” At least, he was pretty sure that’s what she said as she fell asleep.

He gently stood up and started walking to the nursery a bit further into the queen’s quarters. Once he got there, he took a seat in the rocking chair and let himself cry, equal parts love for his daughters and grief for his sisters. “Your aunts would have loved you both so much. They’d spoil you rotten if they were here,” he whispered, “so I’m gonna have to do it for them.” Time lost all meaning as he sat there, watching his daughters sleep. “I’m sure you’ll grow up and be able to take care of yourselves, but no matter what, I’ll protect you. I couldn’t be there for my sisters, but I will be there for you. I love you so much.” Jet stirred a little bit. “That’s right, I’m talking to you, Jet. No one's ever gonna hurt you or your sister. Not while I’m around.” I’ll burn the world to the ground if anyone lays a hand on you.

[gwydionmisha]

Personal: Ugh

We are at the point where I have no time for anything and I am exhausted. October is usually rough, but this is extra. I am of course supposed to be doing hours of physio everyday. Some times I even achieve that, but it is never enough. I'm only managing a third or less of what I'm meant to be doing and i keep needing naps. The trees aren't decorated. I have to do laundry every day because cats. The stuff going on with housing is draining, plus the security theater fence that they spent the money they should have spent on fixing indoor waterfall damage is now broken. I keep telling them this. They keep pretending not to understand the maintenance requests and closing them without any to the point response. I told them this would happen when I begged them not to put in the security theater fence. Squirrel just got hit with another extra large bill and I don't think I'll be able to count on them paying in.

On top of all the other exhausting things, I had to rather suddenly do a binge rewatch of the untamed, as I had been waiting to rewatch until after I finished the books, but netflix yanked it on the 24. It cost me a lot of sleep, but I finished with about an hour and a half to spare. I'm still reading book three. I've been reading book three for ages because I don't get time to read for fun much with the physio. I can watch TV while I do it but not read.

Plus the world is burning.

It is just A LOT.

I had my bones prodded Thursday morning. My Surgeon is trying to score me one round more of physio. I AM making progress. but it's so slow. If I push faster than my current snail's pace I just damage myself and have to take off from working on it.

IDk. I love October, but this time it's so discouraging.

TUMBLR STUFF: I have been flirting with post limit off and on the last little while. This is particularly an issue the closer we get to Halloween most years. I have been tossing things around in time using the scheduling feature and hoping they land on a lighter posting day. Just because it looks like I'm on doesn't mean I'm on, especially during the day and early evening pacific time. I'm likely not ignoring you, I just likely moved some posts.

I am likely to be run ragged through the first week of November or longer depending on Election stuff. Posting may get pretty erratic.

[enchantmentandshadows]

SJM Crackship Month : Forbidden Romance

So my #1 crackship for anyone who doesn't know, is Eris x Nuala. I live and breath for the crackyatch that is Shadowfire.

If you know me, then you know I don't shut up about them and I never will, so this is my contribution for SJM Crackship Month!

SJM Crackship Month - Day 13 - Forbidden Romance

Crackship: Nuala x Eris

@sjmcrackshipmonth

Overdue Kiss

Nuala found herself glancing up again for the third time, her breath catching as amber eyes met her grey. She’d been caught this time, and the quiet chuckle she heard as she looked away confirmed as much. Trouble. She knew he was trouble but she’d long been able to sense there was much more to Eris Vanserra than that, despite how the rest of her friends and family felt about him.

They’d had enough conversations, she’d spent enough time with him to get a sense of him and she wasn’t afraid. Besides, Lucien was nice, why couldn’t Eris be too?

“Nuala?” The school librarian said, giving her a tap on the shoulder and pulling her from her thoughts.

“Sorry.” She said, feeling her cheeks heat at being caught, distracted by Eris Vanserra for the second time in the span of a minute.

“Can you shelve the books on the cart before you go?” She asked, motioning to the cart covered in stacks of books.

“Of course, I’ll get started now.” Nuala said with a nod, anxious to get away and hide. Far from the intense amber eyes that followed her as she disappeared further into the library.

Eris Vanserra sat patiently, pretending to read for all of 30 seconds before getting to his feet and going to find where Nuala had disappeared to. She’d caught his attention long before they ever spoke but he hadn’t dared to approach her. There was no point in trying to make nice with the Archeron’s or anyone in their circle if your last name was Vanserra. Lucien was tolerated only because of his friendship with Elain.

