#anyway i love these books so much good lord they were formative

[amphiptere]

what are everyone’s ranking order for the narnia books. as a kid mine was 5-7-3-4-6-1-2, or something like that, with each number denoting the chronological order. now I have come to my senses about the seventh and I’m midway through a grown-up reread but I think it’ll be something like 5-3-6-1-4-2-7.

[heavysighing-dreamyeyes]

Strings of Fate

Soulmate!au. I mess with the canon timeline for the plot. Jason's an unreliable narrator, and I practice writing the Batfamily. ~2.2k words

Jason Todd used to love the idea of soulmates. To watch a colored string form between him and someone he's only just met– knowing that they're going to be a part of him for the rest of his life– was a rush. A thrill that made him giddy every time.

His first soulmate is Batman. He'd never had a soulmate before that alley. It had made his skin itch when he heard other kids talking about their strings, beautiful ropes tying them to loving families that had existed from the moment they were born.

But now he understood the allure, the promise of having something that was his.

He'd dropped the tire iron in shock when a shimmering blue line formed between him and Gotham's Bat. Blue. So dark it was almost black. A blue glowing string that showed a family tie, one wrapped around the index finger of his right hand. (This will haunt him later, when he starts using the same finger to pull the triggers of guns)

The string didn't stop him from trying to run, but it did stop Batman from letting him go.

There's no hiding a string from your soulmate, and Jason likes to think he took Batman removing his cowl very well. (He did not. It took a long time to trust Bruce Wayne)

His second soulmate is Alfred Pennyworth. He's hardly had time to look around the famed batcave and grapple the fact Batman's his soulmate, when his attention is drawn by an elderly man carrying a silver tray. Another blue string. Lighter than his first, it's vibrant around his right wrist.

He's never had a grandfather before, he decides he likes it when the string shimmers as he turns pages of books, when he helps stir the batter for cookies.

His third soulmate is Batgirl. She's pulled him out of the way of a stray bullet, and he thinks he goes a little starry-eyed at the purple string forming on his right forearm. A friendship string. He's never had one of those before he was Robin.

He smiles brightly at her, and he definitely swoons when Barbara Gordan smiles back, nudging him towards the fight and telling him to keep up.

His fourth soulmate is Nightwing. Jason's only been Robin for a handful of months, but he's good at it. He's quick and knows the streets like the back of his hand.

He preens under Batman's smiles and affectionate ruffles of his hair. He wants Nightwing to be proud of him, too. He wants to live up to Robin.

So, he's not exactly sure what to do with the look on Nightwing's face. There's another blue string forming around his right thumb, this one so bright it's nearly neon. Jason's nervous. He hasn't been nervous for a long time.

But, Nightwing speaks up, nodding towards Penguins goons, "Think you can handle these guys?"

"I can," he tells his soulmate confidently, because it's the truth. And even if it wasn't, he's going to impress his new brother.

Nightwing smiles at him, and Jason ignores how strained it seems, "C'mon then, kid, try to keep up."

When Jason meets Dick Grayson, weeks later, his smile is less strained, and he ruffles his hair almost the same way Batman does. It's nice, and they take turns seeing who can do the craziest trick off the training equipment in the batcave.

He likes having a brother.

Jason doesn't meet any other of his soulmates until he's dead, buried, and alive again. There's no strings around his fingers and wrists when he wakes up, and nothing seems real as he slowly relearns his body.

He follows the blue line leading him to Thalia like a puppy. It's grounding, he thinks, to have something that was his again.

Then, he meets Damian. The navy blue string that forms on his left index finger doesn't help much. It just reminds him of what he doesn't have anymore. He flinches when Thalia tells him the baby's last name. He doesn't stay in Nanda Parbat for much longer. He's not much of a soulmate anymore, anyway.

He goes by Red Hood now. He's a crime lord and a villain and the million other things the news calls him. It's almost comical, that his third soulmate of his new life is the Bat. The dark blue string reforms on his right hand, and he doesn't hesitate to pull the trigger.

His fourth soulmate in this life is his replacement. In the future, he won't be proud of the way he reacts to the royal blue string that forms on his left middle finger. But in the moment, in the middle of the hurt and the rage, he takes it out on Robin.

He takes it out on Tim Drake, and the kid just laughs in his face even with the bruises and broken bones. (It'll make bile rise in his throat one day, when he learns how many soulmates Tim Drake has lost)

His fifth soulmate in this life is Nightwing. Five is more soulmates than he's ever had. Jason hides the fresh scar on his throat under armor and leather. He doesn't say anything when Dick talks. Only listens as he's told about the frayed, grayed string that haunted his soulmates after he died.

He swallows the knot in his throat when Nightwing admits quietly that he still has nightmares over the last tug he felt from Jason's string, before watching the blue fade.

Dick tells him to go see Alfred as he stands to leave, and Jason shoves down the bile that rises over it. (He definitely doesn't end up in Blüdhaven later that month on purpose. He definitely doesn't end up working the case with his brother by choice)

His sixth soulmate is Alfred Pennyworth. He leaves the exchange with enough food to last a week and a familiar glowing blue string.

He seeks out his seventh– third– soulmate on his own. Oracle hugs him as the purple string reforms. He doesn't have the words to explain the feelings stuck on his tongue. She maneuvers the wheelchair expertly. Babs gives him a comlink to the clock tower as he's climbing out the window and tells him to keep in touch. (He won't. Not really. But he does check in.)

Jason leaves Gotham after that. He gets more purple strings wrapped around his body then he ever believed he deserved to have.

The Outlaws mean more to him than he's willing to admit, and it's harder than he expected to watch them go their separate ways. He doesn't try to fool himself into thinking they feel the same way, even when he feels the familiar tugs of their strings.

His next soulmate is unexpected. She introduces herself as Spoiler, and he eyes the purple string matching the color of her cape forming on his left bicep wearily. He tells her to stay out of his territory.

He learns quickly that Stephanie Brown doesn't listen to anyone. She brings him coffee every time he starts to think she's going to stay out of Crime Alley.

He doesn't say much back when she visits. But, if he redoubles his efforts against Black Mask when she admits she knows how weird it is to watch a soul bond reform, it's not because the string means anything. (It is)

His next soulmate nearly makes him jump out of his skin when they first meet. Batgirl. Or Black Bat. He's not really keeping track at this point. She's taken out half of the men he was fighting before he's even realized she was there. He stares at her when she pokes at the blue string connecting him to her on his left ring finger.

He prides himself on not flinching when she pats his arm and disappears into the shadows.

Cassandra Cain shows up at his apartment unannounced more often than he likes, and he definitely doesn't enjoy her presence, especially when she calls him 'baby brother'. (He doesn't really mind)

There's a new Robin hovering at the edge of his territory, and Jason recognizes the blue string between them.

"Mother told me to seek you if I ever needed anything," the kid says, and Jason doesn't miss the shake in his voice that he tries to hide.

Jason knows he's not a very good soulmate, so he's not exactly sure why Robin is here instead of with anybody else. He lets the kid hideout in his safehouse anyway, and follows Damian Wayne dutifully into a nest of Talons the next night.

If he takes a few more punches than he would on his own, it's not because his little brother had bags under his eyes, or a stomach wound he tried to hide. (It is)

His next soulmate seeks him out with a purpose. The Signal. Duke Thomas nods at him as they both watch a blue string manifest between them.

"Did you need something," Jason asks, and he definitely doesn't feel the familiar rush of a bond, of something that's home and his.

Duke just grins at him and asks if he's ever tried the chili digs on the corner of third and main. Jason's not sure why he lies and says he hasn't. They both eat enough that it makes them sluggish on patrol.

Jason's pretty sure he's faking his laughter at Duke's quips as he throws another punch at the unfortunate goons. But the number he hands Signal at the end of the night for emergencies isn't fake. (Jason tells him it's just a burner phone number. It's not the truth, and his personal phone is filled with more memes by the day)

Jason has more shades of purple and blue tied to his body than he's able to keep track of. (This is a lie) After dying a hero and becoming a crime boss only to become a vigilante, the idea of having a red string, having a partner, is something he hasn't thought about since he was a kid.

He doesn't need one, it. would only make his life difficult and the life of whoever he was tied to dangerous. So, when he meets your eyes in the streets of Gotham, surrounded by the motionless bodies of the men that tried to mug you, he freezes.

The familiar rush makes his stomach drop, and the bright red string connects his pinkie finger to yours. He blinks at you, and you blink at him. He wonders what you see.

It can't be anything good. He doesn't think any one of his soulmates saw something good when they found out they were tied to him.

It must be worse, so much worse, to know the universe thinks you're meant to love something terrible. He wavers when you step closer to him, and wonders vaguely if he should make a run for it.

You say a name, and his attention snaps back to you, "What?"

You repeat the name again and thank him for saving you. Oh. You're introducing yourself. Jason stares at you, frowns behind his mask at the uncertainty in your eyes, the nervousness and hopefulness set in your face.

"Red Hood." He says, as if it wasn't obvious. He winces silently at the way your face falls. He really is the worst soulmate, and you're a civilian. You shouldn't be mixed up with him. He might be some kind of masochist because he offers to walk you home.

He's definitely asking for trouble when he keeps showing up on your fire escape. He knows he's in trouble the first time he takes off his mask, knows he's in even more trouble when his stuff finds a home in your apartment, and yours in his.

He's waiting for things to go south when he accidentally spills that he has another soulmate to Steph over coffee on their favorite roof. Knows he's risking your safety when you're curled on his couch, and Cass comes over.

Knows the other shoe's going to drop anytime now, when you offer to dog sit Haley for his brother. Knows this is all too good to be true when Alfred offers to share his world-famous cookie recipe with you.

He's staring at the red string tied to his hand when Bruce offers him a tiny velvet box, a peace offering, Jason thinks, a show of approval for you. Not for him. He's still staring at the red string connecting him to you when you fall asleep against his chest that night.

He can't have it this good. He's never done anything that should have allowed the universe to tie him to so many people, to you. His eyes trail over the shimmering purple and blue strings. He tugs on the purple one around his right ring finger. Something soothes in his chest when Roy tugs back.

He focuses back on your string. It never really made sense to him, that whatever magic created the strings is always right about his soulmates. Even with all the ups and downs, the strings lead right back to his family, his friends, the love of his life.

Jason wants to be a good soulmate. He doesn't think he ever will. But he must be doing something okay, because you're cuddling against him and smiling in your sleep.

