#a-novel-tale-indeed

[cheriecelestial]

Jacob Black's Self Saving System Pt.1

disclaimer *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ crack.swearing.not proofread

synopsis *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ Jason, a self-proclaimed no. 1 Stephenie Meyer hater, finds himself unexpectedly transmigrated into the very novel he disdained. Following this ironic twist of fate, he is now tasked with the challenge of creating a better version of the story himself.

a/n *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ Inspired from @duckysprouts ’s series. It’s so good ⁉️‼️. If you haven’t seen it already, PLEASE GO CHECK IT OUT. Like finally svsss content that isn’t shizun sphinx cats or binghe skin creature abomination. Art and concept so fresh it made my heart cry with joy and pulled me out of my three-month long writing slump. So, I humbly present this as an offering to our lord and savior, Ducky. Comment, Reblog and Like (∩˃o˂∩)♡

Twilight by Stephanie Meyer was a modern classic in its renaissance era with a large cult that loved to hate it. Set in a place with relentless rain, mist shrouded forest and an ethereal light piercing the gloom — the light being the one of only Edward Cullen. Though the statement is subject to fan bias — he was a man, rather sparkly vampire, who somehow managed to be both irresistible and perpetually constipated. 

Nonetheless, his charms never overshadowed the stellar performance of our female lead, Isabella Marie Swan— better known as Bella — a teenager who gained worldwide fame for having a personality less vibrant than a wet cabbage. Together, they navigated the perilous world of teenage angst, vampire baseball, millenia old racist italian politicians and werewolves with a curious t-shirt allergy, all in an impressively monotone palette.

It was a heartwarming tale that began with awkward stares, cryptic yet nauseatingly clichéd conversations and Bella’s inexplicable attraction to danger, making the romance as thrilling as it was perplexing. Meanwhile, the supporting cast of her high school friends, each with their own irrelevant quirks and subplots, served as convenient plot devices — appearing and disappearing at the whim of the author.

And as if her love life wasn’t tumultuous enough, Bella befriended Jacob Black. A werewolf who, unsurprisingly, hated all things vampire and Edward Cullen in particular. Between Edward’s brooding, Jacob’s abs and Bella’s classic damsel-in-distress antics that made poor Elena Gilbert seem unremarkable by comparison — the story unfolded with the subtlety of a glitter bomb and reached unprecedented heights of melodrama. Something that helped the tale become a global phenomenon, demonstrating that improbable love stories can indeed shine in their own sparkly “skin-of-a-killer” fashion.

“This has to be the worst piece of literature I’ve ever read in my life.” Those were strong words from a man who spent years and at least six hundred dollars collecting softbacks and hardbacks in every special and limited edition the series offered. Jason Black was an anti-fan who lived to scoff at the literary mediocrities of authors who, after taking one look at their drafts, believed they deserved to be released into the world as actual literature. Such people, often inspired by similar works, spawned their own deranged narratives, subsequently contaminating the sanctity of literature. 

In layman’s terms, Jason was a fervent hater of the highest order. He had a long list of things he despised about the series, yet curiously, re-watching the movies and re-reading the books always found its way to the top of his to-do list every other weekend. But do not get him wrong, not once did he say anything in favour of the series. Jason simply considered it one of those brain-rotting pieces that needed to be experienced to truly appreciate the beauty of classics like Emily Brontë and Jane Austen.

_username_1 : Bruh stfu. You’re probably an unemployed loner with nothing better to do in life than to be a keyboard warrior.  

_username_2 : then idk buddy don’t read it ? It’s not that hard. 

Jason huffed at the screen crossily, his fingers dancing over the keyboard unsure of what to type next. With a sigh, he stretched his arms as if preparing for battle. And a battle it was — being an anti-fan required more dedication, practice and patience than being a regular fan. What he didn’t realize was that he had knocked a water bottle off the table onto the frayed cord of his PC.

He couldn't fathom why people defended it as if their lives depended on it. If he ever met Stephenie Meyer, Jason would have a long talk with her about the plot—or rather, the lack thereof. With the number of plot holes in the books, they could qualify as swiss cheese. The inconsistencies were glaring: if sunlight made them sparkle, wouldn't they still sparkle during the day, just less brilliantly ? How did Jasper and Alice not overhear the phone call despite having super-hearing ? Why did Jasper go ballistic over a papercut when he attended a school where students would get paper cuts and scrapes all the time ? Why were vampires and werewolves the only species to exist ? And why was Bella, or more specifically her blood, so exceptional ? Did she perhaps descend from a line of flavourful blood havers or was it due to her mother's partial albinism ?

Was she special because she was the female lead, or was she the female lead because she was special ? There were so many unanswered questions and half-assed excuses for the events in the story that most explanations came from clever fans trying to make sense of things the author clearly put no effort into planning or thinking through. These questions had plagued him since he first read the series, and the lack of satisfying answers only fueled his irritation. So much so that Jason was embarrassed for the author. Regardless, he didn’t like the direction this conversation was going so he did what any intelligent person would do, i.e., spew hate comments and log off. 

edward_my_bbg : Dumbfuck novel, Dumbfuck author 

And as if on cue, a new notification popped up, dragging him back into the fray. It was another comment, this time mocking his apparent obsession with the series he claimed to hate. Jason’s face flushed with irritation as he furiously typed a retort, but before he could hit send, his screen flickered and went black. 

He looked down and realized the water bottle he had knocked over had short-circuited his PC. With a groan, Jason leaned back in his chair, staring at the dark screen. It seemed the universe had decided to give him a break from his self-imposed battle. His hand fumbled in the dark for the plug only to feel water on the surface. The sharp pain and crackle of electricity were the last things he knew before he plunged headfirst into endless darkness.

[Activation Code:「Dumbfuck Author, Dumbfuck Novel」 ]

[System activated] 

[Pairing command successful]

“What system ?” Jason asked out loud into the void even though he knew that it was most likely a figment of his imagination. He hadn’t expected to receive a reply however he did receive one much to his surprise. 

[Welcome to the system. During the opening of the 「you can you up」system currently in its development phase, we wish to provide you with the best experience. It is our sincere hope that during the process, you will achieve what you have stated: to transform a piece of stupid writing in accordance with your wishes into a high-end, expansive, and classic work. We wish you happiness.]

Jason blinked, trying to make sense of the message. He glanced around the dim room, half-expecting to see some kind of holographic interface or futuristic display but there was nothing. Just the voice in his head and the darkness. “What the hell is this ?” he muttered, feeling a mix of confusion and curiosity.

[You have been selected to participate in the beta phase of the 「you can you up」 system. Your task is to improve the story you despise, turning it into a masterpiece. All resources and guidance will be provided to you. Do you accept this challenge ?]

Jason hesitated, the situation seemed absurd, yet a part of him was intrigued. As he sat in silence, a thought occurred to him—what if he could actually fix all the plot holes that drove him up a wall ? Maybe this was his chance to prove he could do better. But then, the possibility of all of this being real seemed too slim. How did he get here ? What happened to him after the electric shock? Was he dying, or was he already dead ? "And if I don't accept ?" he asked, uncertainty and fear bleeding into his voice despite his attempt at maintaining his composure. The system responded quickly in the same mechanical tone as before.

[Your connection between your former body and soul was severed before the initiation of the program. If you choose not to accept, you will be returned to your previous reality with no changes made. This opportunity is unique and will not be offered again.]

“Severed from my body ? Wait— doesn’t that mean I’ll die if I don’t accept ?” Jason's question hung in the air, met with nothing but silence from the system. The lack of response only confirmed his fear.

The system's silence was deafening, seemingly pressing him to make a decision. Realizing he had little choice, Jason took a deep breath. “Fine, I accept,” he said, trying to sound more confident than he felt. How bad could it possibly be ? 

[Command acknowledged. Initializing story rewrite mode.]

The void around him began to shift and wrap. Till now he felt as though he was floating with no sensation except the system’s sound. His reality dissolved into swirling colours and Jason felt himself being pulled into a vortex. When the chaos settled, he heard a man’s voice call out to him. Unlike the clinical tone of system, this voice felt comforting and personal. He could feel tender warmth run through him however he couldn’t quite figure out what the voice was saying. 

“Son ? Can you hear me ?” 

“Dad ?” Jason murmured involuntarily, his voice hoarse as if he had just woken up from a long sleep. The gravel in the voice reminded him of the joys of his childhood when his dad was still — wait a second. Who the hell is that ?

His eyes struggled to focus as his eyelids fluttered a few times. Eventually, he was able to make out his surroundings. The first thing he noticed was the ceiling. Unlike the damp ceiling of his old apartment with its peeling plaster and harsh lighting, this one had old glow-in-the-dark moon and star stickers. It wasn’t familiar, but it seemed oddly comforting, like he had known it all his life. He slowly turned his head and saw a middle-aged man sitting on a wheelchair beside him with concern clouding his face. The man's russet complexion was lined with wrinkles yet his hair was long and lustrous.

“Where am I ?” 

“You’re at home. You’ve been asleep for so long, it’s alright if you’re confused. Take your time son.” The man he called ‘dad’ answered sincerely.

Jason’s mind raced as he tried to piece together what had happened. The familiarity of the room and the comforting presence of the man didn’t align with the reality he remembered. In that moment, everything came back to him—his death, the void, the system, everything. Jason went into what could only be described as psychological shock. His brain went on autopilot.

The man reached out to grab Jason’s hand, but Jason flinched and pulled away. Slivers of hurt flashed in the old man’s eyes as he slowly withdrew his hand. Jason hadn’t meant to react so harshly, but the information dump combined with the influx of sensory input, he was simply too overwhelmed to cope.

“I-I think i need some space. Do you mind ?” Jason spoke each word carefully, then added, “...dad,” feeling strangely guilty for hurting his feelings. The old man nodded slowly and wheeled himself out of the room. As soon as he was gone, Jason jumped out of bed and ran to the mirror. "Who the FUCK is this?"

Staring back at him was a boy, fifteen or sixteen, with the same russet skin as the old man and glossy black hair that looked like it belonged in a shampoo commercial. Recognizing the features, Jason knew this could only be one person.

 [System activation successful ! Binding your role as : Jacob Black]

[System : Booting Up]

Jason, now Jacob Black, stared at his reflection in disbelief. The reality of his situation hit him like a shit ton of bricks. He brought his fist to his mouth and sobbed into it, and here he thought college was devastating. “But I’m Team Edward,” he choked out between sobs. “That’s so fucked up.”

[Thank you for initiating the execution of the system. You are not bound with the account ‘Jacob Black’. All resources and guidance will be provided to you in due time. Initial B points : 100]

Jason—Jacob—felt a rush of confusion and frustration. “Now what the hell are B points ?!” he yelled, his voice reverberating off the walls of the unfamiliar room. The loudness of his own voice startled him, making him realize just how different everything felt in this new body.

[As the plot progresses, a number of opportunities to gain more points will be available. Please make sure your B points are not lower than 0. Otherwise, the system will automatically impose penalties.]

He stumbled back from the mirror, running a hand through his hair, which was definitely longer and thicker than he remembered. He could feel the strength in his limbs, the vitality of youth coursing through him. Yet, despite the physical vigor, his mind was in turmoil. He had transmigrated into the very novel he hated; the universe always seemed to have a field day when it came to ruining his life. Jacob looked around the room that was littered with the relics of a life he had to now live — a cozy bed with rumpled sheets, a desk cluttered with schoolbooks and posters of motorcycles, bands and scenic landscapes on the walls.

“Um, so is Bella here ?” Jacob asked, scarfing down the bacon his dad made for him. Despite stressing over the role he was supposed to play in the story, he quickly adapted to his new life. He had a family, a house to live in, no worries about finding employment, no bills or taxes, a social life—or at least he assumed he had one—and, most importantly, no backaches. In hindsight, this might not be all that bad.

“Oh, you remember that ? Charlie said she’s arriving in a couple of days,” his dad, Billy, replied. Jacob felt a strange mix of anticipation and relief. Unlike most unfortunate transmigratees, he had no death flags to worry about, so he could sit back and watch Bella and Edward fall in love without “Jacob” interrupting them. Maybe he could even make things easier for Bella by acting like the perfect wingman. Who cared about making a better story anyway ? And once he had seen his OTP together, he could take his ticket out of town after the wedding and never return so that he could avoid the whole Renesmee business because some fates are worse than death.

[WARNING: Your plan is extremely dangerous and constitutes a violation. Please do not attempt it, or the system will impose strict penalties.]

Jacob choked on his water as the sudden warning window popped up in front of him. For a moment, he was so immersed in the domestic comfort of his new life that he almost forgot about the cursed system. His father looked at him with concern.

“Water went down the wrong pipe, that’s all. Nothing to worry about,” Jacob said awkwardly, trying to reassure his father. So you can read minds now ? He internally taunted the system.

[It is a feature designed to ensure maximum support for the user.]

“That’s bullshit. Also, what do you mean by violation ?” Jacob asked. Does this system really have no respect for privacy ? If he didn’t know better, he’d think it was some kind of Zuckerberg’s meta gimmick.

[You are currently at the beginning stage. OOC function freeze is activated. You must complete the beginning stage before any functions can be unlocked. If you perform any actions against the original ‘Jacob Black’ role before the functions are unfrozen, a certain number of B points will be deducted.]

Given his extensive time spent on the internet, Jacob was well aware of what OOC meant, and he knew it wasn’t a good sign. OOC stood for Out Of Character, referring to actions taken by a role that deviated from how the character was originally written.

“FUCK OFF. I’m an adult. I already finished my degree and Bella is like, a baby. And you can forget the whole Renesmee shit too. Bella belongs with Edward and and I have no intention of pursuing either her or her future daughter. So back off, you creep of a system.”

[WARNING: The system is issuing another alert. If your B points fall below 0, you will incur a penalty, which involves being automatically transported back to your original world.]

“You know, threatening me with death is really getting old,” Jacob stared at the warning message with his anger mounting. It felt like the system was encroaching on every aspect of his new life, imposing rules and restrictions without offering any clarity or real support.

He took a deep breath, trying to push past his irritation. There was no point in arguing with an automated system, especially one that clearly had its own agenda. Jacob decided to focus on what he could control. He needed to immerse himself in his role as Jacob Black and complete the introductory stage without attracting undue attention. The system’s warnings might be annoying, but he couldn’t let them derail his efforts to adapt to his new life.

As he finished his breakfast, Jacob glanced around the house. It was warm and welcoming, albeit a little messy, which was understandable. He and his dad were the only ones living there and according to his dad, he had been inexplicably unconscious for almost a week. Keeping the house tidy wasn't exactly a priority for a man worried sick about his son.

“Thanks for breakfast… Dad,” Jacob said, still not used to the idea of having a father again. There was the whole issue of stealing the real “Jacob” ’s life, dealing with imposter syndrome, and the guilt of replacing the memory of his own father by calling this old man his dad. But that was an existential crisis he chose not to mull over at the moment, especially on the precipice of the story's start. Call him selfish, but he preferred to focus on his blessings.

“I’ll go take a walk. I’ve been asleep for a while, so I need to… uh, stretch my legs,” Jacob said awkwardly, hoping Billy wouldn’t notice anything strange about his behavior.

“Sure thing, son. Also grab some red meat from the store for dinner. A growing kid like you needs that protein. And buy yourself something nice with the leftover money,” Billy replied, taking out his wallet and handing him some cash.

Jacob stared at the man in awe. As a kid who had bounced around the foster system after his dad died, he was used to being scorned and neglected. This might be part of the reason why he had become a social recluse, spending his time bashing bad literature and authors online. To him, Billy Black was the closest thing he had ever seen to an angel.

Jacob took the money, still feeling a bit dazed. “Thanks, Dad,” he managed to say, pocketing the cash. The air filling his lungs was much fresher than the pollution-riddled air of the city he used to live in. Nature seemed a lot nicer than he remembered. So, here's a lesson for the kids—don’t wait until you die and get transmigrated into a novel you hate to understand the importance of getting outside and appreciating nature. In short, go touch some fucking grass before it’s too late.

Almost as if by instinct he found himself at La Push beach. He wandered through the familiar yet new surroundings, trying to piece together his plan. If he was going to be stuck in this world, he might as well make the best of it. He thought about the story and mentally reviewed his plan. He would stay under the radar, be friendly but unobtrusive and focus on blending in with the locals. If he played his cards right, he might just manage to navigate this strange new life without getting points deducted by the system’s restrictions.

After strolling along the shore for a while, Jacob found a rock to sit on and watch the ocean. It was a stark contrast to the urban jungle he was accustomed to, this place was serene and almost idyllic.

“Ayo, is that Jacob ? Hey, Jake !” he heard someone call out. A moment later, a boy close to his age ran up to him, followed by one more. “Um, hey guys. How’s it... going ?” Socializing wasn’t one of Jacob’s strong suits; in fact, it was the exact opposite of the skill he had meticulously avoided developing over the years.

“Man, the whole crew was freaking out about you. You were out cold for a week and for no reason !” One thing Jacob appreciated about the system was the introduction tags above each character’s head. The boy speaking was named Quil, his cousin from the Quileute tribe. He knew these interactions were unavoidable, given their significance to his new role in the plot.

“Well, I got better ?” Jacob attempted a witty quip but cringed at how poorly it landed. To his surprise, the two boys just laughed. “I’m just glad you’re okay. Stop by Sam’s sometime; he’s been asking about you,” Embry said, giving Jacob a friendly slap on the shoulder.

“Wait Sam ? Right of course. Duh. Sam’s place. Got it.” Jacob replied, blinking in confusion for a moment. Sam Uley was the Alpha—or at least the to-be Alpha—of the pack Jacob was supposed to join during New Moon.

[Mild OOC warning]

“Ay man, you feeling okay ?” Embry asked again, noticing Jacob’s hesitation. Jacob froze, Embry Call was the real Jacob’s best friend and if he figured out that Jason wasn’t really Jacob, it would spell massive trouble for him.

Jacob forced a smile. “Uh, yeah. I just—” He quickly tried to think of something. What would Jacob Black say in this situation ? What does he do to feel better ? He racked his brain for answers, knowing he needed to play the part convincingly, at least till he found a way to unfreeze the OOC function.

Go bother Bella ? a small voice suggested. Bella’s not here yet dumbass, another voice countered sharply. After years of social isolation, Jason’s inner dialogue had evolved to the point where he could have entire discussions with himself. No, he wasn’t schizophrenic.

“—I was just going to grab some red meat to chow on and uh y’know, work on my bike,” he finished, hoping his voice didn’t betray his nerves.

Embry and Quil exchanged a knowing look, which made Jacob's anxiety spike only to burst into laughter. “Classic Jake. At this rate, you might end up marrying your bike,” Quil teased and Jacob laughed along, though he desperately wanted to crawl into a hole and never come out again.

“Just take it easy, yeah ? We don’t want you passing out on us again. By the way, there's a sale at the store on the other side of town,” Embry squeezed Jacob’s shoulder reassuringly again. The familiarity they seemed to share with him was comforting, even if he felt like an imposter. He knew he had to get up to speed quickly if he wanted to maintain this facade. They soon parted ways and Jacob headed towards the store.

The store lady was overly enthusiastic upon seeing Jacob. He couldn’t tell if it was because of his face or the fact that he was a regular. As Jason, he had always been below average in looks and physique. Whereas, by the virtue of being the second male lead of a popular teenage romance novel, Jacob Black was undeniably attractive. With his deep-set dark eyes, prominent cheekbones, and beautiful long hair, he looked like someone Jason would have envied. Maybe he could try his hand at modeling once the story ended, because there was no way he was putting himself through college again.

And as unpredictable as the weather of Forks was, it began to rain. Normally, Jason would wait it out and then go but now that he as in Jacob’s body, he thought to test his body’s limits. Like c’mon a little drizzle isn’t going to hurt a big strong werewolf alpha-to-be. He stepped out into the rain, feeling the cool droplets on his skin. It was refreshing, almost invigorating. Jacob’s body seemed to handle the cold and wet far better than Jason’s ever did. As he made his way back the store, he noticed people giving him friendly nods and waves. It felt strange to be acknowledged so warmly, a stark contrast to the anonymity he was used to.

At the red light he stopped, waiting for it to turn green. Sure, there were no cars around and he could have just walked, but road rules were no joke. He liked this life too much to risk having it taken away by truck-kun. “Hey system, is double isekai a thing?” he asked. The system didn’t reply, so that was probably a no.

Jacob glanced to his side and saw a person standing under a large black umbrella. A strong sweet scent pricked his nose. How strong does this guy’s cologne have to be to reach me even with the rain ? There was a name tag hovering above the person’s head, but it was obscured by the umbrella, as was his face. One thing he had learned was that only people relevant to the story had name tags over their heads, which meant this person was a character in the story. He looked down at the stranger’s hand—it looked like porcelain.

Jacob felt a sense of foreboding, creeping up his veins. His instincts were on high alert, telling him that this stranger was no ordinary person. The rain began to pour harder, each drop bouncing off the asphalt with increasing intensity.

The person probably noticed Jacob staring and as he did, the umbrella tilted slightly, revealing a glimpse of a pale, almost ethereal face with piercing golden eyes. The moment their gazes met, Jacob was momentarily blinded by a brilliant golden aura radiating from the name tag above the person’s head.

[Edward Cullen]

Jacob’s heart skipped a beat. Of course, it had to be Edward. What were the odds of encountering your favorite character on the very first day of your new life ? He felt his knees weaken. Despite the dim lighting and gloomy setting, Edward was undeniably striking. The rain seemed to fall more slowly around him, as if even the weather was reluctant to mar his flawlessness . His tousled bronze hair framed his face perfectly and Jacob felt an inexplicable urge to reach out and touch it. Despite all his criticisms of the novel, Edward had always held a special place in his heart for reasons Jacob couldn’t quite explain.

Damn, this mf looks anemic as hell. Maybe I should feed him. It was a half-serious thought, borne from both concern and his internal struggle to reconcile his feelings towards the character with the reality of his situation.

[OOC WARNING! OOC WARNING!]

[Edward Cullen is your enemy.]

“Fuck off, he’s my babygirl,”Jacob shot a mental retort at the system in exasperation and a streak of protectiveness. The system’s declaration that Edward was an enemy wasn’t misplaced given Jacob’s role in the novel but that didn’t mean it wasn’t at odds with his feelings.

Edward had always been his favorite character, a source of fascination and admiration. This was supposed to be his chance to explore and perhaps even improve upon the narrative, not to be embroiled in conflict with a character he held dear.