The first time Nuala spoke to him, he waited for the insult or the barbed comments, but they never came. One conversation after another, each a little longer than the last until he finally stopped waiting for things to sour and just let himself enjoy her company. They’d kept things quiet, mostly for their own sanity. There was no love lost between their families, but it didn’t stop him from being drawn to her. Here he was, seeking her out in the middle of the day, at school where anyone might see.

“So embarrassing.” Nuala muttered, pushing the cart around a corner, placing books back in their rightful place one by one. She refused to let her mind wander again, especially to a certain Vanserra. Maybe it would have been easier to get him off her mind if she pretended he was as awful as her family always said. Maybe if she suspected he’d only spoken to her to get a rise out of them, but he’d kept it as quiet as she had. A secret just between the two of them, but it never felt like a dirty secret, something to be ashamed of. It felt special and fragile, like something to be protected and shielded from the outside world.

She hadn’t told him, but Azriel had seen them talking and immediately warned her against him. He wasted no time running down his list of reasons why Eris and his brothers were the scum of the earth and should be avoided at all costs. She’d listened and tucked the information away but in the many times they’d spoken and spent time together, Eris had never shown himself to be anything like Az described.

Yes, he was a smart ass. Snarky and sarcastic, but he was also witty and fun. He was charming and though he might deny it, he could also be very sweet. Nuala wasn’t sure what she’d done to unlock this side of him, but deep down, some part of her knew that this was who he truly was. Being around Eris was just easy and natural and she wasn't going to give that up without good reason.

The one thing Nuala was certain of was that he wasn’t there to see her. He was a student, a Senior with plenty of final exams to study for. Him being there could have absolutely nothing to do with her. True, she’d never seen him study in here before and also true she’d recently let it slip that she worked here during her free period but that wasn’t proof of anything. Eris Vanserra was NOT here to see her.

“Ridiculous.” She sighed, on her tiptoes, struggling to slip a thick volume back onto a high shelf. Her heart raced as a pale hand reached out to help, his skin so warm against hers.

“The book, or you hiding from me?” Eris’ velvety voice teased from behind her. She turned to find those warm amber eyes on her again, and she found that she didn’t mind it. Not his eyes fixed on her, or the dusting of freckles across his nose and cheeks, not his smug smile or the way he leaned against the shelf, towering over her.

“Hiding? From you?” She scoffed. “I didn’t even notice you were here.” She lied with a smirk that drew a matching one from Eris.

Beautiful, she was absolutely beautiful, Eris thought. And though she’d played it shy earlier, she was clearly feeling playful now, and he loved her like this.

“But since you’re here, make yourself useful?” She asked, motioning to the cart of books.

“Since you asked so nicely.” He grinned, following her with the cart, watching her every graceful move. He wasn’t sure how it happened, how he’d let himself fall for someone so out of his reach but he didn’t regret it. She might, for wasting her time on someone like him but he knew he’d never regret her.

“Can I help you find a book?” She asked, daring a glance over her shoulder before replacing a few more books on the shelf.

“Nuala…” She could hear the smile in his voice, and the warning. It made her heart flutter in her chest. He was feeling bold today and it inspired a bit of boldness in her too.

“Vanserra.” She smirked, turning to face him, arms crossed over her chest.

His grin widened, brows raised in surprise as he closed the distance between them. One of them would back down, they always did when there were other people around.

Nuala didn’t turn away, not as his hand threaded through her hair and cradled the back of her head, not as he leaned in and pressed his lips to hers. Eris’ heart thundered in his chest as she tipped her chin up and returned the kiss, silencing his fears and doubts as she always did. Worth it. She was worth any obstacles he’d have to deal with to stay in her life.

Nuala didn’t flinch when the books she held thudded to the floor, her hands now steadily moving up Eris’ chest. She didn’t care that anyone could have walked by and seen them. She’d already made up her mind that Eris was worth the risk and if her family found out, she would tell them so and they would deal with it together.