The myriad of shades and glowing strings eventually guide him to sleep at your side, and Jason silently promises to do his best by his soulmates. He drifts off with more vows of working up the courage to show you the little velvet box hidden in his jacket.

Part Two

[inactiveobeymeblog]

Hi!

Could I request the brothers + side characters reaction when mc turns into a goose? I was thinking something like mc turned into a goose due to Solomon messing up again, and they act like the goose from Untitled Goose Game, but cuddlier. Like they are still a little menace, but also want to be pet and cuddled.

If you don’t want to do this request I completely understand as it is a bit odd. I hope you have a great day/night!

A/N: Sorry that I’m so late!! I was just caught up in a lot of things and forgot this was in my drafts oof. I also changed a few things up just to be a little silly (and also bc I didn’t want to write the personality of duck MC here). Anyway, I decided to divide this into two parts; one for the brothers and the other for the side characters. Enjoy!

The Brother’s Reactions to Duck!MC

Characters: Lucifer, Mammon, Leviathan, Satan, Asmodeus, Beelzebub, Belphegor

Rating: SFW, fluff

Warnings: GN!MC, no pronouns used for MC, no gender specified for MC, interactions based on the brothers (not MC), personality not specified for MC

Tags: Fluff, the brothers love duck!MC, cuddling, preening, etc.

Part I (This Is Where You Currently Are), Part II (Coming Soon!)

Lucifer

How the hell did this happen?

“Will you stop taking my things, please? You’re making my life even more difficult than it is already.”

At first, he’d have fun with it, teasing you by picking you up randomly when in private

Even going so far as to sit in his lap while he pets you

But then he’d look for a way to fix it

And eventually he does, much to everyone’s protests

He’ll miss the times when he sets you in his lap and feeds you your favourites, but if you can be more helpful to him in your human form, he’d prefer that

Besides

He’d like to see your face instead of that of a duck

Mammon

Oh lord

Is he ever about to get in trouble

He’s no doubt teaming up with you to steal money

I mean

A duck?

In the Devildom?

Now THAT is about to attract a lot of money

He’d probably set up an attraction where lots of demons and demon-kin alike get to meet and pet a real goose

I feel like at the end of it all, even if Mammon did get a lot of money, you’d be exhausted

Because you already know you were out there for hours getting pet by so many

You need to recharge a bit

And that includes a lot of pets from Mammon

And a lot of cuddles

You know he’s going to be so happy to oblige

Levi

Unlike Mammon, he’s not going outside of the house

So you don’t have to worry about that

He’ll set you in his lap while he’s playing video games and he’ll let you time to time between bosses

Hell, he’ll even give you a controller to play with him if he’s feeling extra bored

And it baffles him how you win every time

Because a duck? Beating him? That’s impossible!

But he loves it

He’d lose to you again and again if it meant holding you in his lap like this

Satan

Team Prank Lucifer: Duck Addition

No but seriously, he’s getting into mischievous trouble with you in tow

He’d probably start by making cursed illusions of you but they all have different personalities

For instance, one could be kind and gentle while another could blow up the house

But while your illusions are causing havoc, the real you is resting in his lap as he reads a good book

He’s running his fingers through your goose feathers, practically preening you

He finds it relaxing how he can just pet you and sit back

If he’s honest, he hasn’t been reading his book for the past half an hour

He’s too busy adoring the way you shake your feathers in response to his pets

He finds you irresistibly adorable

Asmodeus

You already know he’s going to put you in cute little outfits

Doesn’t matter how much you hiss at him, he’ll find a way to put some sort of sweater on you

Once he does, he squeals and gets out his phone, taking a selfie with your very-not-amused-goose-face

This is not the first outfit he’s putting you in though, he’s putting you in sparkling pink and blue dresses and cute little tuxedos

He’s also putting some big, fluff coats on you

You’re not getting out of his sight no matter how hard you try

You just have to hope he gets bored

But let’s be honest here

That’s not happening

Beelzebub

Beel is pretty chill when he sees you all snuggled up beside his pillow, minding your own business

At first, he didn’t know it was you so he just kinda left you alone, thinking that you were another one of his brother’s crazy pets

Only when you had followed him out to the kitchen did he start to catch on

And once he does know it’s you, he’s carrying you everywhere with him

To the kitchen, the common room, the gym, RAD, or even the Demon Lord’s Castle

It doesn’t matter

As long as you’re in his arms, he’s happy

And if you want, he’d give you a few snacks as well

He doesn’t mind

And honestly? He’d get a bit sad when you return to normal

He got used to carrying you around :(

Belphegor

You can get he’s not moving unless he has to

So you’re his napping buddy until he’s forced to get up

He’d hold you in his arms and cuddling you as he sleep talks

Sometimes, if you’re lucky, you can escape his grasp and sit on either his back or his stomach

When he wakes up, he’s so confused bc his sleepy brain is thinking-

“Why is there a duck on me?”

And then he remembers that it’s you and he bundles you up in his arms again

He looks away when your duck wings flap in his face but he starts petting you when you settle

He’ll stay awake to pet you despite the pull of his sin that makes his eyes flutter closed every now and then

But he enjoys it

And when you return to normal, he’s in your arms fast asleep

[sehaedazokla]

https://www.tumblr.com/sehaedazokla/761902592938868736/stark-men-and-a-tyrell-reader-fem-reader-terms

WHAT ABOUT JON HES TECHNICALLY A STARK

you are so very right anon and i do love him dearly. i find jon the hardest to write (cregan and robb give me plenty of content, jon is quiet at present) but here are some thoughts:

jon snow and a tyrell reader

fem! reader terms and descriptions 

with jon, there is much in that initial watching period as well. regardless of when you meet, you two are initially as different as ice and fire. you light up a room, converse with every lord and lady, have people gaze after you with soft and comfortable admiration at a feast, meeting, or gathering. jon is trusted by his men and enough so to be named king in the north - but you are adored and have favor showered upon you by all you meet. you’re quite a standout presence in winterfell - all light-colored dresses and southern flowers woven into your hairstyles. he is not blind to your beauty, to your grace. he’d catch himself staring after you, only to take a deep breath and walk away.

but even from a few short conversations and glances, there would be a very quick respect that developed from a shared understanding of what it is like to be underestimated. you are a woman who was never taught to fight, likely not the eldest daughter in this instance, and jon is a bastard. even with the privilege you have from being born to wealthy houses, there’s a certain amount of scorn and disrespect you both have faced in your lives. your sugary sweet words and carefully laid schemes are your way to defend yourself and jon catches on soon enough.

jon would find you in the winterfell library at the midnight hour, turning the pages of a book on the art of nonviolent warfare or a history of the seven kingdoms. the candlelight making the edges of your hair glow as you look up, startled, before realizing it’s jon. you’d be quick to give him that sweet tyrell smile, but he wouldn’t pay much mind to your perfectly practiced words or the way you brush your hair out of your face delicately. you could smell the faint scent of pine trees and fresh snow, like he’d just been swinging his sword outside, perhaps to clear his head.

jon would be silent a moment before he’d take a seat across from you at the dark wooden table. you would notice the way the scar around his left eye faintly catches the light of the single candle between you and then he would notice your staring. you did not usually stare - it was prudent and ladylike to keep your eyes lower, your lashes fluttering just so. but it would seem to do little good on jon anyways, and as he asked what you were always reading so late at night you’d find yourself content to simply be around him. to speak as if you were just talking to an old friend, your tactics and ploys momentarily set aside. a rare feeling to have around a man who is practically a stranger. but jon is not much like the other lords.

you’d fall into a pattern of late-night conversations, after jon would realize he could always find you in the library, laughing more than you intended. you realize that there is a great satisfaction in getting jon to smile. you consider yourself a great controller of men’s moods, but there is something captivating in getting a genuine smile on the face of the king in the north. 

and as you’d break into another laugh, a genuine, real, raw smile forming on your lips, jon would find himself breathless. his own mouth parting dryly, his hand opening and then closing at his side, as if he wanted to reach out but held himself back, almost startled by the want. 

“…your smile suits you, my lady.”

he would say quietly, before looking away.

[cloudyyoimiya]

omg please May i requet chuuya, fyodor and tecchou when they beg for s/o atention

yes ofc! good lord i rlly like this idea. just the idea of these tough, masculine men resorting to begging for a sliver of attention is rather funny in my eyes, but yet it would prove how far they’d go for their s/o. anyways, thank you for requesting!! <3

Begging for Their S/o’s Attention; Chuuya Nakahara, Fyodor Dostoyevsky, and Suehiro Tecchou

Format: Scenarios

Possible warnings: Fyodor most likely being out of character

Chuuya Nakahara

Currently you were typing away on your computer for work. By midnight you had to fill out several reports, thus you had no time to spare for breaks or even making dinner for yourself. You weren’t a slow worker, no, but you weren’t a quick one either. You didn’t even procrastinate this time! Why did your boss have to dump all of his work onto you for the night?!

Chuuya sat by idly, doing some random surfing of the internet on his phone. Every now and then you’d ask him to get you a food or a drink, and he’d oblige. He knew how much your work meant to you, so he didn’t wish to interfere by asking you to spend some quality time with him.

But Chuuya could only take so much of no attention from you. Thus, after a while, he finally decided to try to get your attention.

He got up from his seat on the sofa and walked to your desk. Chuuya then bent over a little bit so he could become eye level with your sitting form.

“My dear?” He asked with a forced smile. “When will you be done?”

“Oh I dunno… Maybe in a few hours. I still have a few reports to fill out,” you responded, still furiously typing on your keyboard. “Sorry!”

Chuuya internally rolled his eyes then folded his arms across his chest. “D’ya think you can take a break?”

“I don’t think so. I don’t wanna risk not reaching my deadline,” you murmured.

Your boyfriend let out a rather loud sigh. It almost seemed like he wanted you to hear his disappointment.

“Can you please take a break?” He asked, his voice becoming sickeningly sweet. It sounded extremely forced.

“I can’t. I’m sorry.”

“Please?”

“I told you I can’t, Chuuya.”

He let out yet another loud sigh, but this time it was a borderline groan. “I’ll do anything ya want for a week if you take a break.”

“You drive a hard bargain,” you said as you started a new paragraph of your report. “But my answer is still no. I have to get these done, Chuuya. There’s no room for breaks.”

Chuuya stayed silent as he continued to stare at you. Apparently it was time for drastic measures on his end.

“When is the last time you saved that document?” He asked, trying to keep a friendly smile on his face.