Jacob didn't even notice when the light turned green and Edward started walking away, his steps soundless on the wet pavement. Acting on impulse or perhaps some hidden desire, Jacob found himself walking towards Edward and grabbing his elbow, accidentally knocking his umbrella aside. Edward stopped and turned to him as the rain continued to soak them both. His gaze was like a sharp, unyielding beam of light, cutting through the rain. His eyes, an unusual shade of golden amber, held a depth that seemed to pierce directly into Jacob's soul, scrutinizing every hidden corner of his being.

[OOC! OOC! OOC! OOC! OOC! OOC! OOC! OOC! OOC! OOC! OOC! OOC! OOC! OOC! OOC! OOC! OOC! OOC!]

[EDWARD CULLEN IS YOUR ENEMY]

I’m so stupid — I forgot completely. Jacob and Edward haven’t met yet. Maybe… maybe I can salvage this ? Be a dick and still be nice ? He definitely didn’t want to end up on Edward’s bad side, nor did he want to break the system’s rules. Annoying as it was, the system was what kept him alive. Though he’d never say it out loud, he was terrified at the thought of dying, again. The system’s constant reminders of their supposed enmity were starting to grate on him, but he couldn’t afford to make more mistakes. What was a man to do when every choice seemed fraught with peril ?

Ack — he’s staring. Can he hear my thoughts ? I hope not. He and Bella meet soon, if I remember correctly so— Jacob’s anxiety skyrocketed under the weight of that gaze. His heart pounded in his chest, each beat drumming in his ears. A tight knot of dread twisted in his stomach and whether it was the rain or not, he could feel cold sweat forming on his palms. He needed to say something—anything—that wouldn’t completely derail the plot but also wouldn’t make Edward hate him from the start, even if it was inevitable.

“Oh uh — my bad, dude. I just thought you looked kinda sick so I thought — I mean,” Jacob scrambled for an explanation, forcing a nonchalant tone as he released Edward’s elbow. He felt like a small animal trapped in the headlights of an oncoming car, desperately searching for a way to escape unscathed.

“—Uh, here.” He shoved the raw steak he had just bought into Edward’s arms. The system fell silent for a moment, as stunned by his actions as Jacob was. The sound of the rain was almost deafening as awkward silence stretched between them. Edward looked down at the raw steak in his hands, confusion and surprise painting his features.

Without waiting for a reply, Jacob quickly turned on his heel and hurried away, his footsteps splashing through the rain-soaked pavement. “Later ! Get that iron up and be the lady killer you were born to be !” he called over his shoulder. After walking a few metres, he paused briefly and added,“ And seriously lay off the sauvage man !”

As he put more distance between them, Jacob’s thoughts began to spiral. What had he just done ? Did Edward think he was completely nuts ? Or worse, could Edward have read his thoughts and seen through his facade ? Jacob shuddered at the possibility.

[Why did you do that ?]

“I don’t know okay !? I thought it’d help with looking y’know less dead when he meets Bella.” He shrugged. Explaining himself to the system felt pointless considering it was neither his parent nor his babysitter. The system remained silent, as if considering his response, Jacob rolled his eyes.

[OOC ! -20 B points ↓ ↓ ↓]

“Oh come on !”

“Still staring at that bag of steak, Ed ?” The pixie-haired woman leaned over her brother’s shoulder, teasing him.

“Go away, Alice,” Edward muttered, his gaze still locked on the steak as if it held some profound answers of the universe. His fingers occasionally running over the plastic, making the blood inside to squelch against the surface.

“Seriously what’s up with you ?” Alice frowned, dropping the banter. Ever since Edward had returned, he’d been fixated on this bag of steak that suspiciously smelled like wet dog. What was even more peculiar was the fact that she hadn’t had any visions of this event. Normally, Alice caught glimpses of all the interesting things happening with her family throughout the day but she had no clue how Edward had ended up with that steak. And from the look on his face, Edward didn’t look like he was divulging anything either.

“Nothing just… trying to figure someone out.” Edward sighed. Alice was his favorite family member, and he seldom told her off but this was something he couldn’t even make sense of himself. If he told Alice, she’d likely blow the whole thing out of proportion. But despite everything, one question kept lingering in his mind.

Who was that man ?

A.n - should I make this into a series ? If yes please lemme know if you want to be added to the taglist.

[thebenjiblackwoodexpress]

Fire on Fire

Aegon Targaryen x Reader (Rhaenyra's daughter)

𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝑰 𝒔𝒂𝒘 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑰 𝒌𝒏𝒆𝒘

𝑴𝒂𝒚𝒃𝒆 𝒊𝒕'𝒔 '𝒄𝒂𝒖𝒔𝒆 𝑰 𝒈𝒐𝒕 𝒂 𝒍𝒊𝒕𝒕𝒍𝒆 𝒃𝒊𝒕 𝒐𝒍𝒅𝒆𝒓

𝑴𝒂𝒚𝒃𝒆 𝒊𝒕'𝒔 𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝑰'𝒗𝒆 𝒃𝒆𝒆𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉

𝑰'𝒅 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒌 𝒊𝒕'𝒔 𝒉𝒐𝒘 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒍𝒆𝒂𝒏 𝒐𝒏 𝒎𝒚 𝒔𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅𝒆𝒓

𝑨𝒏𝒅 𝒉𝒐𝒘 𝑰 𝒔𝒆𝒆 𝒎𝒚𝒔𝒆𝒍𝒇 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒚𝒐𝒖

Description: While Rhaenyra's sons all bear a striking semblance to Harwin Strong with their brown locks, her daughter and Jace's twin sister Y/N was blessed with resplendant silver hair. Aegon and Y/N spent their chidlhoods together in the walls of the Red Keep, with friendship slowly blossoming into young love. Despite the animosity between their mothers, they can't help being drawn to one another.

Part 2 Part 3

Writer's note: Hiiiii! Victoria here. Been thinking about starting an Aegon story for a while as Elizabeth secretly adores his character so here it is. It's going to start out from when they were children and go into their adulthood. Cyvasse is a strategical game akin to chess in westeros, it's not actually brought to the capital until the events of Game of Thrones but I'm including it anyway.

Thank you to @zaldritzosrose for the dividers.

Warnings: female reader, targcest (reader is Rhaenyra's daughter and Aegon's niece). Aged up characters. Aegon is 16 at this point and reader is 15. They're pretty mean to each other at first. Sort of rivals/frenemies to lovers to enemies vibes 😂 Lengthy.

Aegon couldn't place the discomforting feeling stirring within him as he watched Y/N flirt with a guard. It was not like he hadn't seen her do so before, indeed she seemed to find it endlessly entertaining. But now as he watched her lean towards the guard and incline her head so she could lower her voice to a whisper, as if they were sharing a secret, he felt his stomach twist and his face heat. He clenched his fist though he knew not why he felt suddenly furious with both Y/N and the lowly guard she'd deigned to gift her favour. She was a princess and the guard was beneath such attentions, surely that must be the cause of his frustration.

But that did not feel sufficient for the intensity of his anger as Y/N batted her pretty eyelashes at the guard, which made him want to storm down the hall and forcibly shove the guard away from Y/N, made him want to take hold of her wrist and drag her away to spend her time with him instead. Aegon's brows furrowed at the unwelcome turn of his thoughts, when had he started to want Y/N's attentions? More importantly, when had he begun to think of her as pretty?

They'd grown up together in the Red Keep, always walking a thin line between friendship and rivalry. He couldn't remember a time when they weren't menacing or taunting one another, tripping each other in the halls or launching various missiles at each other across banquet tables. Never the studious one, for that prerogative fell to his brother Aemond, Aegon had spent his lessons entertaining himself by trying to distract Y/N. Each time the maester would turn his back, Aegon would be pulling faces in her direction. His own eyes would alight in victory every time she'd giggle in response, though he would always take the blame when the maester would scold them both. If she turned from him, steadfastly trying to ignore his antics he'd only resort to tugging on her hair and averting his gaze innocently as soon as she finally paid him attention, sighing exasperatedly at his inability to leave her alone. All the while, they'd been accomplices in all sorts of schemes that had their mothers and their Septa scrambling to keep them in line. To Aegon's pleasure, Y/N didn't much take to their lessons either, preferring romance novels Aegon always thought silly to the tales of old Valyria which preoccupied his brother Aemond and nephew Jacaerys. Instead, they'd slink off to the Godswood together, inventing ridiculous nicknames for courtiers or playing games of Cyvasse together. Aegon liked to play defensively, protecting his castles, whilst Y/N's strategy spoke to a fierceness in her character Aegon had always secretly enjoyed, sending forth her most powerful pieces to claim his, not caring a bit for caution.

Their shared penchant for troublemaking had only worsened as they matured. Aegon took to his cups, spending far more time drunk than was befitting of a Prince of the realm, or at least that's what his mother always told him. By contrast, as she grew in grace and beauty Y/N flirted with every young knight and courtier in the keep, much to Aegon's chagrin. He'd not know why his heart would seize each time he'd see Y/N smile at someone else, hear her laugh at a joke he hadn't told, all the while swishing her silver hair which seemed to shimmer and catch the light, in contrast to her brothers' muted brown locks. Aegon had felt deep down that this had always been a sign that Y/N was more like him, in the same way that she was a kindred spirit who always seemed to understand him and never wished for him to be anyone but himself. He could not say the same for his father or even his mother. Aegon remembered only a few moons past, Aemond had noticed the way Aegon felt before he himself had been aware of it. At a sight not unlike the one now before him, Aemond had surely borne witness to Aegon's shifting mood as Y/N placed her arm on a young noble's arm, the gangly wisp of a boy gazing at her with a dazed look and insipid smile. Aegon recalled wanting to storm over there and wipe it of the smug prick's face.

He was certain he'd stepped forward just as his brother's voice called him back from his violent thoughts.

"I think you feel for her brother."

At the time Aegon had reeled back, scoffing. "Her? Don't be ridiculous. She's a nightmare."

Aemond had sighed, bearing all the signs of an older brother offering wise counsel despite being the younger of the two. "You're both nightmares. That's why you like each other so much."

Aegon had just rolled his eyes, feeling uncomfortable with Aemond's penetrative stare and the growing feeling he might not be completely off the mark in his assessment.

Eyebrow raised, Aemond looked unconvinced by Aegon's attempts to dismiss the possibility of him having feelings for their niece.

"So if that nobleman over there suddenly got down on one knee and offered our niece his hand in marriage you'd just stand by and be content?"

Aegon felt his face contort with rage, heard the disgust in his voice.

"No, I'd kill him."

He couldn't account for the possessiveness that shot through him. The constant refrain of 'mine, my Y/N, mine' echoed in his mind like a prayer he'd learnt by heart. In some ways, the idea of Y/N belonging to him had been impressed upon him from a young age. Bemoaning that the two were always to be found together, complicit in some crime against decency or another, their Septa had often regaled them of the story of their first meeting. As the Septa would have it, but two years of age when the twins were born, Aegon had been largely unimpressed by his nephew Jacaerys but enchanted with the little silver haired baby, his niece. Supposedly, he had turned to his mother, grinning up at her to innocently ask her, "Mine?" Smiling tersely, he knew now due to his mother's complicated relationship with his sister Rhaenyra, she'd told him,"she will be a friend for you." That he and Y/N were tied together seemed to be reinforced each time she chose to direct her taunts and sharp tongue at him, each time she favoured his company over all others even if it was just to play some sort of prank on him. He shivered at the memory of her shoving a toad down his tunic as she ran off, her giggles merging with his screams at the slippery feel of the thing on his skin.

Gods, he didn't want anyone to marry Y/N because he wanted her. The realisation crashed upon Aegon like a wave and he stumbled back a few steps in shock. Quickly looking up to where Y/N had been only a few moments before he saw only an empty space where she had been. He must have been staring into space like a damn fool figuring out he was in love with his niece for longer than he thought.

Now that Aegon knew he bore romantic feelings for his niece, he found it difficult to even look at her and hardly knew how to act, leading to a series of embarrassing incidents.

Passing Y/N along a hall he'd stuck his foot out to trip her, as was their custom, but as she stumbled forward, he quickly wrapped his arms around her and pulled her upright. Y/N had stared up at him within the encasement of his arms, her brows furrowed in confusion. Tripping each other up had always just been a fun past time of theirs. Each bruise and scrape just motivation to get the upper hand on the other next time. But Aegon had never caught her before, nor held her to him like this.

"What in the Seven Hells, Aegon? Why bother tripping me if you were going to catch me two seconds later?"

Aegon had tried to feign confidence, shooting Y/N a cocky smirk, whilst trying hard not to focus on how right it felt to have his arms around Y/N's frame. "Mayhaps I just wanted to have you fall into my arms?"

Her jaw had fallen upon and she'd gawked at him for a few moments before bursting into laughter and pushing out of his hold, Aegon's arms falling limply back at his sides as his face heated in embarrassment.

On another occasion, he'd taken her hand to drag her along with him to the Godswood, a touch familiar and not strange in the slightest to her until he'd interlocked their fingers together. Aegon's heart had swelled at first when she did not retract her hand, allowing him to hold it in this way as he pulled her along. He'd been surprised at the pleasant feel of her soft hand melded with his and thought he should like to hold her hand more often. That was until they came across her brothers, and she promptly dropped his hand like he'd burned her, stirring a feeling of shame in Aegon at her rejection.

It hadn't stopped him from flopping onto her with a dramatic sigh, resting his head in her lap where she sat reading in the library.

"What brings you here? It's certainly not the books."

Aegon had scowled at her. "It could be."

Y/N huffed, placing a green ribbon in her book to mark her page before closing it to look at him fully. Good, he wanted her full attention.

"Aegon, it's a wonder you can read at all. So why are you clinging to me like a pet dog?"

Aegon turned away from her, resting his head back on her lap and reaching for her hand to entangle it in his hair. He mumbled against her skirts. "Don't flatter yourself. I'm tired and your lap is comfortable." He'd waited with baited breath for her reactjon to his sudden desire for closeness but he felt his heart stumble as she began to stroke his hair and he heard the turn of pages as she opened her book to read again. Of course she'd thrown him off her eventually, leaving her book behind. It was true, Aegon could rarely be found in the library, he'd sought Y/N out specifically. It was also true that he had no love of reading and had mercilessly mocked Y/N for her love of romance novels in their youth, misusing his height advantage to hold her books out of her reach as he read from them aloud to her great embarrassment. But now he found himself sitting down to peruse the book she had been reading, hoping to find within it's pages some wisdom of what Y/N found romantic.

He stumbled over his words so often now in her company and had been caught staring at her on so many occasions that Y/N had actually noticed his changed behaviour, pointedly asking for an explanation.

"What's got into you? You're being surprisingly nice to me, and I find it suspicious."

Aegon had feigned indignation, though he felt sweat begin to pool on his brow at how easily she could see through him. It was a particular skill of hers.

"I'm always nice to you."

Y/N had let out a laugh that was all hard edges. She wasn't soft or delicate like the other ladies of court. She was the blood of the dragon, fierce with sharp words and a sense of humour, which was sometimes a little cruel. And yet he preferred her over all others and would trade all of their simpering pleasantries for a single cutting remark of hers.

"Sure, it was very nice of you to push me in the fountain just as the embassy from the Vale arrived."

Aegon's ears and cheeks blazed at the memory of his own less than pleasant actions towards Y/N in the past.

"That was years ago. I haven't done it since. You just complained about me being too nice to you anyway. Which version of me do you want then?"

He'd surprised himself with the insecurity that laced his words as he raised his voice.

Mouth parted open at his outburst, Y/N's expression had quickly turned sombre, she was all seriousness now. "Whichever one is real."

Aegon frowned at that. He could admit they'd never been exactly kind to one another. And he could understand how his change in behaviour would seem suspicious if he were not in love with her. But he was. And he didn't know how to tell her.

Aegon yawned pointedly as Jacaerys called to his dragon Vermax. He was bored, indescribably so. He'd already claimed his own dragon, Sunfyre, whose golden scales could put any other dragon to shame. And if he was being honest with himself, he wanted to seem uncaring, impressive even to Y/N, who was watching Jacaerys attentively. He tried to repress a smile in anticipation of the 'surprise' he'd prepared for his brother with Jace, hoping Y/N would find it as funny as he did and think him clever for his denomination of the pig as 'The pink dread.'

His hopes were dashed almost as soon as the pig appeared. Aemond looked more put out by their jest than Aegon had anticipated and when he'd turn to Y/N to gauge her reaction he was surprised to find only anger and unshed tears in her eyes. As he took a step towards her their eyes locked and she immediately fled from the dragon pit. It took Aegon a few moments to collect himself to run after her, though he quickly caught up to her just outside the pit with his longer strides. Grabbing her arm to arrest her movement, he whipped her round to face him.

"What's wrong with you?"

He tried to conceal his genuine worry under a veil of irritation, but Aegon was so used to disappointing others, his mother, his father. He found it painful to imagine disappointing Y/N, who'd never expected anything from him but jibes and sometimes an accomplice.

Angrily shoving him away from her, causing him to stumble back a few steps, Y/N snarled at him.

"With me? What's wrong with you? Why would you embarass your brother like that? It's not his fault he doesn't have a dragon and you shouldn't tease him for it."

Aegon rolled his eyes, feeling a tinge of jealousy at Y/N's evident care for his brother.

"That's what you're annoyed about. My brother? Aemond's a twat, he'll get over it."

Y/N narrowed her eyes, fixing him with a look so stern it reminded him of their Septa.

"Do you not care who you hurt?"

Aegon's face fell. He didn't hurt people on purpose, he just wanted them to laugh at him. He'd never found another way to get their attention.

"What?" Aegon cursed himself for his inarticulate reply, knowing he sounded like an idiot.

"I don't have a dragon either. Would you shame me like that?" Y/N's voice sounded smaller and more unsure than Aegon had ever heard it, so used to her railing at him. He preferred when she was shouting at him, at least then he could pretend he hadn't hurt her. It hadn't occurred to him before that he could. She'd always seemed so strong to him, implacable no matter what he said or did. On her last nameday she'd been gifted an elegant emerald velvet dress by his mother that she'd twirled about in front of him, asking what he'd thought of it. When he'd told her he thought she looked ridiculous she'd only shrugged and continued twirling. Really he'd thought her beautiful, like some mythical forest creature. But insulting her had felt more natural than admitting as much to her. His words seemed to glide off her like water.

"No, never. Not to you." The words spilled out of his mouth in a panicked stream. He hadn't realised that her own dragon egg not hatching had affected her so deeply. In truth he'd not considered her feelings at all when devising his prank with her brother. He was so unused to considering anyone's feelings, least of all hers. She could give as good as he gave and often worse. He'd never seen her cry before and he found he hated it, even more than he despised to see the disappointment reflected in her eyes.

"Why?" Y/N looked genuinely curious at his answer and he frantically grasped for an explanation. He couldnt blurt out that he felt more for her than an uncle should a niece. That he loved her, unexpectedly, inexplicably. That he'd do just about anything to make her laugh instead of cry, but he was an idiot and sometimes couldn't tell the difference between a joke and an insult.

The sound of laughter as Jace and Luke rounded the corner saved him from replying as Y/N swiftly turned and left him standing there as her two brothers oinked obnoxiously.

Aegon didn't laugh with them, feeling the heavy weight of regret pressing down on him for the first time in his life.

Aegon sulked, hunched over his plate of food at supper, not caring to unpick the chatter around him. He glanced continuously over at the vacant place opposite him, usually reserved for Y/N. It provided the best vantage point to throw grapes at him, she had claimed. He'd clearly upset her so much she didn't even want to eat. Turning to Jacaerys he whispered lowly so the rest of his family wouldn't overhear. "Where's your sister?"

"I think she went back to the dragon pit."

Aegon's heart plummeted into his stomach and he stood abruptly, his chair scraping loudly against the stone floor. He didn't even glance back at his mother shouting for him as he sprinted in the direction of the dragon pit. He had a good idea of what might have prompted Y/N to go back there on her own. She'd nearly been devoured by the last dragon she'd tried to claim and he was quite certain she was about to try again, prompted by his teasing.

Aegon stumbled through the door of the pit out of breath and flipping his head around frantically looking for Y/N. The stupid girl would get herself killed. His shoulders sagged with relief as he spotted her not far off, just about to enter the cave where the dragons slept.

"Y/N!" He shouted to her, her head immediately snapping up at the sound of his voice, giving him the opportunity to catch up to her. Now he knew she was safe he couldn't help but be angry with her for her recklessness, her utter foolishness.

Taking hold of her elbows he shook her. "What in the Seven Hells were you thinking? Do you want to be killed?"

Shaking him off, Y/N glared at him fiercely.

"And why shouldn't I claim a dragon? It was you who shamed Aemond and I earlier for our inability to do so."

Aegon shut his eyes briefly, frustrated with Y/N but knowing that this was really his fault to begin with.

"I'm sorry OK? Just don't be angry with me...please."

Y/N was blinking up at him, her expression blank.

"Did you just apologise to me?"

Aegon gulped. He didn't want her to get too used to it. He might be in love with the girl but he didn't want to turn into one of those simpering lovesick morons she read about. Deep down, he didn't think she really wanted that either. She was much too combative, a rose with thorns, and they'd surely bore her to death. But she was just right for him.

"Look, I'll help you. But just damn well stay by me."

Y/N's eyes positively lit up at his offer of assistance, and Aegon felt a queer fluttering in his stomach as she smiled warmly at him. That was about as expected from her as an apology was from him.

"Truly?"

"Yes. But you mustn't show fear, and neither must you go barrelling in front of the first dragon you see. Take your time to observe the dragons and make your choice. Then approach the beast respectfully. Remember that the dragon has to choose you as well. Sunfyre and I bonded because we are alike in temperament. You must find a dragon to suit you in kind."

Y/N nodded her head excitedly, stepping forward to enter the cave but Aegon thrust his arm in front of her, stepping around her to enter first. "I'll go first."

He'd hoped Y/N would think him gallant but she'd just roughly shoved past him.

"You already have a dragon."

The dragon pit was dark, and even with the light of the torch Aegon carried, it was difficult to see more than a foot ahead. There was an eery silence about the place, interrupted only by the occasional rumble of a dragon. Aegon had reclaimed his position in front of Y/N, using the excuse that he had to lead with the torch to guide their path. As they ventured deeper into the darkness, the air grew more stifling, and puffs of smoke could be seen exuding from various caverns. Aegon sought his own dragon, Sunfyre, thinking that the best course would be to demonstrate how to approach a dragon to Y/N before she tried again.

Coming to an abrupt stop, Y/N smacked into his back and his laughter echoed against the walls of the pit.