[thewildwaffle]

Ghost Busters

A prompt from user Kelly on ao3

Edit: I didn't originally mean for this to get spooky, but it did. Maybe reconsider reading this at night if you get easily spooked

***

Desan looked over the calendar. Booked out for another two moors. Wow. She really thought clients would have started going elsewhere once they found out the wait was more than a decacycle or two. They must be getting desperate.

The comm lines rang again. It seemed like they rang more often than they were quiet lately. Desan eyed the calendar again before she picked up the call.

“Hello, AIM Inspections, Desan speaking, how many I help you today?”

“Hi, I was told you offer haunting inspections?” The voice on the other line sounded gruff and a little tired. “We’ve had a flarg of an attempt trying to hire lately and our crew’s numbers are starting to dwindle fast.”

Desan nodded, even though the caller obviously couldn’t see. Here we go with another one. “Yes, we offer supernatural analysis inspections. I must warn you now that we are booked out until mid-Corruse on the Burnti calendar.”

The caller sighed and hummed for a bit. “That’s not as soon as I’d like, but honestly, you’re the third place I’ve called and that’s the soonest I’ve heard. What do you need from me to get started?”

“Well,” Desan pulled up a form on her track tablet, “I’ve just got a few questions, get a bit of information, then I’ll send you a form fill and I’ll get you on the schedule. First off, to whom am I speaking, and may I ask what alerted you to the need for our services?”

“Riord Esh, operations manager for the Bantar outer fleet. And I'd say we were alerted the same way as most people, I’d wager,” the gruff voice drawled out. “Tried hiring some humans, but they claimed our ships were haunted. That's since spread around. No one wants to work on a ship where even humans are scared if you know what I mean."

"I do, yes that's been a pretty common problem we've been hearing."

"Have you been able to fix this? I mean for the ships you have done the inspections for?"

"Oh yes, we've got a 100% ghost-free guarantee. Now, if I can get a bit of info from you, I can go ahead and get you scheduled for mid-Corruse."

The rest of the call went smoothly. Before Desan hung up, she assured Riord Esh that, should another client cancel, they would be moved up in the queue, to which they were grateful.

And with that, another client on the long, long list.

Desan had helped out on some of the inspections, and with all the demand lately, would probably continue doing so. It was a bit of extra pay, so she certainly had no issue with the extra work. It also had the added benefit of being quite interesting.

For the vast majority of "haunted" ships, the supernatural inspections ran almost identically to normal ship inspections. It was funny how often "sudden cold spots" were just a simple draft, or feelings of paranoia or being watched turned out to be caused by a previously undetected gas leak. The initial inspectors would simply write up a report detailing fixes needed and boom. Suddenly the ship no longer has a hard time finding a crew to hire.

But there were exceptions. The kind of exceptions that really threw a rock into their otherwise simple business model.

Before this job, Desan did not consider herself to be superstitious in any way. She still adamantly claimed to not believe in ghosts and haunts and spookums. But even she had to second-guess her stance when some of her inspector coworkers came back from some of their more… problematic jobs.

There were things that just didn’t make sense. Unsettling things. Usually involving some unfortunate or tragic circumstance. They were the things that couldn’t be satisfyingly brushed off as hallucinations of over-worked or mourning brains.

One in the particular job still gave her shivers. She’d been asked to join an inspection tour on one of the largest ships their company has done to date. It was a new, fresh off the assembly line, Booletean Cruiser Class 6. The ship's sheer size meant more hands were needed for the inspection crew to get everything checked out. Even then it still took an entire day cycle just to get through everything. And what a day it was.

The ship, again, was new. It should have had no issues. However, upon checking some of the paperwork for its production, it turned out that only some of the parts were completely new.

There’d been a terrible crash a decacycle or two before. Another Booletean Cruiser Class 6 had crashed. The Bayjee Disaster. There were survivors, but far more lives were lost. It was a tragic accident, a perfect storm of circumstances mixed with just enough miscommunication that caused it all.

While sifting through the wreckage, it was discovered that some of the parts of the ship were still in good condition. After intense inspection and testing, they were eventually used in the construction of another Booletean Cruiser.

The very one Desan and her company had been hired to inspect.

They checked everywhere. There were no gas leaks to explain why crew members would feel paranoid or even panicked, insisting that they were not alone when no one else was there.

There was nothing wrong with the pipes in the boiler room, even though engineers insisted that they would hear unexplained banging and screeching metal near the end of their shifts. Always twenty mentiks before their shifts ended. It never mattered what time of the day cycle they were working, it was always twenty mentiks before the end of their shift.

