#and she's not happy by that choice either

[kaysdelights]

when you're forced to marry an alien himbo | 🔞

words: 5004 fem reader x male main character w / au's: alien!au, himbo alien, arranged marriage, getting off in front of him summary: you're a brand new bride to a himbo virgin alien warrior that is obsessed with making you happy:) a/n: i told myself i wouldn't repost ALL of my shitty stories again for the millionth time while i figure out what i wanna do with my life BUT i desperately wanna get inspiration for this AU again because it was SO FUN TO WRITE! so im posting it again and also i need to tell myself i can do whatever i want to be happy D': okay love you <3 there is another part to this hehe also this has nothing to do with the other alien au i posted recently... i was just in a mood late last year writing about hot aliens lol

“You might want to have a seat when I tell you this, bestie.” You hear the impending doom in the tone of her voice coming in clearly through the speaker of your phone. “You’re an alien bride.” 

As if things couldn’t get any shittier for you. 

You got fired from your job because you were running late due to your car breaking down. You couldn’t afford to fix the part on your car because your bank account was overdraft due to your A/C breaking the week before. But it’s not like you could have even paid for the A/C when your boyfriend (now ex) broke up with you, drained your account for all he could, and took off with your sister to Vegas. Now you’re an alien bride thanks to the leaders of earth making a deal with the alien’s that they would protect all humans from the other invasive species of the universe if they send mate’s for the aliens in return. 

“Or, is it an alien's bride? Are you an alien bride if you’re human and you’re marrying the alien? Or, like, are you the alien’s bride because you’re the alien’s? You belong to the alien. The alien’s woman? Either way… that’s you, girl.”

The sound of your best friend rambling because she’s scared shitless for you barely snaps you out of your daze. 

“Is he rich, at least?” You sigh into the speaker. What’s one more weird and oddly specific thing that could go wrong? Just add it to the list. Alien, or maybe alien’s, bride? Check! “Because that would solve half my problems, Sera, and honestly when you’re only adding one problem back in, it evens out. Girl math.”

“Listen, you didn’t hear it from me-” But, you did. Sera works for the earth-intergalactic species representatives resources department. This is the only reason you’re finding out about this now. Normally people are just snatched up from their homes to go off and breed ginormous alien babies. Or, at the very least, marry an alien. You aren’t too sure on the specifics of what happens after that, but you have always been a little curious… “Your alien is a total hottie.” 

“What are you insinuating?” You gasp, part offended and part imagining how hot your alien husband-to-be actually is. “I just go up there and let this alien have his way with me to completely destroy me? I heard they’re not gentle! They’re mean and rough and ugly. So, really, how hot could he be?”

“You’ve never even seen one of them before!” She begins to whisper, as if someone is coming closer that could hear and potentially get her fired, or worse. “Look, you’re one overdraft fee away from homelessness. Don’t look at this as a bad thing. You’ve got no choice.”

You know she’s right. What other choice do you have? 

You’re beamed up to the alien spaceship that hovers earth the following morning. Literally. Beamed up in a blink of an eye. One minute you’re on earth, the next you’re surrounded by cold, steel walls in a circular room with two bags of your things and your cat, Jellybean. Jellybean hisses at thin air as he looks around, clinging to your shirt like it's his lifeline. His orange fur begins to fly when you try to soothe him, all before a sliding door opening to the right, and in walks the dreamiest, most charming, hunkiest man that ever hunked. 

Was this your alien husband-to-be? God, you hoped so. You were going to end it all if you haven’t even left earth yet, knowing this divine specimen exists and you couldn’t have a chance with him.

He clears his voice, a nervous smile on his lips, before he tells you his name. “I’m your husband.” 

Relief floods you. She was right. He is hot. Beyond hot. Your knees quiver as he steps closer, heart racing. As he walks into the yellow cast of the light overhead, you notice his brown, military style uniform, matching cap on his head, and black boots. Of course, all the aliens are trained soldiers well respected across galaxies for their skills in combat. It’s why earth so happily accepted their protection. They needed to remain safe, and the aliens needed mates. 

Jellybean hisses again to pull you away from the thoughts roaming. He looks down at the cat, then back to you. You expect him to be rude, mean even, maybe make an insulting comment, but he only smiles. 

“Would you like to see our living quarters? Let your friend get something to eat and drink while we settle in?”

“S-Sure.” Okay, you weren’t expecting that. Aren’t these aliens supposed to be mean? Horrid? Rough? Terrible? Ugly?! So far he was none of these things. He doesn’t even have a problem with Jellybean. Your ex hated Jellybean, but to be fair Jellybean hated him, too. 

God, speaking of, has it really been that long since you’ve been laid that you’re getting all hot and bothered over this alien just for being nice and not minding your cat? He leads you down corridors of metal until you’re suddenly thrust into a bustling living area full of other aliens and humans, lounges, TVs, little food carts with any option of burger, chicken wing, or pizza you could imagine. You name it, it was offered in those delicious smelling stands, though you wonder what kind of meat they used. Alien technologies are clearly far more advanced. Even their fauna was beautiful and ethereal looking, sparkling off the synthetic sun overhead while the koi fish in the ponds around them swam gracefully.

Though food and decor didn’t keep your attention for long. A couple you walk past looks as lovey-dovey in love as one could be. He’s much larger than her as she snuggles into his side while the two read the intergalactic news articles in the morning paper. She leans up and gives him a kiss on his cheek. As if she just couldn’t help herself, and you really can’t blame her either when you notice all of the aliens are pretty hot.

Not as hot as your alien, of course. There’s no alien like your husband. 

“Um, husband?” You shuffle your feet quickly to reach his side, grabbing onto his arm with the hand that isn’t holding Jellybean. 

“Yes, wife?” A shiver races down your spine at him calling you wife. God, were you really about to fall head over heels for an alien? The odds seemed likely. At this point, what did you have to lose? You only had everything to gain. Like a super hot, super attention and sweet alien husband who was no doubt packing downstairs. 

“Where exactly are we staying aboard this massive ship?” The alien spaceship was big enough to serve as a warning to the other space travelers to stay away, but also big enough to host every trained soldier from their home planet. 

“Just down here,” he says, leading you out of the living area down a more lively looking hallway with plants and pictures of army captains. Then he stops down another hallway in front of a door seconds before it slides to the right. “Right in here.” He carries your two bags through the threshold into the most normal looking foyer you have ever seen. Ahead are even a set of stairs made from hardwood floor. To the right, a kitchen. To the left, a living room. A house that jumped straight out of a magazine. You expected the alien spaceship to look like something from Star Trek, and part of it does, but some parts…

“This looks so…”

“Human?”

“Yes!” He chuckles at that, setting your things down while you let Jellybean  out of your arms to go sniff everything. “Why?”

“To make our mates more comfortable. To feel more like home.”

You can’t help your frown. “What if we don’t want it to feel that way?” Your voice is a whisper as you take in the surroundings. You’ve never lived anywhere this nice. It’s way too suburban, picket fence, three kids and a dog for you. 

“If the living arrangement is not to your standards, we can make changes.” There’s a frown on his face now. He actually looks disappointed you don’t seem happy. You definitely hate that look.

“It’s great! No worries!” You offer him the biggest smile you can muster, watching his grin return. “So, shall we get started?” you ask, beginning to take off your coat considering shoes were already left at the entrance. The coat falls to the floor before you begin unbuttoning your jeans.

“Wh-what are you doing?” He blinks a few times before turning his head from you. “If you needed to get changed, I could have stepped away.” He won’t look at you, so you stop fidgeting with your jeans. 

“Changed? No, I meant sex and alien babies.” He snaps his head at your words. “Isn’t that what I’m here for?”

“You’re here to be my wife.”

“Yeah… which means sex and then having alien babies. Right?” 

He looks confused. Now you feel heat rushing to your cheeks. You quickly pick your coat from the floor, covering yourself to not feel as exposed from your embarrassment. Not like it would help. He’s already eyed you up and down and back again at the mere mention of sex. 

“I’m… not sure.” He looks down, rubbing the back of his neck. “We were told marrying a human would give us strength, power. That what we receive from our mate would make us nearly invincible.”

Your jaw hangs open. “Excuse me?” You blink, taking a step toward him. “What the fuck are you saying?”

He gulps, not bothering to meet your eyes due to him cowering like you’re a foot taller than him. To be fair, you do have an intimidating gaze when things start to get complicated.

“Being with a human means being powerful,” he repeats, though it doesn’t make an ounce more sense. “We were told our humans would teach us what we needed to know to be successful lovers.”

You choke on your own spit from the words, coughing. “So being a good lover makes you more powerful?” You shake your head. “Being with me… being a good lover… makes you more powerful?” You’re squinting at him, no longer frustrated, but curious if he’s saying what you think he’s saying. If so, you have one hot himbo virgin on your hands and he’s in dire need of a sex lesson from you. 

“Yes, that’s it.” He nods, finally looking you in the eyes. 

“Well, you know what? My life sucks so what the hell? Whatever it is, alien husband, I’m going to make you more powerful! And you know what else? My life could still suck but at least I don’t have to go to work anymore and have Creepy Andy stare at my tits all day.” 

He frowns, anger spreading in his features. The shift in his demeanor is so sudden, it catches you off guard. “Is this Creepy Andy a problem?”

Oh… you like that. This alien is awakening something in you that makes you… horny? Scared? Maybe both. He’s big, and dangerous, and from another planet and it kind of turns you on he is willing to do, well whatever he would do to Creepy Andy if you said yes. No human man has ever made you feel this way. This stirring of excitement and adrenaline mixed with fear of the unknown washing over you as he looks at you like he would eat you up and worship you. Of course, what’s his has been threatened. From his tone, his posture, his words, you realize he’s a territorial man. So your hot himbo virgin alien is the jealous, protective type. Somehow you find him even more attractive.

“Not anymore,” you tell him, sighing, pouting, earning a little more of his attention which you realize you actually adore in the moment. He steps closer, placing hands on your arms. “I mean, it got pretty bad there for a while. He was always trying to flirt, and make weird comments about me, and just be creepy, you know?”

Okay, you didn’t have to go into detail, but to watch your new alien husband get worked up over another man’s comments about your body does something to your confidence. This alien has claimed you for his keeping, and it’s clear no one else should dare to even look at you or this alien super soldier will not be so nice.

“Where can one find this Creepy Andy?”

His question has you bursting into giggles. “Don’t worry about it.” You reach to pat him on the chest, feeling the hard muscle underneath. “It’s not something I have to worry about anymore.” 

You pull away to go get Jellybean settled in while he takes your things upstairs. After a while of soothing Jellybean and coaxing him out of his hiding place under one of the lounges in the living room so he would eat something, your husband comes downstairs to offer you a cooked meal.

“You cook?”

“Sometimes.” His sheepish grin has butterflies swarming your stomach. How can he be so hot, and intimidating, yet cute? You follow him into the kitchen with the standard fridge and oven, with a sink and dishwasher close by. Looks just like something you would see on earth, if it weren’t for the unique gadgets and interesting trinkets here and there. You assume they are alien created, and you’re curious how they work.

You guess a lesson on alien tools will have to be another day as he gets to work creating you a meal that smells delicious. He tells you it’s some sort of delicacy where he’s from, but you don’t question it. You haven’t eaten all day, too nervous about meeting him. So you take a bite, and to your surprise, it’s not half bad. There’s a few flavors you recognize in the dish, what look to be like noodles, and some kind of meat. You don’t ask the questions you normally would. You don’t want to spoil it if this is what you have to live with. 

“Would you like to join me while I wash up?” he asks while taking the plates away to place them in the dishwasher. A man who cooks and cleans up? You’ve died and gone to heaven. 

“Wash up? As in… shower?”

“Shower, bathe, whatever you wish to do.”

It’s hard to turn him down when he’s being so generous. “S-Sure.” Though, you are a little nervous. It’s been so long since you’ve even seen anyone in their underwear. Better to go ahead and get the awkwardness out of the way. This is your husband, after all. 

“I would love a bath. My muscles feel so tense from being nervous and I think I sweated so much from the anticipation of meeting you I would really like to wash up.”

He’s smiling at your rambling. Okay, you’re a lot nervous. Not that you don’t have confidence around men. You do and you enjoy taking charge and demanding what you want, but this is no ordinary man. This man is gorgeous, understanding, sweet, and kind. From out of this world. This man could have been written by a woman, maybe mother nature herself, and that’s what is making you so nervous. Why does he seem so perfect? You were so convinced the aliens were mean, and rough, and ugly, but he’s shown you the opposite. 

“Come with me,” is all he says before you’re following him up the stairs, down the hall into a room that looks more alien than human. The door slides to the ride to reveal marble steps leading to a dais filled with water. The platform sits low as a soft hum emits from the inviting bathing pool, lights glowing all around in alien markings you can’t decipher. 

“This is simply gorgeous,” you sigh, taking in the purple and blue fauna all around the room. Steam rolls off the water, shimmering beneath the glowing markings. 

“I’m happy it pleases you, I spent a while setting it up for you,” your big alien husband says, his tone giving him away that he could be blushing. “This is where I can bathe you every night while worshipping your body in any way you see fit. It is one of the more intimate ways we can bond so you can share your gift with me, so I feared I might be rushing things, but I admit, I was excited to show you.” 

You’re nearly brought to tears from the way he speaks to you as well as this steamy, inviting bathing pool he’s brought you to. Earth men could never. 

“Thank you,” you whisper a second before jumping into him. Your arms wrap around his neck while his hands pull you in closer. “No one has ever been this nice to me or done something so sweet.” He took you away from at least half your problems, doesn’t mind your cat, gave you a cozy, comfortable house to live in, cooked for you, built your own personal, lavish bathing pool, and wants to give you orgasms every night. Could your life get any better? You might have just fallen in love. It’s not too soon if he’s an alien, right? 

“We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to,” he says, pulling away. “I just wanted to show you tonight, and if all we do is admire one another in our flesh then that’s okay with me.”

Your heart swells. Could your husband get any sweeter? “No, believe me, I want to.” Suddenly, you’re not feeling so shy. The confidence has returned in full force as you take your coat off once again, allowing it to fall to the floor.

“Well,” he sighs, rubbing the back of his neck and avoiding your eyes. “If you’re sure you’re comfortable…”

The mood shifts suddenly. You picked up on the tone of his voice, the uncertainty there. 

“Hey, are you alright?” You stop in the middle of unbuttoning your jeans once again, stepping to him to look into his eyes from below. 

“I just…” He lets out a breath and your heart sinks. 