“Just a few seconds ago. Why do you ask?”

When you finished talking, Chuuya immediately placed a hand on the back of your laptop and forced it to close. He then looked back up and you, a small smirk forming onto his features. He seemed rather proud of himself for this small stunt he pulled.

“That’s why.”

“Are you serious?”

“Very,” Chuuya huffed. “Is it so wrong that I wanna spend my free time with my partner?”

“Not at all, but you could have at least waited until I was done!”

“You wouldn’t be done for the next couple of hours,” your boyfriend deadpanned. “Now c’mon. I wanna spend time with you.”

You sigh as you sat up from your seat at the desk. You then stretched your limbs, your bones making a subtle popping noise. “Alright, alright. Fine.”

Chuuya smirked. “Good! Now lemme just…”

Your boyfriend threw you over his shoulder and started to bring you to the living room.

“Really?”

“Mhm.”

“You’re lucky I love you, Chuuya.”

Chuuya let out a soft chuckle. “I love you too.”

Fyodor Dostoyevsky

You were currently in your shared home with your boyfriend, relaxing in the living room while reading a book. You read about a chapter or so before the front door to your home opened. You shifted your glance to the noise, curious as to what it may be, and you were greeted with the sight of your tired boyfriend.

His posture was only the slightest bit worse, and he has eye bags slowly starting to form on his pale face. He looked like he had gone through a lot today; maybe that Ukrainian clown was bothering him again? Who knows…

You shrugged your shoulders and continued to read your book in silence. When Fyodor seemed like he was exhausted from work, he’d rather be alone than be with you. He has told you that it had nothing to do with you, it was just that he needed a little alone time to destress from the day. Who were you to argue with that? You were the same way if you had a particularly terrible day.

Fyodor sat down next to you as you continued to read your book. He seemed a little bit more fidgety than usual, but you brushed it off as he was still overwhelmed from whatever happened today.

“Love?” He eventually spoke up. His voice was as flat as ever.

“Hm?” You hummed as you turned the page of your book.

Fyodor stayed silent for a little while, most likely trying to gather his thoughts. He then spoke up in a whisper. “Can you do something for me?”

“Of course,” you said as you nodded. You then closed your book, making sure to place a bookmark where you finished your reading. “Do you need me to leave and give you space? I can do that for you y’know.”

“No, no. It’s alright,” Fyodor spoke, his tone getting gentler. He then went to say something, but stopped himself.

“Then what do you want me to do? Make you some dinner? How does chicken alfredo sound tonight?”

“No that’s not it either.”

You sat there, mildly confused. You put your book onto your lap and then crossed your arms. “Then what do you need?”

Fyodor seemed rather embarrassed as he spoke. “Can we please cuddle?”

“Pardon?” You asked, your eyes widening only the slightest bit.

Fyodor has always been really blunt as to what he wants and needs. He has never once hesitated to tell you what he desires, but this time he seemed embarrassed. Fyodor has never really outright asked you to cuddle with him, so this was a slight shock to you.

“Don’t make me repeat myself,” Fyodor muttered just loud enough for you to hear it.

“I won’t but… Are you sure? Don’t you want some alone time after a stressful day?”

Fyodor scoffed then glared at you. “I don’t need that right now. If I did then I’d already be in our room sleeping.”

“I see… Alright then. I’ll oblige,” you said with a small chuckle escaping your lips.

Fyodor scooted closer to you, then leaned his head onto your shoulder. You then let out a small sigh of content as you wrapped an arm around his waist. Fyodor was really never one to beg to be held like this, so you made sure to make him feel comfortable.

“Feel good?”

“Yes, thank you, myshka.”

“Of course, my dear. Anything for you,” you said with a small smile.

Fyodor let out a small sigh. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Suehiro Tecchou

With a whisk in hand, you were busy in the kitchen baking something for your boyfriend. Recently he had told you that he had a craving for chocolate cake with some cloves and cayenne pepper, so being the good partner you were, you decided to surprise him and help him satisfy his cravings.

Tecchou was currently sitting in the living room, scrolling through his phone. He was never really one to go into social media, but he felt like he needed to distract himself from you. The Hunting Dog wanted to get your attention, but he knew that he would never be able to get it while you were baking. After all, you had a very specific way you liked to bake, and he didn’t wish to intrude. He learned that the hard way.

Though, he could only take so much. That’s why Tecchou decided to get up from the couch and enter the kitchen.

You were whisking together your batter when you suddenly felt muscular arms wrap around you from behind. You let out a soft gasp then immediately whipped your head behind you, looking at your boyfriend straight in the eyes.

“Do you need something?” You asked as you continued to whisk the batter. You then directed your gaze to the mixing bowl once more.

“I’m bored,” your boyfriend simply stated, resting his head in the crook of your shoulder. He seemed content with holding you like this.

“Can’t you entertain yourself with your phone or with a book?” You asked, your voice remaining neutral.

“No. My phone isn’t you.”

You let out a soft hum. “Then I suppose you can stay in here while I bake. Just promise not to touch anything, alright?”

You could feel Tecchou nodding into your shoulder. “Of course, angel.”

“Good. Now give me some space,” you said as you carefully swatted away his arms.

Your boyfriend let out a small groan, clearly disliking that he won’t be able to hold you while you bake. He did respect your wishes though and let go of you for a little while. He then sat at a nearby barstool.

“When will you be done?” He asked.

“Soon-ish.”

“Soon-ish?”

“Mhm. Just be patient,” you said with a kind smile. “I’ll be done in no time.”

Tecchou let out a small sigh as he rested his elbows on the kitchen counter. He then continued to watch you, making sure you don’t somehow hurt yourself while baking. He knew that you were a careful person, but sometimes you had your days when you were clumsy.

After around fifteen minutes of you not being done, Tecchou got up from the bar stool and wrapped his arms around your waist from behind once more. And just like before, he also nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck.

“It’s been fifteen minutes,” he mumbled into your neck.

“Has it? I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” he continued to mumble. “Are you done yet?”

“Just about. This can go in the oven to bake,” you said with a smile.

You walked over to the oven and carefully placed the cake tin full of batter inside all the while Tecchou was still latching onto your backside. Once it was in you set a timer and wiped some sweat from your forehead with your wrist.

“That just about does it!”

You could feel Tecchou nod into your neck before be picked you up and held you in his arms bridal style. You let out a small yelp as you felt in carrying you into the living room.

“I just wanna be with you for a little while, alright?”

[pmaxshay]

Love Conquers All

Benedict Bridgerton x Reader (Fem)

~ Part 1 ~ ~ Part 3 ~ ~ Part 4 ~ ~ Part 5 ~

~ Part 6 ~ ~ The End ~

~ Part 2 ~

Benedict sat in the Bridgerton drawing room, doing exactly that. His sketchbook on his knees as his legs dangled over the arm of the chair. His back leant up against the opposite arm. His pencil scribbled furiously over the pages, little by little though every page was ripped up and thrown.

Every so often he’d reach over and throw a handful of grapes into his mouth, chewing furiously.

“Benedict. I did not expect to see you awake so early.” Violet jumped slightly as she walked into the drawing room, seeing her second eldest sprawled out.

“Apologies Mother. I could not sleep.”

Violet watched him as he continued to scribble and get frustrated at himself. She placed a hand on her abdomen and one hand on her hip.

“Is something troubling you dear?” The worry evident on her face.

“Not at all Mother. I am just dandy.” Benedict faked a smile, wanting to hide his sour mood from her.

However, if anyone knew him best, it was his mother.

She moved closer, towering over him as he lay on the chair.

“Benedict.”

“Mother.”

“I know you. You are not yourself. Are you well?”

“I… am…” Benedict hesitated when he looked up to see the emotion written all over Violet’s face.

“I have… no muse. Okay. I am a failed artist. What with Anthony buying my place in the Academy and having absolutely nothing to draw.” He sighed, leaning his head back and pinching the bridge of his nose.

Violet sighed softly, reaching out her hand for him to hold. He obliged and held it tightly.

“My dear Benedict. You are more than you know. Whatever this is, it will pass. You will find that spark again. I am sure of it. Maybe what you need is…”

“If you say love Mother I swear…” Benedict huffed but had a small smile on his face.

“I know you are very… liberal… with your views on such matters but believe me, love can do wondrous things. Do not count yourself out yet. I thought I was out but I have Lord Anderson…”

“Mother please I do not need to know details of you and Lord Anderson.” Benedict rolled his eyes.

Violet chuckled before pulling at his hand to get him to stand up. His sketchbook falling to the floor along with the pencil. Violet placed both of her hands on either side of his face.

“My wonderful, wonderful boy. Your father would be proud of you. All of you.” Violet cooed, tears forming in her eyes.

“Are you well Mother? You are… more emotional than usual.” Benedict placed his hands are her upper arms.

“I am. I’m just a proud mother that is all. However, there is much to do today to prepare. I need to get Eloise and Hyacinth to the Modiste in one piece.” Violet sighed before clapping her hands to pull herself together.

“Good luck Mother.” Benedict rolled his eyes before planting a kiss on her cheek. He then proceeded to pick up his sketchbook and pencil, making a swift exit before the chaos inevitably began.

Across Mayfair, Y/N was sat in her own drawing room. Her nose buried in her latest read.

“Y/N my dear. It is a beautiful day today you should be out. Can you not go and call on that Bridgerton girl you were talking with at the ball?” Richard chimed from behind his paper.

“I could say the same for you Father.” Y/N gestured to the paper with a smirk.

“And also her name is Eloise. But I believe she is busy today visiting the Modiste.”

“Oh well that’s perfect. You are due some new dresses are you not?” Richard chimed once more. Trying with all his might to get Y/N out of the house.

The secret talk he had, had with Lady Danbury at last nights ball, while Y/N was distracted, had hit home. He wanted Y/N to fly the nest and have a life outside of home. It is what her mother would have wanted also.

“Ugh fine.” Y/N huffed.

“I’ve lost my place now anyway.” Her book was slammed shut and held tight against her chest as she stormed out of the room.

Richard just chuckled to himself before going back to reading his paper.

The Modiste houses Mayfair’s finest dressmaker, Madame Delacroix. Her designs were incredibly sought after. Especially after Lady Whistle… Penelope Bridgerton started to write about her.

Eloise was filling Y/N in on such news and gossip of the Ton.

“So… Penelope was your best friend but she wrote these awful things about you and your family or well the whole Ton and you were no longer friends and then she married your brother?” Y/N asked, confusion laced in her words.