From the investigation, it was widely claimed that the chain of events that led to the Bayjee crashing had taken about twenty mentiks to come to fruition.

But one of the worst aspects of the “haunted” ship was something Desan and her team hadn’t experienced with other ship inspections.

Several crew members, passengers, and even a few kloxan dignitaries had claimed that they had seen the Bayjee captain aboard their ship. They claimed they’d seen her face quite clearly. She never said anything, she never interacted with anyone, she’d just be there. And then she’d be gone like someone had flipped a switch and turned off some sort of ghostly projector.

There were official reports of these sightings, several in fact, most of which were made by otherwise level-headed individuals that would have nothing to gain by falsifying such reports.

They spent far longer on this inspection than they had on any other project. With other jobs starting to pile up in the meantime, a decision was ultimately made to remove the parts of the ship that were originally part of the Bayjee and replace them with identical parts fresh off the assembly line.

All reports of any “haunting” phenomena immediately stopped.

Desan decided to stick to her office post after that. She still claimed to be a skeptic of the claims of the supernatural, and in most cases, she was. Being so was now part of her line of work. But even she had to admit that in the vastness of space and within all the realms of possibility, there was much that was beyond her understanding.

The comm lines rang again, pulling her out of her musings. With a sigh, she stretched and eyed the very full calendar before answering the call. “Hello, AIM Inspections, Desan speaking, how many I help you today?”

[irradiate-space]

Tuesday Typings

I came back from the North American Science Fiction Convention with so many books. Notes on costume stuff, one giant costume todo list, and recent reads/watches as well.

Books acquired recently

The Archive Undying, Emma Mieko Candon, 2023, bought

This is How You Lose the Time War, Amal El-Mohtar and Max Gladstone, 2020, bought — finished and enjoyed

The Sng of Achilles, Madeline Miller, 2012, bought

Translation State,, Ann Leckie, 2023, bought

Francis: The People's Pope, Ted Rall, allegedly autographed, 2018, bought

The Stars Like Dust, Isaac Asimov, 1996 paperback printing, gifted

The Courier, Gerald Brandt, 2016, free pile

Alliance Rising, C. J. Cherryh and Jane S. Fancher, 2019, free pile

Foundryside, Robert Jackson Bennett, 2019 Broadway promo printing, free pile

Mica, fille de Transyl, Michèle Laframboise, 2012, free pile — I do not read the French; this is going on a gift pile for a Francophone friend

To Climb a Flat Mountain, G. David Nordley, 2009?, bought after the author gave me an answer to a worldbuilding problem

Burning Days, Glenn Grant, 2011, free

This Virtual Night, C.S. Friedman, 2021, free

To Each This World, Julie Czerneda, 2022, free and signed

The Complete Smoke Trilogy, Tanya Huff, 2019, free

She Who Became The Sun, Shelley Parker-Chan, 2021, free

All of the free books are from Pemmi-Con; half are from DAW Publishers who were really, really generous.

Recent Reading and Watching

This is How You Lose the Time War surprised me with the identity of the Seeker; mid-book I thought there might be another operative tailing them, or a Purple child, or a third side to this war. That last prediction was quite close!

Mobile Suit Gundam Unicorn - Bande Dessinee Episode: 0 wasn't particularly thrilling, but I value it because it fills out the characters of Full Frontal and Angelo Sauper, and how the Zeonist public sees things before the initiation of the Third Neo Zeon War, aka The Laplace Incident.

Star Wars: The Clone Wars has been good through season 7; I ned to track down season 8 to see if they later appearance of Ashoka in Star Wars Rebels makes any sense.

Legend of Galactic Heroes: I have finally finished this. RIP to a legend, but we all knew that the death flag for the last person to die was waved at the end of the third season. Rubinsky's end was also fitting: reflecting of how he was no longer part of the plot, he was also no longer part of politics. His last gasp felt irrelevant, and really was.

Pacific Rim: The Black is a 3dcg film that's reminiscent of RWBY and Dragon Prince in style, but with the same Ramin Djiwadi soundtrack, and some neat twists that really delve into the fridge horror of the setting. But this is a kids' show, so there's little blood, the decapitations happen out of frame, and the heads don't roll too far. Episode 7 has a nice "it's dangerous to go alone; take this" moment.