“We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do, either,” you remind him, reaching to give his hand a squeeze. “I’ll admit, this whole situation is bananas, and the fact that I have a husband who is an alien is wild to me, but we don’t have to rush anything just because that’s what we’re supposed to do.”

He looks into your eyes, the subtlest of wrinkles between his brows. “It’s just… my whole life I was trained to be a soldier. I’ve spent well over twenty of your earth years testing my combat skills, my war knowledge, my stamina and wit and endurance. It wasn’t until our last years in training did they talk about our need for a human mate from earth. I… I want to be a good mate to you, a good husband, because it’s important to both of our species survival, but I don’t know how.” 

Tears finally do begin to well behind your lids as he speaks. The familiar tightness tugs behind your eyes, heart breaking into pieces. You only thought about how the situation makes you feel, not how your new alien husband would feel. You feel a little sick at the thought of disregarding him just because he’s not human. Of course he has feelings and boundaries. 

“I’m sorry,” you exhale, shaking your head. His expression turns into confusion, brow wrinkling and lips parted. “I guess I’m just used to the men I’ve been with and their ability to only speak with their dicks. This is the most adult conversation I’ve ever had. I don’t know how many times I can say this, but earth men could never!” 

He chuckles as you speak, happy to see his smile return since he’s unbelievably beautiful when he does so. “I like the way you talk. It’s funny.”

“Funny?” You raise a brow, but you can’t stop yourself from grinning. 

“It makes me happy and I just want to keep smiling.”

Oh… he thinks you’re cute. Your stomach flip flops just the same as your heart. 

“Why don’t we start as slow as both of us need to.” You step away from him, gesturing toward the bathing pool. “Let’s just bathe tonight.” 

He agrees and you both begin to take your clothes off. There’s hesitation in every motion and he can’t stop stealing glances at you. Your jeans slide to the floor, his shirt follows. Piece by piece until you’re both naked before one another. His eyes travel down your body, taking in every enticing curve, every dip, every expanse of skin until he’s gulping. You take him in as well, the muscles twitching beneath your gaze, the smooth skin, the fact that his cock is half hard and growing as he looks at you. A big, thick, delicious looking cock that you aren’t sure how is going to fit inside of you, but God do you want to try. 

You don’t want to stare for too long because you don’t want to make him uncomfortable. If he was written by a woman, he was built by a God. It’s hard to pull your eyes away, but you finally manage to make your way to the edge of the steamy pool. The water is crystal clear, noticing glowing markings on the bottom and sides of the pool. The blue, shimmery light guides you to step down into the water, taking each step slow until you’re submerged up to your ribs. 

“How does it feel?” His voice behind you earns your attention. You turn to face him, watching as he follows your steps into the pool. The water comes to his waist as the two of you slowly dance around one another, gliding in the water as the heat relaxes your body. 

“Feels amazing. Like I’m being massaged all over. And what’s that smell?”

“Honey and rose. Comes from the water. The massage feeling is intentional due to the currents created from the vibrations in the walls.”

So that’s where the hum comes from. Interesting. “This is too cool, honestly.” You begin laughing, then he joins in. As if neither of you can believe the situation. All you can do is laugh. 

Until his smile fades and the mood shifts. “Can I see you?” he asks, and at first you’re confused, until his eyes sweep down your body. 

“Didn’t you see when we undressed?”

“I want to see all of it,” is all he says, eyes traveling down once again, and landing on the little V between your thighs. Your heart skips a beat. There’s no way you can tell him no. Not when he looks like he wants to eat you like his favorite dessert, he just may be a little confused about what toppings he wants. You’re willing to show him as you back up to the closest step to hoist yourself up onto the ledge of the bathing pool. His eyes are glued to you as you part your legs for him, giving him the perfect view of your pussy. 

He licks his lips, eyes darkening. The mood has shifted entirely. There’s a heaviness between the two of you now. One of longing and desire. He may not know all the intricacies of sex, but it’s clear he wants to. 

His exhale is heavy before he speaks. “Please, teach me.” He huffs again, like he’s struggling with holding himself together. “Teach me what I can do to make you feel good. 

You bite your lip for a second. “They didn’t prepare you for anything?”

“Not much. We got most of our knowledge from hearsay, though the basics were taught.” He takes another deep breath. “We expect our partners to teach us, that way their needs are met. It’s important to me for you to be pleasured properly. So, please, I’m not asking you to give me a lesson, I’m asking what makes you feel good…”

You inhale a sharp breath. The last thing you want to do is take things too far if he isn’t comfortable. Though, now you’re wondering if he just isn’t comfortable because he doesn’t want to let you down. That’s why it’s so important to him for you to show him.

So your hand falls between your thighs to begin stroking the soft skin of your pussy. Feather light strokes earn his attention quickly, watching so you only play for a few seconds. 

“If it makes you feel better,” you begin, middle finger finding your clit to begin teasing yourself there, “I’ve never done this with anyone before.” His eyes remain trained between your thighs, watching your finger softly circle your clit. 

“You’ve never touched yourself in front of someone?” he asks, and you bite your lip while shaking your head. A grin forms on his lips. “I’m your first?” 

You nod, then sigh when you dip your hand lower, finger easing inside of yourself to feel how wet you’ve become. Then you trace a line back to your clit, beginning to rub in slow circles once again. 

“I’m getting so wet already,” you whisper as he takes a step closer. “It must really turn me on when you watch me.” You don’t consider what you tell him dirty talk. It’s only the truth. You’ve never been watched like this. He takes another step toward you, and another, until he’s pressing his palms to the water’s edge near each of your thighs. 

“I hear it’s a good thing,” he says, looking between your pussy being pleasured and your head tossed back with lips parted. “If you get wet for me, it means you are enjoying yourself, yes?”

“God, yes…” Your fingers dip again, easing inside of you as your hips begin to roll against your hand. 

“Have you ever gotten this wet for anyone else?” he asks as his hand lazily falls onto your thigh, rubbing circles with his thumb. The added attention, even if so innocent and curious, adds to the pleasure, jolts of electricity surging from where he's touched you. 

“I don’t think so,” you tell him in a raspy breath, and once again, it’s the truth. He’s a jealous alien, so he needs reassurance. You feel yourself dripping onto the edge of the pool. No one’s ever made you this hot just by watching you. Normally you have to work hard to get yourself close, but you feel yourself on the edge of bliss within minutes. Slowing down, you bring yourself back in, wanting more than anything to make this moment last between the two of you. 

“Good,” he groans, and it nearly brings you right back to the precipice of your orgasm. “I want to be the only one that gets to see you like this. Touching yourself. Dripping wet for me.”

“Yes!” you cry out, falling back to lean on one hand as he grips your thighs, parting them wider for him to see. The other hand continues to work your clit in messy, quick circles. Your breaths deepen as soft moans escape your lips. You’re getting close to the edge again just from the way he watches you touch yourself. 

“The noises you make are making my cock ache, baby,” he nearly growls, suddenly full of sexual frustration, but he keeps it together. Warmth floods your body from the pet name. It’s never sounded so good coming from anyone else’s mouth. “Does it feel that good, or do you just enjoy me watching you touch yourself that much?”

“Both,” you whimper seconds before the pleasure is bursting from between your thighs. You couldn’t hold yourself off any longer, warmth surging through your body as the bliss takes hold. You cry out for him, reaching to wrap an arm around his neck and pull his body close as you ride out the pleasure. He takes hold of you, wrapping you up in his embrace until you’re coming down and catching your breath. 

Panting, shaking, he holds you against his naked body for what feels like an eternity. He strokes your hair and back, pressing his lips to the top of your head. 

When you pull away, you look him in the eyes, then your gaze falls to his mouth. “Will you kiss me?” you ask, and a darkness ignites in his eyes, the question fueling his evident desire for you. He leans in, pressing his lips to your own. Softly at first, just to feel each other’s skin, then he leans in further. He takes hold of you and the moment, slipping his tongue past your lips to play, to tease. You can’t help but moan against him, becoming lost in the very thing you swore was going to be terrible. 

He finally pulls away from you to begin tending to you as he would if he were really bathing you. He washes your body with the softest cloth and the same smelling gel from a little vial he had prepared. While he washes you, he explores your body, taking his time to go over every inch until you begin to feel worked up again.

When you’re both clean, he helps you out of the pool to dry you off. You giggle at the ticklish spots and he laughs at your giggling. He already has a cozy looking pajama set prepared on the bed which you will share with him when he takes you to the bedroom. 

When you’re dressed for bed, you snuggle between the sheets and he pulls you as close as he can to his body. 

“Good night, wife,” he whispers, placing a kiss against your temple.

“Good night, alien husband,” you reply, smiling to yourself since it seems, not half, but all of your problems have disappeared because of him. 

[pensthoughts]

Why do I actually need Knight!Van x Princess!Reader? Like r ran away and Van likes her a lot and r gets kidnapped by a group of bandits so Van goes crazy bout it. A few months later r gets away and finds Van, who drinks a lot because their dealing with the kidnapping. all upset and they kiss in front to their party.

a knight's vow | v.p

a/n: love love this idea! i incorporated some other ships into this just for fun so keep an eye out. i wanted to keep this under 3k words but i kinda went crazy because i was having so much fun lol. pairing: knight!van palmer x princess!reader summary: you, the beloved princess of your kingdom, have always been protected by your loyal knight. but when your life is suddenly in danger, the bond between you both is tested in ways neither of you expected. word count: 5.6k

van's only job as a knight was to protect the princess.

it was the first thing she'd ever been trusted with. the kind of honor that most squires dream of, and most knights age decades hoping to earn. and van—sharp-tongued, smirking van palmer, with a scar across her jaw and something feral always burning behind her grin—was chosen for it young. too young, maybe. the king had said it was because she was brave. lottie said it was because of fate. van didn't care what the reason was. all she knew was that she had a duty. a vow. protect the princess at all costs.

she was trained for war, for blood, for honor. she was not trained for you.

not trained for the princess with fire in her chest and starlight in her eyes. the girl who read books in secret corners and whispered to the castle cats. the girl who leaned against windowsills and sighed like the sky was calling her name. van kept her distance at first. watched from a step behind, silent, watchful. she did her job. she kept her sword sharp. she learned her habits. she patrolled the grounds. she didn't look too long.

but everything went wrong when she started to fall for you.

it didn't happen all at once. that would've been easier. no, it crept in slow—like sunlight through thick curtains. little things. the way you would sneak bread to the birds and then pretend you hadn't. the way you always always said her name softly, like it was a secret. the way your laughter could disarm an entire room, including van herself.

and then it wasn't just about guarding your body—it was about protecting your dreams, your sadness, your freedom. van started to ask questions. what made you happy? what did you want? not what was expected of you, but what did you want?

the answer, every time, was the same: i want to see the world.

you spoke of it constantly, like a fairytale. of forests that stretched forever and rivers that whispered. of cities you'd only read about. of songs you wanted to hear sung by the people who made them. of horses and stars and taverns and dusk. but your father—the king—would not allow it. could not. he had already lost one daughter to freedom. he would not lose another.

jackie.

the name was only whispered in these halls now, like something haunted. she had been the older princess, the perfect one. graceful, sharp, beloved. and then one day she was gone. the king said she was kidnapped. some in the village said she ran away. either way, her body had been found the following winter, deep in the woods, cold.

the king never recovered. he locked the castle down. the youngest daughter was not allowed to leave the gates. the guards doubles. the walls grew higher. no more freedom, no more loss.

but van had seen what it was doing to you. the slow fading of your smike. the way your fingers clenched when you looked at the map in the war room. the way you stood too long on balconies, like you could walk off the edge and become something else entirely.

so van made a choice.

it was a night like any other—the moon was high, the halls quiet. you had been quiet all day. barely touched your food. hadn't said more than a few words. van had walked back to your room, like always, and stood outside the door. and then, as the clock struck two, the door creaked open. you stood in a cloak, lantern your hand, eyes wide.

“i don’t want to be here anymore.”, you whispered. "i want to see the woods. just for the night. please, van. just once."

van hesitated. just once. just one night. that's what she told herself, anyway. but the truth was, she'd never been able to say no to you.

so she nodded. told you, “go. just for tonight. i’ll meet you by the river bend. before dawn.” she watched you go, heart in her throat, adrenaline pounding in her chest like a war drum. she shouldn't have. but she did.

by the time she reached the river... you were gone.

no sign of a struggle. no sound. just the open door, the scattered hay, and the heavy silence that followed. van called your name once. then again. then louder. she ran through the nearby woods until dawn, calling it into the dark.

you never came back.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

you should’ve known it wouldn’t be that easy.

the air was cold when you stepped into it—freedom biting your skin with its first breath. the stars looked brighter away from the torches. you kept one hand tight around the map van had drawn for you, the other on the pouch at your side, packed with little things: a slice of bread, a copper knife, a silver ring you weren’t supposed to have taken. you told yourself you were coming back. just a night. just one.

but deep down, you weren’t sure.

the woods had always called to you, like a story half-read. you’d dreamt of them your whole life, drawing trees in the margins of every dull history lesson, pressing your face to the glass of your tower and imagining yourself lost beneath the leaves. so when your boots finally met the mossy earth beyond the palace gates, you wanted to cry. you almost did.

you weren’t brave. not like jackie had been. you’d always tried to be—but people coddled you, swaddled you in silk and rules, like you might crack if they looked at you too long. all your life, people had spoken to you in hushed tones. except van.

van, who told you when your hair looked stupid and made you laugh until you snorted. van, who walked a step behind but never acted like you were breakable. van, who smuggled sweet rolls into your room on festival nights and called you dumbass in the same breath she covered you with a blanket. van, who never looked scared when you did. who you trusted more than anyone. who you liked more than anyone.

maybe it had started the night you’d snuck wine from the kitchens and passed her a cup through the secret library door. she’d stayed with you past midnight, telling you stories from her training days, her voice hushed but her eyes so bright. maybe it was before that. maybe it was the first time she made you laugh so hard you dropped a glass and she helped you clean it up like it was nothing, like it didn’t matter that you were royal and she was not.

you liked her. you knew you did. you just didn’t know what to do about it. so you kept it hidden. smiled too long. lingered too close. remembered every word she ever said to you and replayed them alone, again and again and again.

she said she’d meet you at the river bend. she said she’d follow.

but she didn’t come.

you waited longer than you should’ve. and when the cold crept in, you kept moving. you thought she might catch up. you thought maybe she was giving you space. you thought she trusted you to handle it.

and for a little while, you did.

until the snap of a twig made you freeze mid-step. until something rough closed around your mouth and yanked you backward off your feet. until the map flew from your hand.

until everything went dark.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

one job. she had one job.

she’d whispered it to herself so many times it had become something like a prayer. a chant in the back of her throat, behind her teeth. on long rides, across foreign towns, when sword-tips scraped her ribs and villagers slammed doors in her face—she would mumble it like a vow, like it could undo what happened.

she was supposed to protect you.

and she failed.

it had been 6 months. twenty six weeks of searching.

and you were still gone.

no ransom note. no signs. no body.

which meant maybe you were alive.

which meant maybe you were suffering.

she rubbed at the back of her neck, her calloused palm scraping a sunburn that had never properly healed. her armor hung loose around her frame. she hadn’t eaten more than dried fruit and barley in days, hadn’t slept more than a few hours at a time, and when she did—it was the same dream every night. your face. that expression you’d had when she told you yes. when she promised you a way out. the way your smile cracked like sunlight through leaves.

god. she should’ve gone with you.

she should’ve known.

when she’d helped you sneak out that night, she thought she was being romantic. thought she was being brave.

you’d clutched your traveling cloak with trembling hands, looked up at her like you were about to cry and said, “i don’t want to be here anymore.”

and she—idiot that she was—had said, “go. just for tonight. i’ll meet you by the river bend. before dawn.”

she hadn’t kissed you. hadn’t let herself. you were still the princess and she was still a knight and this was still the kind of love they’d cut heads off for. but god, she’d wanted to. she’d wanted to since the first time you laughed at one of her dumb jokes, since you threw a pillow at her head in the drawing room and said, “you make me feel like i’m not a prisoner.”

she’d never felt more dangerous.

more herself.

but she’d gotten to the river bend too late. the grass had been trampled. your footprints stopped in the dirt.

and then nothing.