He looked over to see her rubbing her nose and glaring at him accusingly.

"You did that on purpose."

Aegon smirked at her tauntingly.

"No, you just don't look where you're going."

Facing forward once more, Aegon looked into the vast expanse of darkness where he knew Sunfyre resided, he could feel it in his bones. It had filled him with pride when the dragon keepers had told his father that the bond between him and his dragon was particularly strong. But his father had brushed this off as if it were nothing. Aegon shouldn't have been surprised, he was used to being ignored by his father. And yet each slight still stung. He knew it bothered his mother how little his father cared for him, but nothing Aegon did had ever earned him any true affection from him. So he had simply stopped trying. If his father thought him a nuisance, then he would be one. If his Septa and the maesters thought him awful, then he would be. But at least in Sunfyre and Y/N he had found companions who had no desire to change him.

"Mazis Sunfyre." He inflected his voice with confidence, a command not to be ignored. No sooner had he spoken than he heard shuffling and flints of gold became visible through the darkness as Sunfyre emerged. He approached his dragon happily, smiling fondly as Sunfyre nuzzled his chest with his snout.

"Umbas, lykirri."

Reaching behind him and fumbling around in the dark for a moment, Aegon grabbed Y/N's hand and yanked her forward so she was beside him. He ignored her indignant huffed and placed her hand on Sunfyre's snout, resting his atop hers.

"Sunfyre heeds my commands because we are one in the same in every way that matters. When you approach your dragon, your commands must be steadfast and you must not show fear."

Y/N was looking at his dragon with awe, stroking Sunfyre's snout without his encouragement now. He'd never seen his dragon so amiable and friendly with anyone but himself. The sight sent a pleasant warmth through him at the thought of Sunfyre approving of Y/N, understanding the part of him that loved the silver haired girl before him.

"Let's go. I know which dragon I want to claim."

Aegon quirked an eyebrow up, half concerned half amused by the firm set of Y/N's features. She was quite determined.

"Is that so? Lead the way then, Quelos."

Y/N stared at him inquisitively, dropping her hand from Sunfyre.

"Quelos?"

Aegon thought the word befit his niece, her hair shone like the light of a star.

Shrugging, he tried to sound nonchalant.

"Your hair."

"Yours is silver like mine."

Aegon shook his head, smiling at Y/N's attempts to thwart him even in complimenting her, at expressing an ounce of affection for her with the nickname.

"Not like yours. Yours is like starlight."

He'd half expected her to argue with him, but the pink dusting on her cheeks, which he could see even in the darkness, was an unexpected delight. He felt pride in knowing that he'd been the one to make Y/N blush. Not one of the knights or noblemen Y/N was constantly flipping her hair at...him.

Clearing her throat awkwardly, Y/N passed him, her arm brushing against his.

"Come on then."

Y/N led them down a path to their right, and he followed her as she wove down an adjoining tunnel. He knew then which dragon she wanted and felt strangely that there could have been no better choice.

It wasn't long before the tunnel opened up into a larger cavern and grey shimmering scales came into view as they approached the dragon known as Grey Ghost. In the glow of the torchlight the dragon's scales shone silver in a hue oddly reminiscent of Y/N's hair.

The dragon watched them curiously, tilting it's head in their direction and letting out a small puff of smoke from it's snout. Y/N darted forward, but Aegon grabbed hold of her arm, speaking lowly but firmly. "Be careful."

"I will."

Aegon released her but felt all of the muscles in his body tense as he watched Y/N approach the dragon. He knew that it was well known for having a reserved and shy nature for a dragon, but that did not make it any less dangerous.

He needn't have worried. The young dragon took little convincing and, within a short time, Y/N was petting its snout just as she had Sunfyre's. Aegon grinned at Y/N when she eventually stepped back from her dragon and returned to his side. He couldn't blame the dragon, Y/N had convinced him to take part in many a foolish scheme in less time.

"Well done, niece."

Aegon was stunned into silence as Y/N barrelled forward and wrapped her arms around his torso. He'd just gathered his senses enough to raise his own arms when she pulled away, cheeks blazing and eyes fixed on the ground. The journey back into the light was marked by an awkward silence that Aegon found hard to bear. He was grateful when Y/N broke it once they'd entered the walls of the keep.

"I bet you're devastated Grey Ghost didn't devour me."

Aegon grasped at the jibe as a return to normalcy for them.

"I'm certain it would have been entertaining, though difficult to explain to our mothers. Good morrow mother, sister. In an unfortunate turn of events, I may have let a dragon eat Y/N."

Y/N snorted.

"Right. Goodnight, Aegon."

"Goodnight, Quelos." Aegon wiggled his eyebrows at her teasingly before turning on his heels and heading in the direction of his quarters.

Aegon's heady felt heavy, as if it were laden with stones and even the blades of sunlight shining through his chamber windows hurt his eyes as he opened them blearily. No sooner had he done so than his bedroom door smacked loudly against the wall and his mother stormed in, her expression reminiscent of storm clouds. Gods knew what he'd done this time to warrant her ire.

"Aegon! It's well past noon and the maesters informed me you have not attended to any of your lessons. Of course I should find you still laying about."

Groaning at his mother's raised voice sent waves of pain through his skull, he rolled over, pressing his face more firmly into the pillows. He'd gone too far into his cups the previous night after seeing Y/N conversing with the same nobleman as before. Her flirtations had never been serious and he'd never seen her with the same boy more than once and he worried she might actually have developed feelings for someone this time...for someone that was not him.

"Aegon!" Suddenly the sheets were ripped from him as his mother demanded his attention. Sitting up lazily, Aegon turned to look at his mother properly, though this was difficult as there seemed to be two of her.

"What, mother?"

She threw her hands up with exasperation.

"Why must you always be like this, governed only by sloth and careless abandon? All the while cavorting with Jacaerys and Y/N Velaryon, favouring them over your own brother. Do you think I don't know of your cruel jokes at your brother's expense? We must defend our own, Aegon"

"It was funny."

"Do you think Rhaenyra's children will be your playthings forever. As things stand, Rhaenyra will ascend the throne and Jacaerys will be her heir."

Aegon couldn't understand what his mother was getting at. Why should he not get on with his sister's children?

His mother threw her eyes up to the sky,  her frustration evident and her voice laced with sarcasm that just made him feel stupid.

"You are nearly a man grown. How is it that you can be so short-sighted? If Rhaenyra comes into power your very life could be forfeit, Aemond's as well. She could move to cut off any challenge to her succession."

Aegon had always been aware of the tension between his mother and sister, it was plain for anyone with eyes to see. But he couldn't belief Rhaenyra would have him killed. He did not think her cruel.

"So I will not challenge her."

His mother abruptly grabbed his face, shouting now.

"You are the challenge, Aegon. Simply by living and breathing." Aegon was stunned by the genuine fear and desperation in his mother's eyes but she must have taken his silence as a lack of understanding for she continued on.

"You are the king's firstborn son. And what everyone else in the kingdom knows is that by rights, you should be king." Aegon had never even considered the possibility. He had never and would never want the iron throne or the responsibilities that went with it.

"I would not wish for that mother." He spoke softly.

Appearing slightly calmer than she had only a few moments ago, she lightly stroked his hair before rising from the bed.

"Get dressed." No more words passed between them as she left Aegon, who now felt completely sober, to contemplate her warning.

Aegon's lips quirked up as he observed Grey Ghost lightly bumping his head against Sunfyre's with affection in the dragon pit. Y/N approached her dragon, a dragon keeper on hand guiding her on how to command the dragon to breathe fire.

"You love her don't you? Even Sunfyre knows it. Look at the two of them, just like their riders."

Aegon was surprised he didn't give himself whiplash with the speed at which he turned on Aemond.

"Don't say that idiot, she'll hear you"

"So it's true then?" Yes it was true. But was it that obvious? His mind wandered back to his mother's warning that he shouldn't be quite so friendly with his sister's children, that they should present a united front.

"Of course not. She's just a stupid girl who follows me around all the time. A pest if anything."

Aemond looked unconvinced but before he could counter Aegon, Jacaerys interrupted them, shouting to his sister.

"Y/N! mother has finished her labours. It's another boy."

Y/N picked up her skirts and ran to follow her brother out of the pit, eager to meet her new brother. Aegon briefly worried she may have overheard his conversation with Aemond, not realising how close she'd been to them until he'd had to watch her leave with Jace.

His nephew, Joffrey, looked no more like Laenor Velaryon than his siblings, and Aegon found it difficult to believe his own father could be so blind not to notice the resemblance between Rhaenyra's sons and Harwin Strong. Y/N was the single exception to the rule.

He smacked at the dummy before him carelessly, sneaking glances at Y/N who stood nearby, chatting with Jace, until Ser Criston calling his name pulled him from his thoughts.

He turned to the knight with a cocky grin.

"I've won my first round, Ser Criston. My opponent sues for mercy."

"Then you'll have another opponent. Let's see if you can tap me...you and your brother."

As Aegon and Aemond levied attacks on the knight, Aegon thought this must be the united front his mother wished them to show, though he quickly grew frustrated as it seemed almost possible to get a hit in. He flushed with embarassment when the knight shoved him aside, quickly turning to check if Y/N had seen it and letting out a breath in relief to find her gaze drawn elsewhere. He barely took note of Ser Criston's tense expression as Ser Harwin addressed him, bounding up to Y/N and grinning at her.

"Come to watch my excellent swordsmanship have you?"

Y/N folded her arms against her chest and turned away from him.

"Leave me alone, Aegon."

Aegon was undeterred, following her movements and stepping around her so she had to face him again.

"And if I don't want to?" He taunted, thinking Y/N's rudeness towards him just a game at first. But his smile faltered at her menacing glared and the iciness in her voice.

"I mean it. I don't want to talk to you."

"Why are you upset with me?"

Y/N went to turn away from him again, but he grabbed her elbow, forcing her to stay put.

"Don't pretend like you care."

Aegon was truly confused now and beyond frustrated at Y/N's refusal to be direct about the causes of her irritation with him.

"Of course I care."

Y/N took a step toward him, poking him in the chest accusingly with her index finger.

"I thought I was just a stupid girl. A pest."

Fuck. Panic set in as Aegon realised Y/N had heard what he'd said to Aemond after all, and he quickly scrambled to make amends. He had not meant a word of it.

"I didn't mean it Y/N. I was just joking."

Y/N dropped her hand from his chest, stepping away from him as her anger seemed to fall away from her, replaced by sadness instead, which was much worse.

"That's the problem, Aegon. You're always just joking."

Aegon stilled, her words cutting through the facade of confidence and joviality he wore like armour.

"Quelos, wait." Aegon made to grab for her again but was once again interrupted by Ser Criston calling him.

"Aegon, you will spar with Jacaerys. Eldest son against eldest son."

Aegon tried to focus on his swordsmanship as he met Jace blow for blow. But he was still reeling from his interaction with Y/N and quickly let his emotions overcome him. Though misplaced, he took his anger and frustration out on his nephew until Harwin Strong had to forcibly pull him away from Jace.

"You dare lay hands on me!" He raged at the audacity of the knight. Though he quickly stumbled out of the way as Ser Criston and the commander came to blows, pulling Aemond out of the way with him. If there had been any doubt about the true parentage of Rhaenyra's children, there could be none now. It was proven in no small measure by the ferocity of Ser Harwin's reaction to Ser Criston's taunts. But to his surprise, Aegon could find no amusement in the matter, knowing that such a public display could only draw unwanted attention to Y/N's parentage and cause her shame. With a heavy sigh, he considered that perhaps he was becoming soft like one of the heroes in her stories.

Aegon didn't understand how he was supposed to make amends with Y/N if she refused to speak to him and avoided him at every turn. He felt he should go mad if she continued to ignore him. He considered employing Aemond to hold her in place while he forced her to listen to his apology, but didn't think Aemond would be particularly obliged to risk incurring Y/N's wrath himself. He cursed himself for falling for such a stubborn girl. More dragon than girl in truth. Aegon didn't understand why she felt so slighted by his stupid insult, he couldn't imagine she felt the same way about him as he did her. But he thought that Harwin Strong's leaving for Harrenhal might have intensified her ill mood somewhat and hoped in time she'd allow him to make amends. Since following her around the keep had done no good, he tried a different tactic. Listening to her for once and actually leaving her alone, hoping that if he looked pathetic enough she might at least give him a chance to explain. When that didn't merit a response either he resorted to simply sulking in his room for days at a time. That was until Helaena quietly entered his chambers, bringing him the news of Ser Harwin's death. Though the hour was late, the keep illuminated only by moonlight and candles burning low in their sconces, he immediately sought Y/N out. He knew that she had loved Ser Harwin and would not be able to sleep after hearing of his passing. He also knew she withdrew into herself when upset, and that she'd likely have gone off on her own. But Aegon did not want her to feel like she had to bear her pain alone. Not when he could bear it with her.

Aegon traversed the keep for what felt like hours before he heard muffled sniffles and finally found Y/N curled up on a window seat overlooking the courtyard. She was facing away from him, looking out into the night sky, but the shards of moonlight shining through the window panes allowed him to see the tear streaks glistening on her cheeks. He said nothing as he sat next to her, close enough that his side pressed against hers. After a few moments she rested her head on his shoulder and he nearly sighed with relief that she had not shoved him away from her again. Instead he tilted his head to rest against hers and took hold of her hand. He found himself afraid to disturb this quiet truce between them and whispered simply "I'm sorry." And he was sorry. For her loss, the grief and pain it caused her, and for hurting her himself with his carelessness.

"I know."

And by the way she said it, by the way she squeezed his hand that held hers, Aegon knew that she had understood the full meaning of his apology

Valyrian translations:

Mazis~ come

Umbas~ Wait

Lykirri~ Calm yourself

Quelos~ Star

The next part will cover driftmark, then onto the time jump :)

[florencemtrash]

The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Chapter Two

Azriel x Day Court Librarian Reader

Summary: Y/n's clairvoyance is a gift from the Mother, but it feels more like a curse. With the power to gain knowledge through touch alone, Y/n holes herself up in The Alcove and hopes her powers and parentage will remain a secret. But things will change after the Summer Solstice ball and a chance encounter with a certain Shadowsinger.

Warning: None :)

The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Masterlist

Masterlist of Masterlists

“The sun’s barely gone down!” Cassian grumbled, following behind Helion, Rhysand, and Feyre as they walked the cobblestone streets of the Day Court. Every block of the small city contained at least two local bookstores, one cafe that also sold books, one flower shop that also sold books, and/or a small glass box filled with - as anyone could have guessed - more books to be given away for free. 

Helion chuckled, “You’re not in the Night Court any more. My people are early to bed, early to rise. Unless of course you spend a night with me.” He winked at Cassian, who had the sense to blush. Indeed the Night Court members had been shocked when the party cleared out not even two hours after the sun had slipped beneath the ground. 

Aside from the small scale bookstores which housed the most popular and recently published novels, every sector of the Day Court also had between one to three athenaeum’s - elaborate buildings of ivory stone laced with filigree and windows that lit up like the glowing eyes of an ancient beast. They were the pride and joy of all Day Court members. The windows flickered and shone with the magic used to protect the volumes from the sun. Even as the neighborhood lights slowly winked out, Azriel could track the diligent minds scouring the brightly lit shelves. There was a loving madness in their hunched backs, craned necks, and squinting eyes. 

As their troupe reached The Alcove, one of the smaller and cozier athenaeum’s, Azriel couldn’t help but imagine you in a similar display of passionate madness, when you forgot about the world around you and could actually relax.

The Alcove specialized in housing diaries and novels of everyday comforts - quiet, unassuming stories that could steal your heart as swiftly as the grandest tales of war and romance, but with much more discretion. Here, the knowledge pressed between pages with ink was full of warmth and subtlety. The others in your cohort had scorned you for your choice in The Alcove. Why would anyone choose such a dull place to live and work? Why not be surrounded by books on war tactics or history or religion or biology? Someplace useful and worthy of a Librarian’s gifts. But The Alcove had offered you something you’d missed since your mother’s death - a sense of home. 

You sat by the bay windows overlooking the darkened street below, breathing in the crisp and cool air that snuck in through the glass. On the other side of your apartment, a similar window overlooked The Alcove’s interior. Hundreds of mahogany shelves lined the high walls of the octagonal building with its signature domed roof. Grand staircases of gold twisted their way up from the ground, connecting to walkways that gave easier access to the volumes housed higher up the walls. 

It was a blessing in disguise that you’d chosen to sit on this side of your apartment. Otherwise you would have never seen the Shadowsinger watching you with careful consideration, his eyes faintly glowing like the eyes of a cat. He raised one gloved hand up at you in a wave, a solitary gesture as the rest of his companions and Helion walked towards the stairs that led up to your apartment entrance. 

He saw your mouth open in a shocked oh and couldn’t help the faintest smile gracing his lips as you disappeared from view.

“Oh shit.” You sprang up from your seat, eyes madly racing over the contents of your apartment. You were in the middle of a research project on magical signatures and your living space reflected the madness in your mind. Books lay open on the floor, on the desk, on the coffee table surrounded by carefully documented notes and half-scribbled ideas in equal measure. You wouldn’t be able to clean it up in time and, quite frankly, you had no interest in disrupting the chaotic organization. Did you really care about impressing the Night Court and Helion? 

The terrifying answer was, yes.

The dining room. 

It rarely saw use since you were disinclined to receive guests, and had more recently been repurposed to house stacks of romance novels… best not to let anyone see those… 

In the five minutes it took for Helion and the members of the Inner Circle to climb up the dozen flights of stairs, and knock on your door, you’d successfully managed to hide all the smutty romance books in your bedroom, throw a table cloth and candle on top of the dining table, put away the dried dishes that had been displaced on the kitchen countertops, and set a kettle on the stove. Was there anything more that could be done? 

Helion smiled brightly when you made your appearance, keeping the door slightly ajar to keep the worst of the living room out of sight. Perhaps this would be a short visit and they wouldn’t even ask to come inside.

“Y/n!” Helion said with a grin, “I present to you the Inner Circle of the Night Court.” He gestured with a grand flourish to some of the most beautiful fae you’d ever had the honor of witnessing.

“Some of us at least.” The High Lord’s voice was liquid honey and filled with enough charisma to seduce a nun.

“The most important ones.” The Lord of Bloodshed said with a boyish grin. The faint scar on his cheek pulled back with his smile.

“I’ll let Nesta know you said that.” The High Lady had swapped out her dress for a more simple pair of black slacks and a billowing shirt that cinched in at the waist, flowing over her body like smoke on water. 

“Wait, no. Feyre, I was only joking. Feyre-” 

She laughed, tipping her head back while her husband and mate looked on with a tenderness in his eyes you hadn’t expected to see. It wasn’t the love that shocked you so much as the casualness of it. High Lords and Lady’s - from the limited experience you had reading about them in books - were either unreadable or such outrageous flirts they looked ready to jump into the bones of anything that could stand upright or lay down for long enough. Both methods were appropriate to hide their true feelings, but Rhysand and Feyre seemed to take another approach entirely. 

Helion coughed when you made no move to introduce yourself, still shell-shocked at the caliber of guests currently at your door, “And to the Inner Circle of the Night Court, I present Y/n Y/l/n. My dear friend and one of the most talented researchers I’ve ever had the pleasure of working with.” 

“We’ve heard so much about you.” Feyre said, moving forward on instinct to embrace you. She stopped immediately when she saw you flinch back, but recovered quickly, smiling brightly, “My name is Feyre, and this is my mate Rhysand,” The High Lord tipped an imaginary hat, “And his brothers, Cassian and Azriel.” 

“It’s an honor to meet you.” You said politely.

“The honor is all ours.” Rhysand said. He held Feyre closer to his side, one hand ghosting close to her stomach in memory of the child that had grown there not even two years ago. “Helion told us everything you did. Our daughter is alive and well thanks to you, as is my mate.” 

You blinked in surprise. You didn’t know Helion had told them about that. 

“Oh um, it was a joint effort. My High Lord is too kind.” You said with a respectful dip of your head and all at once your manners flooded into your brain again, “Please, come in.” 

You sheepishly opened the door further, allowing the two High Lords and High Lady to grace your apartment. The Illyrians crossed the threshold last. Muscular, leathery wings rippled with power and prestige and it was incredible they managed to stay upright, let alone keep them from dragging on the floor. 

You made a mental note to revisit some old anatomy texts on winged fae. 

“I um,” You hurried to the kitchen, hearing the kettle start to screech, “I apologize. I wasn’t prepared for guests.” The screaming stopped and you remembered that you didn’t have any matching tea sets. 

You reached into the cupboards, face blushing at the assortment of novelty mugs you’d acquired over the years. Hardly fit for a children’s tea party let alone some of the most powerful fae to have ever existed. 

“There will be no apologies from you, tonight, my dear.” Helion said with a charming smile, “Not after we’ve barged into your home uninvited and taken over your dining table.”

From over the island you saw that Helion had already settled down at the table, the others following suit. Everyone except for the Shadowsinger. 

He lingered by the kitchen archway, keeping a respectful distance as you poured boiling water into the teapot over a mixture of chrysanthemum and rosehip. 

“Would you like any help?” He gestured to the tray now loaded with the teapot, cups, and a platter of biscuits that shook in your hands. 

“Oh,” You stared at his outstretched hand, soft black leather molded over graceful fingers. “No, that’s alright. I can do it. But thank you for offering.” You stood face to face with him, silently begging him with your eyes to move to the table with the others so you wouldn’t have to suffer the consequences of touching him.

His hand quickly dropped to his side, then slid behind his back. You caught the flash of hurt in his eyes before he masked it. 

“There are some cookies in the living room!” You said a little too loudly, “On top of the coffee table. If-if you wouldn’t mind bringing those-” The Shadowsinger was already gone on his mission and you breathed a sigh of relief. 

There were more books on the floor than swords on a battlefield. Azriel stepped over them gently, careful not to disturb the precarious arrangement. Books on anatomy, microbiology, human medicine, and magical theory flared outward, tracing the path of Y/n’s mind. Azriel walked it with wonder at the brilliance hidden within the midnight thoughts that had been spilled on paper, before being organized later on with a loving hand. Because that’s what this all spelled out to him - some chaotic, maddening love. He was almost jealous not to be on the receiving end of it… almost.

He saw the platter on the table, but ignored it for the pile of books by the windowsill. These ones were different from the rest. Older and more worn. The bindings were cracked and flexible after being read hundreds of times. He could even trace the faint outlines of your fingers on the leather bindings where natural oils had eaten away at the dye. 