Computing

A 2.1A powerbank is not enough to stably power a Pi 1 B+ with a 4.0" square Hyperpixel Touch display and a wireless keyboard. Big Sad. Next question is if a PiSugar 3 battery controller will work with a Pi 1 B+ or if I should splurge $75 on a Pi 4 for this device.

I'd like to have a mobile compute terminal that's smaller than a 13" laptop, but still has USB ports. Scrollwheel and a button to toggle the OSK would also be nice.

Primary nonwork laptop's keyboard continues to degrade; It's becoming a desk item. Its degradation is the primary driver of the new palmtop development.

Actually, wait, I have a spare CM4 from a StereoPi 2 device. I could use that, with a compatible breakout board maybe. Or I could test the Hyperpixel screen on the Stereopi board directly. Then I'd have a 4" touchscreen mated to a … 5" wide board? Well, it'll at least let me test some things, like whether the CM4 works for this use case. Bonus dual cameras is a questionable bonus.

Crafting

KInda burnt out on crafting, tbh. Last two weeks were full of crunch before Pemmi-Con/NASFiC, which netted me a "Judge's Choice in Novice Class" award and "Best Use of Modern Tech" in the Masquerade competition.

Next up, over @glowingskull, I plan to post rundowns of the stuff I made, and maybe some shapefiles, but there's a lot of work left in this costume and I plan to redo large parts of the headgear.

Because, let's be honest, the post-con todo list for that costume is basically:

Better photographs?

Write up the project

Print off a holder for these parts, because I'm retiring them to mount on the wall

Redesign snout, again, to remove grilles and double-thicken all the parts

Resculpt temples and ears of skull

Put a visor in the eye holes

Eye-lights in visor?

Enclose head: back of skull, ventilation, neck sock

Redo the flame staff's camera monopod mount attachment point for durability (may require welding?)

Sculpt a model for the chestpiece, so it's plastic instead of foam

Sculpt a model for arm bracers

And then on top of that I also want to:

Document the Servicer outfit

Sew on a Masonic patch for the Servicer outfit

Build some DIY NVGs for use in costume projects like this one

Write up the Baba Yaga's Hut costume which won Best In Show

I think my next costume goal, after the revised Turaga Vakama, will be an Earth Federation Space Forces officer uniform, so I can give the planned "WTF is Zeon" lectures in character.

The next head goal will be a Deinonychus head with articulated jaw, which requires advancements in augmented reality. Need to get the StereoPi working, or ditch/sell it and switch to paired NVG monocles.

Music

I think it's time for Pacific Rim soundtracks. Pacific Rim: The Black sounds somewhere between the Pacific Rim movies' soundtracks and the tense violin work from the 2009 Sherlock Holmes movie with RDJ and Jude Law, soundtrack by Hans Zimmer. Not particularly Australian, unfortunately.

Lego Stuff

Gotta merge the two submarine kits, and build the Emperor's Throne Room that I won at pinball at Pemmi-Con.

[princessasmosprincess]

Mermaid Splash

Chapter 2

Summary: Obey Me! Fairy tale au. A retelling of Hans Christian Andersen's The Little Mermaid.

Pairing: Asmodeus × GN MC

Warnings: Mild blood.

***

Author's Note: This chapter probably has the most direct references to the original fairy tale. A few of the Wizard's lines are pulled directly from the text.

***

The next evening Asmo asked Levi and Beel to help him move the remains of your boat to shore. He told them the fish and octopuses on the reef had been complaining that they couldn't return to their favorite nesting spots.

There were no signs of you or any other humans on the shore. He looked up at the lights of the castle and the village nearby and he hoped he would see you again.

The following night was stormy, but Asmo told his brothers he wasn't feeling well enough to sing to the passing ships. He laid in his sea bed, his thoughts constantly drifting to you.

By the third evening he couldn't take it anymore.

“What if there was a human who was immune to our song?” He asked as the seven brothers took their dinner.

“Impossible,” said Lucifer.

“It’s certainly not a situation that's ever come up in any book I've read.” said Satan.

The others agreed.

Asmo bristled. “None of you have been around since the beginning of time, it could have happened at least once.”