“van.” she heard a voice say, snapping her out of her thoughts.

she looked up sharply. natalie stood in the doorway, arms crossed, hair wild from the rain.

“you’re gonna drown in that bottle if you keep this up.”

van blinked at her tankard. she hadn’t realized she was still holding it. she set it down, ignoring the way her hand trembled.

“you don’t have to stay,” she muttered.

“good,” nat said, stepping inside anyway. “because i’m not here for you.”

lottie followed, robes trailing behind her, looking like she’d just walked out of a stormcloud. her eyes landed on van, solemn.

“she’s still out there,” lottie said.

van swallowed. “don’t.”

“you think i’d lie to you?”

“i think you say what people want to hear.”

lottie tilted her head. “and you want to hear she’s gone?”

the words landed like a blade.

natalie shoved a stool toward her with her foot and collapsed into it. “she had another vision. thought you’d want to know.”

lottie moved toward the fire. “it wasn’t clear. but it was… hopeful. a return. a flame that didn’t die out. a voice saying her name.”

van closed her eyes.

she didn’t believe in magic. not really. but she believed in you.

and she believed in the way her chest still ached like your absence had carved a hollow in her ribs.

“she would’ve come back by now,” van said quietly.

“she can’t,” lottie said. “not yet. but she’s alive. and she wants to.”

two days later, the king summoned her.

van stood in the throne room, every joint aching, armor still caked with dust, and listened as he spoke the words she’d dreaded since the moment you vanished.

“it’s time we end the search.”

“your highness,” van started, “please—”

he held up a hand.

“i have given you time, van palmer. more than any other knight. i’ve seen your devotion. but the nobles are restless. the people grow anxious. we must prepare for a new heir, and you…”

he paused. his gaze was tired. pained.

“you are dismissed from duty.”

the floor didn’t fall out from beneath her. she wished it had.

van bowed her head. she didn’t cry. not in front of him.

but when she stepped outside the gates, stripped of her sword and her sigil and the last purpose she had left—

she didn’t go home.

she went to the tavern.

she hadn’t seen natalie so often since training years ago. but nat had a knack for finding the places no one looked. she showed up in shadowed doorways, bruised and unbothered, always smelling like smoke and booze, always leaning too far into her cups.

they made a good pair. a terrible one, too.

“you ever think about leaving?” van asked one night, staring into the fire.

natalie arched a brow. “and go where?”

“anywhere.”

“without her?”

van didn’t answer.

nat clicked her tongue. “you’re too loyal, van. it’s going to kill you.”

van looked down at her hands. “it already has.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

you don't know how long it's been now. at first, they kept you tied. hands bound, mouth gagged, eyes blindfolded. they moved camp constantly—never more than a day in one place. you tried to run once, and they let you get a few paces before knocking you to the ground. after that, you didn't try again.

you learned their names slowly. you weren't supposed to, but bandits aren't as careful as they pretend to be. mari—short tempered, sharp eyes. misty—too eager to please. akilah—quiet, but dangerous when angry. you learned their footsteps, their rhythms, who would leave you water and who would curse when they looked at you.

the worst part was how quickly the cold became familiar.

it sank into your bones, rough and clinging, until the memory of warm baths and thick blankets felt like a story someone else had lived.

and they didn't even treat you like a person. not at first. they treated you like currency. a prize. a bargaining chip, maybe. or a ghost.

and they hated how you watched them—like you were trying to understand. like you weren't supposed to be smart. they hated it more when you started talking.

"why am i here?" you asked on the second morning, voice hoarse from sleep and fear. "what do you want from me?"

no one answered at first. then misty, all too cheerful with her ruddy cheeks and too-bright smile, said, "you should be honored. do you know who you're replacing?"

akilah gave her a look. "shut up, misty," she said, sounding slightly sympathetic.

but it was too late.

you latched onto the word like it was a lifeline. replacing?

"replacing who?"

they didn't answer.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

you didn't meet shauna right away.

it took four days before they brought you to her. four days of sleeping on damp ground, waking to boots kicking your ribs, water splashed in your face, and barked commands. you kept thinking van would find you. that this was temporary. you pictured her riding through the trees, red hair flashing like a flag. you imagined the way she'd yell when she saw you, how her voice would shake with fury and something else. something closer to relief. she'd grip your shoulders. she'd call you dumb. she'd kiss you.

she'd bring you home.

but van never came. and on the fifth day, they brought you to the cabin,

shauna sat by the fire with her back to you. she didn't stand. didn't speak.

"she's here," mari said.

still no reaction.

"do you want us to leave her tied?" misty chirped.

that finally got her attention.

shauna turned slowly, eyes landing on you with something colder than anger. she studied you like you were a cracked mirror—too broken to be useful, to familiar to throw away.

her voice, when she finally spoke, was low.

"she's too soft," she said. "she won't last."

you wanted to speak. to say i'm not soft. but your tongue stuck to the roof of your mouth.

shauna looked away. "get her cleaned up."

they didn't. not really. but they loosened the ropes, left you a cup of water, and dumped you in a corner on a blanket that smelled like mildew and ash.

you didn't speak to shauna again for a week.

it was mari who gave you answers first. she came to throw you a heel of bread one night and lingered in the doorway, arms crossed.

"you really don't know, do you?" she said.

you stared at her. "know what?"

she smirked. "about jackie."

the name hit hard.

you sat up straighter. "what about her?"

mari tilted her head. "your sister. everyone thinks she died running from some animal in the woods, right?"

you nodded slowly. "yeah, that's what townspeople say."

"cute. and fake. she didn't run from anything. she ran to someone."

your heart skipped. "shauna."

mari grinned. "ding ding ding.""

she walked closer. crouched in front of you, eyes glittering.

"jackie left everything—her crown, her kingdom, her future—because she wanted to be free. wanted to be with someone who saw her. she found that with shauna. for a while, anyway."

you swallowed. "what happened?"

mari's grin faded.

"she died."

"how, though?"

she straightened up. "that's not mine to tell."

you didn't sleep that night.

later, when shauna finally broke her silence, it wasn’t out of kindness.

it was because you asked her the wrong question.

you were tired. you hadn’t eaten properly in days. and she’d sat near you by the fire, knife in hand, carving something into wood. you couldn’t help yourself.

“did you love her?”

the blade slipped.

she didn’t look at you for a long time.

then: “she was my whole fucking world.”

silence stretched.

you wrapped your arms around your knees. “i miss her.”

shauna’s eyes finally met yours.

“don’t say that,” she said quietly. “you didn’t know her. not like i did.”

“but she was my sister.”

shauna’s face crumpled in the flicker of firelight—just for a moment. then the walls came back up.

“she was brave,” she said. “not like you.”

you flinched. “you think i’m weak?”

“i think you’re soft. same thing.”

“i think i’m alive,” you said, biting back the shake in your voice.

shauna laughed once. a hollow sound.

“only because they brought you to me instead of killing you.”

you started watching her after that.

and she watched you too.

not with tenderness. not with cruelty either. something else. something like recognition.

some nights, she’d speak to you like you were her ghost. jackie’s echo. a shadow on the wall. she’d pace the cabin, muttering memories into the smoke. “she hated tea. always said it tasted like boiled grass. made me drink her share when we visited the old healer in farhold. i said she was spoiled. she said i was a sucker.”

you never interrupted. you just listened. every word, every story, you swallowed them like air.

maybe you weren’t jackie. but you were something.

and she let you live.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

the fire’s dead again.

van hasn’t bothered to stoke it. she’s just sitting in front of the cold hearth, slouched low in the armchair she dragged from the castle storage before she was stripped of her title. it’s too big for the little cottage she was given after the king's funeral—some sorry compensation from the council, a reminder that service didn’t mean much when you failed at the one thing that mattered.

protect the princess.

she rubs at her face with one hand, the other still curled around a half-empty bottle of plum wine. it’s too sweet, the kind she never used to touch, but it’s what natalie brings over and she doesn’t care enough to argue anymore. her boots are still caked in mud from the morning’s rain. she hasn’t moved since dusk.

she can still hear your laugh in the back of her mind, muffled and soft, like it’s been soaked in water and buried under time. your voice saying her name. the last time she saw you—gown fluttering behind you, barefoot in the grass, cheeks red from excitement as you whispered about stars and oceans and freedom.

then you were gone.

and van has been bleeding ever since.

the door crashes open, wind howling through the entryway as natalie stumbles in with zero grace and even less concern.

“you look like shit,” she says, kicking the door shut behind her.

van doesn’t even flinch. “thanks.”

natalie tosses her dripping cloak over a chair and grabs a glass from the table without asking. she pours herself a generous serving of van’s wine and drains half of it in one go.

“still raining?” van mumbles.

“no, i’m just committed to the wet dog look,” natalie deadpans. “also, you really need to get out more.”

“i don’t want to get out.”

“yeah, no shit. that’s why i’m here.” natalie plops down across from her and props her boots on the table. “you hear about the party?"

“don't care about the party," van replies.

"it's for ben. you like ben."

van snorts into her cup. “ben’s the reason i’ve got a roof over my head. doesn’t mean i want to drink stale cider in his honor.”

natalie gives her a long, level look. “you might want to reconsider.”

van blinks. “why?”

natalie shifts, setting down her glass with unusual care. she doesn’t meet van’s eyes right away. her voice, when she speaks again, is quieter than van’s used to hearing it.

“lottie had a vision.”

van’s body stiffens, the room suddenly feeling too quiet, like the wind outside took all the sound with it.

“what kind of vision?”

natalie draws in a slow breath. “she came to my place this morning. said she hadn’t slept all night. said she was shaking for hours. like… she couldn’t speak, couldn’t move. just kept whispering the same thing over and over.”

van leans forward, her voice cracking. “what thing?”

natalie looks her in the eye. “she’s coming home.”

the words hit like a punch to the chest. van’s breath leaves her in a shudder. her hands tremble, barely noticeable, but she hides them anyway.

“you don’t know that’s what she meant,” she says, but it’s weak. she already knows it’s a lie.

natalie presses on. “lottie saw a crown. a girl with gold in her blood and dirt on her feet. she said she saw a forest and fire and a wolf crying in the dark.”

van swallows hard. “that could mean anything.”

“it could,” natalie agrees. “but it doesn’t. not this time.”

she leans forward, elbows on her knees. “she saw you, van. not the knight. not the armor. you. she said it felt like… like a wound healing too late. like the moon pulling the tide back in.”

van can’t speak. her throat’s gone tight, a strange pressure building behind her eyes. she bites it back. she’s so tired of crying.

“it’s been almost a year,” she whispers.

natalie nods. “i know.”

“she’s probably—” van stops herself. she’s said those words before. they always come out wrong. they always taste like ash.

but natalie just says gently, “she’s not. you don’t feel it?”

van blinks down at her boots. her voice is barely audible. “i feel everything.”

they sit in silence for a while. rain tapping against the windowpanes like fingers. the wind a low moan across the hills.

natalie nudges the wine bottle toward her. “if lottie’s right… if she’s really coming back, don’t you want to be there?”

van stares at the fireless hearth. at the ghost of your smile in the back of her mind.

she thinks of the way you used to look at her when you thought she wasn’t paying attention. the way you always asked her questions no one else cared to answer—about the sky, about how far the sea was from the castle, about whether she thought it was possible to love someone you weren’t allowed to have.

she stands.

“i need to get cleaned up.”

natalie smirks. “so you are going to ben’s.”

van tosses her a look. “don’t make me change my mind.”

she pulls on her cloak, still damp from last week’s storm. her hands are steadier now, moving on instinct. her chest is tight, but it’s not the same kind of ache. it’s something brighter. fiercer. like the moment before a blade meets skin—sharp, burning, inevitable.

she doesn’t say your name.

but it’s all she’s thinking.

you’re coming back.

you’re coming back.

please be real.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

you can’t remember the last time the stars felt close. not like they did at home, on the castle balcony, where van used to point out constellations with one hand while the other hovered nervously at your back, not quite brave enough to touch you.

here, in the middle of the bandit camp, they’re cold and far away. there’s smoke in the air, laughter from someone’s flask echoing off the trees. you’ve stopped asking when you’ll be let go. you’ve stopped believing it’ll ever happen.

and shauna… shauna watches you with that same unreadable look every night. like she’s waiting for something. like she’s weighing a scale that keeps tipping the wrong way.

she sits beside you now, closer than usual. the firelight flickers across her face, makes the years and bitterness look heavier. her hands are calloused. a scar slices through one of her knuckles. she smells like pine and steel.

“you remind me of her,” she says.

you don’t have to ask who she means.

you’ve heard the stories in pieces. from the others—misty, who has no tact; mari, who rolls her eyes but clearly still mourns; even akilah, who once drunkenly whispered, “you smile like jackie. it’s freaky.”

you found the locket in shauna’s tent, pried it open when no one was looking, and saw the miniature portrait.

jackie taylor.

your sister.

the locked confirmed the truth. she ran. for love. for shauna.