He read over the titles and committed them to memory for no other reason than the fact that he liked things that had been well loved. 

“I made a mistake don’t-” 

Azriel straightened up, color washing over his cheeks as he turned to face you in a sea of paper and leather. 

Without thinking, he’d fallen into old habits of poking through people’s belongings. There was a reason Rhysand had made him Spymaster of the Night Court after all. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-” 

“Did you eat a cookie?” You blurted out in a panic. 

“No, no I didn’t.” 

Your shoulders dropped in relief, one hand brushing back your hair. Azriel caught sight of your ink stained fingertips, and the faint mark they left on your temple. 

“Oh thank the Mother.” You muttered under your breath, stealing a glance over your shoulder to the dining room where Helion was playing host in your stead and doing a far better job than you would have been capable of.

“Are they poisoned?” Azriel asked, but the joke fell flat upon seeing the horror in your face.

“No! No, that's not why-I should explain myself better. I would never dare try and poison you. Or anyone for that matter!” You scrunched your eyes shut, face burning brighter than the sun at noon.

I’m a fool. I’m making a fool of myself. He’s going to think I’m an absolute idiot. And right after Helion called me a gifted researcher. What a fucking lie.

Azriel, the blessing in disguise that he was, gave you a moment to collect yourself, pretending to find more interest in a volume on snake venom that was laid open on the ottoman. 

“A friend baked those for me.” You finally said. 

Azriel nodded, a faint smile gracing his face and it caught you off guard. He was beautiful, there was no doubting it so long as you had eyes. What had surprised you was the faint slivers of warmth behind the facade of the cold, brooding Shadowsinger. It was… surprisingly comforting to be standing in a room with him, just the two of you. It was certainly better than the party you’d unceremoniously winnowed out of earlier that day.

“I would never hold it against you if you wanted to save those for yourself.”

Your lips twisted in disgust, “Oh gods no, Cherp is a terrible cook.”

“Cherp?”

“He’s another Librarian I know.” Probably the closest thing to a friend I have. But you weren’t about to tell the Shadowsinger that. “He specializes in chemistry and food history.”

“He’s a food historian?”

“Yes.”

“And yet he’s a terrible cook?” The Shadowsinger tilted his head to the side. 

The corner of your mouth tipped up, “The worst.”

“How is that possible?”

You gave it a thought, eyes darting around the walls like the answer was hidden behind paint, “Do you know how many different types of eggs there are, um,” You weren’t sure what to call him.

“Azriel. Call me, Azriel.”

“Azriel.” You said, testing out the shape of his name. You liked it.

“Do you know how many different types of eggs there are, Azriel?”

He cocked his head to the side, “I do not.”

“Thousands, Azriel. Thousands. If I told you to bake a cake with an egg, would you know I meant a chicken egg?” This time you didn’t wait for an answer, “Because you’d be surprised how quickly facts we consider ‘common knowledge’ disappear. Will people know we meant chicken eggs 1 million years from now? Perhaps not! All this to say that when Cherp follows recipes, he usually doesn’t have the knowledge to make it correctly and they turn out bland at best, inedible and poisonous at worst.” 

Azriel tipped his head back and laughed, prompting you to explain further, “He once spent ten years researching the evolution of average spoon sizes because so many of his recipes were measured in spoonfuls.”

Azriel smirked, “Is this what you academics get yourselves so worried about?”

You couldn’t tell if he was ridiculing you or not, but the sincerity in his hazel eyes said he wasn’t. “Well we...among other things, yes, I suppose that is something we concern ourselves with…” 

“Y/n!” Helion called from the other room, “Stop romancing the Shadowsinger and join us at the table. It’s a futile effort. I’ve been trying for centuries.” 

Your face turned a brighter shade of red as you watched Azriel pick his way through the empty spots on the floor. You pressed yourself against the wall to let him pass, a fact that didn’t escape his notice. And when he took a seat at the table, you ignored the unoccupied seat next to him, preferring to stand behind the island like a woodland creature ready to dive into their den at a moment’s notice. 

His lips flattened. He’d hoped to make you more comfortable around him after the disastrous events at the party, going so far as to hide the shadows that were clamoring for release. He should’ve known better than to assume one conversation about the historical accuracy of egg recipes would make that discomfort go away.  

From your island you tossed pleasantries back and forth like it was a game. But you couldn’t help the stiffness in your posture, the hesitation in your voice when they asked you about your life.

“I’m a Librarian.” You’d first answered, as if it were all that needed to be said. But they pressed onwards, tried to make you laugh. Cassian, especially, liked to poke fun, and despite your best efforts, you laughed. 

“All these libraries would make Nesta go feral. She wouldn’t know what to do with herself.”

“What kind of books does she like to read?” You asked, refilling the kettle as the cloudy sky outside darkened into a rich purple-black.

Cassian coughed, face turning red, “Romance.” He answered simply.

“Smutty romance.” The High Lord said, punching Cassian in the arm. His face turned redder.

“Lucky you,” Helion said with a wink that had Feyre bursting out into laughter. It was no secret that Helion had added Nesta onto his list of fae he’d one day like to have in his bed.

“There is an athenaeum that specializes in romance, and there’s no shortage of those sorts of novels… if you’re interested.” You said, hiding your face behind a sip of tea. 

“And how would you know about that?” Feyre asked teasingly. 

“I… am a Librarian. I know-I know things.” You sputtered unconvincingly. “I went once. Purely for research purposes.” 

Azriel gave her a look, a look that said he somehow knew of the eight raunchy books that graced your bedside table and had been well-read indeed.

As the conversation evolved to less embarrassing topics, you were struck by the fact that you were actually enjoying yourself. It was a far cry from the parties that you’d previously been invited to. There was an ease to the Inner Circle. A familial love that flowed off them as easy as water off a whetstone. It was something you hadn’t experienced in quite some time.

Azriel noticed when you fell silent, your mind carried away to more sobering thoughts than Cassian’s most recent travels to the Human Lands. Feyre noticed as well and made her surprise at the time look natural and unscripted.

“Day Court members are early to bed and early to rise aren’t you? I’m sorry we’ve taken up so much of your time.” She said, gently pulling Rhysand up with her as she stood. 

“No, not at all. Thank you for coming. I-I hope your daughter is doing well.” Was that an appropriate thing to say? Perhaps it was too threatening to comment on the wellbeing of a High Lord and High Lady’s child. But Feyre didn’t find any fault with that, a glassy look sliding over her eyes as Mor let Feyre into her mind so she could look at little Velaria dozing away in her aunt’s arms back home.

“She’s getting to be more and more of a handful everyday.”

“I wonder where she gets that from?” Cassian chimed in, throwing Rhysand a look as they collected their coats and slowly made their way over to the front door.

Rhysand threw his hand to his chest in indignation, “I was practically an angel.” 

Cassian snorted, “More like the devil.” 

Feyre rolled her eyes, shuffling the pair out the door into the still night. 

Azriel once again lingered behind, the last to leave behind Helion. He stepped out into the night-chilled air, the edges of him disappearing like the darkness had come to reclaim him. 

“It was lovely to meet you, Y/n, the Librarian.” He said, dipping into a shallow bow.

“It was lovely to meet you, Azriel…the Shadowsinger.” 

He smiled shyly, then froze, the smile slipping off his face into a look of shock. You glanced over your shoulder, missing the explosion of shadows that spilled out from him. 

You leapt back upon feeling their cool touch wrapping around you. There was a curiosity to the way they wound themselves through your hair and got tangled up in the folds of your dress. But thankfully, they carried no memories with them. No feelings but a faint relief and comfort that washed over you and gave you back your breath. For the first time in years you were experiencing a touch that you could handle. A touch that was stillness and peace.

“Is everything alright?” You finally looked back at Azriel, his eyes blown open and panicked.

He was not a man of many words. Never had been, never would be. But he wished he could speak everything on his mind. 

You’re my mate. You’re my mate. You’re my mate. You’re the one I’ve been waiting over 500 hundred years for. 

But when he saw the concern in your eyes, the gentle tilt of your head that exposed the curve of your neck, he knew it wasn’t the time.

“I-I have to go.” 

This time it was his turn to disappear. He swallowed his words, forced down the bond that now burned in his chest with the light of a thousand suns, and fled past the shocked faces of his family members before shooting off into the night sky.

<- Previous Chapter Next Chapter ->

______________

Author's Note:

Does this batboy deserve a nerdy mate to tease and have fun with? Yes. I will take no criticism (just kidding if you have thoughts about how my writing is, let me know, just be kind and respectful about it).

Love,

Florence B.

Taglist: @rosebunnysblog @icey--stars @laceandsuch @coralseacourt @cherryinsalemverse @flowerprincezz @valeridarkness @annaaaaa88 @deeshag @bluesiphonsbaby @allyjoe755 @sidthedollface2 2@auggiesolovey @cleverzonkwombatsludge @kemillyfreitas @transparentmoonglitter @ang-taylorsversion @ssmay123 @just-m-2 @sevikas-whore @lalaluch @svtwonwoow @user707sthings @cherryinsalemverse @evylynny @decrepit-bees-knees @eleganttravelercloud @ghostwritermia @smitty-werbenjagermenjenson @fussel9913 @st0rmyt

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Antitrust is a labor issue

I'm touring my new, nationally bestselling novel The Bezzle! Catch me SATURDAY (Apr 27) in MARIN COUNTY, then Winnipeg (May 2), Calgary (May 3), Vancouver (May 4), and beyond!

This is huge: yesterday, the FTC finalized a rule banning noncompete agreements for every American worker. That means that the person working the register at a Wendy's can switch to the fry-trap at McD's for an extra $0.25/hour, without their boss suing them:

https://www.ftc.gov/news-events/news/press-releases/2024/04/ftc-announces-rule-banning-noncompetes

The median worker laboring under a noncompete is a fast-food worker making close to minimum wage. You know who doesn't have to worry about noncompetes? High tech workers in Silicon Valley, because California already banned noncompetes, as did Colorado, Illinois, Maine, Maryland, New Hampshire, North Dakota, Oklahoma, Oregon, Rhode Island, Virginia and Washington.

The fact that the country's largest economies, encompassing the most "knowledge-intensive" industries, could operate without shitty bosses being able to shackle their best workers to their stupid workplaces for years after those workers told them to shove it shows you what a goddamned lie noncompetes are based on. The idea that companies can't raise capital or thrive if their know-how can walk out the door, secreted away in the skulls of their ungrateful workers, is bullshit:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/02/02/its-the-economy-stupid/#neofeudal

Remember when OpenAI's board briefly fired founder Sam Altman and Microsoft offered to hire him and 700 of his techies? If "noncompetes block investments" was true, you'd think they'd have a hard time raising money, but no, they're still pulling in billions in investor capital (primarily from Microsoft itself!). This is likewise true of Anthropic, the company's major rival, which was founded by (wait for it), two former OpenAI employees.

Indeed, Silicon Valley couldn't have come into existence without California's ban on noncompetes – the first silicon company, Shockley Semiconductors, was founded by a malignant, delusional eugenicist who also couldn't manage a lemonade stand. His eight most senior employees (the "Traitorous Eight") quit his shitty company to found Fairchild Semiconductor, a rather successful chip shop – but not nearly so successful as the company that two of Fairchild's top employees founded after they quit: Intel:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/10/24/the-traitorous-eight-and-the-battle-of-germanium-valley/

Likewise a lie: the tale that noncompetes raise wages. This theory – beloved of people whose skulls are so filled with Efficient Market Hypothesis Brain-Worms that they've got worms dangling out of their nostrils and eye-sockets – holds that the right to sign a noncompete is an asset that workers can trade to their employers in exchange for better pay. This is absolutely true, provided you ignore reality.

Remember: the median noncompete-bound worker is a fast food employee making near minimum wage. The major application of noncompetes is preventing that worker from getting a raise from a rival fast-food franchisee. Those workers are losing wages due to noncompetes. Meanwhile, the highest paid workers in the country are all clustered in a a couple of cities in northern California, pulling down sky-high salaries in a state where noncompetes have been illegal since the gold rush.

If a capitalist wants to retain their workers, they can compete. Offer your workers get better treatment and better wages. That's how capitalism's alchemy is supposed to work: competition transmogrifies the base metal of a capitalist's greed into the noble gold of public benefit by making success contingent on offering better products to your customers than your rivals – and better jobs to your workers than those rivals are willing to pay. However, capitalists hate capitalism:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/04/18/in-extremis-veritas/#the-winnah

Capitalists hate capitalism so much that they're suing the FTC, in MAGA's beloved Fifth Circuit, before a Trump-appointed judge. The case was brought by Trump's financial advisors, Ryan LLC, who are using it to drum up business from corporations that hate Biden's new taxes on the wealthy and stepped up IRS enforcement on rich tax-cheats.

Will they win? It's hard to say. Despite what you may have heard, the case against the FTC order is very weak, as Matt Stoller explains here:

https://www.thebignewsletter.com/p/ftc-enrages-corporate-america-by

The FTC's statutory authority to block noncompetes comes from Section 5 of the FTC Act, which bans "unfair methods of competition" (hard to imagine a less fair method than indenturing your workers). Section 6(g) of the Act lets the FTC make rules to enforce Section 5's ban on unfairness. Both are good law – 6(g) has been used many times (26 times in the five years from 1968-73 alone!).

The DC Circuit court upheld the FTC's right to "promulgate rules defining the meaning of the statutory standards of the illegality the Commission is empowered to prevent" in 1973, and in 1974, Congress changed the FTC Act, but left this rulemaking power intact.

The lawyer suing the FTC – Anton Scalia's larvum, a pismire named Eugene Scalia – has some wild theories as to why none of this matters. He says that because the law hasn't been enforced since the ancient days of the (checks notes) 1970s, it no longer applies. He says that the mountain of precedent supporting the FTC's authority "hasn't aged well." He says that other antitrust statutes don't work the same as the FTC Act. Finally, he says that this rule is a big economic move and that it should be up to Congress to make it.

Stoller makes short work of these arguments. The thing that tells you whether a law is good is its text and precedent, "not whether a lawyer thinks a precedent is old and bad." Likewise, the fact that other antitrust laws is irrelevant "because, well, they are other antitrust laws, not this antitrust law." And as to whether this is Congress's job because it's economically significant, "so what?" Congress gave the FTC this power.

Now, none of this matters if the Supreme Court strikes down the rule, and what's more, if they do, they might also neuter the FTC's rulemaking power in the bargain. But again: so what? How is it better for the FTC to do nothing, and preserve a power that it never uses, than it is for the Commission to free the 35-40 million American workers whose bosses get to use the US court system to force them to do a job they hate?

The FTC's rule doesn't just ban noncompetes – it also bans TRAPs ("training repayment agreement provisions"), which require employees to pay their bosses thousands of dollars if they quit, get laid off, or are fired:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/08/04/its-a-trap/#a-little-on-the-nose

The FTC's job is to protect Americans from businesses that cheat. This is them, doing their job. If the Supreme Court strikes this down, it further delegitimizes the court, and spells out exactly who the GOP works for.

This is part of the long history of antitrust and labor. From its earliest days, antitrust law was "aimed at dollars, not men" – in other words, antitrust law was always designed to smash corporate power in order to protect workers. But over and over again, the courts refused to believe that Congress truly wanted American workers to get legal protection from the wealthy predators who had fastened their mouth-parts on those workers' throats. So over and over – and over and over – Congress passed new antitrust laws that clarified the purpose of antitrust, using words so small that even federal judges could understand them:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/14/aiming-at-dollars/#not-men

After decades of comatose inaction, Biden's FTC has restored its role as a protector of labor, explicitly tackling competition through a worker protection lens. This week, the Commission blocked the merger of Capri Holdings and Tapestry Inc, a pair of giant conglomerates that have, between them, bought up nearly every "affordable luxury" brand (Versace, Jimmy Choo, Michael Kors, Kate Spade, Coach, Stuart Weitzman, etc).

You may not care about "affordable luxury" handbags, but you should care about the basis on which the FTC blocked this merger. As David Dayen explains for The American Prospect: 33,000 workers employed by these two companies would lose the wage-competition that drives them to pay skilled sales-clerks more to cross the mall floor and switch stores:

https://prospect.org/economy/2024-04-24-challenge-fashion-merger-new-antitrust-philosophy/

In other words, the FTC is blocking a $8.5b merger that would turn an oligopoly into a monopoly explicitly to protect workers from the power of bosses to suppress their wages. What's more, the vote was unanimous, include the Commission's freshly appointed (and frankly, pretty terrible) Republican commissioners:

https://www.ftc.gov/news-events/news/press-releases/2024/04/ftc-moves-block-tapestrys-acquisition-capri

A lot of people are (understandably) worried that if Biden doesn't survive the coming election that the raft of excellent rules enacted by his agencies will die along with his presidency. Here we have evidence that the Biden administration's anti-corporate agenda has become institutionalized, acquiring a bipartisan durability.

And while there hasn't been a lot of press about that anti-corporate agenda, it's pretty goddamned huge. Back in 2021, Tim Wu (then working in the White wrote an executive order on competition that identified 72 actions the agencies could take to blunt the power of corporations to harm everyday Americans:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2021/08/party-its-1979-og-antitrust-back-baby

Biden's agency heads took that plan and ran with it, demonstrating the revolutionary power of technical administrative competence and proving that being good at your job is praxis:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/10/18/administrative-competence/#i-know-stuff

In just the past week, there's been a storm of astoundingly good new rules finalized by the agencies:

A minimum staffing ratio for nursing homes;

The founding of the American Climate Corps;

A guarantee of overtime benefits;

A ban on financial advisors cheating retirement savers;

Medical privacy rules that protect out-of-state abortions;

A ban on junk fees in mortgage servicing;

Conservation for 13m Arctic acres in Alaska;

Classifying "forever chemicals" as hazardous substances;

A requirement for federal agencies to buy sustainable products;

Closing the gun-show loophole.

That's just a partial list, and it's only Thursday.

Why the rush? As Gerard Edic writes for The American Prospect, finalizing these rules now protects them from the Congressional Review Act, a gimmick created by Newt Gingrich in 1996 that lets the next Senate wipe out administrative rules created in the months before a federal election:

https://prospect.org/politics/2024-04-23-biden-administration-regulations-congressional-review-act/

In other words, this is more dazzling administrative competence from the technically brilliant agencies that have labored quietly and effectively since 2020. Even laggards like Pete Buttigieg have gotten in on the act, despite a very poor showing in the early years of the Biden administration:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/02/11/dinah-wont-you-blow/#ecp

Despite those unpromising beginnings, the DOT has gotten onboard the trains it regulates, and passed a great rule that forces airlines to refund your money if they charge you for services they don't deliver:

https://www.whitehouse.gov/briefing-room/statements-releases/2024/04/24/fact-sheet-biden-harris-administration-announces-rules-to-deliver-automatic-refunds-and-protect-consumers-from-surprise-junk-fees-in-air-travel/

The rule also bans junk fees and forces airlines to compensate you for late flights, finally giving American travelers the same rights their European cousins have enjoyed for two decades.

It's the latest in a string of muscular actions taken by the DOT, a period that coincides with the transfer of Jen Howard from her role as chief of staff to FTC chair Lina Khan to a new gig as the DOT's chief of competition enforcement:

https://prospect.org/infrastructure/transportation/2024-04-25-transportation-departments-new-path/

Under Howard's stewardship, the DOT blocked the merger of Spirit and Jetblue, and presided over the lowest flight cancellation rate in more than decade:

https://www.transportation.gov/briefing-room/2023-numbers-more-flights-fewer-cancellations-more-consumer-protections

All that, along with a suite of protections for fliers, mark a huge turning point in the US aviation industry's long and worsening abusive relationship with the American public. There's more in the offing, too including a ban on charging families extra for adjacent seats, rules to make flying with wheelchairs easier, and a ban on airlines selling passenger's private information to data brokers.

There's plenty going on in the world – and in the Biden administration – that you have every right to be furious and/or depressed about. But these expert agencies, staffed by experts, have brought on a tsunami of rules that will make every working American better off in a myriad of ways. Those material improvements in our lives will, in turn, free us up to fight the bigger, existential fights for a livable planet, free from genocide.

It may not be a good time to be alive, but it's a much better time than it was just last week.

And it's only Thursday.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/04/25/capri-v-tapestry/#aiming-at-dollars-not-men

[vsimp]

he catches you writing smut (18+)

pairing: Kamisato Ayato x F!Reader

genre: smut

wc: 2.6k

kink warning: a line or two about panty sniffing lol

There was a pretty popular erotic novel currently published by the Yae Publishing House. Hundreds of copies so far have been sold in Inazuma. It was released by an anonymous author, a story telling the tale between a CEO and his secretary. Although the people weren’t too familiar with the concept of a corporation, people really did enjoy the little power dynamic between a dominant CEO and his submissive secretary. Smut had recently grown popular in Teyvat, and this erotic novel was the current driving force of it all.

Little did they know that you were the author, the current lady of the Kamisato Clan, and the Yashiro Commissioner's wife. You had based the male lead off of your own husband. Surely if you revealed your identity, the whole of Inazuma would be in uproar and you would soil the Kamisato Clan’s name. That was why it was your own dirty little secret, the fact that you were writing erotic fiction based on you and your husband, a little secret that only you and Yae Miko know.

What you didn’t expect was for the novel to reach the insides of the Estate. Housekeepers were gushing about it during their breaks, retainers were talking about how their partners wanted to try these different positions from the novel… You couldn’t help but be mortified, yet flattered, that so many people enjoyed your dirty novel.

It wasn’t until the news had reached your husband’s ears did you really, really get in trouble.

Kamisato Ayato called his wife to his study after a long day of duties for the both of them. Usually, he would invite her to tea if they had the time to talk about what they had for plans during the week.

You took a sip of your tea, relishing in the nice silence after a bustling day and the warmth that the tea brought.

“There’s this novel that has been the talk of the town lately,” Ayato said and you did everything you could not to choke on your tea.

“Ah, I heard the staff speaking about it this week. My, I wonder what had caught their attention like so…” You replied as casually as you could.

“Mm.” He replied briefly and took something out of his jacket. You tried not to tense up as you recognized the familiar pink book cover, of course graced with the illustration of the main couple that suspiciously had the same hair color as you and Ayato. “Ah, yes, let me read the title out loud. ‘The Nightly Trysts of Hayato and his Lover.’ Hm, a strange title indeed. This ‘Hayato’ character has a similar name and appearance to mine.”