“If it has,” Lucifer said. “I know nothing of it.”

“Only the King of the Sea would be old enough to know if it ever happened,” said Mammon. “Or the Old Wizard.”

“The Old Wizard?” Asmo asked.

“He’s as old as the Sea King, maybe older.” Mammon played with one of the many necklaces he wore. “They say he was once human, but he gave his life up for the sea. They say he can’t die.”

“If he gave his life up for the sea, how is it that he can’t die?” Satan asked, skeptical.

“I heard he can grant any wish.” Levi said. “He lives in a cave just outside the kingdom, it’s hidden by a shipwre–”

“That is enough!” Lucifer stopped him. “It is forbidden to speak of the Old Wizard of the Sea. We do not speak of those who have been cast out of the kingdom. And we do not leave the kingdom without express permission from His Highness the Crown Prince.”

The brothers went silent.

“Let us take solace that in our lifetime no human has been immune to our song.” said Lucifer. He turned to his younger brother. “Asmo, you may ask the Sea King your question on the day that he wakes.”

No one in the kingdom knew the day the Sea King would wake. Not even his son, the Crown Prince. The King had been sleeping for well over a hundred years and he could sleep for a hundred more. Maybe a thousand. Merpeople were gifted with longer lifetimes than that of humans, but even so Asmo didn't think he could wait that long for an answer.

Asmo stayed home that night, once again tossing and turning in his sea bed. He longed to be in the sun. He longed to be with you.

He was half tempted to ask Satan or Belphie to accompany him at the surface and sing to you. Maybe a second voice harmonizing with his could charm you. Both of them would be willing to defy Lucifer. Asmo just didn't want to be responsible for either of them getting in trouble.

He turned on his side. Then there was the matter of the Old Sea Wizard. If he truly did have an answer it wouldn't hurt to ask him. And if he could grant a wish that would be even better. Asmo just had to make sure Lucifer didn't find out. He decided to leave while his brothers were out.

Being a prince of the sea, Asmo knew the route of the kingdom guards, which sections of the gate were the most protected. It was so simple to slip past a lone guard who had fallen asleep at his post.

Asmo circled the outside of the kingdom walls, darting behind rocks and patches of seaweed so as to not be spotted by diligent guards keeping an eye out for wayward merpeople.

Asmo began to lose faith that he'd find the Wizard’s cave after a while. He was tired of swimming, he should have stayed home and slept. He was about to turn back when he spotted a shipwreck. Could this be the one that hid the Old Wizard’s cave?

He pushed past the rubble, swimming through what had once been a window on the stern of the ship. The cave was quite dark, but Asmo could see in the dark so he was able to navigate it. The cave twisted and turned, Asmo went deeper. Soon he saw a dim light above him. He swam for it.

Asmo surfaced in an air pocket of the cave. There was light here but there was no sky or stars.

“Welcome, my child.” said the Old Wizard of the sea. “I am the Great Wizard Solomon.”

The Old Wizard didn't look so old. He looked no older than Asmo or any of his brothers. His silver hair was the only thing that gave away his aged state.

Asmo saw that the air pocket formed a little room with a stone floor. Stalagmites were set with hundreds of candles that cast a dim yellow light about the room. The Old Wizard sat on a carved wooden chair at the side of a cauldron that took up the middle of the room. He had taken the form of a human.

The Old Wizard gave a little cough, “Ahem.”

“I- I am Asmodeus, Fifth Prince of the Sea.” He recited his full title.

“Yes I know who you are, child.”

Asmo gave a nervous smile. “I have a question.”

“You have a question?” The Wizard’s tone was patronizing.

“Yes, I wanted to know what would happen if there was ever a human who was immune to the song of merpeople, oh Great Wizard Solomon of the Sea.” said Asmo with his head bowed.

The Wizard was pleased with Asmo’s reverence. “You may call me Wizard Solomon.”

“Oh,” said Asmo, surprised at the Wizard's friendliness. “Thank you Wizard Solomon.”

“Now about your question…” Wizard Solomon tapped his chin with one finger. “I will admit that I do not know of any humans being immune to the song of merpeople. I doubt there are any in existence.”

Asmo knew this was untrue but he wouldn't dare defy the Great Wizard Solomon. So you were the only one. This only made Asmo want you more.