“I know. It’s still incredibly confusing to me too. However, it is nice to call her a sister now. I would’ve longed for such a relationship with her when we were younger.” Eloise chimed.

“I wish I knew the feeling. It is lonely being an only child. You are lucky.” Y/N whined.

“I believe it is you to be the lucky one. A whole house to yourself. It must be so peaceful. We don’t get a minutes peace at Bridgerton house.”

“I must agree, the quiet does have its advantages. Feel free to come and make use of them. Any time.” Y/N offered with a smile.

“You don’t know how much that means to me. Y/N Pembrooke. Thank you. Thank you, thank you!!” Eloise exclaimed.

“Eloise! Behave yourself.” Violet warned.

“Sorry Mama.”

Hyacinth turned and stuck her tongue out at Eloise in jest. To which Eloise did it back.

“See that! That is what I have missed out on.” Y/N whined once more.

[angstics]

3.3k words summarizing queliot if you've never seen the magicians. or if youve seen it and you want to indulge in my insane criticisms. lord touch his mind

okay so the magicians was a tv show about a bunch of post grads learning magic in magic university then discovering that the fantasy world from a kids book series was actually real and the Beast of that world was out to get them. WHO GIVES A FUCK. the crazy people were focused on the relationship btwn main character quentin coldwater (depressed, heart on his sleeve, surprise sex maniac who is new to magic and loves those books) and gay best friend eliot waugh (substance addicted (big surprise!!), gay trauma, named after evelyn waugh oh you know…) they form a friendship and it’s weirdly touchy and close. eliot keeps trying to seduce quentin but it’s never serious. i dont even think quentin notices. anyone remember the “lets not talk” scene? he was about to fuck that sad man. anyway this tension was actually fulfilled by the end of the 1st season with a drunk threesome including the two and their best friend margo. they at least kiss and cuddle and MAYBE sucked dick if the ghost of his girlfriend who haunts him later is to be believed (which i do #cockinhismouthsunday).

at this time articles that were like “THIS SIFI SERIES IS PROUDLY BISEXUAL” were coming out which. lol. lmfao! quentin never had any sort of queer identity. not even a hint of it. the homophobia of the show started with the regurgitation of the “sad drunk lonely sex-crazed” gay man trope with eliot, then the “everyone is fluid but no one actually has same sex attraction” trope, THEN by sidelining and killing off almost every gay or trans character, THEN THE QUENTIN THING. and the quentin thing turned people insane. let’s see why.

so after the threesome, eliot and quentin continue having a good friendship. there is some tension that isnt present with margo which sure is a choice… but it is resolved by a heartfelt crowning ceremony nd hug. oh theyre kings of the magic land now btw. eliot and q are pretty much separate from this point on xcept for certain episodes/moments. it is strange they dont have any storylines together. but love finds a way. at some point a version of eliot sacrifies himself for quentin. if u look at the scene it is on instinct it is crazy. then they reunite at the end of s2 but it’s all business really. the show was really involved w its nonsense plot.

anyway season 3. hahaha. so like i said theyre separate most of the show past s1. this is true in this season xcept for episodes 305 and 313 (with some notable moments in between). the plot of this season is that they have to go on quests to collect keys. the creature that gives eliot this plot calls quentin his “brother of the heart”. ok! when they see each other for the first time in a while in 304, they hug in a very sweet way :) look at this photo from bts during that scene :) i have it framed

after a series of other quests, 305 turns out to be the Eliot and Quentin quest! finally a story with the two! the quest is for the “time key”, which is fabled to be given to whoever solves the mosaic puzzle in fillory (magic world). the puzzle? they have to arrange 100s of tiles in a way that depicts “the beauty of all life”. quentin is very excited about it. eliot is happy to hear him infodump. they eventually get pushed into fillory to solve the mosaic. turns out they were also sent DECADES in the past. there might have been a way out but they were dead-set on solving the mosaic and getting their key. so they get to work. they live in a cottage attached to the mosaic and they spend hours, days, months on it. just the two of them and the mosaic. this episode is called “a life in a day” which is so perfect you wonder why the writing couldnt be that good within the show.

at the 1 year anniversary, quentin kisses eliot. and eliot kisses him back. and you wonder woah what does this mean?! well keep wondering girl because this tv show does not care to explore any of that. it chugs on and eliot and q fight about “living their lives there” and quentin gets a Wife and has a child with her and then she DIES (leaving her as a narrative incubator rather than an actual character, which is very in line with the sexism of the show). and they grow up and decades pass and the child grows old enough to leave and it seems eliot co-parented him but (again) the tv show doesnt care to show you that. and this whole time theyre working on the mosaic. years and years. eventually they grow old. it’s just the two of them. until eliot dies. quentin goes to bury him in the mosaic plot and he finds a special little tile. he places it in the mosaic. he gets the key. the puzzle is solved. “the beauty of all life”. but quentin is alone. his life companion is gone. and that’s the last we see of him.

we go back in time til before they enter fillory. their friend stops them and she has the key through time shenanigans and they never live that timeline. UNTIL!!!!! they do. they remember it all. what does decades (50 yrs btw) of living happily together mean for them?!? FUCK ALL APPARENTLY!!!! because the next episode (306 if yr keep track) they mention it ONCE AND NEVER AGAIN. and there is so much beneath the surface with the looks and the line that mentions it (“go be life partners with someone else” eliot says jokingly in a manner that shouldve been the catalyst to quentin’s magic-induced suicide spiral later that episode).

ok quentin does mention it once more to his dying dad. but nothing about his Male Life Partner Of Fifty Years. Nothing. they dont even talk about it with their best friends, leading one to believe they just kept it a secret . which. okay.

okay. so theyre apart til the last episode of the season. and quentin decides to sacrifice himself by locking himself in a cage with a monster for all of eternity. he says the quest prepared him for it which is yikesss. eliot refuses. but quentin insists. they travel to the prison (he gets back together with his gf during this trip btw they had been apart that season after some shit. one of their worst writing decisions i hate this stupid ass cockroach relationship). quentin almost exchanges himself. then eliot shoots the monster. dooming them all.

so the monster doesnt die. instead he possesses eliot. and that becomes the story for season 4. at first quentin and co think eliot is dead. and it’s devastating lol. an interesting thing is that the monster was so. touchy with quentin. unbearably so. it’s such a perverse reflection of eliot’s touch. which is sorta pointed out by quentin in this quote (paraphrase) “i know it’s not eliot. but he has his face and his eyes…”

anyhow 405. hahahahahaha. so this episode it’s revealed eliot is alive but trapped in his own head. and to get out for a moment and tell his friends he’s alive, he needs to confront his most terrible most shameful memory. the whole episode is him trying to figure out what it is. meanwhile, quentin and co are setting up a plan to kill the monster. and quentin breaks up with his gf (lol). in a deleted scene that WAS shown in promo they argue about the monster. and quentin says “im team eliot”. lol

anyhow, eliot’s hit a dead end. he cant figure the worst thing that’s happened in his life. then his memory of quentin (theyve been hangin out) says he’ll “sacrifice” himself if he had to. eliot smiles and says “i know youre just a memory… but youre a very generous one.” and quentin says— (im reciting this from memory btw all of this has been from 4 years of NON STOP thinking about it) quentin says “well you sacrifice for the people you love” and he gives eliot a VERY pointed look. and then it dawns on eliot. and the guilt is instantly palpable.

hahahahha. hahaha. hahahahahaha. okay so eliot goes to the memory he knows is the worst thing he’s ever done. his most traumatic memory, after a lifetime of violent homophobia and bad choices. the person possessed before him described this memory as being “the day he left home”.

the memory? the day they remembered their past lives. did it happen? fifty years. it happened.

theyre sat under a wedding arch (that was the b plot of the episode lol). it’s beautiful. eliot watches the memory play out, standing in front of the seated figures. the guilt. the guilt.

outside, the tension is building. the plan to kill the monster is in motion. quentin has to coax him to a certain spot. he has to look at him as he kills his best friend.

eliot doesnt know this but he gets anxious watching it play out. there is a certainty that this is it. the first time viewer has no idea whats going on. we never saw the direct aftermath of them remembering. we always assumed there wasnt anything.

well a year after 305 aired, a yr after thinking THAT WAS IT, they recontextualize Everything.

it is worth saying here that in the promo interviews leading up to season 4, quentin’s and eliot’s actors were sussing it UP. quentin’s at some point talks on q’s queerness, saying it was the one aspect of his life he didnt feel anxious about.

well

what happens is that quentin asks eliot for a relationship. remember how it was quentin who first kissed eliot? it happens again. heart on his fucking sleeve. i can recite this scene pretty well so im going to fucking do it:

did it happen? fifty years. it happened. it was sort of beautiful. it really was. i know this is gonna sound dumb but … us. i mean we work. we know it cause we lived it. who gets that proof of concept? (eliot smiles uneasily) we just got injected with fifty years of memories so i get that youre not thinking clearly. no im just saying… what if we gave it a shot, would that be so crazy? (eliot looks down, worried and thoughtful. quentin smiles RADIANTLY it is BLINDING) why the fuck not?

editors opinion: quentin is such a beautiful person. to be so truthful about something so scary is unthinkable. especially in context of him being so hopelessly and quietly in love his childhood best friend, and his whirlwind romance with previously mentioned gf, and all the tragedy he endured with these two. but this is someone who loves with his whole heart. what was he supposed to do? contain it?

then eliot hardens.

i know you and you arent… whats the matter? dont be naive it matters. (pause) q i love you but… that isnt me and that definitely isnt you. not when we have a choice. (quentin looks away. he wipes his eye) oh. okay. sorry.

and silence. the real eliot, the eliot who isnt the memory, looks on. tired and angry, he speaks to himself:

what the hell is wrong with you? what the hell are you doing? someone Good and True… Loves you. yeah it was a little crazy but you knew. you knew this truly mattered. and you just SNUFFED IT OUT.

then he looks to the memory of quentin. soft as the clouds:

q. im sorry. i was afraid. and when im afraid i run away.

then he kisses him. and he hits you with the thesis of the episode:

if i ever get out of here q… know that when im braver it cause i learned it from you.

well

thats his most traumatic memory. he is granted passage to consciousness. what is the first thing he sees? quentin. the real quentin.