You wanted to cringe at the entire name. Guuji Yae was the one who suggested such an embarrassing title. She said it would attract a more mature audience who enjoyed that sort of fantasy. Ayato maintained his relaxed smile despite reading all of that, and you didn’t like it one bit. It meant he was currently hiding something he knew, and you were too scared to delve into what exactly that was.

“Ah…” You had to keep your calm, even though you wanted to scream into your own pillow right now. If you showed any sort of discomfort or anxiety, your husband would recognize it right away. After all, nothing came past your husband with that sharp mind of his. “Perhaps it’s just a coincidence?”

“Hm, maybe so. Shall I read the summary?”

No. Please, archons, no.

He continued anyway, despite your inner thoughts pleading him not to. He read off the summary on the back of the book with his same laxed voice, detailing a CEO who was currently smitten by his secretary, who starts to avoid him at all costs once she sees him half naked on a business trip. The CEO, frustrated, chased after the secretary and had an erotic time with her in his office.

“It sounds interesting,” you forced a smile on your face.

“Doesn’t it? I started to skim through it whenever I had time off during the day.”

“Oh?” You wanted to cry at this point, a wide smile plastered on your face. He’s noticed. He’s definitely noticed. “Do you like it so far…?”

“It’s surely an interesting read. This male lead named Hayato… The way the author describes him, with light blue hair and light blue eyes and a small mole on his left lower lip…” Ayato’s smile remained the same, although the corner of his eyes crinkle a bit, indicating a more mischievous look. “He sure does sound like me.”

“Haha…” You let out a forced laugh. “Maybe someone is a fan of your appearance.”

“It appears so.” He flipped through the pages casually. “Such a detailed little novel. This author sure does have a penchant for writing erotic scenes.”

“They must be passionate about their work.” You felt like your smile could break your face at this point.

“Mm… The female lead sounds quite familiar as well. Her name is similar to yours.”

“I-is it?”

“Indeed. The same eye and hair color too.”

“Wow. What a huge coincidence!”

He chuckles softly. “My dear, there’s no need to play dumb anymore.”

“Whatever do you mean?” Your voice wavered a bit, but you were committed to it.

“You’re going to keep playing this game? Very well then.” He stood up and took your hand.

“A-Ayato?”

With one fellow swoop, he helped you to stand up. Before you knew it, he led you over to your bedroom, locking the door behind him and guided you to sit on the edge of the bed.

“Let me read out an excerpt I found interesting,” Ayato stated as he looked at the book, although he made small glances at you too while reading. “He pins her down to the bed and kisses her passionately. His blue and white sheets were softer than anything she’s ever felt, but that thought was soon taken away by the force of his lips upon her.” His usually relaxed smile soon morphed into a smirk. “My, I didn’t realize you were such a big fan of our blue and white sheets.”

Without a doubt, the bedsheets in the room you shared had always been blue and white for the last few years. Suddenly, he pinned you down against the sheet, his hand pushing your shoulder gently so you rested back against the bed, just as he had read from the book. And then he simply leaned down to kiss you, his soft lips meshing with yours as you felt yourself melt in his embrace. Your lips came together gently, although there was a playful bounce to his kisses that you did not expect, and soon, his tongue ended up pushing against yours.

He chuckled after he parted away from you, leaving you panting and breathless from the makeout session. “Cat got your tongue, my dear? Or will you finally admit the truth?”

“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about…” Your cheeks grew hotter as he tried to corner you into admitting that you were the author.

“Mm… Sure, you don’t.” His lips made their way to kiss your neck, his tongue hot as he bit and sucked on the skin there. “Did you really feel that lonely that you had to write erotica off of our experiences? Have I not shown you enough attention lately?”

“D-Don’t say that…!” Your voice grew weaker as he teased you, your resolve slowly crumbling the more he kissed you. “You know that’s not the case…!”

“Hehe,” he let out another small chuckle. “You’re so cute when you’re flustered. Tell me, y/n, do you just like our experiences so much that you put it into a novel?”

You gasped as his hands went under your robe, undoing your clothes and caressing your breast through your undergarments. His fingers tease your nipples through your bra, pinching the sensitive bud and flicking it around. You let out small whimpers from the teasing.

“Shall I reenact one of the scenes I was particularly fond of?”

“Please no…” you begged. 

“Why not?”

“I-it’s embarrassing.”

“I think it’s endearing that my lovely wife has such vivid fantasies.” He smiled down at you and then started to strip you naked of your clothes. “I could drown in the beauty of your body, my love.” He repeated a line from the novel as he kissed down your neck to your chest.

You let out soft pants as he unraveled your body, his eyes raking every inch as if he hadn’t memorized it all already. He gave your breasts another squeeze, pinching the bare nipple before he slowly dragged it down your rib cage to your lower abdomen before resting right in front of your aching core. It just sat there, his palm digging into your mound as your hips buckled, wanting more and more stimulation.

“Patience, love…” Ayato gave you a calculating smirk as he picked up the book once again and flipped to a bookmarked page. He read off another excerpt. “He buried his face into her pussy, panties on, sniffing and tasting her neediness that drenched through the soft fabric.” Ayato took a finger and ran it gently along your slit, and you did everything you could not to beg him for more despite your legs trembling slightly from anticipation. “My, I didn’t realize my wife had such fantasies about her panties like this. Such a pervert, wanting me to sniff her precious flower like a deranged animal .”

“Mm… n-no, t-that’s not true…” you tried to deny, but your flushed body and face were saying otherwise. 

“Such a lewd expression,” he chuckled and crawled down, taking a sniff of your core straight through your underwear. “You smell delightful,” his voice deepened, almost guttural, as his tongue dipped to languidly lick at your clit. 

You let out a soft cry, which was like music to his ears. Ayato wanted to laugh in amusement, his own mind twisting into pure sadistic pleasure. Who would’ve known that his own wife would be such a naughty little thing? He savored her taste, enjoying the way she writhed beneath him. With one fluid motion, he pulled her underwear off and sucked at her wet core, kissing and slurping all of her love juices. 

Your mind was all fuzzy as pleasure filled your lower region. Your legs wrapped around his head, hips buckling as he ate you out, dipping his tongue into your pussy as deep as he could before taking it out to swirl around your clit. It reminded you of the scene you wrote in the book, and you wonder how committed he was going to be to the scene.

Nevertheless, it seemed like he was going to tease you nonstop until you finally admit that you were the author.

He then pushed a finger into you, stretching out your walls and he admired the way your walls tensed around his digit, how your moans grew louder and louder. One, and then two, he started to pump his fingers, curling them to hit the spot you liked the most whilst his tongue continued flicking against your clit. Your hands made its way to his soft blue hair, and it wasn’t long before you came all over his fingers and lips. 

You panted as he took himself out of you, your eyes watching as he licked your juices off his fingers before he positioned his waist in between your legs.

“Are you ready, princess?” His hands undid his pants, taking out his cock as he rubbed the length against your sensitive slit. You just came, after all, so he was getting well lubricated with your juices.

You whined a bit as you needily stuck your arms out, and Ayato chuckled as he bent down to meet your lips. Your arms wrapped around his neck to pull him closer. He kissed you deeply and a bit more rough this time as you felt his cock grinding against your wet, warm pussy. He wanted you so bad, but he also wanted to stay committed to his teasing.

“Mm… Ayato, put it in already…” You scolded him as he continued to grind against you, occasionally slapping the tip of his rock hard cock gently against your clit. 

“I don’t think so…” He said after pulling away from your tongue, smirking down at you. He hissed a bit as he continued to rub his length up and down, his other hand making its way to squeeze your breast. “Not until you admit it.”

“Are you seriously still on that?!” You moaned in frustration, wiggling your hips in hopes that he’d just put it inside and fuck you relentlessly to dull the growing ache in your lower abdomen.

“Well, we are following the scene in the novel to the tea. I just want to confirm that you are truly one of the main characters.”

You couldn’t take it anymore. You were so horny for anything that you didn’t care at this point.

“Fine! Fine, yes, I admit it. I wrote the book. Now hurry up!”

Your husband leaned forward, placing a hand beside your head to hold himself up as his other hand started to push his cock in just a bit.

“Hehe, so demanding.” You gasped as he pushed his entire length in you. “And yet, you’re such a good girl.”

His hips slammed into yours, his lips kissing and sucking the skin of your neck. You could only grip him tightly as he fucked you deeply and thoroughly with the only goal to draw out your sweet moans that he loved hearing so much. He grunted as he felt you squeeze around him, taking you over and over until you were crying out his name.

His lips slammed back onto yours, exploring your mouth as his cock pushed in and out. He wanted to leave you as a sputtering mess, until you can’t think of anything else but him and his long, aching hard member.

“You’re such a dirty girl, writing those lewd scenes about us.” He muttered in your ear, hissing as he felt you tightening every time he uttered some dirty words. “Is that your fantasy? Me fucking you hard in my office with my employees outside?” He chuckled as you were too caught up in pleasure to respond. “Hm? Or do you just like the idea of me fucking you wildly out in the open?”

He pushed your legs as far up as he could and he continued to slam down into you.

“Shit…” He cursed, so unlike his normally composed self. You were the only person in this world who could unravel him completely. You, and you alone. “You feel so good, princess…”

The sound of his skin slapping yours filled the room, coupled with your moans and his quiet grunts. He slid in and out of you with ease at this point, stretching you whole. He watched your breasts bounce to his movements and he didn't hesitate to squeeze and play with them as he wished.

He fucked you in different positions, bending you over the bed, on your side with your foot high up in the air and leg over his shoulder. He couldn’t get enough of you, making you cum over and over again before sputtering his own seed deep into your walls, enjoying how you clench and convulse from his cock alone.

“Mm…” He hummed as he kissed your shoulder tenderly, his cock still deep inside you as he finished cumming, drawing out small thrusts as he got the final load out. He could drown in the sound of your moans, and suddenly, he understood the appeal of your erotic novel.

Ayato took himself out of you before collapsing next to you, holding you closely in his arms. He kissed your forehead as you both panted from the heavy exertion before he looked at you with that mischievous smile.

“So was that enough for you to write a sequel?”

[burningvelvet]

Lord Byron's first edition copy of Frankenstein (1818), one of only two known surviving copies to be personally inscribed by Mary Shelley (the other is to her friend Mrs. Thomas). Byron took this copy with him when he went into the Greek War of Independence, and it was among his personal things when he died there in 1824:

Mary didn't disclose her name in the inscription because the novel was published anonymously and she initially wanted to keep it that way. However, Byron did reveal her identity in a letter to his publisher, correcting his assumption that Percy was the one who wrote the novel:

"The story of the agreement to write the Ghost-books is true — but the ladies are not Sisters — one is Godwin’s daughter by Mary Wolstonecraft — and the other the present Mrs. Godwin’s daughter by a former husband. Mary Godwin (now Mrs. Shelley) wrote 'Frankenstein' — which you have reviewed thinking it Shelley’s — methinks it is a wonderful work for a Girl of nineteen — not nineteen indeed — at that time."

Under Mary Shelley's consultation, Thomas Moore writes in his Life of Lord Byron (vol III):

"During a week of rain at this time, having amused themselves with reading German ghost-stories, they agreed, at last, to write something in imitation of them. 'You and I,' said Lord Byron to Mrs. Shelley, 'will publish ours together.'"

Percy, writing as Mary with her permission, mentions Byron and himself (in the third-person) in the novel's 1818 preface thus:

"Two other friends (a tale from the pen of one of whom would be far more acceptable to the public than any thing I can ever hope to produce) and myself agreed to write each a story, founded on some supernatural occurrence.

The weather, however, suddenly became serene; and my two friends left me on a journey among the Alps, and lost, in the magnificent scenes which they present, all memory of their ghostly visions. The following tale is the only one which has been completed."

[arcane-vagabond]

By Its Cover: Prologue

By Its Cover: Prologue

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Reader (Last Name: Sinclair)

Summary: The frivolity of high society has never much interested in you. You preferred to spend your time reading, something your sisters couldn't fathom as they spent their time shopping the latest dress styles. The youngest of five children and the fourth daughter, not much was expected of you. You knew you might be married one day, but you hoped beyond hope that it would be to someone that might understand your intellectual pursuits. You begin exchanging letters with a mysterious stranger, and what's more, your older brother's rakish best friend seems to find himself in your path more and more as the season goes on. What's a girl to do? (Regency!AU)

Content Warning: Historical inaccuracies, Regency period, Period related drama, Talks of judgement, Period typical sexism, Talks of marriage, Death of a parent, Talks of making a debut, Reader's feelings are hurt, light angst, some fluff. I think that's it, but let me know if I missed something!

Word Count: 1.6k

Series Masterlist || Moodboard

Winter gave way to spring as quickly as one rumor gave way to another. Public opinion changed as quickly as the seasons, as far as you were concerned. Your whole life was spent in the thralls of high society, your entire life scrutinized by the judgmental lords and ladies of the Island before you could even walk or talk.

You had earned your reputation as a rather odd girl fairly young not quite seven years. Where the other girls were interested in dolls and hair ribbons, you found yourself enraptured by the world around you. On more than one occasion, you received a tongue lashing from your nanny as you tracked mud through the house after one of your many excursions into the garden, your mother heaving a tired sigh as you argued the merits of fresh air and stimulating your endless supply of curiosity.

“My darling,” she’d say pointedly, giving you one of her signature looks that reeked of motherly disapproval and exasperation, “while I find the fresh air and time in the garden as stimulating as the next person, it is unbecoming of a lady, dearest.”

You had recounted the tale to your father later that evening, the older man sitting at his desk with his feet propped up on the top of the wooden surface as he thumbed through a page of one of his many novels.

“I just don’t understand, Papa,” you muttered, your hair hanging from where you sat upside down on the chaise. “Why can Will go about doing as he pleases while I am to be tied down by all of these ridiculous rules?”

Your father had merely chuckled, marking his page before setting his book down to look at you.

“My darling Bug,” he smiled, taking his feet down and opening his arms wide to you. “Come here.”

You obeyed, righting yourself on the couch before standing to walk over to him. Bug had been bestowed upon you as your moniker well before you could remember. Your father had said that you earned the nickname once you were old enough to crawl all over the place, getting into things that you most decidedly shouldn’t. Your siblings had said it was because you were a pest.

Your father grasped your upper arms gently, the smile on his face as affectionate as always.

“William doesn’t get to do as he pleases,” he explained, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear as you pouted at him. “He will one day be lord earl of this estate, and as such he will take on many duties that will prevent him from doing a great deal of things. Indeed, he will take on many things that will see him as constrained as you.”

“I don’t believe you,” you grumbled, scowling up at him. Your father tilted his head back with a booming laugh, patting your head before placing a gentle kiss to your forehead.

“Nevermind all of that now, my little Lady Bug,” he hummed. “I’ve found a new story for you, would you like to read it?”

Your father was a fixture in your life, encouraging your love of learning perhaps more than he should have given the expectations set forth by society for you. Your mother saw no problem with your need for intellectual pursuits, but often grew exasperated at your clear lack of regard for decorum and stereotypical ladylike hobbies. Your elder sisters were the pinnacle of what proper ladies should look like in society, and you often found yourself being compared to them, much to your chagrin.

North Island, or the Island for short, was the nickname given to the group of nobles and upperclass that made up the elite, wealthy families that dictated the standards of polite society - the society you had the misfortune of being born into along with your elder siblings.

Your brother, William, was the pride of your family. He was a handsome, strong man that commanded the room with his very presence. He was jovial, charismatic, and intelligent by all accounts, and very popular amongst the other ladies of the Island.

Lydia was the second eldest after William, and was the the spitting image of your mother, with beautiful features that left all the men on the Island giving her longing looks. It was the Earl Reuben Fitch that won her hand in the end only seven seasons ago, and now they visited once in a while with their three children in tow.

Theodosia, or Theo for short, was the second eldest daughter, having entered into society only one year after Lydia, she was the prize to be won with her charming and elegant demeanor. Not quite as beautiful as Lydia, she made up for it with her wit, having won the affection of a viscount that same year.

Georgiana, or Georgie as your family was prone to call her, was only a year older than you and had made her debut the year prior. She had not settled for any of the men of the Island the year prior, setting her sights high and determining that the best had yet to come.

You rounded out the lot as the youngest, the strange, little sister that no one knew what to do with more often than not. The ladies of the Island often remarked that your head was too full of ideals, unsuitable for a lady of your noble family, and they lamented how your mother and father must have grown lax in their child rearing when it came to you. Or perhaps you were a hopeless cause. The reason varied day to day it seemed.

You were quite content with how your life was playing out. You had your books, the garden, and your dearest friend, Natasha Trace. Natasha, or Nat, was about a year older than yourself, having made her debut the same year as Georgiana.

“I’ll be happy once you make your debut,” she had said to you one night. “I won’t feel so alone at all the balls then.”

You had frowned at her words, the very thought of entering society growing less and less appealing by the day.

“Why must I debut?” You had asked your mother not too long after. “I’m the fourth daughter of an earl. Surely it is not that important that I marry.”

“Dearest,” your mother had sighed, setting her needlework down to look at you, “marriage is not all work. As the fourth daughter, you have more freedom to marry whom you would like. Your father would have wanted you to marry.”

“Father would have wanted me to do what made me happy,” you had muttered, turning to leave the room before she could respond.

Your father had passed years prior when you were only eight, and his memory still haunted the halls of the manner. William had taken up his title as earl, seeing to the estate with the help of your mother until he was capable of doing things on his own. Ten years your senior, he had done his best to fill in the holes your father’s absence had left behind, though he still needed reminding that he was, in fact, not your father.

“You’ll be making your debut this year,” he reminded you, scribbling away in the family ledger, casting you a spare glance as you scowled down at him.

“Please don’t make that face,” he sighed, setting his quill down to give you his undivided attention. “And please don’t make this more difficult than need be. Every young lady makes her debut at some point or another.”

“Why must I debut?” You frowned, your lips quickly forming into a smirk as a thought struck you. “Can I not live out my days on my own with you to support me?”

“You may not,” Williams replied flatly. “Bug, I know it can be nerve wrecking-”

“You have no idea what it’s like,” you interjected.

“But, it’s a part of growing up. You’ll find a husband who will make you reasonably happy and live out your days with him,” he finished. You scoffed, rolling your eyes as you clasped your hands together.

“William,” you began, “who would want me? The whole Island has deemed me strange, the black sheep of our family. You would really put me through this embarrassment for the sake of tradition?”

“I think you’ll find yourself surprised at who may want you,” William countered. “Many men on the Island are in need of a wife, and some may be willing to settle for someone of your nature given the right circumstances.”

A beat passed between you two, your heart stalling in your chest at his words.

“Settle?” You laughed quietly, but there was no humor to be found in your tone. “I am something to be settled for then?”

You hated how small you sounded in that moment. Of course, you didn’t care for what others thought of you. No, you were above all of that. Still, the thought that your brother saw you as some secondhand prize, something no one would seek out, hurt, and you willed the stinging tears behind your eyes to go away as you schooled your features.

William cursed under his breath, moving to stand, his face apologetic as he rounded the desk.

“Bug, that’s not what I meant-”

“No,” you snapped, sniffly slightly as you fought to compose yourself. “You’ve said quite enough already, brother. You’ve made perfectly clear where I stand as it is.”

He moved to say something, but you waved him off, already turning to leave the study.

“You’re busy,” you said flatly, “I’ll leave you to your business.”

William called out your name, but you ignored him, walking briskly down the hall and to the solace of your family’s library.

If you were something to be settled for, then you would at least make the most of what little freedom you had left.

A/N: Ahhhh!! The long awaited, much requested Regency!AU is finally here! Here's our first taste of Bug and Jake, so what do we think? As always, comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated. If you would like to receive updates on when I post, please go follow my sideblog (@arcanevagabond-library) and turn on post notifications! My work is cross posted on AO3 under the username sailor_aviator. Until next time!

[fdelopera]

On 22 September, 1909, the Parisian daily newspaper, Le Gaulois, ran the advertisement pictured above, announcing the serialization of Gaston Leroux's new novel, Le Fantôme de l'Opéra.

Leroux's novel premiered on 23 September, 1909 — 115 years ago today. It ran for 15 weeks, and it was segmented into 68 sections, each section covering roughly half a chapter's worth of content.

To celebrate 115 years of Le Fantôme de l'Opéra in print, over the next 15 weeks I will be posting all 68 sections of the Gaulois publication of Phantom to my blog. These posts will correspond with the original dates of publication.

Here is a link to Le Gaulois for 22 September, 1909. The advert for Phantom is in the middle of the page.

And in case you are wondering what the text of the advertisement above says, here is my translation:

Weary of purely psychological novels, the public awoke one day with a great desire to hear stories. Straightaway, these stories were served up — tales of bandits and policemen — assuredly quite amusing, but which soon grew tedious in their turn, yet without appeasing the public's thirst for mystery and magic. This is why the Gaulois has requested from one of the public's most rightly beloved authors, M. Gaston Leroux, a novel which, while departing from the genre dear to the Conan Doyles of the Old and New World, is still replete with the delectable inquietude that will give a thrill to the beguiled reader. More than once, this irresistible anguish will conjure in the minds of some of our female readers the dreadful, terrifying, ghostly, and sorrowfully human image, despite all of the illusion that surrounds it, of The Phantom of the Opera. We need not introduce our readers to M. Gaston Leroux, whom it is generally agreed is in possession of the most astonishing suppleness of imagination of which one can conceive, but we would indeed like to say that The Phantom of the Opera is worthy of achieving even greater success in the Gaulois than that which was attained in the Illustration by The Mystery of the Yellow Room and The Perfume of the Lady in Black, by the same author. Tomorrow, this Thursday, in the "Gaulois," read: The Phantom of the Opera by M. Gaston Leroux

[georgescitadel]

George R.R. Martin on the process of creating A Game Of Thrones

You hold in your hands the second volume of A Song of Ice and Fire… but not the second volume as originally intended. Although I wrote the opening of A Game of Thrones back in the summer of 1991, as related in my introduction to the Meisha Merlin edition of that volume, it was not until October of 1993 that I drew up a proposal for my agents to take to publishers. There is no mention of any book titled A Clash of Kings in that proposal. In 1993, I was under the impression that I was writing a trilogy.

Trilogies had been the dominant form in epic fantasy ever since J.R.R. Tolkien’s The Lord of the Rings had been broken apart by publishers and released in three volumes. And the story that I wanted to tell divided quite naturally into three parts; much more so, in fact, than The Lord of the Rings, which is actually one fairly seamless narrative, and not a trilogy at all. I planned to title the books A Game of Thrones, A Dance with Dragons, and The Winds of Winter. I knew right from the start that they would all be large books. Huge books, even. But there were to be only three of them, and…and none were to be called A Clash of Kings. Sometimes the author is the last to know.