“she wasn’t delicate,” shauna says, pulling you out of your thoughts. “everyone thought she was. but she was fire. no one ever saw it but me.”

you glance at her. her eyes are glassy but sharp.

“i’m not trying to replace her,” you say quietly.

“i know.” shauna’s voice is dry. “but they were.”

you follow her gaze across the camp, to where misty is arguing with crystal over firewood. to where mari sharpens a blade like it’s therapy. they look at you too much. like you’re something broken they can fix. like maybe if they keep you long enough, jackie will come back in your skin.

“i didn’t ask for this,” you murmur.

shauna nods slowly. “neither did she.”

for a long time, the only sound is the crackling fire and the low murmur of the woods. shauna leans forward, picks up a stick, pokes at the flames like they personally offended her.

“she died in my arms,” she says suddenly. “we were trying to leave that winter. didn’t make it far before the storm hit. i begged her to turn back, but she said—”

her voice catches.

“she said she’d rather die free.”

you stare at her. “and you think i’m her.”

“no,” shauna says, and for once she looks directly at you. “i think you’re braver.”

it stuns you, the way your heart jumps. the way it hurts to hear that.

“i shouldn’t have kept you,” she adds, voice barely above a whisper. “i knew it the second i saw your eyes. you looked at me like i was your jailor.”

“aren’t you?”

shauna snorts. “not anymore.”

you blink. “what do you mean?”

“i mean,” she says, pushing herself to her feet with a quiet groan, “you’re going home.”

your breath stutters. you stand too fast, dizziness tilting the trees sideways.

“why now?”

shauna doesn’t answer right away. she stares into the fire for a long time, like she’s trying to see something in it. maybe a memory. maybe jackie.

then she finally says, “because you deserve to be more than someone else’s ghost.”

and with that, she walks away.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

the castle hasn’t held a celebration in months. not like this.

banners fly from the towers, wine flows like water, and the ballroom is filled with laughter that doesn’t quite reach the edges. people are trying—they raise glasses, smile a little too hard, tell stories with too much volume. but it’s all stretched thin, like the walls themselves are holding their breath.

van’s been holding hers since she put on her best clothes, the ones lottie insisted she wear. a crisp tunic, polished boots, a dark cloak that still smells faintly of smoke. her armor is long gone—stripped from her along with her title—but she stands like she’s still wearing it, stiff and alert, a hand near her belt even though there’s no sword there anymore.

she shouldn’t be here.

but lottie had the vision. and when lottie has a vision, van listens.

now she stands in the corner of the ballroom, pretending not to scan every face that walks through the door. her jaw’s clenched. her fingers drum restlessly on the side of her wine glass.

she hasn’t stopped thinking about you.

eleven months. eleven months without your laugh, your teasing questions, your dumb cloak that always trailed in puddles. eleven months of wondering if she failed you, if you hated her for letting you leave, if you died blaming her.

ben gives a speech from the dais. something about renewal and hope and the future of the kingdom. he doesn’t mention your name.

he doesn’t have to.

every person in the room is thinking about you anyway.

van steps out onto the balcony when the clapping starts, the air too heavy inside. she needs space. she needs—

“van?”

she turns.

and you’re standing at the top of the stone steps, framed by torchlight and stars, with your hood down and your hair tangled and your mouth parted like you weren’t sure she’d be real, either.

“hey,” you say, so quietly.

the glass slips from her hand and shatters on the floor.

it’s loud enough to draw attention.

gasps erupt behind her. one by one, the partygoers fall into stunned silence, their heads turning, their eyes widening.

it spreads like fire through dry grass—noblewomen pressing hands to their mouths, guards half-reaching for weapons before freezing in recognition, servants stumbling in place, stunned.

“it’s her,” someone whispers.

“the princess.”

“no, it can’t be—”

“oh gods, it’s really her—”

and before anyone can speak again, you’re running.

van meets you halfway.

you crash into her chest and she catches you like it’s instinct. her arms lock tight around your back, your cloak flares out behind you. she lifts you off your feet for a second. you’re shaking. so is she.

“i found you,” you breathe.

“you came back,” van says. “you came back to me.”

her voice cracks.

you hear a few more gasps from inside the ballroom. someone actually drops a tray. then—

applause.

it starts hesitant, awkward.

then it grows.

thunderous clapping shakes the ballroom floors. cheers rise like a tide. someone shouts your name, and another shouts van’s. there’s crying, even from people who’ve never spoken to you. you were gone for almost a year. your face was etched in stained glass and prayers.

you were a ghost.

now you’re here.

van presses her forehead to yours, whispering over the roar, “you okay with this?”

you nod against her, just once. “as long as you’re with me.”

she takes your hand. pulls you through the doors.

the crowd parts like waves before you.

people bow. they fall to their knees. a court lady starts sobbing.

and through it all, van stays right beside you. her grip never loosens. not once.

lottie steps forward from the front of the room, her eyes glassy, her smile warm. natalie stands behind her, stunned for once in her life, a half-drunk goblet forgotten in her hand.

lottie says, “the vision was true.”

you offer her the smallest nod of gratitude. she dips her head in return.

ben looks like he’s seen a ghost. you don’t stop to speak to him.

instead, van leans into your ear. “come with me.”

you let her pull you past the crowd, through a side door, down a hallway that’s quieter, darker. the celebration fades behind you, muffled by stone.

she pushes open a smaller door—a forgotten sitting room near the old library—and guides you inside.

you both stand there, finally still.

“i didn’t know if you were dead,” van says, not looking at you yet. “or worse. i didn’t know if you hated me.”

you shake your head, stepping closer. “i thought about you every night.”

“i looked for you every day.”

she sits on the arm of an old velvet chair, gripping the edge like it might anchor her.

“i got stripped of my title,” she says. “when your father gave up the search. he said he was sorry, but that i’d failed.”

your eyes blur. you go to her, falling to your knees in front of where she sits.

“you didn’t fail me.”

“i let you go.”

“you let me dream.”

she meets your gaze for the first time since the ballroom.

“you were the only one who ever treated me like i was more than a precious thing in a glass case,” you say. “you let me want things.”

“i loved you for it,” van murmurs. “gods, i still do.”

you reach for her hand. slide your fingers between hers.

“i think i always loved you,” you whisper. “i just didn’t understand it yet.”

the quiet stretches between you.

then van leans forward, forehead pressed to yours.

“i don’t want to miss any more time with you.”

“you won’t.”

she kisses you again, softer this time. reverent. like a vow.

and for the first time in what feels like forever, you both feel like you’re home.

💌 taglist: @callsignwidow, @freakyjorker, @imlike-so-gaydude, @yellowjacketsslvt69, @moonwateraura, @gracynparsons, @casualclamturkey, @crainalley0227, @auroraseddie

[wolfsong-the-bloody-beast]

More thoughts on Lucanis x Neve romance, from a Rookanis enjoyer, with love.

(Grab a snack. This is long.)

What I'll be focusing on in this post: Extra info and fun facts about Lucanis and Spite that I have gathered during my playthroughs. The consistency of Lucanis' writing between his romatic relationships with Rook and Neve. Addressing some criticism I've seen to be common. These are my thoughts and opinions.

As I said in my previous post about this topic, I enjoy seeing affectionate Lucanis from the external perspective, because it gives me more insight into his character. Of course, this isn't restricted to just romance, but that's what I want to focus on in this post. (It's too long as it is.) I also have to admit that I'm not exactly a Nevecanis shipper myself (not a big shipper in general), because I simply prefer romancing these characters myself, but I do think that it's a good thing that in my other playthroughs where I explore other options, besides my favourite, Lucanis has someone to make him happy, and I can personally think of nobody better for it than Neve, and Neve also deserves the world. I think it's good that they decided to pair some characters up, when unromanced, so that the group is more lively and doesn't feel like Rook's harem. Also, I tend to reblog whatever artwork of these characters that I like, regardless of whether I'm personally into the pairings or not, and regardless of whether they're possible in the game. Whatever you ship, we're good. As long as we're having fun. But that's beside the point of this post. I'm rambling already.

In my previous post, I ended my commentary with my thoughts about the dialogue cutscene that happens right after Inner Demons, where Rook finds Lucanis preparing dessert either for them or for Neve, depending on whether Rook romances him or not, and the similarities and differences of how each is handled and how each relationship develops until that point.

One thing that I didn't really touch upon is that if Rook saves Minrathous instead of Treviso, we don't get to do the Inner Demons quest, but we still get the dessert scene. So, only briefly. As most of us probably know by now, if Rook sacrifices Lucanis' home, they are cut off from his romance. Neve is not. I'm not going to delve deep into the nuance of that here. Suffice to say that Lucanis is in a vulnerable place after the Ossuary, almost a full year of physical and psychological torture, he's struggling for control of his own body with what most would consider a demon, he thinks his grandmother is dead. His abuser is still somewhere out there. He only has revenge, Treviso, and Illario left, and his cousin acts damn weird, on top of it all. If Rook makes the decision that also dooms his home, it understandably breaks his heart, even if he realizes that Rook is not to blame for what happened. He's lost pretty much everything at that point. (By the way, have you seen blighted Treviso? That place is utterly fucked. I don't think many people could process that in a healthy way.) Meanwhile Neve is in the same position as him when that choice occurs and is just as dependent on Rook's decision as he is. She is ultimately also not the one that makes the decision. It makes sense that he bonds with her over it rather than with Rook. (No, I don't care if you use a mod to make the romance happen anyway. Private mod use is none of my business.) I'm definitely not saying that one choice is better than the other, of couse. They're two different flavours of terrible. Neve is also hurt by the decision to sacrifice her home town, but she's also tragically used to struggling against the system alone and to people not showing up, and it feels like she still has at least something to hold onto. Minrathous is in terrible state and the future of the whole country looks grim, nobody knows what the consequences will be, but at the very least Dock Town stands. Hal is alive and selling treats. Some of the little people she cares about are still there. Neve's a different person with different problems to solve, and she can still find it in her heart to fall for Rook, which is amazing. But anyway...

---

What other sweet and interesting things have I learned from their romance?

Lucanis can recognize Rook by the sound of their footsteps.

We know that from walking in on him in Neve's office where he's alone, waiting for her.

Spite yells at him to talk to his sweetheart!

By saying, "Well, not just Spite," Lucanis is definitely referring to himself here. He wants to try and be more open about his feelings and Spite clearly tries to motivate him to be more proactive.

You can bet Spite yells at him to talk to Rook, as well.

Either way, we find out that Spite is supportive of Lucanis' relationship and even encourages him to act on his feelings. (Seriously, Lucanis beating around the bush must be so frustrating for a spirit of Determination.) I think that from this we can safely say that Spite also likes Neve. Enough to encourage Lucanis to court her.

Of course, we already know that Spite likes Rook a lot, and I imagine that most of us Rookanis lovers already headcanon Spite pestering Lucanis to express his feelings for Rook anyway. Or something similar. However, I don't think it's actually confirmed during a playthrough where Rook romances Lucanis. So, here, Spite canonicaly yells at Lucanis to woo his love interest.

A lot more yapping under the cut.

Once again, in this scene we see how Lucanis doesn't really have a lot of confidence in himself in this department. He keeps mentioning how he's not really good at sweet talk, which is very much in line with what he says during the previous scene where we catch him preparing the dessert before. In total, he says something to that effect at least 3 or 4 times in the game - that all he knows is knives and coffee, that he's not the charming type, that he isn't good with words, etc. (That's not what I personally think about him, but that's what he obviously thinks about himself.) He's not beating the wet cat allegations any time soon.

As I said in my previous post already, I noticed that some consider Lucanis' writing to be inconsistent between his romance with Rook and Neve. And we're all entitled to our opinions, of course. But I'd like to explain why I do not think that is true. Again, that is my perspective and my opinion.

There is one variable here that is not often taken into account here, and that is Rook. Well, two, actually. Because I think we also need to keep in mind that the scene where Lucanis' romance with Neve locks in happens quite some time after Inner Demons and the scene that occurs right afterwards where we catch Lucanis preparing the dessert. In that scene, he is still very much a wet cat, regardless of whether he's preparing the dessert to woo Rook or whether it's for Neve. (Not a bad thing to remember here is that falling for somebody seems to be rare enough for Lucanis, as he's never been in a relationship before, and he has already once before been rejected after trying to court somebody with a gift.)

First of all, if Rook is not present during the follow-up scene where the lock-in for Lucanis and Neve is supposed to happen, if the player for some reason decides to skip it, Lucanis does not express his interest to Neve and, tragically, may later regret this, should something happen to her. It makes sense that he would still have feelings for her, even if he never confessed. Love doesn't go away like that, just because you never put it into words. Also, I know this is a video game mechanic, but I still consider it part of his characterization that he needs his partner to either be very perceptive (like Rook during the scene after Inner Demons) or in this case get cornered a little to actually express his feelings in this complicated phase of his life. It makes sense when you look at how this scene plays out. Rook being there for the start of his romance with Neve is important - either it puts him a bit more at ease, or more on the spot, or a litte bit of both. Either way, it helps them work it out. (It also makes sense that it is Rook that basically spells it out to the player during the previous scene, after Inner Demons, that Lucanis has made a dessert specifically for them, if romanced, because they understand him and what he's trying to say, but the player may not, because Lucanis tends to deflect and put himself and his efforts down. He clearly has a lot of insecurity in this department and Rook is good at untangling it.)

As I also mentioned in my previous post, it's clear that when Lucanis made the first dessert, he clearly didn't express his feelings for Neve then, because... well, we get their romance lock-in here, in this scene, so much later. (I got this scene after Blood of Arlathan. That's pretty late in the game.) Neve also explicitly states that this is the second time he's made her favourite kind of pie.

With Rook, they figured it out and officially started dating on Lucanis' first try. (Or the first pie? Haha.) However, with Neve, this is his second attempt to express his feelings. This is one of the reasons why I think Lucanis' writing is consistent, and why I previously said that his romance with Neve may actually be slower than with Rook. They take longer to actually start dating and Lucanis is very much a wet cat all the way until this point.

And even in this scene, you can see that Lucanis drops the treat and coffee in Neve's office and is almost ready to evacuate again!

He just... keeps saying that.

That's so him. The Demon of Vyrantium, the legendary slayer of blood mages and Venatori, the master assassin, the demon-powered killing machine that made a near immortal eldrich horror bleed, on the verge of retreat... from his love interest, because he may know how to kill a man with his bare hands in a hundred different ways, but sweet talk? Nah, that's scary.

Except this time, Rook is there to provide emotional support (or peer pressure, haha). They already know all about his feelings for Neve. Especially if the Inner Demons quest occurs. And they can so tattle on him, if you so choose. Each of those options is pretty cute and/or funny.