q? (smiles) q (laughs) it’s me. it’s eliot. ok come on no games. it’s eliot. i said no games. (eliot looks around, worried as all hell) fifty years (he walks towards q) who gets proof of concept like that? what? peaches and plums motherfucker (this is the symbol to their mosaic life) im alive in here. (eyes as wide as saucers, heart in his throat) eliot…

and he ruins their plans of killing the monster. “eliot’s alive.”

then the episodes keep rolling. “eliot eliot eliot. why do you care so much about him?” “because i do.” and “wow i love that plan. except the part where it doesnt save eliot.” quentin gets back with his gf for reasons only the devil knows. but fine ok whatever quentin and eliot will HAVE to talk post-saving. even if the writers ignore it once more they have some kind of relationship. and they do save eliot in the finale! you know who they dont save? lmfao

quentin dies. in a manner that many including myself found weird and unsatisfactory and suicidal. and he never gets to know how eliot feels. never. he’s just gone. their story means nothing 💯

editors note: this ending broke me. i was using the show as a depression crutch, so a fate so hopeless ruined me. cant blame the show for my mistake but being so technically bad certainly didnt help.

well when the show came back for its next (and final lol) season, they did attempt closure for eliot and quentin. for some reason this was all contained in 3 episodes, most of it in the third (503) but what the fuck ever. it has its moments.

the episode is basically about eliot and alice (q’s gf i dont think ive mentioned her name. sorry alice) going on a mini quest up a treacherous mountain for grievers to return a piece of quentin’s soul back to the underworld. their fights are soooo funny. toxic lover vs almost-lover.

alice at some point says “well he was MY boyfriend this is MY pilgrimage and you just TAGGED ALONG” and (blood obviously boiling) eliot goes “right, because he meant nothing to me”. and this highlights something so sneakily homophobic about this whole affair. quentin and eliot’s relationship never mattered to the narrative as much as all the other straight relationships, especially quentin and alice’s. like i said, they would separate for entire seasons. you will be happy to know that not 1 episode goes by without quentin and alice conflicting and making up conflicting and etc. i dont understand how quentin and eliot’s relationship wasnt important enough. they were best friends, they kissed multiple times and had sex AT LEAST once if the mosaic subtext isnt considered. and the mosaic… it isnt just that they lived together for 50 yrs and raised a child and were happy, something they couldnt quite grasp in their old lives… they achieved the beauty of all life. that is a monumental achievement that shouldve changed not only their lives, but their stories.

the thing about the confession is that it wasnt planted in s3. talking about 405, the writers said they came up with it while working on that episode. it was essentially a retcon. though its inclusion explains why they didnt talk about it literally, it doesnt excuse the narrative outright ignoring it. it DEFINITELY doesnt account for why it ignored the rest of the SAME SEASON it was ESTABLISHED IN. if this was quentin and alice, they would be talking about it nonstop. and guess the fuck what when they get back together it is *non stop*.

SO. 503. they are on their pilgrimage. tensions build. eliot hallucinates quentin’s voice (it’s a soundbite from the mosaic when eliot dies which is depressing). they meet another traveller who is grieving his long dead boyfriend.

the traveller asks who theyre grieving and alice goes My Boyfriend and eliot looks away and says he knew him as a friend and it’s so sad it makes me want to die. why did they invent new exciting ways for gay people to be ashamed of who they love. i hate this show.

anyway the traveller talks about his boyfriend and how he was a magician who died young and how his dreams were haunted by him. and eliot is listening so intensely you want to jump hale appleman for being so good at this acting thing. alice goes to sleep and leaves the two alone. then they really start talkin:

(the traveller asks) have you ever had love? (eliot smiles small, hesitant) love…? yeah love. (pause) the friend we’re putting to rest. (traveller is delightfully shock) wasnt just a friend.

truly truly truly cant describe to you how much it physically pains me that it took 2 seasons and for one of them to die and a conversation with a stranger to get to this point. why wasnt this always part of the narrative. why does this only matter now after 2 yrs of fans badgering you about why this isnt part of the fucking show despite BEING PART OF THE FUCKING SHOW! it is dead obvious this was never the intent so even with something that should feel right feels wrong because the show never wanted it. it never wanted quentin to be in love with eliot. but it doesnt make sense if he isnt. i hate this show.

the convo continues 🙄:

does she know? oh god no. a torrid secret affair. (eliot looks away) no, nothing like that.

and i wish eliot was given a proper story. i wish i knew what was going on in his head through all of this. i wish i wish.

so it is revealed that quentin and eliot “had love” and that eliot is keeping it a secret (a revelation considering they werent intimate on screen past the 1 yr anniversary, they were only ever referred to as best friends by cast and crew, AND even what they were was obscured in the confession scene. and their feelings didnt matter past 405 fuck this world). this is huge. it should be huge. eliot’s first arc is about how he cant fall in love until he does and gets his heart broken. quentin’s stories are so wrapped up in alice that having another love interest should complicate that entirely. it doesnt.

the climax of the episode is when eliot expresses difficulty of letting go of quentin and alice says “he was your friend” and eliot replies (quick as if not meaning to) “he wasnt just my friend.” and wowww. how cathartic. the first time in the history of the show they talk about it. 5 seasons btw.

and eliot tells her about the mosaic and how “we loved each other for a really really long time.” and how he told him to fuck off and how he died for him and how he was never able to talk to him again. he just died.

and that part is supposed to be cathartic too. it feels cathartic for eliot the character at least. but to me the Viewer. i was sick of how they were trying to appeal to MY thoughts of what he should be feeling. as if trying to placate me. cuz if it was soo important it wouldnt just been solved after this episode. he DGAF about quentin after this. i dont get it. why cant they write a proper story.

well one line that stuck with me and i truly felt was this:

alice: he was pretty in love with you eliot: i wouldnt say that alice: .. i would

and then eliot looks at her the most devastated a man can look.

thats it. that’s quentin and eliot. a heartfelt and final fuck this show. the fic goes crazy esp the 2019 shit.

[esamastation]

hi!!! i just wanted to pop in after reading some of your AC fics (ones where desmond, ezio, and/or altaïr are at the forefront so in this case: i was born for this, terrible two, stone angel, gift of living well, impermanence, three fold, & earthly scene) and say that you're a brilliant writer. as someone who's trying to write longer, more impactful stories, it's admirable how you prioritize the plot and how romance is a sweet part of it. (this is part 1 of this message bc of the word count!)

you construct romance in an original, cathartic way that feels effortless. i just finished 'i was born with this' and the romance that forms between the characters feels so natural and unforced. another thing i love in your fics is that when desmond goes back in time, he always (unintentionally at first) makes an impact in furthering knowledge, inventions, etc centuries ahead of when they were supposed to happen. more importantly, desmond finds his well-deserved happy ending.

your fic ideas are also so creative and out of the box. i'm currently going through the games right now and desmond has been so so much shit (unwillingly) and he deserves some rest and happiness :,) another thing i love is how you always leave a hopeful ending that makes me ache to know what happens after!! you flesh out the characters so much over the span of + 100,000k words, tie things wonderfully at the end, and make me feel out breath (in a good way)

yeah, to sum that up, you're an amazing writer!! i also wanted to ask you some questions about writing. i aspire to write long fics, but i struggle with plotting out events =( i feel like i rush the events in how i want to get to the end where the characters are happy! do you have a writing process? do you plot out your stories or kind of go with the flow? do you have any tips on improving your writing? i totally get if you don't have any advice! have a great day!

-

Thank you for your nice comments, sorry it took so long to reply, I was feeling very antisocial. Anyway.

I do not have a writing process - I'm what they call a gardner writer, I take characters and I put them into situations and see how things develop and plot either happens or it doesn't. Maybe I have vague plans like "here's a scene I want to see in future" and "this is a result I want them to come to" and then try to write towards those goals, but they don't always pan out. It's all very chaotic and leads to lot of dropped fics, but it's how I enjoy writing. (It really helps having someone reading your stuff and poking at the plot holes though, I got a lot of fics that only got as far as they did because nimadge or someone else was there along for the ride.)

I dunno if there's anything other that just practice that can improve a person's writing. Some people recommend writing short stories and flash fiction, some people say your should write X amount of words every day. If all else fails there's thousands YouTube videos on subject.

Personally I'm a huge advocate of taking ideas from other people and putting your own spin into them. Derivate, rehash, put them in a blender, see what comes out. Like, don't copy Lord of the Rings word for word and publish it as your own work, that's bad - but maybe dwarf and elf going on adventures together is a idea that could go places. Fanfiction is all derivation upon pre-existing ideas.

Related, I whole heartedly endorse anyone who wants to take plots and ideas I've written and taking a crack at them with their own style. It's pretty much how I learned to write as wee bab on a typewriter, stealing from the books I enjoyed. And hell, if you don't have a style, try someone else's. One is my most popular fics started with me trying to emulate the style and cadence of narration of a completely unrelated TV series I was watching at the time. I don't think anyone even noticed.

Once you have enough practice under your belt, your style will develop on its own.

[likecanyoujustnot]

Just Two Heirs: Pt 1

The wedding

Summary: We know Dorian and Aelin could have been betrothed in another universe. Well in this one they are.

A/n: I had an existential crisis. Anyway. Enjoy. It’s pretty long and I haven’t been to a wedding since I was about 10 so I can’t remember what is said. And there will probably be inconsistencies in the characters because it has been a long time since I read the books. Aedion says cuz. Chaorian?? The dialogue is very repetitive.

•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•*•

Dorian was to be wed to the crown princess of Terrasen.

The betrothal had been planed out since he’d been 11.

His father and Aelin’s parents and the king of Terrasen agreed it was a good decision, one to strengthen ties and secure the succession of both kingdoms.

Never thinking that they would both be marrying someone who was nearly a stranger to them.

But Dorian couldn’t do much to stop it.

Chaol thought he should just go along with it.

“From what I hear she’s quite beautiful, you could do a lot worse.”

But he didn’t get his reputation as an infamous womaniser and heartbreaker for listening to his friend.

But marriage would put an end to his adventures with the women of court. Dorian was many things. But he would not be unfaithful.

She was coming in four days, they would have a week to properly get to know each other before being wed.

Preparations for the biggest social event of the decade were under full swing. Decorations were already being put up, his father had a tailor coming tomorrow to fit him for some new outfits for the ceremony and their honeymoon, wherever they decided to go.

He stared out at the gardens currently being trimmed and cut ready for the visitors. He would go find Chaol, spar with him to take his mind off his future.

Aelin wasn’t quite scared.

More so apprehensive.