As I write this, I am halfway through the writing of A Feast for Crows, the fourth volume of my ‘trilogy.’ There is no mention of that title in my 1993 proposal either. These days, when pressed, I confidently assert that A Song of Ice and Fire will ultimately run to six books… but behind my back I know my lady Parris is smiling knowingly and holding up seven fingers. She may be right. Though I may dream of six books, plan for six books, work toward six books, the only thing that truly matters is the story. And the story needs to be as long as the story needs to be.

In Hollywood, the suits will tell you how long that is. A television show has to fit within its allotted time slot, of course, and you cannot beg, borrow, or steal an extra minute, no matter how much the story needs it. Running times are somewhat more flexible for films, though not as much as one might think. For the most part, the studios still want movies to run about two hours, so they look for screenplays of 120 pages or less, and demand cuts in any scripts that come in longer. My own screenplays and teleplays were almost always too long and too expensive in first draft, so in my later drafts, along with addressing the inevitable notes from studio, network, and producers, I was constantly trimming. In the end, I would deliver a shooting script that was the right length and under budget, but it was never a happy process… and I often went away feeling that the earlier drafts were the better ones.

The size of A Song of Ice and Fire was in no small part a reaction to ten years of trimming. I wanted to do something epic in scale, something at once grand and sprawling and complex and subtle, with a cast of thousands, huge battles, mighty castles, gorgeous costume, lavish feast, great rivers, towering mountains, vast fields… all the things I could not do in television. In short. I wanted to make a world. And for that you need a bit of room.

In my original proposal, I estimated that each volume of the trilogy might run as long as 800 pages in manuscript. The novels that I had written during the 70's and 80's, before Hollywood, had generally come in at 400 or 500 pages or thereabouts, so an 800 pages book seemed very lengthy indeed. The three books of the trilogy would be structured around the long, slow seasons of Westeros. A Game of Thrones would be summer’s book, A Dance with Dragons would take us through autumn, and The Winds of Winter… well, the title says it all. Even in the Seven Kingdoms, where a season can last for years, 800 pages ought to give me enough room to reach the end of summer and conclude the part of my tale, I reasoned.

‘Twas a lovely plan of battle… but no plan of battle ever survives contact with the enemy, it has been said. Writers know the truth of that as well as any general, though our wars are fought on blank white sheets of paper and empty computer screens. For the map is not the territory, the blueprint is not the house, the recipe is not the dinner… and the outline is never ever the book.

- George R.R. Martin, A Clash of Kings Limited Edition Introduction (2002)

[msbigredmachine]

Sugar & The Chief - A Roman Reigns One-Shot

Reader is a best-selling erotic author reflecting on the success of her newest novel, which is based on her secret affair with the man who became her muse.

PAIRING: Roman Reigns x OC

Warning: A LOT of smut

Word count: 5.7k 

A/N: I started this goddamn fic in late 2021! 😭 I'm so glad it's finally out. This one is a little different and I hope you enjoy!

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

It took you approximately three years to finish it. At first, you didn't want to, because through the smoke of mirrors of the raunchy literature was hands down the most personal piece you’ve ever done. But your team insisted that you go through with it. Your publicist Sheree told you it was one of the best works she’s ever read. On top of that, the dividends from your last book were starting to dry up, so you didn’t have that much of a choice.

You finally relented, and soon after it was published, the novel exploded. Your rabid readers had been waiting impatiently for your next offering and they gobbled it up. Your face and the novel were all over social media, TV, magazines and even on the huge Times Square billboard just down the road from your multi-million dollar penthouse in the Upper East Side. It wasn’t long before you were doing interviews and signing autographs in bookstores, malls and libraries all around the country. You were scheduled to be in London, Paris and Madrid next month promoting the book. It was a comeback for the ages.

And you had him to thank for that.

Sugar & the Chief was an erotic tale about an intense love affair that ended in disaster. Critics viewed it as Fifty Shades of Grey with better writing and much better sex and found the protagonist, Erica, relatable and three-dimensional. Erica was an ambitious albeit mentally unstable escort in an illicit relationship with Roman, a married Hollywood superstar she codenamed ‘the Chief’. This wasn’t your bland Mills & Boon romance tale...This was so smutty and so nasty you couldn’t read the first few paragraphs without wanting to masturbate thanks to Roman and Erica’s graphic sexual antics. It was so detailed that some theorists believed the Chief was based on a real person. When asked about who ‘Roman’ was, you played him off as a completely fictional character. No one needed to know the true identity of your muse. But you were one hundred percent sure that if he read this book, he would know it was about him. After all, you had incorporated some real-life dialogue between you in the novel. Without a doubt, he would know. You wondered, not for the first time, what his thoughts were if he had indeed read it.

Your fans did not hesitate to relay their own thoughts. Tonight, you were busy reading quite a number of them. Sheree had collated readers’ reviews, emails and feedback and sent them to you for your entertainment. Each one had you smiling from ear to ear. Women from all walks of life gushed about Erica and Roman. Housewives, attorneys, college students, septuagenarians, book club members; all of them had something to say and you felt all warm and fuzzy inside to know you still had it, that the magic hadn’t left your pen yet. Of course, they all wanted to know who the Chief was. They were so impressed with how he fucked you, dominated you and yet doted on you…They all wanted a man like him.

They all love you so much, Leati…just like I loved you…love you…

Closing your MacBook, you stood up from your desk with a smile. You stared out the ceiling-to-floor window and kept sipping from your Olivia Pope-sized glass of red wine, sinking deeper into your thoughts. 

Truth be told, you should have known better than to fall in love with Joe Anoa’i. Your first meeting all those years ago on a week-long vacation should have ended on the island between the soft rumpled sheets of his bed. What happened in Hawaii should have stayed in Hawaii. But then, you couldn’t stop gravitating to him and he couldn’t stop gravitating to you. You went running whenever he called and he came running whenever you called. It was wild, passionate, addicting, exciting…too good to last, really. And it wasn’t long before the fantasy came crumbling down. 

So many factors came into play. The demands of his job as the face of WWE. The meteoric level of his fame. And then, his discovery of your coke habit, your discovery of his wife Nicole and his three children, your increasing jealousy, his decreasing interest in you. After five tempestuous years, your relationship came to a bitter end, and the difficult healing process put an end to the writer’s block you’d been suffering from for a while. 

You missed him deeply, and wished the dull ache in your heart would go away. As morally questionable as it had all been, what you experienced with him needed to happen to every woman at least once in her lifetime - indulging in forbidden fruit and all the delicious things that came with it; the danger, the thrill of secrecy, the earth-shattering sex, the emotions of love, lust, possession, and of course, the inevitable pain and heartbreak…

You captured all of that in Sugar.

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

Chapter 22

Erica pushed the button, shuddering out a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding. The elevator doors clunked closed and the cables began to whir. She ascended, floor by floor. Light goosebumps littered over her arms as she was filled with a morbid mix of dread and anticipation.

Their big fight from three weeks ago kept playing over and over in her head like some kind of evil loop. He didn't want to leave Gaelle for her and she'd taken her frustrations out on him. However, after what she'd just discovered, he was going to have to change his mind. Because of him, she had broken the ultimate rule in this treacherous line of work. This little game between them has been turned on its head, and tonight was the last time she would play by his rules.

The door opened before she knocked, and she felt her pussy purr involuntarily as they locked eyes. That big, sexy ass body of his leaned against the doorframe, his huge arms crossed over his equally huge chest. His dampened long hair flowed past his shoulders, and he smelled fresh, like he'd just had a shower. It didn't matter how long they'd been apart for; he always took her breath away every time she saw him.

"Well? You gon' stand there or you comin' in?" he sassed, that smooth country-boy drawl of his making her body temperature rise. Shaking it off, she walked through the door, right past him and into the open layout of his new, lavish penthouse, the night lights illuminating her brown skin through the floor-to-ceiling glass windows.

"Nice place," she commented, looking around with mild interest. He had found another hideaway where he could fuck around behind his wife's back. It didn't matter, because Gaelle was never going to leave him no matter what he did and he knew it. She could feel him trailing behind her, his bare feet moving catlike and silent on the cool hardwood floor. He had a prescence like no other, that was why he was the biggest movie star in the world today. And you so happened to be the mistress of the biggest movie star in the world today.

"Champagne?" he offered.

"No, I'm fine," she answered, her crossed arms pushing up her already generous cleavage. Roman's gaze longingly raked over the A-line trench coat concealing her curves, traveling down to the sinful looking high heels adorning her feet. Her hair fell in luscious, tempting waves down her shoulders. A deliberate move, surely, as she knew he loved her hairstyles down. His dick hardened as he imagined bending her over, pulling her tresses and spanking that fat, juicy ass of hers as he pounded--

"I'm not stayin' long, so talk." Her statement yanked him out of his lurid daydream.

"You got all dressed up for me, beautiful," he asked, scanning her up and down again.

"Not everything's about you, Roman," she scoffed.

Not her giving him more lip. He would do something about that later. "I called you a buncha times last week but you didn't pick up. You left my texts on read," he accused with narrowed eyes. "You ignored me."

Erica tilted her chin, her stance defiant. "And why does that surprise you?"

He raised an eyebrow at her biting response and chuckled at her audacity. Sugar was quite the firecracker and honestly, he couldn't get enough. Walking towards her, he smirked as he caught on to her struggle to keep her eyes on him and not on his thick dick print, clear as day in his gray sweatpants. He reached out and rubbed her arm with his hand before tugging her closer to him.

"Sweetheart, don't ever ignore me again. Especially when you know that pussy belongs to me."

"Does it? Funny, I thought I was 'just another pricey whore'. Did you forget you said that to me?"

He rolled his eyes with a huff. "Sometimes I say shit I don't mean, baby girl, you know how it is."

Taken aback by his dismissive, nonchalant attitude, she yanked her arm away. "Are you fuckin' kiddin' me? After everything we've been through? That shit was foul as fuck!" she said incredulously.

"I know. That's why I texted you to come over so I could apologize in person, but you refused to answer me. I hate it when you shut me out, Erica."

"You shut me out, too! For weeks! And now that you're bored you summon me like I'm your fuckin' toy. I am not your toy, Roman! I don't give a damn that you're a Hollywood star, there's plenty of other A-listers out there who will take care of me and not treat me like shit."

"And yet, you come back to me every time," he pointed out, the smug curl of his lip just as panty-wetting as the rest of him. "None of your other clients take care of you like I do, make you feel the way I do. That's why you dropped 'em all, for me."

Erica started to retort but stopped herself, realizing that this was in fact, the truth. But she'd be damned if she let him have the last laugh. "Ya know what? This was a mistake. I should go. I had something to tell you but I dunno why I even bothered to come here."

She turned around but he grabbed her before she could go far, drawing her back to him. Seeing her getting worked up always seemed to fuel his desire for her. The angrier she was, the hotter the sex, and he was horny as fuck for her right now.

"Look at you, gettin' all riled up," he drawled, his tone tinged with amusement. "I love it when you're mad, that shit turns me on, baby."

This man was as infuriating as he was sexy. "Fuck you! Everything is a joke to you!"

"This feel like a joke right here?" he demanded, snatching her hand and pressing it against his throbbing length. The little whimper she let out as she cupped him sealed her fate.

"Feel that? Feel what you do to me?" His voice was rough and needy, matching the look in his eyes. "I need you, Erica. It's been weeks and I've been goin' fuckin' crazy without you."

"Go home to your wife, then," she bit back with a lot less conviction than she aimed for. The pull was much too strong, quite literally too as he wrapped both arms around her slender waist, his face nuzzling her neck and making her hiss as his soft beard tickled her skin.

"She don't make me feel like you do." His voice was needy and almost pathetic as his mouth pressed her throat. "Let me make it up to you, baby. I wanna kiss you. Can I kiss you?" His tongue was warm, his breath hot and heavy on her skin, and her arousal flared against her will.

"Roman..."

"Come on, baby, kiss me," he murmured, his lips sliding over hers. It was a slow but deliberate assault, and Erica felt her body yield as a soft gasp escaped from her. She sagged against him, gripping his shoulders for balance as their mouths smacked oh so sensually together. Fuck, she missed this, missed his delicious kisses and his assured touch as he grabbed her round, fleshy ass, kneading and caressing in his hands and pressing himself harder against her.

Roman growled softly as he released her mouth, his tongue snaking out to lick his lips as his eyes flitted down to her chest. "Take your clothes off," he commanded.

Wordlessly, Erica's hands slid over the leather belt on her waist to slowly unbuckle it. Then, she opened up her coat, eased it off her shoulders and let it fall to the ground, leaving her in nothing, absolutely nothing, but her heels. Roman's darkened orbs blazed to an onyx black as they scanned her naked body, drinking in every smooth, delicate, voluptuous curve. Grabbing her by the waist, he backed her up against the nearest wall, his hardened dick straining against her exposed center. A shiver ran through her as he crashed his mouth back to hers, his huge hand squeezing her throat briefly before tracing the valley between her breasts, and she finally let go of the groan she was holding back as his hand came in contact with the intimate spot between her thighs.

"Damn..." he smirked as he found nothing but wetness, pushing his palm against the slick mound and sliding his fingers along her slit. She moaned in response, her hands gripping his tattooed bicep as his thick finger pushed into her, her pussy quivering around the digit as he thrust it at a maddeningly steady pace.

"Mmm-hmm you like this, don't you baby?" he said, nipping at her bottom lip, coaxing yet another moan from the back of her throat as he slipped a second finger home with deep, languid thrusts. She whimpered helplessly, her vision blurring as her walls dripped and tightened around the invading digits. Her forehead dropped onto his chest, battling to hold on to her sanity. "Fuck..."

Buoyed by her whines and soft cries, he pumped his fingers more earnestly, hissing softly when her walls rippled around them again, signaling her end. "You 'boutta come already, huh? I told you this my pussy. Squeeze my fingers Erica, come for me."

Damn him and his ability to control her with just his touch. Her eyes squeezed shut, and her shout of pleasure came from somewhere inside her soul as she spasmed uncontrollably. She could hear his triumphant snicker as her juices flooded his fingers, brushing his mouth against hers as she leaned into him to regain her tenuous balance. He scooped the round, soft flesh of her breast into his eager palm, with his other hand leaving her pussy to suck her juices, humming pleasantly at the familiar sweet taste.

"Remember what I told you in my text?" he breathed, his gaze trained expectantly on her.

"Mm-hmm."

"Tell me," he insisted, now massaging both her breasts. "Tell me what I said to you. I made you a promise. What was it?"

Erica fought through the thick haze of passion to recall his exact words from the raunchy text message. "You promised to make me come at least three times before we ever make it to the bed," she recounted.

Roman smiled smugly, satisfied with her response. "Uh huh. And Daddy always keeps his promises, don't he? That was the first. Two more to go. Now, let me show you around my new crib."

He showed her around, alright. First, on the plush sectional in the living room area, with her on her back and her head hanging off the edge as he slowly thrust his dick in and out of her mouth. She let his groans wash over her as her jaw relaxed to take more of his intimidating length down her throat. Even upside down, her gag reflex was superb, so each time he thrust inside her, her tongue lapped at the base of his cock, soaking his balls with her spit. Willing to give as much as he was receiving, he leaned forward and rubbed her clit in quick circular motions, making her moan around his cock with the vibrations causing his neck to extend, looking up to the ceiling as pleasure licked his spine.

"Unnnh fuck, suck my dick, take it all down your throat, baby," he encouraged her, sliding his other hand over her breast and toying with her nipple, all while fucking her face. His knees weakened at the sight of his length bulging her throat, she always knew how to take him well. "Shit, Sugar, you look so fuckin' hot like this..."

Erica moaned again through her stuffed throat, waves of heat washing over her as her pussy pulsated beneath the pleasure of his long thick fingers. In all her time under the bright lights and the seedy bowels of Hollywood, she had never been captivated by any one human being. Until him. Their escort-client relationship had long since grown into something more. She had given up on resisting him and let him do anything he wanted to her in bed. But tonight she craved some semblance of control, and this time, his famed charms would not stop her from getting it.

Pushing him away so he slipped out of her mouth, she sat up straight and tugged him onto the massive couch with her. Straddling his hips as he sat up, she placed one hand on his barrel-like shoulder while using the other to curl her fingers around his pulsing dick. He groaned and bucked his hips as she flicked the head of his dick along her slit just to torture him a little. Then guided him against her opening and slid down.

The moment felt heavy and tense, like a tightly twined coil as her wetness opened up for him. At the end of her slow descent, she stopped to adjust to all the emotions and sensations wracking both their bodies. Unconsciously rocking her hips into him, she gasped as the pressure immediately started to build. Their hands and mouths were all over each other. Roman ran his hands up and down her back, rubbed her tits, squeezed her ass. Erica raked her nails over his nipples, sucked on his neck, bit his shoulder. Fuck, it felt so damn good already. Ass rested comfortably on his thighs, chest to naked chest with his dick lodged inside her, it was clear they were not going to last very long.

Leaning back slightly on her other hand placed on his thigh, she began to ride him. Slow and steady at first, making him absorb every drop of her ass, every crevice, every sensation. The lust and pleasure consumed them both, their mouths colliding with hot, sloppy kisses, her moans pitching higher as the tension thickened. His own groans grew heavier and gruffer, his hands leaving her hips to slide underneath her ass and lift her up and down. Exquisite torture, with his strong grip on her making her wet pussy take every inch of him. The angles of his upward thrusts as he bounced her on his dick had her making noises like a bitch in heat. He was so snug and warm and deep inside her, it was as though she could feel him in her soul.

"Oh my fuckin' god," she half-groaned, half-cried, throwing her arms around him and burying her face in his neck as he bounced her even harder. Up, down, up, down. His dick stretched her walls, his fingers deep into her ass cheeks enough to leave a bruise or two. The dizzying sensations spiraled her into another orgasm, and she sat all the way down on his dick and rolled her ass desperately, literally riding out her nut. She couldn't stop herself from biting into his sweaty, salty skin as she came, making the big man growl in reaction and smack her ass hard.

"That's your second nut," he declared.

He flipped her onto her back, still deep inside her. He looked down at her with hungry, blown pupils, letting his hands dance along the meat of her thighs and her calves. Throwing her legs onto his shoulders, he leaned forwards, folding her in two as he fucked her into the couch. Her hands clawed the back of his head only for him to grab them and pin them above her head. The sweat clung to their skins as he steeled his thighs and grinded himself into her wet heat, his face lowering to suck both of her nipples into his mouth, his tongue swirling around each peaked bud. Her groans snowballed with his groans as he drove his dick impossibly deep inside her with primal intensity. When she managed to speak, her voice was unrecognizable. "Oh fuck, I'm coming," she moaned hoarsely, her toes curling behind his head as she exploded again, "Oh my god, Roman, ohhh..."

"I'm 'bout to come too, don't fuckin' move," he panted, holding her down to piston his hips and pound into her. Erica basked in the sound of his tortured groan when his big body tensed up and she felt him pour into her warm confines, his hips stuttering as he found sweet release.

"Got you to three quicker than I expected," he said when he caught his breath, kissing her cheek. "We just gettin' started, baby. I'ma remind you why this pussy is mine."

He gave her an up close and personal view of the city's remarkable skyline, her breasts crushed against the glass window as his juicy lips ravaged her from behind. She could only imagine how she looked right now. Her legs wide, ass spread open, her battered pussy wet and swollen and pulsing for more of his oral onslaught. Nobody ate her out the way he did, with so much passion, covering all the bases, her clit, her inner lips, and even her asshole. The warmth of his breath had her walls clenching as he licked and sucked and kissed everywhere, painting her slickness with his spit. The relief she felt as he finally detached his mouth from her center and got off his knees was replaced with his heavy cock tapping her pussy lips before breaching her entrance with the thick girth. Each thrust dragged her sensitive nipples across the cool, hard surface of the glass, but Erica was so lost in the moment that she didn't care.

"Mmmph, fuck me, baby, fuck my pussy," she exhaled another pining moan, her nails scraping against the glass where he had ordered her to place her hands. Her mouth fell open when he slapped her backside, that deliciously dangerous dick of his pounding into her in full view of the bright lights of Los Angeles. His dick slid in deeper and deeper, his hips circling each time he was buried inside her, making her knees buckle as her climax inched ever closer. She tried to speak again, but words failed her, reducing her to a whimpering, shivering mess as her pussy clenched greedily around his dick. Roman merely chuckled arrogantly, reveling in his handiwork.

"You sound so fuckin' sexy, baby girl, keep moaning for me like that," he purred, his hands clamped on her shapely hips to make her take his lethal strokes. He was a man on a mission, punishing her for assuming she had any sort of control over him. Tears sprang to her eyes as he slowed down his thrusts, his pelvis mashed up against her soft backside as his cock worked inside the sensitive walls of her pussy with a more tender rhythm. He filled her with stroke after long stroke, making them both moan as she squirted all over him this time, her orgasm breaking her into a million pieces.

He showed her the stripper pole next to his bed. He had it installed specially for her, he said, so she could show off her elite lap dancing skills for him and him alone. Watching that itty-bitty waist and all that ass bounce on his dick like her rent was due would be the end of him; He couldn't resist massaging the soft cheeks in his palm, one after the other as she gyrated back and forth on him like a professional.

"Uh huh, go off, baby, pop that pussy on my dick," he drawled from his spot on the pouf he lounged on, his sturdy thighs spread wide apart to give her all the space she needed to ride and grind while she held onto the pole for balance. He watched the streaks of his cum trickle down her gyrating ass, and it made for quite the visual, slapping against the mixture of her juices smothered over his groin. He rubbed in the remnants of his seed on her cheeks, biting his lip as the skin glistened and made her big booty look even bigger. "Mmm, damn baby, this pussy so good, I should throw a dollar at your fine ass..."

"Fuck!" Erica had the pole in a death grip as yet another orgasm rocked her body. She had to get off his dick because she was shaking so hard. The tremors had her mewling pitifully as she bent over, gifting him with the sight of her pink pussy quivering as her cum ran down her inner thighs.

"Get back down here," Roman ordered, smacking her leg and then her ass as he stroked his dick in his hand, "You ain't done. Sit your ass back down on this dick."