No, I'm making you look great. You'll just have to trust me on this, Lucanis.

But most importantly, seeing Lucanis getting tangled in this situation, Neve finally says something. Either she finally figures it out, or more likely she just finally acknowledges it. She's a seasoned detective. She observes people all the time. Of course she would notice that he's trying to treat her special. However, from Neve's romance, we also know that she herself struggles with her own issues, namely with letting people close, so this is a significant step for her, as well. It makes sense that it takes them longer to bond, when Lucanis struggles to express his feelings and Neve tries to avoid catching feelings, or at least acting on them, for fear of things going wrong. And while Neve's bonding with Rook shows more of her internal struggle to let herself finally have something, we have to simply accept that the companions simply aren't and can't be as front as centre as the protagonist in such a game, so we can't delve into their inner workings as deeply in that case. (Funny, though, how I've never once seen anyone say that Neve's writing here is inconsistent. Almost as if it only matters when it's our Antivan male lover...) There are always going to be differences in how characters are handled in companion x companion romance vs protagonist x companion romance. Their romance is very much side content that's supposed to make them feel a little more real. It's also worth noting that Rook's lock-in scene with both Neve and Lucanis happens way earlier than this scene between them. But here, they both had a lot of time to let their feelings stew, so they can finally reach this point. However, Neve still warns him that she's not going to make his life easy. A light reference to what happens when you romance her with Rook.

I've seen some upset over the fact that we learn that Lucanis hangs out with Neve at night if he courts her, as if he doesn't with Rook. But we already know this from Lucanis' romance with Rook! Remember?

We know that Lucanis and Rook hang out together around midnight, as well! That's not new information, but I wanted to include it, because I do think (and will keep repeating that) Lucanis' writing is pretty consistent between the two romances. Lucanis loves to be around his partner. We know that from both his romances.

This is what he further says about Rook when romanced.

Which means that he will likely sit nearby like a content cat while Rook sorts out and reads their mail out loud for both of them or whatever. He doesn't care what they're up to. He wants to be there with them. It's implied that Rook and Lucanis read together. "Nearing midnight: Reading," only appears in that particular entry of his log book when he's romanced. They stay up at night to spend time together, as he also writes down in his log book. And it makes him happy, "just being around them", which you know not only from his words but also the tone of his voice when he talks about it in that banter.

Anyway. Because Neve finally acknowledges that Lucanis is clearly trying to spend time with her for a reason and admits that "maybe" she likes that (The woman also can't express her feelings to save her life, bless her.), Lucanis is pleasantly surprised (He says, "Really?" and sounds happily taken aback.) and responds warmly and enthusiastically afterwards, because of course he does. Because IS THIS SUCCESS??? LET'S GO! He gets giddy about it, and it's cute.

Neve.exe briefly stops working. Then tries to play it cool. Nothing to see here.

Encouraged by his unexpected success (He was almost about to run away!), he musters a bit of charm here, haha. From the coffee date with Rook early in the game and the scene where he almost kisses them when romanced, we know he has it in him, but at this point in the game he doesn't really seem to believe it himself. He repeats it over and over. He tells that to Emmrich at least twice. ("I don't know what [Rook] sees in me," is sort of a sad thing for him to say when you think about it, honestly, and when you look at his romance lock-in with Rook, it's a pattern. He doesn't believe he has much to offer.) He tells that to Rook when not romanced. He says it in this very scene. Yes, he's an adult. He knows what flirting is and what it entails. We all know he can pull it off. Whatever. But he clearly doesn't seem to believe that he can do it, or that he's good with words, and seems to be more comfortable expressing himself in other ways, especially at first. However, now that he knows that the person he cares for actually likes him back, too? Hell, yeah, he's unstoppable now. Heh, sort of anyway. When you think about it, his charm here and elsewhere, for most of the game actually, comes from him being earnest, not suave. Just him being himself. I think that's demonstrated on the couple of lines above. Telling Neve that she makes his life better and that he hopes he has more charm than this is not some killer move. It's just him being honest and enthusiastic after finding out she actually likes him back, and that ends up being sweeter and more charming than whatever flirt line anybody could possibly come up with. It also seems to me that once he knows that the affection is mutual, he does turn into a sweet talker, as we see on his later interactions with both Rook and Neve. But he does it in his own way.

Once again, it's important to remember that this happens quite late in the game. This is not the scene after the ordeal of Inner Demons where he prepares the first dessert, still rattled. This is possibly after all his quests have been resolved, his grandmother saved, etc. (For me, that is the case anyway.) This is why Lucanis' demeanor here is a bit more relaxed in general.

I do not think that means that his writing is inconsistent. We merely see another side of him under different circumstances.

---

Now, I'd also like to talk about some of the banters they have together afterwards, because there's some fun information there, and they're also what I've seen some complaints about.

To me, the "inconsistencies" boil down to interpretation. Simply put, it depends on whether you can imagine two adults spending quality time together without having sex.

If somebody likes to interpret the banters as Lucanis and Neve being that intimate, I think that's perfectly fine... unless they also get super upset about it and make it a whole problem. I think the banters are written in a way that let's you interpret them how you please, which in Lucanis' case is a great choice, in my opinion. As far as I'm concerned, they handled it well.

It's sort of what a lot of us do while romancing him with Rook, as well, because there's enough space left for interpretation. While Lucanis' dialogue cutscenes with Rook are mostly tame, there's also enough space for the player to headcanon whatever level of intimacy they please for the rest of the game, because there's nothing to confirm or deny that.

Personally, for my own playthrough, I like to imagine that Rook and Lucanis share those shy, fleeting touches Isabela mentions after they officially start dating, share their first kiss after Lucanis' last quest/outing, and slowly get more physically intimate overtime, but make love for the first time after Tearstone Island, like it is in the game. So, as far as I'm concerned, I already have this idea of (slowly) intensifying intimacy with time for Rook and Lucanis. That's how I personally like it, and I think that any other headcanon people come up with for their own playthrough that pleases them is great - whether they imagine that Lucanis and Rook don't get intimate at all until the bedscene happens in the game, or that they break his cot in the pantry the same evening they share the dessert, or something in between, or something else entirely. Is the note in his log book about them having a pleasant late night chat or did they cuddle? Something else? Up to you.

My point is, you can easily do the same thing with the romance between Lucanis and Neve, because the banters are so unspecific.

Let's look at the most cheeky ones I've found.

Neve: So you and Spite are friends now? Can't say my money was on that one. Lucanis: I would've lost that bet too. Neve: If it lets you sleep at night… Unless this clears the way for new and different midnight brooding. Lucanis: I wouldn't put it past me. Neve: Well, find me at midnight and we'll test the theory. Lucanis: (Chuckles)

What does this banter tell us? It tells us that they spend time together late at night. But we already know that! From their romance lock-in scene. ("You find me at midnight just to talk.") I think this banter is a reference to that. How you imagine they spend that time, that's entirely up to you. If you imagine they're fucking their brains out, and you like that, cool! If you imagine they're sitting side by side, having a pleasant time, looking through Neve's case notes, and you like that, cool. If you think they're just starting to get physically intimate, cool. Because the banter does not say.

Taash: Hey, Lucanis. Lucanis: Yes? Taash: You and Neve? Lucanis: Yes. Taash: Nice catch. Lucanis: Thanks.

He's just as cagey as he is when Taash talks to him about Rook, by the way. It continues...

Taash: And Spite's good with her? Lucanis (Spite): No talking. When. Her hat comes off. Go play with wisps. Taash: 'Kay.

This one made me laugh.

But what does it actually mean? It tells us that Lucanis sets some boundaries with Spite. He's in love. He's in a relationship now. Of course he at the very least thinks about the possibility of getting intimate.

This can again be interpreted as Lucanis and Neve already being intimate in some way. Which also doesn't necessarily mean all the way - I swear that sometimes, it seems to me that people forget that cuddling and making out and other non-sexual forms of intimacy exist. Or it could mean that Lucanis has simply considered that this is where he wants the relationship to go sooner or later, and so he's told Spite, "Hey, if this situation occurs, be quiet and give us some space." This one definitely sounds more spicy and it shows that Lucanis obviously thinks about these things, but more than anything it shows that he asks Spite to give him privacy. Again, I feel like this is up to the player and what they want it to be.

I would also like to disagree with the narrative I have seen somewhere before that Neve rejects Spite. That's not the impression I've got from the game at all. I've never once caught Neve having a problem with Spite when she and Lucanis are in a relationship. (Though I don't yet know what happens during their romance when Minrathous is saved, because that's where I'm currently romancing Neve myself, but even then I haven't really seen her say anything that would suggest that she has a problem with Spite.) Most importantly, Spite clearly likes Neve. He even suggests that Lucanis should bring her flowers from Lavendel, which is adorable.

Seriously, his romance with Neve makes it almost seem that Spite is more competent at wooing somebody than Lucanis is sometimes, which is just so funny. This little guy, trapped in a world utterly alien to him, barely understands what feet are, but he knows you bring people flowers to show affection. I love him so much. While Lucanis' reaction shows he's probably never had an example of a healthy relationship of any kind for reference in his entire life. (Actually, from his reaction it seems to me that he perhaps simply doesn't yet know if Neve even likes flowers as a gift. Insufficient data.)

Either way, I think that when Lucanis loves Neve, Spite loves her, as well. It's not Neve who sends him away to have more privacy. It's Lucanis.

"BUT I WANT LUCANIS TO GET FLOWERS FOR ROOK, AS WELL!" Look at me. Listen to me. You give that man some damn flowers. He cooks for Rook. He prepares sweet treats for them. He invites them for coffee dates. He makes coffee or hot chocolate for them, and even though he himself doesn't even like tea, he makes sure it's in the Lighthouse for them. He would kill for them. You give the man flowers. Or rather, I'll tell you what to do: You go to Treviso, visit Fletcher, and buy that fancy tea (coffee) set for Lucanis after you lock his romance in, and you'll get that little cutscene where Rook gives it to him. Enjoy his romanced response. Call me crazy, but I think that's sweeter and more satisfying than the one line where Spite has to suggest giving flowers to Neve to him and Lucanis reacts like he's not even sure that's a good idea, haha. It's something wholesome and more normal that Rook can do for him to express their affection for a change, besides standing by his side through his struggles. But anyway.

Maybe it's because I like to imagine (my) Rook and Lucanis getting intimate at that point in the game, as well, and/or because I don't think that when two adults are alone in a room together, it necessarily means that they have to immediately get naked, those banters don't bother me, nor does it seem to me like the writing is inconsistent, especially because of how open to interpretation it is. If you leave your own assumptions out of it, the banters really don't say that much. They confirm for us that Lucanis has spicy thoughts, which I personally think is cute, and which I'm also pretty sure is already part of many people's headcanon for their Rook x Lucanis playthroughs anyway. They confirm for us that Lucanis enjoys spending time with his lover. And that he tries to communicate his boundaries to Spite.

I think it's also important to realize that these are two companion characters and we don't actually get any other romance scenes between them than the one described above, so they had to give their relationship some depth pretty much exclusively through banters and some rare mention here and there, just like they do it with Taash and Harding. (By the way, I also haven't seen anyone say anything about any possible inconsistencies with Taash and Harding, either.)

From the other banters, we find out that Lucanis asks Neve what her favourite dish is, and after she tells him, he promises to try and prepare something like that for her.

Lucanis: Neve, do you have a favourite food? Neve: Whatever you're cooking. Lucanis: There must be something. Neve: I might have a weakness for seafood and candlelight. Lucanis: I'll see what I can do.

He's clearly willing to learn and actively puts effort into his relationship. That's a trait that definitely also applies to his relationship with Rook. We know that because he remembers their favourite drink, makes sure it's stocked in the Lighthouse, and later prepares a matching treat. (He may even ask Emmrich for a recipe.) His love language clearly is food and quality time together. (And stabbing people for his lover, as is particularly clear from his romance with Rook.) That's how he seems to be most comfortable showing affection.

He also tells Neve that, during the Inner Demons quest, she was there to "sort of" help guide Rook through his mental prison. Neve tries to be cool about it and again ceases to function when he's earnest about it, which is always funny (and understandable).

Lucanis: Neve. In the Fade with Rook and Spite... you were there. I mean, not you, but... you know what I mean. You helped Rook. Sort of. Neve: Sort of? Well, isn't that flattering. At least I'm on your mind. Lucanis: You are. And not just then. Neve: I... oh. Well, then.

And he says he's not good with words.

Neve: I need to go through my notes later. See what the Shadows might find useful. Lucanis: Need company? Neve: No. But I'd love yours all the same. Lucanis: Then I'm yours.

Again, they talk about spending time together. That's definitely his thing. Lucanis also gives Neve similar "I'm yours," that he gives Rook. When you visit him in the pantry, he may say to Rook: "Did you need me? I'm yours." It couldn't be more clear that he's ready to be wherever Rook is, regardless of what they're doing, as well.

Also, a version of this banter exists before Lucanis and Neve start dating and possibly before dealing with Aelia. More casual, but similar vibe.

Lucanis: You don't sleep much, do you? Neve: More than you, but little enough. Still looking over everything on Aelia. Lucanis: If you need fresh eyes, I'm awake anyway. Neve: Maybe. If you don't mind the company. It comes with wisps. Lucanis: Wisps are nothing. Besides, you're better company than Spite. Neve: Really? Rumour has it I'm a pain in the ass. But that's if you ask Tarquin.

I think that's what Neve references when she says, "You find me at midnight just to talk."

All in all, the banters between Lucanis and Neve, and with a couple of other companions, during their romance simply hint at them having a loving relationship and spending quality time together. Consider that they had to squeeze their whole relationship into a few lines of banter and an occasional mention in dialogue and somehow make it believable, because unlike Rook and Lucanis, they don't have whole quests, outings, and many other interactions inside and outside of the Lighthouse, to develop their relationship.

Lucanis' relationship is definitely flavoured by his partner, whether it is Rook or Neve, and it's good that it's not completely the same for both couples, because they're different individuals, but I also don't really find any actual inconsistencies in their characterization between them.

I do agree that some of these interactions are super sweet and I would absolutely love it if we had some more of them between Rook and Lucanis and the other companions, because honestly I could easily listen to a hundred more, but it's also necessary to acknowledge that Lucanis and Neve are two companion characters and the few banters, one short cutscene, and a rare mention here and there, are all they get. And I think it's perfectly sufficient for them as NPCs. The interactions are lovely. They're clearly good for each other. But I also don't think they're actually getting anything extra in comparison with Rook, and I'm just honestly a bit baffled by the noise about it.