In about a week and a half she would walk down the aisle to say her vows and tie her life to that of the prince she’d met thrice.

“You will be fine, darling.” Her mother, Evalin said, watching as Aelin tried on the various dresses in hope one tickled her fancy.

This one was rather revealing, with a deep plunging neckline. She shook her head and it was taken off her.

“I know mother, but I have no idea what to expect, for all I know he could be ugly and horrid.” She knew he wasn’t. Unless he’d majorly changed in the last seven years and the stories she’d heard were wrong, he was extremely handsome and a much loved man.

“All will be well, worse comes to worse, you get divorced after a few heirs are born or you take another lover.”

“Mother.” She moved her hair over her shoulder so the dressmaker could do up the gown. “Surely you are not condoning cheating.”

She took a sip of the wine. “Of course not.”

Aelin turned and looked in the mirror.

This was the one.

It was silk and hugged her curves, the neckline showing a little bit, but not too much, with off the shoulder sleeves that gaped open at her wrists.

“I love it.” She whispered. The dressmaker smiled at her reflection.

“It’s looks wonderful on you, fireheart.” Evalin said. “Everyone is going to love it.”

The carriages had been prepared as Aelin slept. She, her mother and father, her cousin Aedion, and great uncle, the king of Terrasen, would spend the next few days travelling to Rifthold so they could get there in time for the week of celebration that was customary to precede the wedding.

The adults were going in one carriage and the cousins in another.

Aedion wasn’t happy about the marriage. He was fiercely loyal to his cousin and family and would do anything for Aelin. Evalin had taken the boy in after his mother, her cousin, had died and his father had been no where to be found.

But it was no secret amongst the Ashryver Galathyniuses that his father had been fae.

Aelin was fae too. She could shift into an immortal form.

Not that she did it often.

The carriage lurched and so began the journey.

Their first stop was in Perranth. The home of Lord Lochan.

His wife, Marion, was one of Aelin’s nurses but was travelling with them, so she had been happy for the excuse to see her daughter Elide, who was the same age as Aelin.

Aelin pretended not to notice the covert glances between her friend and cousin.

They set off the next morning and stayed at an inn in the Oakwald Forest.

Very few of the guards had slept that night with how unprotected they were.

Then finally, they made it to Rifthold.

The city was bedecked with garlands and decorations everywhere.

People cheered as the procession made its way through the streets to the glass castle. It glinted in the sunlight, massive and casting a large shadow over the city.

The carriage stopped and Aedion jumped out before taking Aelin’s hand and helping her down.

Standing in front of the large doors was the king.

The Galathyniuses walked up the steps and Orlon shook hands with the king.

“It is a pleasure to be here for the joyful union of our kingdoms.” He said.

“Yes, it will be a great one.” The king replied.

Aelin and her family followed the king through the castle and to a dining room, where four people were standing.

Queen Georgina, Price Hollin, a man she didn’t recognise, and her betrothed. Dorian.

At least the reports of his beauty had not been exaggerated.

Midnight black hair and piercing sapphire eyes, cheekbones and a jawline that could cut glass, a full mouth and toned body shown off by the cut of his white shirt and black pants.

He looked every bit a charming prince.

“Princess Aelin, my eldest son, Dorian.”

Dorian walked over to Aelin and kissed the back of her hand. “My lady.”

She curtsied to him. “Prince.”

He extended her his arm and when she took it he lead to her a seat down the far end of the table.

He has lovely manners. She thought.

Dorian pulled out her chair, pushed it in and sat to her left.

The other man she did not recognise sat next to him, and Aedion sat on her other side next to Evalin.

“How was your journey?” The prince asked.

“It was well, a bit tedious, but we made it.”

Dorian nodded.

Aedion stuck his head so he could see around them.

“Who are you?” He asked, tone bordering on rude.

The brown-haired man looked at Aelin’s cousin. “Chaol Westfall, captain of the guard, close friend to Prince Dorian.”

Aedion frowned. “You look too young to be captain of the guard.”

Chaol glared right back at him. “I’m 20.”

“Let’s just calm down, okay?” Dorian said, raising his hands. “Prince Aedion, I assure you we are well protected here.”

Aelin looked at Aedion with a brow raised.

Servants brought out dish after dish. Much more than they would serve for only 9 people in Orynth, and only halfway through Aelin felt as though if she ate anymore she would explode.

Dorian seemed to notice this. “Father, do you mind if we leave the table?”

The king remained silent.

It was Orlon who said, “Let them go, enjoy some time together before they get married.”

Both of them stood up, leaving Aedion and Chaol glowering at each other.

Aelin had no clue where Dorian was leading her, but she hoped it was somewhere cool. The Adarlanian summers had a sting to them.

“These are my rooms.” He announced. “And in a week, I suppose yours too.”

He flopped down on a couch and gestured for her to sit opposite.

“I suppose you’re as joyed about his union as I am.” She said.

He raised his brows. “And how joyed are you?”

Aelin felt a blush creep over her cheeks. “Not overly, I would rather marry a man I know and for love, not for the political gain of my family.”

Dorian sighed. “I would too, but there is not much we can do, unfortunately as nobles, how we live and who we marry is predetermined for us.”

Aelin made a snort of agreement.

Dorian lied down so his head was resting on a chair arm and his legs dangled over the other. “We could always divorce once we have heirs and our parents are no longer hounding us.”

Aelin smiled. “That’s almost exactly what my mother said.”

The corner of his mouth lifted and he turned to face her. “Or you never know, maybe you’ll learn to love me.”

She looked at him incredulously and he laughed, the sound and the splitting smile turning him from beautiful into devastating. “Don’t look so disgusted. I have broken the hearts of many a woman, and once a man.”

“That doesn’t mean I’ll give you mine.”

He grinned. “We’ll see.”

The next few days lasted without incident. Dorian and Aelin would go for walks throughout the gardens, or down into Rifthold to allow Aelin to get the feel for her new home, Chaol and Aedion continued their pissing contest, and the king continued to give Dorian disapproving glares, despite the fact he was doing what he had been told.

Aelin slept in a room next to his, which he understood.

He was sleeping in, two mornings before his wedding when there was a knock on the door.

“Who is it?” He called. It would have to be someone trusted or the guards wouldn’t let them in.

“Me.”

Chaol.

“Come in if you must.” Dorian grabbed the pillow from under his head and laid it over his face.

If Chaol was here this early it was not a good sign.

“Dorian.”

“What.”

“Can you remove the pillow.”

He moved it back and sat up, watching his best friend who stood in full uniform, posture ridged and correct. “What can I help you with?”

“Your future in-laws wish to meet with you.”

Dorian’s eyes widened. “Why?”

“Not sure, but I would assume they would want to know you a little bit.”

Dorian sprung out of bed and threw on a shirt, gesturing to Chaol to turn around so he could change his pants.

He froze, one leg halfway in. “My parents… they’re not meeting with Aelin are they?”

Chaol remained staring at the wall as he replied. “I know your mother wishes to speak with her, but I do not think your father cares.”

He finished putting on his pants. “If Aelin does talk with my mother, I want you to get her out of it immediately.”

“Can I turn around?”

“Yes.”

Chaol spun to face him. “You will not be able to separate them for the rest of her life, nor can you keep her from your father.”

“My father is a horrible man, and I want no one to have to go through even a fraction of what I did.” He said, grim determination on his face as he stared down his best friend.

“So please, take her to the library, the bakery, the gardens or stables, anywhere Chaol, please.”

Chaol nodded and the two friends left the room.

Dorian raised his fist to knock on the door of King Orlon’s room. He made eye contact with Chaol, who nodded, and rapped his knuckles on the wood.

The door was opened by Evalin. “You’re here! Come in come in.”

She shut the door in Chaol’s face.

Evalin looked a lot like Aelin. They had the same hair colour and those Ashryver eyes.

Aedion, Orlon and Rhoe all sat around the coffee table. He assumed the casual atmosphere was supposed to ease him, but it just made him more nervous.

“So Dorian, you excited for the wedding?” Rhoe asked, stirring his tea.

Dorian contemplated how to answer that. “I am looking forward to it, it will be something very different that’s for sure, but Aelin seems wonderful from what I’ve gotten to know these past few days, and I think we could make each other happy.”

There you go, he didn’t show resentment for the predicament, he complimented their princess, and he made a statement about how their relationship could go.

Evalin and Rhoe seemed satisfied and nodded with smiles on their faces.

“What do you hope to accomplish once you become king?” Orlon asked.

Shit. It was no longer about Aelin.

“Well, there are a number of things, I would like to smoothen our relationships with other kingdoms, both on Erilea and the other continents. And I wish to help the impoverished, make sure they can afford to eat and live well.”

Orlon nodded. “Very good. Once you marry princess Aelin, where will she fit into this?”

Back to Aelin.

“I’m not sure yet, I she may help me if she wishes to, but her time is her own.”

The king nodded. “Hypothetically, if both of you were to come into your birthrights, so if your father, myself and Rhoe were to die, what would you do in terms of titles and kingdoms?”

Dorian honestly has never thought of that. Even if his father died, there was still Orlon and Rhoe, so he didn’t imagine getting both crowns for years and years.

“I’m not quite sure, I would imagine if say my father died first, Aelin would become my Queen Consort, and then if something happened to the both of you she would also be Queen of Terrasen.”

“And you would also be king consort.”

“Maybe.”

“Would you not just divorce?” Aedion cut in. “Or merge the kingdoms?”

Dorian looked to the prince. “I would not divorce your cousin just for the succession, and combing Adarlan and Terrasen would not be sustainable.”

Orlon smiled. “Good answers, boy.”

Evalin spoke next. “Dorian, we understand this… situation may not be how you envisioned getting married, but we are grateful for your cooperation.”

He nodded.

“You may leave.”

Aelin had to meet with Queen Georgina. She was not looking forward to it.

Considering the rumours of Dorian had been true, she assumed those of his mother would be too, that she was a very vain and self centred woman.

And well,

They were right.

Georgina’s rooms were full of maidens rushing around, getting dressed and things ready for the ceremony.

Aelin sat down across from the Queen consort and wondered how this woman came to be married to the king.

“So, Aelin…” She began. “How do you find my son?”

“He’s nice, sweet, I think he would be a good husband.”

She smiled like they had some kind of inside joke. “That’s how they all start off, before you know it, you’ll be neglected, it’s nice to have options.”

“Options?” She echoed. Why did everyone think that just because she and Dorian didn’t know each other well that they would take other lovers?