He'd been wanting to break in his new California king bed since it'd been installed, so it was apt that he was breaking her back in it. He had her on her stomach, her asshole stuffed with a purple-colored butt plug as he stuffed her pussy with his hard, long cock. She moaned and gasped beneath him, clutching the comforter with her fists as he fucked her like a savage, her plump ass trapped in his possessive grasp.

"Daddyyyyy..." Her moan was loud and long and desperate. It became too much. Roman's dick seemed to double in size inside her and both her holes felt too full to the point of another explosion. A sob tore from her chest.

"Why you cryin'? Huh?" He slapped her ass. "Don't cry. You wanted this dick. Ain't that why you came over? Daddy told you to come and you listened like a good bitch, Daddy's sexy ass bitch. Come here." He hiked her hips higher to force a deeper, more painful arch in her back, and rammed his dick into her sweet spot over and over, demolishing her pussy. Too spent to throw her ass back, she could only lay there and take it, and her eyes squeezed shut, certain she was about to pass out from pleasure.

A big square mirror stretched across the ceiling directly above the bed. His hand slithered into her hair, tugging her head back, almost hyperextending her neck to make her look up. Her mouth dropped open in a moan as she watched that big thick shaft glide in and out of her, the soft skin of her ass rippling against the smacks of his pelvis. Just the sight of him and her together in such an erotic moment had her leaking again, soaking the silk sheets on the bed. He was fucking her so good. She hadn't come this hard and this many times in a long, long time.

Sitting back on his heels, he brought her off the bed and flush against him, assaulting her neck with his hot mouth. "You make me so fuckin' crazy, Erica. Don't nobody else make me lose control like this," he whispered, his grip tightening around her throat as the other hand gripped her breast, making her whimper. "Love this pussy so fuckin' much. You love this dick, baby?"

"Yes Daddy, I love it, I love you," she choked out.

"Mm-hmm, I love you too, baby. You gon' make me come all up inside you, girl," he grunted, his brain growing fuzzier as his end neared. He wrapped her up in his big arms, engulfing her with his heat, lavishing her panting mouth with tongue kisses as his hips rocked upwards, teasing her g-spot. Erica found enough strength to rock with him, grinding back against him, the lovers moving together in the most intimate, sensual dance. Roman groaned with pleasure when he felt her incredibly tight pussy pulling on his cock. It was almost difficult for him to continue thrusting inside of her, but her warm slickness eased the way for him. His hand left her breast and slid down her sweat-slick body to play with her clit, dragging her weak body over the edge.

"Unnnnhhhh..." Erica moaned out, her eyes rolling in the back of her head. Roman moaned with her, his soft lips trailing wet, frenzied kisses along her throat as his balls tightened, craving fresh release. "Come, baby girl, come for Daddy," he whispered shakily.

His wish was her command. Her body went limp as she detonated one more time, creaming all over his dick in the process. Roman let his head fall forward, his groan muffled against her throat as he came hard, smearing his warm cum all up in her walls. Erica murmured incoherently as she felt him pulse inside of her, giving her everything he had like he always did. When it was all over, he grabbed hold of her hair and planted yet another searing kiss on her lips, before releasing her to collapse on the mattress. Admiring her thoroughly fucked disposition, he massaged her backside tenderly before slowly easing the plug out of her, watching her wince from the pain. Running a hand over the back of her head, he brought her face to face with his groin. "Suck all this shit off my cock," he ordered.

Erica licked her lips at the sight of his thick member, semi-erect and slathered in a milky cocktail of her juices and his semen. Grasping it obediently, she lowered her mouth onto it, moaning softly at the taste of herself on him. Roman looked on with a bite of his lip, stroking her hair as she licked him clean. Afterwards, he lay on his side and pulled her into his chest. Erica sighed happily as he kissed her gently, soothing all her pain away. This feeling right here was the reason she could never let him go. Their connection was too deep, too special. No man had ever made her feel like this and she didn't want to lose it; the high of having him, the euphoria of belonging to him. It was why she was willing to quit today, right now even, and start a new life with him. She needed him to be with her forever, and she wasn't sure she was going to take no for an answer this time.

After what she was about to tell him, she doubted he would say no...not when the life they had created together was done out of the love they shared.

"Baby?" she whispered softly to him, watching him closely.

"Hmm?" Lying flat on his back, his eyes were shut and he was in a state of complete relaxation.

"Look at me," she said, waiting for him to meet her eyes before speaking. She needed him to understand the words coming out of her mouth.

"Roman, I'm pregnant, and the baby is yours."

End of Chapter 22

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

Erica's unexpected declaration spelled the beginning of the end of her relationship with Roman. His behavior took a complete 180, having security drag her out of his new apartment, denying all ties to her unborn child and cutting off all communication with her. A distraught Erica terrorized him, stalking his family, poisoning his wife Gaelle and getting him fired from a lucrative film project. It all came to a head when Erica took Gaelle hostage in Roman's vacation home where he had fled to escape her rampage. She forced him at gunpoint to have sex with her in his marital bed while his wife watched, but died when he deliberately strangled her in the middle of her orgasm. It also turned out that Erica was never pregnant, and the positive test she'd shown Roman belonged to her friend and fellow escort, Tiffany. Erica's story made headline news all around the world. It was an incredibly shocking end and it worked well with the dramatic plot of the story.

You were glad for the artistic license, and though what really happened with you was less chaotic, it was not any less heart wrenching. You never even got to break the news to Joe. In fact, he was gone from your bed before the crack of dawn, vanished like a thief in the night. Never returned your calls or messages until three days later, when you received a text message from him that put your heart in a blender.

Nicole and I have decided to work things out. For good this time. I hope you understand. Thanks for always being there for me. Take care of yourself. ❤

How you recovered from that blow, you would never know. How you dug yourself out of the hole of darkness he dumped you in was still a mystery to you sometimes. It really was a testament to your mental strength, because not many people would have survived the unimaginable pain he inflicted on you. The sinister side of you wished you had been brave enough to do exactly what Erica did, to take out your rage on him and make him hurt like he hurt you. But instead you redirected that energy to your work, pouring every second of your anguish into the book. It took a long time for you to get to this point of fulfillment and success in your life, and the book had been your therapy. Now, you were at least making good money from your pain and it softened the blow a little bit.

When you thought about Joe these days, it wasn't with as much resentment. It seemed he had a few problems of his own anyway, as his beloved Nicole was reportedly threatening to upgrade their separation to a divorce and take his kids with her. How the tables turned. Nonetheless, you wished him the best. You still had love for him. You would always miss him. He changed your life, and there was no doubt that you would forever carry him with what was left of your heart.

"Mama?"

You heard her little voice before you heard the shuffle of her tiny feet. Quickly placing the wine glass in the sink, you turned as the love of your life came into view, her favorite blanket dragging behind her as she searched the room for you.

"Shouldn't you be sleeping, little lady?" you asked, fighting back a big smile to look as serious as possible. She was in her "I wanna stay up late" phase and you couldn't afford to fold, not this time at least.

Her little dual Afro puffs jiggled as she rubbed her hand over her eyes, "Come sweep with me, Mama," she pleaded, staring up at you with her big, expressive brown eyes and a pout that was the spitting image of her famous father. She was starting to look so much like him.

Your heart swelled as she padded over to you with her arms outstretched. You lifted her up and held her small body tightly, absorbing her innocence and unconditional love. She smelled so fresh and delicate, like roses, sunshine and baby powder. Her scent has filled your life with joy and purpose since the day you brought her into this world two years ago.

And to think you had almost taken those pills to snuff out this beautiful life in a fleeting moment of weakness. Now, you would give your own life to protect hers without question. Always.

"Okay, kiddo, let's get you back to bed," you cooed softly, kissing her chubby cheek.

"Read me a stowy, Mama?"

"Of course, baby."

As you retreated to your daughter's bedroom, your phone vibrated beside your MacBook. Three letters you had not seen in years flashed on the Home Screen, cutting through the empty room and calling out to you.

❤️Joe❤️

THE END

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

Alternate Sugar & The Chief book cover

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[gallifreyanhotfive]

Random Doctor Who Facts You Might Not Know, Part 58

Before she decided to be called Susan, Susan was called Arkytior according to some accounts. Arkytior is the Gallifreyan word for "rose." (Short story: Roses)

Indeed, when Spring-Heeled Jack looked into the Eighth Doctor's mind, he referred Susan as his "precious little flower." (Comic: The Curious Tale of Spring-Heeled Jack)

The Fifth Doctor was once scientific advisor to Queen Victoria. (Novel: Empire of Death)

The version of the sonic screwdriver seen in the Doctor Who TV Movie was destroyed by Mary Shelley. (Audio: The Silver Turk)

In one possible future, the Delgado Master received long term care from the Third Doctor in a Zero Room after a collision in the vortex. (Audio: The Threshold)

The Delgado Master's TARDIS console sometimes makes the sound of a drumbeat of four. (Audio: The Threshold)

The Fourth Doctor could tell the difference between natural cerebrospinal fluid and an artificial version with added nutrients based on taste. (Audio: Invasion of the Body Stealers)

While stranded on Earth for 77 years, the Spy Master became a mycologist in Russia while trying to find a Silurian camp as part of an elaborate plan to interfere with Jo and Cliff Jones' marriage. He also became the scientific advisor for the Soviet Union's version of UNIT. (Short story: The Master and Margarita)

Nyssa once called the Fifth Doctor’s cricket pads "strange leggings." (Audio: Autumn)

The Fourth Doctor once downed 12 single malt scotches with a water chaser in order to protect himself against an extradimensional creature. (Novel: Drift)

Irving Braxiatel owns champagne glasses that were molded on the breasts of Marie Antoinette. (Novel: Professor Bernice Summerfield and the Doomsday Manuscript)

Braxiatel finds it hard to show sympathy, so he normally doesn't even try. (Novel: Professor Bernice Summerfield and the Doomsday Manuscript)

After learning to read and write, Jamie wrote a letter to Victoria to thank her for her lessons. The Seventh Doctor later delivered this letter to an elderly Victoria. (Audio: The Story of Extinction)

The Shadow Directory calls Time Lords "caillou." (Novel: Christmas on a Rational Planet)

The Shalka Doctor is ticklish. (Short story: The Feast of the Stone)

First 1 Prev 57 Next 59

[maleyanderecafe]

Hi! I love your blog and reading your game recommendations (really grateful to find some hidden treasure!!!) so I want to send you a recommendation as well! Recently the demo for the game "Snow White Ashes" by endysis has been updated, and though yandere elements are so far, quite subtle, the hints are there (esp in bonus scenes). Not to mention the stunning artworks, the original soundtracks, and the lovely writing weaving one gothic horror fairytale-like story. I'd love for you to enjoy it and share with us your analysis of the game! Have a good day and once again thank you for all of your recommendations!

This game really does embody a tragic fairy tale (which, originally a lot of fairy tales were like this) inside of a visual novel. The artwork is beautiful, the story is sad and the soundtrack is very nice to listen to. The yandere actions in this game aren't as prominent on Gabriel's side (and in fact are a bit more so on the female lead's side). There are about three routes that can go about that also unlock three different extra scenes. If you are interested, you can find more at @endys.

The story starts out with a woman walking in the cold forest. She seems to be out luring someone to her to kill them, as evidenced by the knife in her pocket. She decides to either draw blood or sing to lure them out, both of which brings out a man dressed in white to come to her aid. Seeing that the woman is cold, he offers to let her stay at his place as the nearest town is too far away. She graciously accepts his help and she brings her into a cabin in the woods. As they walk, they ask for each others names. The MC's name is Michelle and the man introduces himself as Gabriel. She seems to want to expose Gabriel for the monster he is, though so far he doesn't seem to be at all. The two converse, talking about the Mist Queen, a mystic person who seems to be someone inhumane terrorizing the town. While talking she mentions a family that she was accepted into, though now it no longer is something that exists. We learn that while he is a hunter now, he used to be a doctor and was married happily for a long while until the plague happened or we learn about how he and his wife met, with him tending to her wounds after she fell. Michelle then talks about either her fondness of singing or her fondness of sewing. They end up getting to the cottage after they hear some wolves.

Upon going to the cottage, the two are about to make out when Gabriel ends up pulling out the weapon from Michelle's clothes. He seems to know that she's lying to him about her name and identity. She cannot lie to him and reveals that she is indeed the Mist Queen, aka, Gabriel's former wife. She bites back at him, asking why he was bringing back girls to his cottage, where he retorts that he knew who she was the entire time. Gabriel retorts that she has taken a new body accusing her of murdering a young girl, when Michelle reveals that she only took the body of a girl who was already dead. She continues stating that the girl (and many others) have been found dead, likely because of one of their kind, accusing him of killing them. Gabriel tells her, (Selene is her true name) that he wouldn't do that and that he's been loyal to her for centuries, also revealing that she was the one who made him immortal like her. Gabriel leaves to see if what Selene said is true, which leaves her alone in the cabin. She can either decide to stay or leave, and if she stays, she has the chance to destroy his lyre, which if she does, will cause her to feel immense regret afterwards. Even if she leaves, she will end up being saved by Gabriel after she is almost attacked by wolves. After looking around, she ends up finally resting, which leads to a dream about her past.

She first has nightmare about the two girl's skin that she stole, Myia, and the one where she first met Gabriel and the one she is wearing now, Calliope. We see a flashback of when she first met Gabriel. Having gotten a new body by chance, instead of eating it, she decides to pretend to be her and live in the village. She later attempts to hunt for food, but ends up getting hurt, causing the person she was hunting, Gabriel to help her. Although she is pretty annoyed at his help, she ends up accepting it nevertheless, with Gabriel even carrying her back to the village. As time goes on, the two of them grow fonder of each other, until Gabriel ends up proposing to her. Initially she refuses, afraid that he will eventually find out who she is and will eventually outlive him. However, despite all of this, knowing that she is not actually the girl whos skin she wears, she ends up accepting and living with him as his wife in the village. Later on, Gabriel ends up losing one of his patients during childbirth and the two end up adopting her surviving son. Selene ends up making a doll for her new adopted son, with Gabriel impressed by her needlework. As time goes by and Gabriel ages, Selene's body does not, causing rumors to spread across her village. This leads to a fight with her and Gabriel as she feels incredible guilt that he will eventually die leaving her behind while she lives as essentially a zombie. As they resolve the fight, Gabriel promises to never leave her side until his death. A few years later, a plague starts to form in town. Gabriel tries to make Selene and their son leave so they won't get infected, while he wants to stay behind and do his job as a doctor. However, as she wants to be by his side, she sends her son off to safety while she stays behind with her husband. As time goes by, Gabriel gets sicker and sicker, even losing his arm, having Selene chop it off for him. Slowly he begins to die, and Selene's body also starts to deteriorate, and to keep him alive, Selene finds dead bodies and sews parts of them back onto Gabriel as his body decays. After this, she ends up giving some of her blood to him, causing him to live again. Gabriel initially doesn't recognize her as she's had to change bodies, but also is equally as frightened by his new body. Then afterwards the two live together for a bit before separating for thirty years. After the two of them wander in isolation, Gabriel returns to Selene, devoting himself to her as he cannot bear the isolation any longer, only asking for her to kill him if he goes mad for blood.

Upon waking up, she seems worried that she might have to kill him to keep the promise she made to him. She finds that Gabriel had returned, even making her food in return. Gabriel tells her that he indeed saw the things that she spoke of, and we see that he even kept one of the pieces of clothes she made him. After being fed (or not) the soup that he made. The two argue for a bit about the entire seducing thing in the beginning, with Gabriel being hesitant because she's not in the original body where they first met. They hear a knock at the door and upon opening it, see the body of Myia talking to Gabriel about how he missed her and how she missed him.

There are three extra scenes. I'll go from the first one Lullaby to the last one, Monsters. These are all from Gabriel's point of view, likely something that happens while she sleeps.

In Lullaby, we see that he is surprised to see her wear another skin. He seems to have a bit of body dysmorphia, not even recognizing his new hand despite everything, thus wearing the gloves he always does. He seems to have a lot of self loathing and ends up humming a lullaby to her at the end.

In Suffering, Gabriel wonders about how his wife is feeling, desperately wanting to touch her face but not allowing himself to. He doesn't want leave her side or have anyone take his place. It seems he believes he has to stay by her side no matter what, and that he needs her more than anything. This is probably the extra that encapsulates his more yandere nature in a more clingy manner.

In Monster, Gabriel seems to find it weird that his wife was able to live like this for so long. He is especially angry in this one, wondering if she knows how easy it would be for him to kill her as she sleeps. This extra is the one that is the most possessive.

The story itself is rather melancholy in tone, much like the original Grimms Fairy Tales, with a lot of inspiration seemingly being taken from things like Snow White and the Ice Queen, which you can kind of tell from the title. The artwork is extremely beautiful with moving parts of the backgrounds like leaves and snow, and there is a feeling of bitterness between Selene and Gabriel despite the love they clearly have for each other. The work is written in a more fanciful tone, and has a lot of mourning on Selene's part as she is essentially an immortal zombie/vampire- never really truly quite human and never really comfortable in the skin she's in (quite literally). The music is lovely too, very quiet but impactful which really gives the whole vibe of the game being a more sad retelling of a story.

Both Gabriel and Selene have a sort of attachment with each other and both of them are obsessed/possessive with each other. On Selene's part, while she did try to break away from Gabriel when they first met, she wasn't able to, and when she did get the happy life as a human, she very desperately didn't want to let go of it, claiming Gabriel and their adopted son as hers. In the backstory especially we do see that she internally is very possessive over Gabriel, considering this is the first time she's properly fallen in love with someone and is fully aware that she can't live this life forever. We also see this in the current time with Selene accusing Gabriel of luring other women into his cottage, even though he knew it was her in the first place. Despite this though, we can see where this idea comes from, as Selene is always pretending to be someone else as she's always in someone else's skin, and immortal, meaning that she can never fully enjoy a human life as herself. She knows that Gabriel will likely die one day and she fears being alone again, and losing the person she loves. On both sides there is a strong attachment with each other. Gabriel, even before turned in the creature that Selene was already devoting his life to be with her, loyal to the very end of his life. And even after when Selene turns him, he returns after many years to devote himself once again, wanting to stay by her side forever, much like the knight like family he was raised in. We see this more in the extra stories where we see Gabriel's point of view, seeing that he's obsessed with being with her because he has nothing else and that she is his, though we also see that it is part of a mix of other emotions such as his fear of being lonely and his feelings of dysmorphia due to the body parts stitched onto him. He still maintains his strong loyalty to Selene, but it is also filled with anger as she turned him against his will, even if it was in an attempt to save his life from disease.

I'm not really sure who this new person that comes in at the end is. She very clearly is using the body of when Selene and Gabriel first met and knows about their relationship. It is very likely another one of their species, though why she seems to specifically be targeting these two is still a mystery. We're also not sure who or what is causing the death of the many maidens, so it could actually be her depending on how long this story is. It's a good mystery and cliffhanger that invests you in wanting more.

But overall, a pretty beautiful game. The yandere moments are definitely much more muted and I'd even argue that currently Selene has more yandere moments than Gabriel mostly due to her feelings in the past, but it is nice to see a couple that is loyal to each other, even if they have bitter feelings towards each other. A complicated thing. If you are interested, please try it out.

[marciabrady]

here are some sleeping beauty plot points/general details that i love and i would love to see more discussion around

the story team did such an incredible job with fleshing out aurora while still making her feel true to the mythos from which she was derived. in every novelization i've ever read that predates the disney film, she's only ever given one line of dialogue (something like: "what is that thing that spins so merrily?") before falling asleep. disney took that same princess and successfully expanded her into a living, breathing dynamic human who is filled with everything- ethos, pathos, everything, but is also authentic to her origins. they also did a genius job at creating a basis for why love is so revered in this tale. true love conquers all, we're told, and it's indeed what keeps aurora safe from maleficent for all these years, as it's the one thing the evil fairy can't understand. yet, the fact that the princess grew up surrounded by the love from the three fairies, which instills that care in her heart, along with the fact that she grows up in isolation, so connected to the universe around her and allowing her to be introspective enough to observe the animals about her and draw a connection to the human condition and that of the consistencies of nature is so...deep and profound and develops her and makes her an evergreen character that will always represent people, for as long as we're around, because aurora's struggle is one that speaks to everyone. she isn't just some "lovesick princess" but a character that's growing up and longs to be able to find her soul's mate and to express the love in her heart in a universe where she was socially excluded and deprived of others outside of her three guardians. as humans are tribal creatures, social inclusion is one of the main pillars of wellbeing. so to take aurora, who is already an innately romantic person, and to deprive her of that just gives all the more reason why the kiss of true love really would revive her. she isn't just some princess who grows to be fifteen or sixteen, pricks her finger, and then is awakened by a prince she never meets. she is someone who was raised in love, grows up and wants to become a woman and share that love and express it with someone else. when she finds it, it's suddenly stripped from her and she's induced into a magic slumber that's meant to symbolize her transformation from girl to woman. then, she's awakened by the same love she'd thought she lost and it's just...the structure of it is genius and incredible and they retain all of the qualities about her in the fairytale and storytelling devices but they develop it so much further and round her out so well but still maintain a reverence to her source material instead of condemning it or outright changing it and i just LOVE

i don't think enough people realized that, it wasn't until maleficent visited prince phillip in the dungeon and showed him the vision of aurora in slumber repose that he knew that aurora and briar rose were one in the same!!! like this is the moment it all clicked for him and it gave him the drive and determination to slay the dragon in her honor. he realized the woman he loved and the princess he had been betrothed to were both one and that's so important and it's just such a plot twist that, again, was so genius of the writers. it proves to us that he loves her enough to leave the kingdom for her and risk damning the princess he had been betrothed to to the curse she was under and he'd take her as she is, even if it were a peasant, but also that his love is so steadfast and true that he'd defeat a dragon for her. 10/10 and it sooo runs along the vein of the lyric "visions are seldom all they seem." this is a plot twist done RIGHT but with so much sophistication that it tends to fly under most everyone's radar because it isn't like loud

something i love about the original princess movies is how the female characters are forever in the forefront, and the fact that this film opens with the celebration of the birth of a female child is something that's so special! instead of having to think about how female children weren't celebrated in that time, or it was a disappointment she hadn't been a son, or something of the like, the fact that the spotlight is on their daughter and the opening of the film continues this matriarchy, where all in the land praise this female birth, before the fairies are introduced as their most "honored and exalted excellencies." we need to see more worlds like this instead of pixar films where there's like not a single main female character lol