“Thank you oh Great-” Asmo corrected himself. “Oh Wizard Solomon.” He bowed again to the Wizard, ready to leave the eccentric man's cave.

“That is not all, I presume,” Wizard Solomon stared deeply into Asmo’s eyes. “You, dear little prince, have a wish.”

“I-”

“There is no use denying it, Asmodeus.”

Asmo swallowed awkwardly. “I do have a wish.” He admitted. “I wish to bask in the sun and walk on land with the humans.”

Wizard Solomon laughed, “And not just any human, your human. The one who is supposedly immune to your voice.”

“How did you-”

“I know what you want,” said Wizard Solomon. “It is very stupid of you, but you shall have your way, and it will bring you to sorrow, my pretty prince.”

Asmo wrapped his arms around himself, unsure. “So you can grant my wish?”

“You are lucky I can switch between land and sea myself. I can grant your wish,” he said. “I can make a potion to split your tail in two and shrink into human legs. You will feel great pain, as if a sword were passing through you. But all who see you will say that you are the prettiest little human being they ever saw.”

“I would like that very much.” Asmo smiled.

“You do understand if you forsake the sea, the kingdom will forsake you.” said the Wizard.

Asmo nodded gravely. He knew this was a betrayal of the Crown Prince and the kingdom.

“And of course I will require payment.” Said Wizard Solomon.

Asmo took off six of the pearl necklaces he was wearing. He reluctantly went to remove the seventh and smallest necklace when Wizard Solomon stopped him.

“Keep it to remind you of your loss,” he said. “I will take the others but you must know I need so much more to work this spell. Something dear to you.”

“Something dear?”

“Your voice, perhaps?” the Wizard suggested.

“My voice? But-”

The wizard cut him off. “Does your voice work on this human?”

“No.”

“Then what use do you have for it?”

Asmo thought for a moment. “I wouldn't be able to talk to them without it.”

“There are other ways to communicate,” said Wizard Solomon. “Everyone knows you are the most beautiful creature under the sea.”

Asmo preened at this flattery. What he’d said was true, mermaids and mermen from all over the kingdom fell for him on his looks alone. And from the illustrations in Satan’s books, he might surpass the beauty of most humans.

“You will still have your beautiful form, your graceful walk, and your expressive eyes; surely with these you can enchain a human’s heart.”

The Wizard made a good point. You were the human he wanted, and if he could not use his voice to charm you he could afford to lose it.

“I will do it.” Asmo said.

“Now, the terms for our agreement, our pact, shall we say, are thus: you will have thirty days to win the heart of your human. The spell will become permanent and you will get to keep the beautiful legs I give you if you accomplish this.”

As the Wizard spoke, Asmo became more and more excited to have legs of his own.

“But,” the Wizard continued. “In that time if the human chooses to give their heart to another, on the dawn of the thirty-first day you will turn into seafoam and die. You are aware that merpeople don’t have eternal souls like humans do.”

Asmo nodded.

“Is this still what you want to do?”

Asmo considered it before giving his answer. “I do.”

“Very well then.” The Wizard scooped up the six pearl necklaces and put all but one aside. He set a little fire underneath the cauldron, it burned bright gold. He rummaged through the shelves lining the wall, gathering all sorts of vials. He poured the contents of the vials in the cauldron. He snapped the string of the necklace he was still holding and let the pearls fall into the potion. The Wizard then took a knife and sliced his palm, letting the blood drip into the cauldron. It began to boil and flash with light.

Asmo was entranced watching as the Wizard’s spell took shape. Wizard Solomon gestured for him to come forward. He lifted himself by his arms onto the stone floor, his entire body, tail and all, out of the water.

“I need you to sing for me, Asmodeus.” said the Wizard.

Asmo chose his most beautiful song and sang with his whole heart. His voice echoed throughout the little room. There was such passion in his voice.

“Very nice.” said the Wizard. “A fitting voice for a jewel of the sea.”

Wizard Solomon held a nautilus shell in his hands, reciting an elaborate incantation.

The wizard’s magic reached deep into Asmo’s throat, drawing out his voice. He was losing control of the melody as his voice in the form of a glowing bubble was torn from his mouth as he sang. It was painful, it felt like a part of his heart was being ripped away, but he kept his mind on his new legs and the prospect of winning your heart.