Rook as the protagonist has great chemistry and dynamic with Lucanis from the very beginning, thoughout the whole game, as I already to some extent described in my previous post. This post is already way too long without me getting too much into it here. But Rook has the benefit of being able to do Lucanis' quests, go on outings with him, be there for him during all the important moments (e.g. his grandma's funeral arrangements), have various interactions in the Lighthouse (e.g. Lucanis attempts to kiss them way before the dessert scene comes up) and outside of it. The Inner Demons quest is, in my opinion, the most intimate thing ever while doing his romance. They have banter together and with the other companions about their relationship and other things. We know they spend quality time together. Besides travelling everywhere side by side outside of the Lighthouse so often, they get together late at night, read together, are coffee buddies (or whatever drink you've chosen). Lucanis insists that Rook stay and tell stories while they drink with Davrin, wanting to hear a story from their life that he's already heard from others before, just because he thinks nobody tells it as well as Rook. I don't think that loses its meaning just because it's also a friendly interaction. Lucanis writes into his log book about them. He yells at Illario when he injures them. Etc. Etc. I really don't think there's any reason to hate on Neve, be jelly, or argue which relationship is more "canon". (For fuck's sake.)

Not to be patronizing or anything, but we, as a fandom, do remember what canon is, right? As in, actually established facts about the setting. As in, humans, elves, dwarves, and qunari are the races populating Thedas. Alistair Theirin was at the Battle of Ostagar. Magic and dragons exist. Treviso is in Antiva. Then there's personal "canon" that we each create for ourselves and those are wildly different. (And that's great about them!) For some, that means that e.g. the Hero of Ferelden died killing the Archdemon. Or that Hawke sided with the mages. Or that the Inquisitor exiled the Wardens. Or that Rook tricked Solas. Romances and optional relationships between NPCs fall into the category of personal "canon". Let's not forget that. It's so stupid to argue about which relationship is more legit when it literally depends on the player's choice. This is a reminder aimed especially at the part of the fandom crying that Neve's romance with Lucanis somehow invalidates Rook's romance with him.

As for them reusing small bits of Lucanis' romance scenes with Rook for his romance with Neve. Mostly this just means that he mentions her in like... two dialogues, maybe. It doesn't bother me, because to me that is the smart move, because it saved them time that they could invest into something else, probably more significant. I think it would bother me way more if they actually put unnecessary time into creating a lot extra content for them when I could have it instead. Maybe it's just me, but I don't think it takes anything away from Lucanis' romance, because his romance and dynamic with Rook, overall, is delightful and consists of so much more than one short cutscene and a couple of lines.

Again, I'm not here to argue with anyone. Mostly, I think. I'm here to offer my perspective and also information for those who haven't seen Lucanis x Neve for themselves, don't have time for multiple playthroughs, or whatever, but are interested and/or want to know more about Lucanis for their headcanon.

Now, I'm going to end this rambling here, otherwise I'll keep adding to it forever. Pardon any mistakes or nonsense, I can't bear to read this all again, haha. If you've read all the way here, thank you so much for putting up with my bullshit. That's crazy.

[samdeanjohn]

i understand why "female coding" is controversial and i even understand to an extent why people choose to make it an "everyone is equally wrong and ridiculous" problem. however, dean's atypical position in the narrative, especially considering what he may seem like aesthetically when we first meet him, has been a topic of discussion since 2005. dean enjoyers (including critic sheila o'malley) have for the most part always approached this with the nuance it deserves and alongside discussion of his (and the show's) masculinity. it's not treated as some forever get-out-of-jail card, but as a legitimate analysis of his character and his relationship with gender.

but as with many things about dean that make him fascinating and anything but a caricature that neatly fits into tropes, it inspires a certain insecurity from some fans who prefer sam. part of it comes from the belief that supernatural has one main character and therefore only one of them can be a complex individual, which of course would not apply even if jensen really was a supporting player and not a co-lead. still, the idea that purely by existing and being popular dean "steals" things from sam persists. under the guise of "reclaiming sam's main character status" dean's traits and relationships are frequently appropriated and given to sam in a way that distorts both characters beyond recognition. since the motivation is really contrarianism, the reasons why some things are interesting and resonant with dean get lost in the copy/paste process.

as to not derail with other examples, i will focus on the gender thing. it's really not a coincidence that with the post-spn finale fandom renaissance, along with dean appreciation there was a new push to diminish him in every possible way. i'm sympathetic about the disrespect and misplaced aggression shippers were exhibiting toward sam and jared. but the answer isn't to tear down dean to elevate sam who is awesome as he already is. especially from the side of fandom that mainly focuses on the brothers (plural!) and is theoretically supposed to like both of them. after dean's death , we got new waves of posts about his gender, sexuality and trauma and instead of simply contributing to the conversation or ignoring it, some people got mad. and we got endless gender essentialism in the form of "actually, sam is female coded. no, sam is a woman. every woman in the horror genre is sam. sam outliving dean who died young and beautiful to give him a heteronormative "happy" ending is sam being the final girl. she/her pronouns for sam in casual conversation. claiming sam textually suffered misogyny from dean who is the most cishet man on tv and nothing but a amalgamation of every "toxic male" trait ever", etc. all incredibly childish, exhausting and self righteous. it's unforgivable to watch 15 seasons of a show and come away thinking either brother was that simple.

when people discuss dean and femininity, they don't seek to cast dean as the one and only victim and everyone around him as a patriarchal abuser, it's not about guilting anyone into liking dean better, it's certainly not about female coding making dean incapable of having flaws or causing harm. and as horror is a primarily female genre, it's not about how no other male character in the show can occupy a female trope. this whole thing is misunderstanding why people are drawn to dean in the first place. it was never about wanting a perfect person to put on a pedestal as an example but about appreciating the complicated whole, thorns and all.

what's troubling about the "sam is a woman" rebuttal is that the word woman really becomes a synonym for perfect victim. it becomes all about being infantilized, having zero autonomy and never making a single choice. when it comes to actual female characters, audiences have always valued their agency even when a narrative has afforded them very little. at least the deer/lamb/rabbit sam trend is more honest about what it's attempting to twist him into. the more i see this phenomenon in whatever form it takes, the more i'm convinced it's really just about creating the blandest least dynamic character possible. and sam deserves so much better than that.

[dcdreamblog]

Happy Discount chocolate egg day, hope your weekend was well. The Big Cheese (Captain Marvel/Shazam) has had a lot of extended family members over the years (Tawny, the Lutenist, etc.) are there any less well known members that (in your opinion) should have a light shown on them?

I think the sheer MASS of the Marvel Family can be put down to the fact that, as I've said before, Fawcett People are very very proud of being Fawcett people. If you took the civic pride of all of Texas and crushed it to the density of one medium sized East Coast metropolitan area you would end up with somewhere a little UNDER where Fawcett people are at (I should know, I work with one. She has MULTIPLE tattoos to prove the point, she would be the first to correct you that Marvel's nickname is the Big RED Cheese.) There's also the matter of the Superman or Metropolis Theory, which is a sociological theory that posits superheroes tend to sprout outwards once they take root which is why heroes like Metropolis or Gotham have so many superheroes once a single high profile hero becomes established. Superhero shenanigans tend to attract more superhero shenanigans. That being said, let's discuss my answer. Which would be obvious to anyone who knows me even a little.

(Deanna Barr AKA Windshear swooping in on some criminals!) Deanna is, obviously, the only daughter of Jim Barr and Susan Kent-Barr the original Golden Age Bulletman and Bulletgirl. Born a while after their retirement Deanna grew up with stories of her parents' exploits that had been the original inspiration to Fawcett City, a legacy that even after the HUAC trial forced the end of the original heroic age never went away (take a shot every time a Fawcett establishment is named either "Bullet" or some pun on that name). Inspired by her parents' high flying adventures she became a pilot with the US Air Force climbing the ranks quickly to the position of test pilot for high risk, high reward experimental aircraft projects. She probably never assumed she'd have to slip on her mother's tights (literally, with only very minor alterations Deanna wears her mother's costume in the modern day) until the Marvel Family ran up against a villainess by the name of Chain Lightning who nearly spelled the end for them. Pulling her father out of retirement she donned her mother's special helmet and swooped onto the scene as Windshear! Now as you can imagine from that origin story Deanna is STRICTLY part time. Most of the time Fawcett has the core Marvels to hold everything together but every so often when things are getting overstretched she steps in and steps up. Plus any time that she sees a situation where she might be able to help, disasters and the like. I find myself always appreciating these part time heroes because they sound so much like what most of US would hopefully endeavor to be like if we had powers and talents somewhere in the metahuman realm. We'd do our best to maintain the lives we have and do what we can to help those within our reach. Though I suppose that's an equally good rundown of what the "full time" superheroes ALSO do. The superhero life LETTING you be part time is probably more down to luck than choice. Now I get to post this and have my coworker tell me why I got it all wrong. Cest la vie.

[swiftiesdestiel]

For the people who have byler doubt/have byler anxiety (which i doubt u do after the leaks we’ve just gotten, but still)

Here’s some stuff that basically confirms byler endgame (imo):

1. The fact that the build up/possibility already exists. Like why would there be a whole ass buildup if byler ends up not being endgame after all (unless it’s queerbait but i sincerely doubt it).

2. The mileven breakup scene is quite happy & kind of celebrates the fact that el broke up with mike and gets to be her own person, however the byler rain scene/fight scene/“break up” scene is much more sentimental and dark, which makes it seem a lot more sad but also a little more important in regards to mike’s storyline.

3. The scene where max sits in front of will and mike (who are in the trunk) and her RAINBOW sleeves perfectly line up with mike and will behind her. Coincidence? I think not

4. The fact that basically all promo posters are mike w will (or the love triangle as a whole) and NOT mike alone w el, which would be the more logical marketing choice if they were the “main” endgame couple.

5. Some tweets of the official stranger things account/netflix account are…….. interesting, to say the least (& they’re hinting at byler/mike being queer a lot!!!!)

6. The way they REDREW that fuckass stick figure drawing el made in the last s4 ep so that it liked up perfectly for both el and byler, implying that el could know something about byler or at least that there’s something going on between them !

7. Mike’s behaviour in s3/s4……. Like c’mon either the writers absolutely hate his guts (& us) or they made him a queer teenager struggling with internalized homophobia while being in love with his best friend who returns those feelings, aka one of the best written characters ever.

8. Sharing glances is a common thing in stranger things, as well as with byler (because they don’t have to communicate with words, they just understand each other because they know each other so well), however mileven has absolutely no shared glances like that. (Idk if this counts as proof, but it was something I noticed and thought it was worth mentioning)

also, we know that el needed the verbal confirmation of mike loving her. She couldn’t see it through his actions, so she needed to hear it from himself.

9. (possible spoilers, if you don’t want to read this just skip to the last point :) —> according to leaked pictures we’ve seen, they’re literally sharing clothes next season .Can they possibly be more couple-y

10. The many, many, many parallels between byler and canon couples

Just like last time, this is just me pointing things out so take it with a grain of salt, but I personally think this is all solid byler endgame proof unless we’re getting queerbaited (which, again, I doubt because the duffers are smart and I just simply do not think there will be any queerbaiting in this show. But what do I know)

Thanks for listening to my ted talk🙏

[eldulcopatato]

LOVE ISLAND: THE CREATOR CHAOS VILLA┊GEORGE CLARKEY

summary: As the final day approaches, the villa is thick with tension, unspoken feelings, and quiet reckonings. Conversations are careful, glances linger, and a long-awaited heart-to-heart finally happens.

previous / next

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Chapter 9: “The Last Choice”

The morning sun hit the villa differently now. Softer. Sadder, maybe. Like it knew the end was coming too.

You stood on the balcony with your coffee, watching the garden stretch out beneath you — quiet, save for the occasional hum of bees and the clink of a spoon against a mug. Below, Josh was already shirtless and pretending to stretch. Arthur and Malia were talking on a lounger. Jenna walked past them without a glance.

The voice came before breakfast.

“Islanders. Tonight will be your final recoupling.”

Your stomach dropped.

“The couple you form this evening will be your final couple. Tomorrow, the public will vote for the winning pair. Make your decision wisely.”

The villa froze.

Then came the whispers. The scrambling. The paranoia.

You walked down into the kitchen and found George already there, mug in hand, leaning against the counter.

His eyes met yours for a second — soft, unreadable — before he looked back down.

“Morning,” you said.

“Hey.”

It was civil. Barely.

Then Jenna entered, followed by Josh, already chirpy. “Final recoupling, huh? Bit intense.”

“Very,” Jenna muttered.

Odessa slid into the kitchen too. She looked tired — like she hadn’t really slept. Her eyes flicked between Malia and Arthur, who were now on opposite ends of the villa again. No one knew what was happening there. Maybe they didn’t either.

“Think anyone’s actually happy right now?” Odessa asked no one in particular.

No one answered.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

Conversations that day were clipped, loaded. Like everyone was speaking in code. Josh tried his best to integrate — he joked with Arthur, offered Jenna some watermelon, but the mood was off. Tense.

You saw Malia whisper something to Arthur behind the daybeds. Odessa caught it too. She raised her brows at you, silently asking: again?

You shrugged. No answers. Not anymore.

Even Josh approached you later, asking, “Is it always like this before the final?”

You just smiled weakly. “Not usually. But this year’s cursed.”

He laughed. “Reckon I picked a bad time to walk in.”

You didn’t disagree.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

By afternoon, the sun burned hotter. You sat alone by the pool, trying to think. And maybe that’s why you didn’t hear George coming until he was already next to you.

“Can we talk?” he asked.

You blinked, heart ticking faster. “Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

You walked past the pool and through the open sliding doors until you found a quiet corner by the entrance hallway. Still within sight — but far enough to be alone.

He leaned against the wall. You stayed standing.

“It’s weird,” George started, voice low. “Being here. With you.”

You nodded slowly. “Yeah.”

“I keep thinking how different things could’ve been if we just… talked. Before.”

You bit your lip. “I wanted to. So many times. But I didn’t know if you even wanted to hear from me.”

George shook his head, laughing without humour. “That’s mad. Because I was thinking the same thing.”

Silence.

“Guess we both kinda… ghosted each other, huh?” you offered.

He looked up at you then. “Yeah. And I hated it. Every time I saw your name pop up on socials or whatever, it just— it messed with my head.”

You stepped closer. “I hated it too. I hated not knowing where we stood.”

George ran a hand through his hair. “I didn’t come on this show to see you. I didn’t even know you’d be here. But the moment I saw you in the villa, it was like… something just flipped. Like my brain short-circuited.”