“The captain of the guard is rather handsome.”

Aelin fought the urge to cringe and throw herself out the window. She quickly changed the subject. “What colour dress are you wearing?”

“Oh red and gold of course, the kingdoms colours. Much the same as you are wearing Terrasen’s.”

That was true. The gown was lovely and green with silver trimmings.

“Most of the guests will arrive tomorrow, Dorian’s cousins, the princess of Ellywe, some delegates from Wendlyn.”

Aelin nodded. She knew all this. Invites had been sent out 6 months ago.

She, yet again, wondered how many fae would be in attendance. While the fae were not being persecuted, they were still looked down upon, especially by the nobility in Adarlan. She wondered how Dorian would feel if he knew he was engaged to a faerie.

“Where are you thinking of going for your honeymoon?” Georgina asked, breaking the silence. “You will have to decide that soon.”

Aelin nodded once more. “I’m not quite sure yet.”

They sat in silence, watching the maidens and sipping their tea when someone knocked on the door.

One of the ladies in wait opened it and Chaol Westfall followed her.

He bowed to both the women. “Pardon your majesty, but Prince Dorian wishes to see his fiancée.”

Aelin stood up and tried not to run out the door.

“Just a word of advice, Aelin.” She turned back to the queen. “There are many in court who will not be happy with this union. Especially those who wanted to be the one to wed my son, so I would recommend that you always watch your back.”

“Thank you.” Aelin tipped her head and followed Chaol out.

“Where’s Dorian?” She asked.

“The library.” He replied, setting off down the hallway.

“Wait- you have a library?”

He looked at her. “Well, I don’t have one, but yes, the castle does.”

“Maybe I will move here permanently.” She mused and Chaol tipped back his head and laughed.

Eventually they made it too the entrance and Chaol opened the door for her. “I doubt he wants me there, so enjoy.”

She thanked him and set off to find her future husband.

Aelin found Dorian in the romance section, sitting in an armchair. He was holding a book open with one hand while the other rested on the back of the chair.

“I’ve read that book.” She said as way of hello.

He looked up her. “It’s good isn’t it?”

She nodded and noticed this was the only seat in this part of the library.

“I’m surprised though.”

“Why?” He moved over and patted next to him on the chair, an invitation to sit.

Aelin took it and squished in next to him, trying to ignore the heat of his body and where their thighs pressed against each other.

“Because it’s a romance book.”

He raised a brow. “Are you saying that just because I am a man, I cannot read a romance book?”

“No, of course not.” She cried indignantly.

“I’m just messing with you.” He grinned. “I enjoy reading about other people, ones who don’t have the responsibility that comes with a crown.”

“I know the feeling.” She muttered.

“You can borrow as many books as you want, keep a few in your room.”

Aelin’s face broke into a wide grin. “You’re going to wish you didn’t say that.” She jumped up from the chair and pulled Dorian after her. She ran up to a shelf and picked out a book. “Hold this.”

And so that went on for 20 minutes. Aelin would grab books and pass them to Dorian, who would occasionally give his opinion on ones he had read and thought she would like, picking out a few for himself

The traipsed back to their rooms, laughing at the tremendous amount they were carrying.

Chaol stared at them as he followed them back.

“At least you’ve found a common interest.”

“Just because you can’t read doesn’t mean the rest of us can’t.” Aelin called in a sing-song voice.

Chaol��s mouth dropped. “I can read thank you very much, I just don’t have the time to.”

Dorian gave his friend a look that said, you’re gonna have to deal with this for a long while.

When they made it back to Dorian’s room they stacked the books in a corner and grabbed one that the other had already read.

When one came across a plot twist or a funny moment the other would ask which part of the book that was and they would discuss it.

For the first time since coming here, Aelin felt that she could at least be friends with her husband.

Dorian stood on a balcony and watched the procession of guests as they were ushered into the castle, where they would be taken to the hall, in which he would be wed.

He saw the princess of Eyllwe, the crown prince of Fenharrow, his cousin Rolland-who he would need to keep away from Chaol-, a silver-haired fae prince from Wedlyn, a son of the Kaghan, some dukes and lords.

People who didn’t care that two 19 year olds were to be married to near strangers. Even if they had developed a friendship in the past few days.

He sighed and went back inside to the waiting assistants to help him into the clothes he would wear for the ceremony.

“You look stunning sweetheart.” Evalin said, hands on her daughter’s shoulders. “Like a queen of old.”

Aelin smiled and looked in the mirror. The dress was a deep green with silver lining. The stomacher was embossed with patterns and swirls and a full skirt fell to the ground. Her golden hair hung around her shoulders, unbound and in romantic waves.

Her father, uncle and cousin nodded their agreement.

Orlon stood up and walked to Aelin, a wooden box in his hands. He opened it and her eyes widened.

Inside was a beautiful tiara, silver and inlayed with emeralds, perfectly matching her dress.

Her uncle took the tiara in hand and placed it onto her head.

“Wonderful.” He said.

Aelin barely comprehended what happened for the next two hours.

She ate and talked with her family, she tried to ignore the pounding in her heart. She was led to a side room, where she would wait until the hall was full and Dorian was in place at the far end for her to walk to.

Dorian strode down the aisle, his father, mother and brother ahead of him and Chaol, as his best man, behind him.

He stood on his side of the dais in front of the officiant, looking at the hundreds of people gathered.

“Nervous?” Chaol whispered.

Dorian chuckled. “Not quite.” He was more so apprehensive at his impending nuptials.

The doors were thrown open and in walked his bride.

The breath was stolen from Dorian’s lungs.

“Ready?” Rhoe asked.

Aelin nodded. The others had already gone.

She took her father’s arm and they left the side room and walked to the entrance of the hall.

Hundreds of heads turned to see them walk down the aisle.

She was surprised to see a few fae among the crowd, including a male with silver hair and green eyes, a massive dark haired male next to him.

Aelin looked to Dorian.

He was gorgeous is a navy blue jacket and pants, a circlet upon his brow.

Rhoe lay go of Aelin’s arm and kissed her cheek. “I wish you much happiness together.” He shook hands with Dorian and sat next to his wife in the front row.

Dorian took Aelin’s hands in his own. “You look lovely.” He said, just low enough for her to hear.

“You clean up rather well yourself.” She muttered.

Dorian smirked and gave a nod to the officiant.

The grey haired man cleared his throat and began. “Dearly beloved, family, friends and guests, we are gathered here today to mark the joyful union of these two young people. Prince Dorian Havilliard of Adarlan, and Princess Aelin Ashryver Galathynius of Terrasen.”

Aelin almost fell asleep as the officiant went on his rant about how it was an honour to be here to witness this momentous occasion.

She wished he would wrap it up so they could exchange vows, and from the distant look of the assembly, they wished much the same. She locked eyes with Dorian who raised a single brow. Aelin bent her head so her hair would cover her smile.

“Now for the vows.”

Finally

“Dorian, you first.”

Dorian took the ring from Chaol’s outstretched hand and slid it on Aelin’s finger. “I swear to remain faithful and loyal, to cherish and love you, from now until the day I die, I ask you, Aelin Ashryver Galathynius, to be my bride.”

“Aelin, do you take Dorian to be your husband, in sickness and in health, for as long as you both shall live?”

“I do.”

Chaol passed her the other ring and she took it, slipping it on Dorian, trying to ignore the heat of his hand and the piercing gaze of his blue eyes. “I swear to remain faithful and loyal, to cherish and love you, from now until the day I die, I ask you, Dorian Havilliard, to be my husband.”

“Dorian, do you take Aelin to be your bride, in sickness and in health, for as long as you both shall live?”

“I do.”

“Ladies and gentlemen, esteemed guests, by the power vested in me, I proclaim Dorian and Aelin, husband and wife, you may kiss the bride.”

Shit.

She forgot about this part.

Aelin froze as the gathering clapped and cheered.

Dorian seemed to sense her nerves, cupping the side of her face gently and slowly bringing his lips to hers, it was a light kiss, barely there, the kind that said, you can pull away now if you wish.

But for some reason she didn’t. Instead she put a hand on his forearm and pushed her lips so they were properly kissing.

His lips were soft, gentle.

She’d just gotten ready to move deeper into it when Chaol cleared his throat.

She pulled back, embarrassed, but no one was looking at them. The people at the front were congratulating their parents.

Dorian took Aelin’s hand.

“Ready?” He asked.

Her father had asked that exact word when he walked her down the aisle, now she was leaving with her husband. She nodded, still slightly flustered from the kiss, and together they walked out the hall, everyone watching them now and cheering.

They made it out of the hall and were ushered into a spare room that contained things such makeup, water, biscuits and cheese, and others that it was thought they might like.

“When are we due for the banquet?” Aelin asked.

Dorian took a sip of water. “They’ll come get us when everyone is seated, then we just walk to the head of the table and then we eat.”

She took a deep breath. “Easy enough.”

Dorian out down the glass and walked over to her. “You okay? You seem anxious.”

She shook her head. “I’m fine, it’s just, this, I guess. We’re married know y’know? We will spend the rest of our lives together.”

“Tune down the excitement would you?” Dorian smirked.

Aelin looked up at him. “I’m so overjoyed, Dorian, you are just so incredible and beautiful, it is truly an honour to be your wife.”

“That’s more like it.” He grinned.

She rolled her eyes.

When did he get so close?

Indeed Dorian was now leaning over her. “Aelin.”

“Hmm?”

Just like at the ceremony he cupped her cheek, and leant down. “You okay?” He breathed, the double meaning was there, was she okay with him kissing her.

“Yes.” The word was barely there as Dorian kissed her, wasting no time with gentle brushes, sinking into the kiss, lips and tongues moving together.

Aelin had kissed a few boys before, but none of them had been as skilled as her husband. She moaned softly into his mouth and wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing their bodies flush against each other.

Dorian pulled back. “Do you-”

The door was flung open and Chaol strode in. “They’re ready for you.” He took in the compromising position, the flushed cheeks and swollen lips. “Shit- sorry… I’ll just… be outside...” He shut the door leaving the two royals.

They remained quiet for a beat before Aelin burst out laughing, Dorian following soon after. They straightened their clothes and crowns and walked out, both avoiding Chaol’s stare.

It seemed that the party had gotten underway when they were gone, people drinking and chatting and laughing, but they all turned to watch the newlyweds walk to their place.

Two seats that were like thrones sat at the far end of the middle table, usually this spot would be reserved for Dorian’s father, but today he and his wife were more important.