The Wizard Solomon simpered, maintaining eye contact with Asmo as he threw the nautilus shell into the cauldron. All the while he continued to recite the incantation, the words coming faster and faster.

When he was finished, the wizard poured the potion into a vial. It was clear like the purest water.

“Drink, dear prince.” said the Wizard.

Asmo took the vial and downed the potion in one swallow. His entire body warmed, almost to burning.

It felt as if a sword was ripping through his tail. He writhed in pain on the stone floor. If he could have screamed he would have. At some point Asmo fainted from the pain. When he awoke his tail was gone and in its place were two perfect human legs. Breathing felt different now. Asmo also noticed that his vision was much dimmer than before, he could barely see the Wizard by the light of the candles.

“It is finished,” said the Wizard. He used his magic to call upon a sea creature. An eel swam up to the side of the stone floor.

“Take a deep breath and grab onto the tail of this eel, he will bring you to the surface. From then you will be on your own.”

His head still reeling with pain, Asmo nodded, his fingers closing around the eel's tail.

“Remember, you have thirty days,” said Wizard Solomon. “Good luck.” It was a sincere statement, more so than anything the Wizard had said that night.

Asmo took a deep, shaky breath and the eel took off, dragging him back into the water and racing for the surface.

The eel wound through the Wizard’s cave with great speed. Asmo was blind in the dark water, his eyes stinging from the salt. The pressure and lack of air was getting to him, he felt dizzy.

Asmo gasped for air as he breached the surface. The moon was high in the sky, peeking through the clouds. There was still a storm churning the waters. He got one glimpse at the stars before the current dragged at him Asmo was not used to how his legs worked, try as he might, he floundered in the water. It pulled him under.

***

Cross-posted on AO3

[redheadgleek]

February books

What I read: 

Solito by Javier Zamora. A haunting, lyrical memoir about a young boy who migrated from Guatemala to California alone. It was a hard read but beautiful and important. A Psalm for the Wild-Built by Becky Chambers. It took a little while for this story to develop, but I really loved the last few chapters. Cloud Cuckoo Land by Antony Doerr. Friend recommendation. Lots of interwoven stories from several different time periods. The Six: The Untold Story of America's First Women Astronauts by Loren Grush. I enjoyed learning about the different astronauts, but it also felt like Wikipedia articles in places. Poverty. by America by Matthew Desmond. Audiobook. Will break your heart, make you despondent about how poorly we are carrying for a significant portion of our society, but is also hopeful. Well worth listening to. Beartown by Fredrik Backman. Friend rec. A very different novel than Anxious People, but as a person who grew up in a struggling small town, it also felt very real. The Seventh Bride by T. Kingfisher. This may be one of my favorite fairy tale retellings of hers. It felt very much like a Robin McKinley book. Starter Villain by John Scazi. Friend rec. My first Scazi. It was a lot of fun and the unionized dolphins were the best. Artificial Condition by Martha Wells. Audiobook. The second Murderbot book. I enjoyed meeting ART (although I cannot picture what it looks like). Looking forward to continuing the series. Emily Wilde’s Map of the Otherlands by Heather Fawcett. I loved every minute of this book. Such an excellent sequel and I can't wait for book 3. A Prayer for the Crown-Shy by Becky Chambers. The second Monk and Robot book. Again, I really loved the last quarter of the book.

What I'm reading:

How the Word Is Passed: A Reckoning with the History of Slavery Across America by Clint Smith. Audiobook. The author is primarily a poet, so listening to it is a beautiful experience. Rest Is Resistance: A Manifesto by Tricia Hersey. Book club book. It's a short book, but it is so repetitive that it should have been a magazine article. There's good ideas here, though, so I'm determined to finish it. The Starless Sea by Erin Morgenstein. The first chapters of the book drew me in entirely into this magical world of books and it stayed that way for about the first quarter. I'm about 3/4 of the way done with it and I've lost that feeling a little. There are parts that I just absolutely adore (the slow building romance, the way that all of these little stories are coming together), but that magic is fraying a touch. I think it's one that would benefit from rereading.

What I plan on reading next:

My to-read list keeps getting longer. I hope to finish The Summer Tree and A Short History of Nearly Everything, which I put on hold, the third Murderbot book, and Tom Lake. And I don't know what else.