THE FACT THAT PHILLIP WAS WILLING TO GIVE UP THE THRONE AND THE KINGDOM "for some nobody" and told his dad flat out to his face without hesitating makes me love him soooo much?? he loves aurora for who she is, not just because she was a princess to whom he had been betrothed to his entire life, and this proves how genuine his love is. it also paints how progressive and open-minded phillip was, seeming to be the first that would ever break the tradition of princes marrying princesses and opening up his country for a new type of culture and reign. love me a freak like that

one of the biggest facets to aurora's character, and something that further develops her relationship to phillip, is how differently she reacts to her guardians when told of the betrothal. where phillip already knows, and is aware of the king and queen and how his duty is to marry their princess daughter, aurora is just finding out that she has living parents for the first time and the future of a nation rests on her shoulders. she discovers she's to be married to a prince and must give up her true love forever. again, before i hear anything about "she just met this man for two minutes in the woods, why is she crying," this is a fairytale with magic that's meant to be archetypical. in the narrative of the film, and in the universe of this world, phillip is her true love- and this is confirmed when it is his kiss that awakens her from the curse. so to leave the one true love who was meant for you, when that's all you ever wanted in the isolation you were raised in, to accept your duty and responsibility over parents you didn't even know you had and to assume the obligations of a nation you aren't even prepared for...it's astounding. aurora does everything right, she even leaves love behind for the good of her people and puts everyone above her own personal desires, and yet people still criticize her and say she's dependent on a man and all she cares about is love. meanwhile, phillip never receives any hate, and he's literally willing to give up the throne and the kingdom and start a war between two countries for the girl "he just met in the woods for two minutes" but he's one of the most beloved princes...it really just makes me think about how misogynistic our society still is, without even realizing it. aurora literally couldn't have done anything better, by our modern standards, but people still condemn her just because? this is definitely a discussion piece i want to hear more about and, in general, i think it would behoof us all to understand why aurora has been so demeaned culturally as a character when her actions, in and of themselves, are exactly what we say we want and would appeal to modern sensibilities

this is a slight sidenote but i always was tickled by merryweather proclaiming, if she had it her way, maleficent would be turned into a "fat old hop-toad." i always felt like this was a nod to the original tale from which this movie was based on, where a magical frog tells the queen that her wish to be with child shall soon be granted and that it, just generally, was a very clever easter egg/allusion

in this film, they have enough action and movement to appease the more restless demographic/traditionally "masculine" crowd, but i love how the basis of maleficent's defeat lies still in the femininity of the three good fairies. it's these elderly women that save phillip from the dungeon and arm him, not just with weapons that will kill another being and are predicated upon violence, but with symbolic weapons that are laced with truth and virtue. i think it really reminds us all how transformative these values are and how, in arming ourselves with them, we'll alone be able to navigate the road to true love (whether that be familial, platonic, or romantic love) which will be "barred by many more dangers" and how it enables us to have a sense of autonomy where we'll be able to overcome anything that's thrown our way while still retaining the core of who we are

i wrote about this moment previously, but to piggyback off of what i wrote about phillip just above...i love how aurora is the most competent human in this world? much has been said about how the plot of sleeping beauty is essentially the fairy worlds dueling with one another and, in that, many of the mortals are somewhat...inept, to put it for lack of a better term. king stefan is unable to protect his daughter with the burning of the spinning wheels, even with all the power he harnesses within his kingdom, and the fairies are quick to see his folly. prince phillip would still be rotting in the prison had the fairies not interjected, and he would be burned to a crisp had they not sprung a final chant of magic upon his, already, enchanted sword. yet, maleficent has to hypnotize aurora for the princess to even succumb to her plan and, even then, aurora is temporarily able to snap out of the magic hypnosis she's put under. i don't think people realize how powerful that is? yes, i understand it's a minor moment, but the hesitation and the ability to counter magic while remaining totally unarmed is something that reminds me why aurora is our main character, despite what anyone else might say.

going along with what i said above, while many are quick to point out aurora's lack of screentime, the film begins with her birth, the plot is sprung forth with every character wondering what they could do to protect her, then when she pricks her finger upon the spinning wheel, she and the entire kingdom are put to sleep. it isn't until she wakes up, that the entire kingdom does, too. she holds the key to this entire universe in a persephone like way and i just love how important it is in the narrative of the film to wake her up. she isn't just this beautiful creature who's valuable because she's pretty, because if that was the case, her being a lovely figure posed to perfection in her slumbering mode would be enough...but the people of her universe value her so much more when she's alive and active and being her own person, that it ensues a fairy war, practically. she's also involved in every single plot, even if she isn't physically present. this is her movie and no one can take that away from her. but, just to restate, the fact that there's so much emphasis in aurora being alive and well is something that's so important

so, it's kind of a given at this point that every princess can sing, but i think the role that music plays in sleeping beauty is the most meaningful and well done? sleeping beauty makes much to do about its classical score and it skillfully combines realistic characters and storylines (like the fairies not knowing how to cook and clean, phillip being captured with no way out, the kings toasting to the impending nuptials of their offspring before getting into a quarrel centered around a misunderstanding) with the fantastical world of fantasy and opera. by giving aurora the gift of song, the narrative is creating a framework that explains her relationship to her singing voice in a way that's even more profound than that of ariel's connection with her singing. it explains why aurora sings more than she speaks and ties in perfectly with the thematic style of the operatic presence in sleeping beauty, which is that in the opera, instead of speaking about it, you sing.

OK but this scene of hubert's/his general plotline and character motivation that results from this is genuinely perhaps the best comedy disney's ever done? hubert is coming off of declaring war upon his best friend stefan, because he misunderstood stefan's caring for his own daughter as a snub against hubert's son. after challenging aurora's father to a duel, they quickly make up, before hubert hears phillip has arrived and rushes off to greet his son. there, the news is broken that phillip is actually in love with a peasant and that he plans to renounce the throne- which will actually cause a war- so that he can be with his beloved. hubert is convinced phillip is joking, especially as he happens to meet this mystery maiden on the date that aurora is set to come home- the most anticipated date for these past sixteen years in the kingdom- and his son is set to be a central figure in the celebration for the princess's homecoming! before he can reason with phillip, his son escapes, leaving hubert to be the one to break the news to stefan. heavy-hearted, as hubert tries to tell stefan, he keeps being interrupted by trumpets and the musical notes that are meant to accompany the princess in her debut to her country. then the fairies literally put hubert to sleep when he finally gets a chance to explain it to stefan and, when they're awoken from this fog like slumber, the first vision that greets hubert is that of his son and the princess??? the same son who said he had no interest in aurora, but was set to marry the peasant maiden. the whole thing concludes in a very charming "all's well that ends well" but i still think the whole "how am i ever going to tell stefan" dilemma, while continually being interrupted, and this king who declared war in 2 seconds flat and minced no words in being so short-tempered was suddenly at a loss for words and so hesitant and fumbling and nervous about this news his son sprung on him lol

one of the most haunting sequences in film is the one above. the three good fairies have endeared themselves to their mortal charge, even giving up their magic for her for sixteen years. their bond is so much deeper and meaningful than it would've been otherwise, as they probably would've blessed her at the christening and then only appeared in her life intermittently, at a distance. they clearly aren't close enough to humans to know too much about their customs, and their magic always gives them away as outsiders, which indicates they were always content to live in their own fairy-world. but then they give it all up for this baby, this child, and they change their entire world for her. she is their world, to the point where their sole purpose is protecting her, until that's all they can think about for close to two decades. they would do anything they could to make her happy, to give her a fighting chance at life. they're so protective over her- and the fact that they got this close to the finish line...only to leave her alone because they want to be respectful of giving her privacy as she's still reeling and processing from all the news they sprung about her at once. they were even discussing going to king stefan and attempting to convince him to let aurora out of the arranged marriage so that she could be with the boy in the woods. and this all leads to maleficent enchanting aurora to her demise. as the fairies place her in a bed for the last time, looking upon her in her princess form, all of the time they've spent with her runs through their mind. how this isn't their little briar rose anymore, but a princess who inhabits, not the woodcutter's cottage, but king stefan's castle. someone who will never be with them the way she once was ever again and who, presently, is dead for all they know. as they look upon their lost daughter, the faint chimes and musical notes of the celebration of her homecoming is heard in the distance. i could talk about this forever but it's just such a heartbreaking and sad but also eerie mood

in 2023, it's time king stefan gets his flowers. while, in the time period in which this film is set, it'd be totally realistic for a father to set his daughter up in an arranged marriage to further the prospects of his land, stefan displays an understanding that seems more contemporary than his counterpart, hubert. hubert doesn't think about prince phillip's feelings for a beat and concedes that the "children" are bound to fall in love with one another. meanwhile, stefan seems to display a much more well-rounded paternal instinct, even exemplifying a degree of care and concern for both aurora's emotional wellbeing and her consent. he urges hubert to calm down and remember that this might come as "quite a shock" to aurora and to not push all of these political arrangements upon his daughter before she's had a chance to react to them and digest them.

the duality of briar rose and princess aurora is so fascinating, but also the moments in which they overlap is more enchanting still. this is a fairytale that is meant to be archetypical, and aurora's enchanted slumber is meant to be symbolic for her transition from girlhood to womanhood. briar rose, the girl, is anxious about her future, the prospect of meeting her love and settling down and getting to the next stage of her life. she loves her guardians, but is frustrated at their inability to see and treat her as anything other than a child. she goes to sleep a scared, shy, unsure teenager and wakes up as a self-assured, mature, gracious woman- the princess aurora. she's a vision, descending the staircase on the arm of her beloved, and she paints quite the picture as she gracefully curtsies to her parents, the king and queen. yet, true to the girl from the cottage, briar rose takes over. unable to contain the love she feels, she bolts forward and rushes to embraced her lost parents. i love this because, for as calm as a character as aurora is, i've always been so mesmerized by the breathless excitement with which she speaks when she returns to the cottage. this is a girl that has more love inside her than she can contain and it renders her a beacon of light. her running into the arms of her parents, instead of resenting them for giving her up, putting her in an arranged marriage, or even pausing to question whether or not she should be so warm with these figureheads of state, is such a tender moment that i don't think i've ever heard anyone speak of.

i will never get tired of singing the praises of the three good fairies. this film placed three older, conventionally unattractive women at the forefront- without pushing forced hetero ships on any of them- and allowed them to be bad ass (ie saving phillip from the dungeon, providing him with the tools and guidance with which to defeat maleficent, coming up with all the plots and actions that propelled the plot forward), while reminding us that love and kindness is truly the most powerful force on earth and placing an emphasis on the strength and power of femininity. the entire transition, from them being business women in the kingdom essentially (this is more in modern jargon; them being the fairies who are invited to political organizations for their contributions and not knowing anything about things like cooking or cleaning or rearing a child) to learning how to raise a baby and the film ending with them beaming over the shining achievement of their assigned charge finally being safe and happy is...it's everything. how beautifully the film focuses on them and the relationship with their adopted daughter and how that's the driving goal in all of this is something that's been unable to ever be surpassed

[punisheddonjuan]

So Cate is a member of this Facebook group for autistic women looking for advice from other autistic women, and just so you know what we're getting into here, it's historically been a source of some truly awful advice for her specifically e.g. that she should put up with her ex's cheating and emotional abuse and that she was actually taking financial advantage of him if she couldn't afford to move out on her own (???). Anyway, she showed me this thread the other day that fully broke my brain to the point where I'm still thinking about it two days later. A user relayed that there was a man who lived in her apartment complex and who happened to take the same bus route as her. This man would sometimes make an attempt at friendly conversation when he saw her, and she wanted advice on what this meant, and how she should deal with it. At no point in her post did she say she was made to feel particularly uncomfortable by this man, or indicate that he had acted inappropriately. By any reasonable analysis you might say that he was acting neighbourly, especially seeing as he is in fact her neighbour. The top response to her question which had accumulated dozens of likes and positive reactions instead offered this assessment and advice "he's dangerous, he's stalking you, you need to be carrying a knife at all times, here is a list of good necklace knives, also google him, find out where he works, find out who his parents are, call his parents, call his boss, call the landlord, check to see if he's on the sex offender registry, also you should call the police, you need to carry pepper spray, but you should definitely call the police, this is unacceptable." Many other commentators were in agreement with this (insane) assessment, and those who countered that poster with "it sounds like he's being friendly" or "maybe he's lonely and trying to make a friend" were shouted down and accused of wanting to get the OP raped or murdered because she is especially vulnerable as an autistic person. Reading some of the comments truly broke my brain.

The proliferation and explosion of True Crime into the fore of popular culture has really broken a lot of people's brains. I think that the way True Crime, as a genre, presents its subject matter, i.e. with an obsessive voyeurism and erotic charge, engenders a certain reactionary paranoia in the people who heavily consume it. They start believing that every interaction with a stranger is potentially deadly, that there are Dahmers and Bundys lurking everywhere. It's always a certain sort of person whose brain is liable to break this way too. You can't really define them as a group, it's like defining pornography, you know it when you see it. Anyway, clicking through to that top responder's profile and seeing the Handmaid's Tale profile picture and the cover photo showing off a shelf of YA novels was enough to confirm that she was indeed that sort of person.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Ian McDonald's "The Wilding"

I'll be in TUCSON, AZ from November 8-10: I'm the GUEST OF HONOR at the TUSCON SCIENCE FICTION CONVENTION.

Ian McDonald is one of those absurdly brilliant novelists that just leave me wondering the actual fuck he manages it. How does he cover so much ground, think up so many compelling characters, find so many gracenotes, conjure up so many complicated emotions?

McDonald burst on the scene in the late 1980s, with the 1988 novel Desolation Road and then his 1989 Out On Blue Six, a slick, stylized cyberpunk-meets-Orwell tale that overflowed with beautiful prose, technomysticism, and sly jokes that hid sneaky truths that hid even more sly jokes:

https://memex.craphound.com/2014/01/20/out-on-blue-six-ian-mcdonalds-brilliant-novel-is-back/

By my count, McDonald has now published twenty books – mostly novels, but a couple short story collections (and the most amazingly demented, Tom-Waits-inflected teddybear murder comic imaginable, 1994's Kling Klang Klatch):

https://irishcomics.fandom.com/wiki/Kling_Klang_Klatch

McDonald's work is truly globespanning. While he's made his mark on the Martian soil, and overtaken the moon with the Luna trilogy (his definitive rebuttal to Heinlein's Moon Is a Harsh Mistress) he is widely adored and much-awarded for the glittering, futuristic versions of Brazil (Brasyl), Tanzania (the Chaga series), and India (River of Gods).

Indeed, McDonald's imagination has roamed so far over the Earth and the solar system that it's possible to overlook his fantastic reimaginings of Ireland, the land where he was raised. There's his Philip K Dick Award-winning 1991 novel King of Morning, Queen of Day, a swirling, mythopoeic novel of Celtic mysticism:

https://www.baen.com/king-of-morning-queen-of-day.html

And then there's 1992's Hearts, Hands and Voices, which is lowkey one of the best novels I have ever, ever read – a scorching science fictional allegory for The Troubles, but with the gnarliest biotech weirdness you can possibly imagine:

https://archive.org/details/heartshandsvoice0000ianm/mode/2up

McDonald's books cover so much goddamned ground, but one feature they all share is a prose styling wherein every sentence is at least 20% poetry, a fraction that somehow, impossibly, rises to as much as 150% in certain especially shiny passages.

Like this passage, which opens The Wilding, McDonald's new horror novel that marks his first return to Ireland since 1992:

Autumn lay on the great bog in silvers and tans, late purples and duns.

The sun rose above the tall ash saplings and feral sycamore. It called the birds into full voice. Stabbing shrills, tumbles of notes, the flutes of dove-call, frantic ticking hisses, song upon song. In hedgerows and copses, among the pale foliage of the birches, in the weave of deep willow and the bramble fastnesses, each bird called and was heard. In this season the peatland held the day's warmth through the night and on the bright, clear mornings rivers of mist formed, filling the subtle hollow places in the exposed cuttings, the bogs and fields. High sun would dispel it but at this hour half of Lough Carrow lay mist-bound. Each blade of grass hung heavy with dew, the clumps of sedges were already browning, the bracken curling and crisping.

A pair of horns lifted above the willow scrub and out-grown ash hedges of the Wilding. Polished tips caught the low sun and kindled as bright and keen as spears.

https://www.gollancz.co.uk/titles/ian-mcdonald/the-wilding/9781399611503/

Oof.

I would drop everything to read Ian McDonald's grocery lists but after that opening, I wasn't going to put this one down, and I didn't, reading the whole thing on yesterday's flight home from my gigs in Atlanta this week.

The Wilding is (I'm pretty sure?) McDonald's first horror novel, and it's fucking terrifying. It's set in a rural Irish peat bog that has been acquired by a conservation authority that is rewilding it after a century of industrial peat mining that stripped it back nearly to the bedrock. This rewilding process has been greatly accelerated by the covid lockdowns, which reduced the human footprint in the conservation area to nearly zero.

The story's protagonist is Lisa, a hard-case Dubliner who came to the bog to do community service after a career as a crime syndicate driver for hire, a woman who never met a car she couldn't boost and pilot in or out of any tight situation. After years in the bog, she's ready to start a new life, studying Yeats at university, indulging a late-discovered love of poetry that has as much to do with her redemption as her years in the wild.

Lisa's last duty before she leaves the bog and goes home to Dublin is leading a school group on a wild campout in one of the bog's deep clearings. It's a routine assignment, and while it's not her favorite duty, it's also not a serious hardship.

But as the group hikes out to the campsite, one of her fellow guides is killed, without warning, by a mysterious beast that moves so quickly they can barely make out its monstrous form. Thus begins a tense, mysterious, spooky as hell story of survival in a haunted woods, written in the kind of poesy that has defined McDonald's career, and which – when deployed in service of terror – has the power to raise literal goosebumps.

There's a lot of fantasy that deals with Celtic mythology, including McDonald's own King of Morning, Queen of Day, but the vibe of that stuff tends to the heroic and romantic – sure, there's the odd banshee, but in the main, it's mischievous wee people, pookas, and leprechauns. More fey than fear.

But Irish mythology in its raw form is terrifying. The monsters of Irish storytelling are grotesque, mean, remorseless, and come in every shape and size. Some authors have done well by going back to the bestiary for the deep cuts. When I was a kid, I must have read John Coyne's Hobgoblin fifty times (mostly because it was about D&D, which I was obsessed with). I haven't read this one since I was about 12, and I have no idea if it'd hold up today, but it left me with a deep appreciation of the spooky multifariousness of monsters who dwell in Ireland's bogs:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hobgoblin_(novel)

The Wilding is a suspense novel, which means there's no way to really sum up the plot without spoiling a lot of the affect, but suffice to say that McDonald brings large swathes of deep Irish lore to the surface, and it had me reading as fast as I could and wanting to put the book down and hide.

What a writer McDonald is! The fact that this is the same guy who wrote last year's stunning secret-history/solarpunk/uncategorizable wonder that was Hopeland beggars belief:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/05/30/electromancy/#the-grace

Read you some Ian McDonald novels, is what I'm trying to say. This one is only available in the UK, if that's not where you are, consider mail-ordering it. Looks like they've got stock at Forbidden Planet for £19 plus £18 shipping to the US. Worth every penny:

https://forbiddenplanet.com/424306-the-wilding-hardcover/

Tor Books as just published two new, free LITTLE BROTHER stories: VIGILANT, about creepy surveillance in distance education; and SPILL, about oil pipelines and indigenous landback.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/10/25/bogman/#erin-go-aaaaaaargh

[goodqueenaly]

Do you think the Faith of the Seven forbids divorce barring an annulment, like Catholicism, or is it more lenient in such matters from what we can see in the text?

Note that “divorce”, as a term, is never used throughout the main novels, the Tales of Dunk and Egg, or TWOIAF or F&B. The closest we as readers get to associating “divorce”, specifically, with the world of Westeros is a response from GRRM about the marriage of Doran and Mellario, in which the author says “divorce simply isn't common” in Westeros. Whether the author was trying to say that divorce, as a separate idea from annulment, exists in this world but perhaps not for Faith-worshiping Westerosi, or whether the author was simply equating divorce and annulment and commenting that ending a marriage in Westeros “simply isn’t common”, or whether GRRM meant something else entirely, is impossible to say.

Nor indeed do we have what I would call a complete idea of how Westeros operates with respect to ending marriages. Even if we leave aside the ironborn (with their tradition of hierarchical polygamy and Victarion’s horrific method of ending his last salt marriage) and the followers of the old gods (whose faith is far less formally structured than that of the Faith of the Seven), there still remain significant open questions about in what circumstances a marriage made under the Faith can be ended (and I’ll just use the very general wording of “ended”, to avoid the complications of trying to apply a distinction between “divorce” and “annulment” which may or may not exist in Westeros). A marriage made in the Faith can be legally ended for non-consummation, though that is clearly not the only grounds for doing so (as Tyrion and Tysha’s marriage was also legally ended despite the fact that they consummated it). How this process occurs, however - other than Tyrion’s vague reference to “the High Septon or a Council of Faith” putting aside a marriage, and the author’s own few words on annulments - remains mostly a question mark. Likewise, how each party could and would live following such a marriage ending is also mostly unknowable right now.

(All of this, moreover, is a separate discussion from marriages which appear to still exist, in a legal sense, but in which the spouses have physically and emotionally separated from one another - Doran and Mellario, for instance, or the periods of estrangement in the marriage of Jaehaerys and Alysanne. To what extent this process and the end result could be or is formally pursued and/or recognized in Westeros as a separate state from ordinary marriage, is again, an open question. There seems to have been no formal action taken by Alysanne or Mellario, much less their husbands, to request an acknowledgement from the Faith or any legal body that their respective marriages had changed or, at least for Mellario, essentially ended, but again, the information is thin at best.)

(I’m also not discussing those instances where both spouses remain alive, but the actions of one spouse result in that individual’s legal death and the effective widowing of the “surviving” spouse - a husband joining the Night’s Watch, for example, or a wife joining the silent sisters, a la Quentyn Ball.)

I definitely expect to get at least a little more discussion in TWOW on the practicalities of Westerosi annulments. However, because I think the best chance for us to learn more about this process is through Sansa’s remarriage to Harry Hardyng - and because I think Sansa’s marriage to Tyrion is going to be called void on the grounds that she and Tyrion never consummated it - I don’t know how much we can glean from that storyline about whatever extent Westeros acknowledges divorce versus annulment. Indeed, I doubt we’ll ever get the word “divorce” used in the novels; rather, I think any situation where a marriage is ended will be said to be an annulment, or a “putting aside”, of the marriage, rather than any modern concepts of divorce that we may have.