You laughed softly. “Same. I spent the first three days avoiding you.”

“I noticed,” he smiled. Then, after a pause: “I should’ve apologised earlier. For not reaching out. For just leaving it like that.”

“I should’ve too,” you said quietly. “We both messed it up.”

He nodded.

“And now?” you asked, finally looking at him — really looking.

George sighed. “Now I’m just tired of pretending I don’t care.”

Your heart skipped.

“I care,” he said. “I’ve always cared. And it’s scary as hell because I don’t know what you want, or if this even makes sense, but I can’t keep avoiding it.”

You stepped forward. “I care too. That’s what makes it terrifying.”

He chuckled, eyes meeting yours. “So we’re both terrified?”

“Yeah.”

A beat passed. Neither of you moved. The air thickened.

“I want to try,” he said. “Even if it’s messy. Even if it’s confusing. I just—”

The villa speakers blared.

“Islanders, please make your way to the firepit immediately. Tonight’s final recoupling is about to begin.”

You both froze.

Then George laughed under his breath. “They hate to see us finally talking.”

“Yeah, they do.” you smiled.

As you walked side by side back into the garden, the tension in your chest felt lighter — but the anticipation ahead felt heavier.

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word count: 1,6k

[thirdmagic]

another thing i like about slay the princess is the full freedom it gives you in how you interpret and understand its own ideas and messages. specifically i like that even though it does hit you pretty hard with the idea that the perfect happy world the narrator wants to make is a stagnant one, it's not really married to the concept and still gives you options and endings where you decide you agree with him and do actually try to create the deathless world he wanted. it feels like you should be driven to disagree with him or like the 'true' ending is one of the endings that are sort of in the middle that are neither slaying the princess or joining the shifting mound as she wants, but that's not really how it plays out either. no wrong choices, no bad endings, only new perspectives.

[atangledfate]

Tangle and Jewel had already had a very long talk about her leaving. She tried to convince her to stay and rebuild but Jewel was set in her decision to return back to spiral hill. She was adamant that she preferred her rocks and crystals to choices that could cost lives. On some level Tangle understood and yet the guilt was eating Jewel alive. Tangle knew it, could see it in her eyes and every second made tangle feel a little more helpless.

She gave Espia's shoulder a little squeeze and made her way across the room to Jewel. She scooped the little beetle up causing her to squeak in surprise, and Tangle cradled her her arms. The two just hugging it out for what felt like forever! Even it was only a few minutes, Tangle knew Jewel just needed someone to tell her things would be ok! someone to show her that she would be ok!

" See--- Hugs make everything better don't they? "

She said softly a she cradled her best friend in her arms.

" I know things seem bleak right now... but things will get better... and the sun will shine a little brighter. You are waaaay stronger then you give yourself credit for... so dun let this beat you up ok? "

Jewel Rubbed her eyes laughing a little as she was use to this by now. Tangle doing her best to cheer her up, and never respecting personal space. It was just who she is, and yet her eyes went to Espia for a moment and then Tangle. She already knew Tangle wanted to marry Espia and had plans to move away. The fact Espia was here already made her wonder if they'd already talked about it. Why else would she be here? Yet she didn't see a ring on either finger so it wasn't that far along yet.

" I ... i know, its just--- i can't get that stuff out of my head. All those people... HQ being blown up. I just need to get away for awhile... maybe i'll come back and help rebuild but not right now. I'll manage though... i just... its rough right now..."

She admitted and reached up to bump tangle's cheek with her head and smiled softly.

" ... As much as i want to believe your here just to cheer me up. Seeing Espia makes me think... your going away aren't you.."

Tangle seemed a little stunned by the fact Jewel figured her out pretty fast. She was always a smart one, always quick witted and she should have guessed she'd work it out fast enough. nobody knew her as well as Jewel, if anyone would guess it well it would be her.

" Heh... yea... with the cutters dissolved, and all i ain't got much holding me down here no more. I wanna be with my family... i wanna make a go at having a family... so i'm gonna go for it! and cross my fingers Espia can put up with my shenanigans! hehe..."

She gave Jewel another hug and smiled brighter

" Dun worry! with warp rings i can jump back anytime to give you a pep talk and a big hug! and if ya need anything, i'm sure Miles can get ahold of me... so we won't be apart forever! "

Jewel nodded even if it would still be hard on her. She'd miss her bestie something fierce. But she knew Tangle had to do this, and that she loved Espia dearly. In a way it made her happy, to know her best friend would finally find the love she always dreamed of. She buzzed her wings and turned to Tangle smiling squeezing her hands as a way to congratulate her before looking back at Espia.

" You had better take care of her... she's a real handful... but i'm sure you'll both be very happy together! you both deserve that..."

Espia could sense the sadness from the beetle when they entered the room. Oh Chaos this poor woman... Her heart went out to her. Maybe if the two of them had stayed in better contact, Espia could have helped her before all of this. Then again...the chameleon had already had her hands full after Charmette's injury. All her focus had gone towards her daughter. Hospital bills were not cheap even with insurance, she'd have to talk to Salvadore about that. Still, seeing Jewel such a wreck was breaking her heart. Thank goodness for Tangle, able to get a smile out of her bestie even now.

"Hello Jewel." She rested a hand momentarily on the beetle's shoulder in comfort and greeting. "I'm so sorry I couldn't be here sooner and help. But with my daughter's injury I couldn't get away. Charmette would be here too but....she's off looking for a friend right now."

She then released the beetle and moved to follow Tangle to a seat. Oof... poor Jewel was really taking this hard wasn't she? Espia didnt know what she could say to comfort her. She'd have to leave that to Tangle.

[natasha-in-space]

Finished my rewatch of Madoka Magica + Rebellion, and God.... I am so not normal about Madohomu. The way their fates are inherently intertwined with each other, the way their actions directly influence what choices they end up making, the way they both sacrifice themselves for one another... They are in my brain constantly.

The fact that it's Homura's countless attempts at saving her and suffering for her sake, that gives Madoka the courage and motivation to make the ultimate sacrifice and become a God. Homura's sacrifice for Madoka's sake pushing her to do the same with no hesitation or fear. While she spent the entire series being too hesitant and scared to do the right thing, at least in her own perspective. But Homura gives her the resolve and strength to do what's right, no matter how scary it is. Madoka is not scared anymore, now that she knows how much terror Homura went through despite how scared and hurt she was. If Homura can do so much for her sake, she can do this for her in return.

The fact that it's Madoka's unknowing confession to how much that choice of sacrifice has cost her, that pushes Homura to reject God Madoka's wish. Homura is willing to bear any suffering, as long as her beloved Madoka is happy. She was suffering in silence for so long in this new world, having to live in a reality without Madoka as she knew her. With nothing but her memories to be her comfort and her curse. But she pushed herself to go on for Madoka. As she always did. It's only when she learns of Madoka's true feelings in her labyrinth, does she gain the resolve to rebell against it all. To reject it. To do what's right. To ensure Madoka's happiness.

All of the choices they made that moved the narrative along was... for each other. And it's so incredibly tragic, because every single action they took shows how much they do love and care for each other. Even in different timelines, with different memories, in different worlds. They are connected. But their love became their downfall.

Madoka sacrificed her own happiness and life to ensure that everyone else - especially Homura - gets the life of peace and happiness they deserve. But it's a life she cannot experience, nor remember in her god-hood. Homura ended up betraying the wishes of the one she loves, accepting the fact that Madoka will hate her one day. She's not happy in the world she created as a demon. But it's a world where she knows Madoka has everything she wants. And that's good enough for her.

CAN YOU TELL HOW INSANE I AM ABOUT THEM

Can't wait for the upcoming movie, my god

[lightgamble]

DAREDEVIL: BORN AGAIN | 1.09

You asked me for a favor. I did it.

[mermaidslabyrinth]

My OC Rhagerys Targaryen with the two people who he would do anything and everything for.

His younger half sisters, Baela and Rhaena. They mean the world to him. They are his weakness but also his strength to keep going. He is their big brother and has been taught to protect them at all costs.

The way I see the three are as the sun, moon, and stars. Rhaena is the Sun. Along with her dragon Morning. Baela is the Moon. Along with her dragon Moondancer. Rhagerys is the Stars. Along with his dragon Starsong. Each are present in one another's lives but in such different ways that people forget that they're connected to one another. That in some way they always will be.

This gorgeous artwork was done by the wonderfully talented @lonelymagpies. They did such marvelous job. The hair, the clothing, the jewels, their looks.

Also a special thank you to @dr-aegon. They reblogged a post mentioning that lonelymagpies was doing commissions. So, thanks to them, I was able to have this artwork created.

[kivaember]

SHAKES BOTH OF YOUR HANDS!!!

god the eleanor thing actually reminded me of something: you're right, drifter has gone through this before. if you ask what she wants, but then have drifter say they'd put her down if she was a danger, eleanor responds in anger that drifter is picking the noble choice and putting her down like she's a wild animal before she logs off.

and, like. as you say, drifter has gone through this before. they never got a chance to ask their parents what they wanted. never got a chance to confirm if they were happy with drifter's decision either, since they never revived through the holdfasts. this convo is the closest drifter would ever get to hypothetical closure on that particular issue, esp if they answer like that: i'd put you down if you're a threat to others, because that's what they had to do with their parents. if eleanor approves and agrees, then it means they did the right thing after all right (ignoring the fact that eleanor and drifter's parents are entirely different people who'd view the whole thing differently but this isnt smth rooted in rationalisty right now, drifter just wants some kind of closure no matter how shaky or flimsy it is).

so just having eleanor get angry at that response and log off would be yet another confirmation nail in drifter's self-esteem that they had picked wrongly, they had done a horrible thing after all, they had put their parents down like they were rabid animals (because... they were...), and idk, that's also smth fun to work with, because despite eleanor's telepathy, she wouldn't know in that moment that she just ran roughshod over a emotional nuclear mine with drifter - she'd just find out later and be like "fuck i didn't think before asking them that".

the hex accidentally tripping over things like that, because drifter is so good at being composed or shrugging things off, that it's far too easy to think of them as invincible both emotionally and physically. thats why i really really liked the duviri convo between arthur and drifter, where drifter actually gets upset about duviri and confesses something that had been weighing on them for such a long time... because god, you could tell that drifter really needed that, really needed to just let all of that out to someone and have them say "man, that was incredibly fucked up, that should never have happened to you and it definitely isn't your fault". honestly why arthur won out in the end on my fave hex to romance lmao

i think the hex would eventually clock, though, that drifter really wants to stay because the origin system isnt really home to them. duviri isnt home either, and definitely not the haunted zariman. they're a drifter, always moving from place to place, trying to find somewhere they could belong but knowing they were never meant to exist in the first place so not really holding out hope... turns out they were born in the wrong time.

(anyway fun personal hc of mine is that drifter has never tried alcohol until they went to 1999, but the first time they got drunk ended up being incredibly awkward for everyone bc it turns out drifter's a very sad drunk and sent everyone into a panic when they abruptly burst into tears without warning. it was unanimously decided that drifter shouldnt be allowed to drink without supervision after that lol)

my fave thing with the 1999 fic is when arthur (and the hex) are going to finally comprehend the full horror that is a time loop staked to a person dying

like you can argue this means that drifter is immortal but is it immortality when drifter actually experiences that death and actually dies, and you as their comrade has to watch them fucking die and then in the next moment, see them perfectly fine acting like that death was no big deal bc "haha i've had worse".

and there's always a lag between drifter dying the loop restarts too, long enough for the hex to have that brief moment of doubt of wait is this death permanent-?

like, there's no winning here, is there? you either become apathetic to drifter dying, or you have to keep experiencing the horror of watching your close friend die (potentially in horrible ways considering techrot) so you dont become apathetic. its made even worse when drifter acts like its nbd.

idk i feel like there's SUCH a good bit of drama to dig into here, just from the sheer dissonance between the hex and drifter on this particular subject. drifter's been dying for centuries, they really arent fazed anymore, but theyve always died alone and in isolation.

now they die in front of their friends, and that somehow makes it a thousand times worse, bc those friends get upset and yell at them and they dont really get it bc its not permanent? they all know its not permanent? look theyre fine? was it bc they died messily? theyll try to do it more cleanly or out of sight next time but its not like they actively choose to die so they make no promises (then the hex gets increasingly frustrated that they dont get it).

anyway i just think this is a neat subject to poke at a little... also not at all a spoiler for the next chapter for the 1999 fic. nope. no siree...

[red-n-ded]

I saw someone write a post that IDWTBAMG should have an arc where Aika gives Zira the star guardian powers and now it’s all i think about

[starryluminary]

Dating sim where Noah’s the playable main character and the goal is to get with one of a wide variety of campers on the island (to his protest)

[taradactyls]

Ahhhhhh I'm sorry I'm going to argue with you on a few points. Not what you find personally makes the romance more satisfying, since that's entirely individual, but unfortunately just about everything else.

I've read through a few of the moral/instructional texts of the day and you might actually be surprised at the breadth of opinions in them! Some (including the one Queen Charlotte praises, ironically) actually do advise young women to only marry for affection, and don't marry a guy much older than you or only for money. I don't think it's correct say marrying for love would be at all an unrealistic sentiment for a Georgian/regency gentlewoman to hold, even if not everyone felt the same and even those who aspired for a love match might choose to go without it when the time came. The expectation was still that the object of their love had to be of suitable class and wealth, naturally, but affection and practicality were meant to be united rather than mutually exclusive opposing forces. (See also Elizabeth joking to Colonel Fitzwilliam that younger sons tend to like where there's fortune - a tongue in cheek acknowledgment that practicality plays a part, but it falls short of condemning that behaviour entirely or taking affection out of the equation).

So, I think there's a very wide middle ground between considering someone a hopeless romantic and being willing to marry without affection, and I'm going to argue that Elizabeth (and Jane Austen herself) occupies that space.

I'd say there was a lot of nuance as to where the mercenary/practical/idealistic borders were when it came to opinions of marriage at the time - which could also arguably be read into when it comes to the women of Pride and Prejudice. Charlotte is all about her situation after marrying and very little about who she's marrying beyond feeling he's a safe choice, Lydia and Kitty are the dangerous opposite, Jane and Elizabeth somewhere in the happy middle. I imagine that's quite a good snapshot of what Jane Austen saw around her, and talk about love whilst also needing something to live on happens often in her books (I adore Elizabeth and Mrs Gardiner's discussion of it in regards to Wickham, and Sense and Sensibility and Persuasion in particular both have this as a reoccurring theme). Marrying (as opposed to becoming engaged) for love without considering practicality is universally depicted by Austen as foolish and the 'love' of such couples is often shown to be only the affects of rash attraction rather than abiding respect and affection, whereas Charlotte's practical and unemotional acceptance of Mr Collins is both sympathetic and condemned by saying she 'sacrificed every better feeling to worldly advantage,' so we can see very clearly that Jane Austen was not a proponent of love over everything else, but nor do her novels promote ignoring love either when discussed as a hypothetical or when it comes to evaluating suitors. The conclusion that every protagonist comes to when they talk about this or choose their partners is that both are important. Mutual love and respect and maintaining a suitable status are both necessary for a happy union. Even the paragraphs explaining Marianne marrying Colonel Brandon, which talks of her friendship and happiness first, says that she can't love by halves and fell very much in love with him. That's the closest Jane Austen's protagonists get to entering into matrimony on the strength of friendship, respect, and happiness without love, and I'd argue that the immediate inclusion afterwards that she did fall entirely in love with him shows just how crucial Jane Austen viewed love for any relationship to be truly good.

The gentry, and growing middle class (that the Gardiners belong to), were actually in a very unique position at this time when it came to choosing spouses. Rich enough that they needed to keep money and connections in mind if they wanted to maintain their lifestyle and status, but not important enough to marry as often for political or financial alliances as the nobility did (though secret love marriages had become SO common amongst the nobility in the century before that laws were changed to restrict the definition of marriage itself - so even they often didn't marry for pragmatic reasons as Jane Austen would've been well aware). They were also largely absent of the pressure of very poor girls who might need a husband to literally survive. Proposals were beginning to be commonly made by the man directly to the lady, who had the power of refusal, rather than being decided in talks between men behind closed doors. So, for arguably the first time in English history, there was a wealthy class of people who were regularly marrying for affection.

A huge part of that was because fathers were able to leave their daughters enough that the passive income would keep them from destitution even without a husband bringing in an active income. Mr Bennet certainly failed at providing enough for his daughters for their station, but it's important to note that his widow and daughters would never have risked starvation or living on the streets even if they hadn't had the Philips and Gardiners available to help support them - they would've been at least twice as rich as Mrs and Miss Bates in Emma and half as well off as the Dashwood women in Sense and Sensibility. Genteel poverty was completely incomparable to the very real and horrific poverty of the era, and as the Bennets did have the Gardiners and Philips to help care for them their status would have suffered but they still would have been able to socialise with much the same people and be considered gentlewomen even if they couldn't attend as many balls or dinners. It wouldn't have been fun to drop down quite significantly in society, and the fact that it did not seem likely to happen while they were young probably altered their assessment of the danger, but they certainly would have survived in relative comfort for their time, though not their class at birth, without a husband. The Bennets, even with their fiscal mismanagement, were of that class which could afford to think about the man and not just the marriage. So, whilst I agree that Elizabeth would never have been sitting around as an old maid waiting for a love that would never come, that's not because she would've married without love but rather because her life would have still been fulfilling in many ways regardless. Her life did not revolve around finding a husband because she truly didn't need one (and Austen is critical of every single character whose life does revolve around finding a husband) and one doesn't have to be a hopeless romantic to find the idea of marrying without love unappealing. She had options other that marrying for purely prudent reasons or sit around daydreaming, as there's a huge amount of middle ground in there. A middle ground and options that Jane Austen herself would have been highly aware of as she was unwed in her mid-thirties as she gave Pride and Prejudice that final review before publication. She could've emphasised the importance of being married, shown Elizabeth struggle more with her future, or praised Charlotte rather than the mix of sympathy and condemnation which characterises how she speaks of her marriage, but she didn't. I think that shows that even as an old maid herself she felt marriage was only worth it if there was mutual affection and respect and I don't think this was an unusual stance.

The term 'helpmeet' was very popular in this period for what wives should be in a marriage, and was a promotion of (allowing for the strong sexism of the era) a sort of equality and mutual companionship being at the core of a marriage. Jane Austen was certainly writing when this expectation was established, and every single admirable couple in her books are very in love. Nor were her books condemned for being unrealistic or for giving young ladies fancies (in the way that gothic novels were accused of doing) so her promotion of marrying for love and respect definitely wasn't counter-cultural. It might still have been considered not perfectly realistic, but there's little indication it was widely considered a harmful or impossible daydream, which must indicate some level of public acceptance to the idea even beyond what the moralists or romantic poets (and Jane Austen was writing in the middle of the romantic era and enjoyed their works) promoted when it came to love and matrimony.

And though Charlotte is portrayed very sympathetically despite not marrying for love, so is the idea that it's not good to marry without love. Darcy's belief in Jane's indifference (and thus a crucial justification for separating her and Bingley) is after all treated so understandably by the novel that Elizabeth forgives his interference and comes to love him before he 'fixes' that problem. Darcy wanting to protect his friend from marrying without mutual love - even though Darcy acknowledges that Jane herself is good and enjoys Bingley's company and attentions as a friend and does not seem mercenary or negative on her own merits - is upheld as understandable despite his conclusions and motivations being tainted. Elizabeth felt love was important enough in a marriage that such a huge mistake - which broke Jane's heart and left her miserable for months - was eventually forgivable when the motivation had been preventing a union where only one party was in love.

Elizabeth herself I will fully agree is way more concerned with respect and being well suited for each other than love itself, she's observed her parents, after all, but I still think it falls far short of her assuming that she'll not only marry but that she'll do so for practical reasons. Her refusal of Mr Collins does not once mention she isn't in love, and only that they wouldn't make each other happy, but again, that's prioritising the personal sentiments of the people involved rather than anything else. It has far more in common with marrying for love than marrying for practicality and does solidify that personal feelings were held to be important when choosing a spouse even when it's a very eligible marriage in every other way. And though Elizabeth doesn't mention love, neither are Mr Collins or Mrs Bennet's professions that she might be single forever or reliant on relatives at all shown as sympathetic reasons for marrying when the spouse is Mr Collins, or persuasive to Elizabeth on an individual level. Personal happiness is upheld as Elizabeth's only reason that she would marry, rather than any expectation that she should or would need to in order to maintain her position in society. She doesn't once assume that she will or needs to marry at all or have a husband supporting her to be happy, which we can argue is her naivety, but certainly isn't condemned by the text nor supportive of the idea that she would marry without love if she respected her partner and felt they could be friends.

Jane Austen's works show again and again that love alone is not enough, but at no point do they get rid of love altogether or even treat it as exceptional, it's just a normal part of the equation. Even Elizabeth, when talking with her aunt at Christmas, isn't sure it would be wise to resist her feelings for Wickham should she fall in love with him though she's happy enough to do her best to avoid falling in love with him for practical reasons. The implication is that if she fell in love she's not sure adhering to the strictly practical course would necessarily be wise, an idea that gets explored in great depth with the short lived engagement between Wentworth and Anne in Persuasion. The struggle between love and practicality is always depicted as deeply complicated, but I don't think (especially when we consider what I mentioned above about Elizabeth's ultimate feelings towards Darcy's involvement with Bingley and Jane) there's ever anything to suggest that Elizabeth would choose practicality without love. Rather than saying Elizabeth expected to marry for love or Elizabeth expected to marry for pragmatic reasons, I think it's most accurate to say Elizabeth didn't expect to marry at all. It was a possibility she was never against, and the security and affection of someone who suits her definitely seems appealing to her given her reaction to herself and others falling in love, but it wasn't an expectation she was taking for granted.

I also think it's important to note that women didn't gain significant legal rights upon marrying as opposed to being single under the care of their father or brother. In some ways they lost them as they became an extension of their husband and in many ways legally ceased to exist as an individual - widows were the women who enjoyed most recognition and rights in the eyes of the law. Wives could not hold property (in the cases of wealthy women, trusts were normally drawn up in the marriage contracts, they did not hold it directly), the children were the property of the husband, your husband could beat you (their were laws for 'excessive' beatings but you can imagine how rare convictions were), consenting to marry was considered sufficient as consenting to sex at the whim of your husband and marital rape would not exist for almost two centuries, you had to live where your husband said, he could prevent your family from seeing you, trap you on his estate, etc. Wives had social status and generally greater comforts and control over their households than their single counterparts but not so many benefits legally. Until women were widows, or wealthy orphans (such as what Emma Woodhouse might have been, or even what we see of Caroline Bingley - though Caroline's money may be controlled by her brother and she only has the legal right to the interest, and if Mr Bingley chose to withhold it she would have to sue), they had very, very little freedom beyond what their husbands or fathers allowed. And poor widows (such as Mrs Clay or Mrs Smith in Persuasion) show that achieving legal personhood at last doesn't necessarily guarantee you any freedom from poverty or dependence. Legally speaking, it was just very hard for women to end up as a Lady Catherine, Lady Russel, Mrs Ferrars, or Mrs Jennings even if they did marry. Women were just pretty screwed over by the laws of the time no matter what they did - only money in their own possession changed that.

Nor was marriage, whilst very important for a woman to maintain importance in society, at all a guaranteed outcome during the regency. I don't think we really can say that women 'expected' to find a husband to provide for them. Wanted to - hoped to - yes, I think most probably did; but expected? At least not as much as earlier or later generations. Jane Austen herself, as well as her books and those of other writers later such as Elizabeth Gaskell, show it wasn't rare for middle aged women to have never been married just as they show the struggles that came with that. Decades of war with France meant there were significantly more gentlewomen then there were gentlemen, and so the chances of a woman marrying suitably, let alone someone as rich as her own father (which had always been low, due to how rich men could have many daughters but generally only one son would inherit the bulk of the inheritance leading to a vast disparity in the amount of marriageable ladies compared to marriageable heirs of equivalent rank) was growing increasingly slim. Young women would have been growing accustomed to the idea that they might never marry and old maids are hardly a topic young ladies seemed to avoid judging by how casually it's mentioned in literature. Which, for some, could very easily make them more desperate to grasp onto any good offer of marriage despite the drawbacks, but for others could instead help remove the social stigma and inure them to the idea of being single forever and so perhaps remove the fear that came with that idea and make their standards for matrimony higher.

The dangers of being married to a 'bad' man were also more easily observable to gentlewomen in the Georgian era as they hadn't been before, as the printing press had made newspapers increasingly common and one of the most popular topics was the scandals of the upper class: who was having affairs, abandoning their spouses, going into debt, being cruel and violent, etc. The Crown Prince himself was often condemned as a husband, and Jane Austen certainly agreed with that sentiment and disliked how he treated his wife. Jane Austen and the society she lived in were very aware that wealthy men are not necessarily good men and thus would be bad husbands and so, again, marrying for practical reasons was shown to have its pitfalls and the idea of actually having affection and respect for the man you marry was gaining a new appeal it hadn't previously held.

Modern adaptions definitely add the need for love in a modern way, but the same modern sensibilities that encourage that also encourage us to view marriages or this era as less romantically driven than contemporary sources depict. Our ideas of love and romance are subtly different with different concerns in play, and women did have less freedom to make the choices they might wish, but too often our modern perceptions of that lead us to assumptions which aren't entirely true. Elizabeth isn't a hopeless romantic by any means and understands the importance of respect and practical concerns in a marriage, but that doesn't mean she doesn't value her emotional happiness above fiscal and societal comforts when considering matrimony, and adjacent evidence from her conversations with others and forgiveness of Darcy in regards to Jane/Bingley certainly indicate that she placed a high importance of love in a marriage. She did not seem to think it was necessary for everyone to aspire to, but that she valued it I consider inarguable. I also believe that this is the standard stance Jane Austen took when it came to marriages: love, respect, and practicality must be united in order for the relationship to be truly healthy and happy. The moral educationalists and poets of her society also championed love, and Austen wouldn't have been alone amongst the growing gentry and middle class which actually had the freedom to act on that without needing to be so concerned over alliances as the nobility nor poverty as the lower classes. And, in a society where so many young men were off at war or dead from war, marrying itself wasn't as sure a prospect as it had been historically and so suddenly young ladies were faced with the idea that they might never marry even if they were willing to throw away every 'better feeling' and so had the opportunity to really consider what they would be willing to sacrifice in order to avert a future that might be inevitable anyway.

And, all in all, I don't think it's at all unlikely to think a regency lady of twenty would determine to marry for love, nor do I think contemporary society would find her foolish for doing so. It's certainly not what every young lady of the era did, but I think textual and contemporary evidence point to it as far more likely than the extremes of assuming your only future is to marry without affection or being a hopeless romantic sitting about mooning for love. It's the middle ground which we can find not only Elizabeth Bennet in, but I believe the majority of real contemporary women of her class. Love in a marriage was praised in their society and important to Jane Austen, it just wasn't everything.

Adaptations of novels by their very nature are always going to differ from the source material but I find it interesting precisely how they do.

For instance, I find it curious that both the 1995 and 2005 adaptations of Pride and Prejudice feature scenes where Elizabeth declares she will only marry for love, because not only is such a quote nowhere to be found in the novel, I also find such a sentiment unrealistic for a Regency lady.

As stated in Chapter 22,

'[Marriage] was the only provision for well-educated young women of small fortune, and however uncertain of giving happiness, must be their pleasantest preservative from want.'

All women knew they would be expected to find a husband to provide for them, given that they weren't... you know... classed as people in their own right by law. Especially the Bennets, who lack substantial dowries and know as soon as Mr Bennet dies, any unmarried sisters will be entirely dependent on their male relatives, which isn't a secure position.

Of course, it wouldn't be unheard of for a woman to wish for a husband she could respect and who respected her in turn. But she's not an idiot! I think Elizabeth is astute enough to realise that a love match would be a bonus rather than an expectation for her marriage. She doesn't quite sink to the depths of pessimism of Charlotte in asking only for a comfortable home, and I think Elizabeth would still expect a partner to respect her (hence why she refuses Mr Collins and Mr Darcy at his first time of asking) but I don't see her as a hopeless romantic. Not Elizabeth, who voiced her increasing dissatisfaction with the world and the people who inhabit it.

I wonder if these adaptations included such a line because they find the idea that in Mr Darcy, Elizabeth found the true love that she was never expecting to find to be the most romantic idea of all. Personally, I think that not expecting to marry for true love but finding it anyway, especially in the man she least expected, is far more romantic.

These scenes have long frustrated me because I think they fundamentally underestimate the pragmatism of women at the time and make Elizabeth and Mr Darcy's union a little less satisfying! She loved him in the end, yes, but even if they failed to overcome their respective shortcomings and somehow failed to end up together, I hardly think that Elizabeth would have turned into an old maid, sitting at Longbourn and desperately waiting for a true love that would never come...