He held Aelin’s hand as she sat and flopped down next to her, trying to ignore the raging within him to kiss her again and continue what they started.

The entrees were served.

Dorian was bored

The mains were served.

Dorian was bored.

This was his wedding, surely he should be able to do what he does at all parties, get drunk and take a girl to bed, and he knew exactly what girl he wanted.

The one sitting next to him. With her round green eyes and gorgeous hair, the bare shoulders that begged to be bitten. If she would let him. He watched her from his peripheral, trying to find some indication she was as agitated as he was.

But she seemed to be perfectly happy, chatting with the princess of Eyllwe.

It was going to be a long night.

Aelin could feel Dorian’s heated stare as she talked with Nehemia.

The young princess had come on behalf of her parents, and said that the ceremony had been beautiful, if a bit long.

The song the band was playing changed and Nehemia grabbed Aelin’s hand. “I love this one!”

They danced together for the duration of the song, ignoring the glances of the other people.

Once it ended in favour of something slower, she headed back to Dorian, a flush over her cheeks.

He took a sip of his wine. “Did you enjoy yourself?” He asked.

Aelin grinned. “Very much, thank you.”

He watched her with such intensity she felt the flush creep back up, but for an entirely different reason.

“May I have this dance, highness?” Dorian’s cousin Rolland stood next to to Aelin’s chair, hand outstretched.

She didn’t even glance at Dorian as she took his hand and he led her onto the dance floor. “Are you enjoying yourself?” He asked.

She ignored that those were almost the exact same words Dorian said. “I am.”

He looked a fair bit like Dorian, the same hair colour, same face structure, but where the heir’s made him look beautiful and welcoming, his cousin’s was hard and serious.

The song ended and Rolland went to get drinks from the bar.

A woman Aelin had never seen before approached her.

She had dark hair and a face that seemed permanently sketched in a scowl. “So you’re Dorian’s wife.”

“Considering I just married him, yes.”

A cruel smile pulled at her lips. “We used to be a thing, he and I, he claimed he loved me.”

Aelin has seen the jealous types in court before, the women who think they have some claim to a man with a title. She had to deal with a fair few who wanted to know everything about Aedion, is he dating anyone? Does he prefer blondes or brunettes? Aelin always tried to avoid those interactions.

“That’s nice.” She said, tight lipped smile that said she didn’t want to be here. She turned to head back to her husband and ask just who this woman was.

“He’ll tire of you like he tired of me.” The woman said. “Everyone knows it is an arranged marriage, you won’t last long in his bed, he’ll favour some younger thing.”

Aelin turned back to her. “I have no intention of letting that happen, I plan to stay exactly where I am.”

She didn’t intend for the innuendo that she was in Dorian’s bed, but it caused the woman’s face to redden.

“He won’t love you, he doesn’t love anyone.”

Aelin’s gaze narrowed. “Or maybe he just doesn’t love you.”

Dorian watched Rolland dance with his wife with barely restrained rage.

When his cousin left to the bar he breathed a sigh of relief, until he saw just who approached Aelin.

Kaltain.

Aelin walked over to one of the other tables where Aedion sat.

He made the move to head over there before Kaltain intercepted him. He suppressed the urge to groan.

“Dorian.” She purred.

He nodded. “Kaltain.” Despite what she probably told Aelin, they’d never been in a relationship, though she’d made her intention on the matter clear from the beginning.

“Just had a… lovely chat with your bride.”

“I bet you did.” He muttered, gaze tracking to where Aelin was now dancing with Chaol. Bastard. He was supposed to be his friend.

“Dorian, listen if you ever want-” she placed her hand on his bicep.

“No sorry, I’ve got to go.” He extracted himself from her grip and stalked over to Chaol and Aelin.

Aelin tipped her head back and laughed. “No way you fell.”

Chaol grinned. “I did.”

The captain spun her and she saw Dorian striding for them.

Chaol pulled her back to him.

“May I dance with my wife?”

Chaol frowned at his friend. “The song hasn’t finished.”

Aelin extracted herself from his arms. “It’s fine.”

Dorian pulled her to him, placing one hand firmly on her waist.

“Who was that woman that spoke to me?” She whispered.

“Kaltain Rompier. Her father is a lord, she’s been pursuing me for years.”

“Oh.”

“How’s the wedding?” He asked.

Aelin shrugged. “It’s alright, I think it’s a bit over the top, but I do appreciate all the planning and decorum.” She yawned, a hand over her mouth.

“Bored?” He raised a brow.

“Out of my mind.” She replied in a conspiratorial whisper. “It’s been three hours since the ceremony, surely we can leave now.”

Dorian laughed and his lips brushed the shell of her ear. “We could probably sneak out, the novelty of the wedding has worn off, everyone’s just using it as an excuse to get drunk.”

Aelin shivered. “Someone could see us.”

She could hear his smirk as he replied. “And? We’re sneaking off after our wedding, something married couples usually do.” He drew out the last words so she knew exactly what he meant.

“Dorian.” She hissed.

“What?” He grinned down at her. Devastatingly beautiful.

Aelin’s breath hitched and she quickly averted her gaze. “Nothing.”

“We can leave if you want to, Aelin.” The seriousness in his tone surprised her.

His blue eyes held such severity she found herself at a loss for words. “I-”

“Dorian! Aelin!” Came a shout from the other side of the room.

They both turned to find it was his father.

Dorian looped Aelin’s arm through his and they weaved through the dancing couples.

“Father.”

“Children I would like you to meet Rowan Whitethorn.” Aelin didn’t particularly like how he called them ‘children.’

A fae male stood in front of them. He was the one with silver hair that Aelin had seen at the ceremony.

Rowan bowed to them.

“You’re fae.” Aelin said.

Rowan nodded. “Prince of Doranelle.”

“Whitethorn came to see the wedding on behalf of Queen Maeve.” Aelin detected a bitterness in the king’s words, she remembered that he held a dislike for faeries.

“Nice to meet you.” Dorian shook the male’s hand. “My wife and I thank you for coming.”

Rowan nodded. “It was a lovely ceremony.”

“How long are you staying in Adarlan?” Aelin asked.

“Just a few days. Then I have to meet with the witches.”

Witches. The blue-blooded men-eating women who primarily kept to the mountains. Aelin hoped she’d never have to cross paths with one.

They discussed a few more things with Rowan before he excused himself, as his massive friend was about to punch a lord.

Of course that left them alone with Dorian’s father.

Aelin could feel the tension in her husband, so she took his hand and gave it a comforting squeeze.

“I hope the both of you have enjoyed the wedding.”

Aelin nodded. “We appreciate all the planning that has gone into it.”

Aedion sauntered over to the couple. “Can I talk to you two?”

Aelin nodded and they left the king.

“What is it?” Aelin asked.

“When’s an acceptable time to leave the party?”

“You came to ask me that?” Aelin hissed.

Aedion ran a hand through his hair. “Well yeah.”

Aelin glared at her cousin. “I suppose you can go.”

Aedion clapped Aelin on the shoulder. “Thanks cuz.” He took the hand of a dark haired woman and they walked out.

“You know, if he left, we probably can.” Dorian suggested.

Aelin sighed. “I’m ready to leave.”

The prince took her hand and they snuck out of the ballroom.

They were giggling as they ran up the stairs to Dorian’s tower.

“What’s it like being married?” Aelin asked.

Dorian shrugged. “Not much different, but I know have to spend the rest of my life with you.”

“Yes, but I’m fantastic.” Aelin grinned.

Dorian stopped and brought her hand to his lips. “Of course you are my dear.”

Aelin watched him kiss her hand. “You sound sarcastic.”

The prince pulled her to him, pressing their bodies flush. “Never in my life have I been more serious.”

“You’re a shameless flirt.” She chastised, but her heart wasn’t in it.

“Unapologetically.” Dorian tapped her nose with his own.

Aelin’s gaze dropped to his lips, just centimetres from her own. She slowly, so slowly, brought them so she was kissing him.

When she moved to deepen the kiss, Dorian groaned, taking her face in his hands and backing her onto the bed.

They spent the night doing the things married couples usually do. Thankfully Chaol wasn’t there to get in the middle of it this time.

Aelin woke up sore and warm. It took a couple of seconds to realise it was because Dorian’s arms were wrapped around her waist. She carefully shifted around to face him.

His inky hair was soft as she brushed it back from his forehead, mussed from her running her figures through it last night, fading pink scratches marred his biceps.

Dorian groaned as he opened his eyes. “It’s too early for this.”

“For what?” Aelin asked.

Dorian did a double take as he remembered the night previously.

The Princess of Terrasen- his wife- looked back at him, golden hair spread around her shoulders, the green eyes rimmed in gold looking back at him.

“I thought you were Chaol.”

“And why would Chaol be in your bed?” Aelin questioned.

“No, that’s not what I meant.” He groaned, flopping back. “I thought he’d woken me up.”

“By brushing the hair out of your face?”

Dorian grabbed the pillow and lightly hit Aelin in the face with it. She laughed, and wacked his bare chest.

“Ow.”

“It’s a pillow, it doesn’t hurt.”

Dorian sat up, a shit eating grin on his face. “Want to test that theory princess?”

Aelin scrambled for the other side of the bed, giggling. “No.”

Dorian grinned as he crawled, naked, across to her. “Come here wife.” He pinned her to the mattress.

Aelin shuddered. Dorian grinned, kissing her deeply.

He just got ready to take her again when the door was banged against.

“Who is it?” Aelin called.

“Me.”

“Go away Chaol.” She yelled back.

“You two need to leave for your honeymoon.”

Dorian groaned. Great.

Aelin slipped out from under him and started getting dressed. “Just think, two weeks with no Chaol.”

That snapped Dorian to attention, as he hurried to get in his clothes.

Once they were ready they walked out, hand in hand.

They’d chosen to go to one of the family’s beach front houses, there was a small town near it that Dorian claimed did the best seafood.

Both the Galathyniuses and the Havilliards gathered to wave goodbye to the newlyweds.

They set off in the carriage, smiling nervously at each other, at this new life.

That last line was really cringy. Sorry.

[queen-scribbles]

For pairing + AU setting: ryn/red + The Mummy AU?

Em, what are you doing, I don't need another Ryn/Red AU in the 20's, I'm trying to finish the current one. xD Soon™

"So... why did you kiss me?" The question had been burning a hole in her brain for days, and much as she was normally the type to suffer in silence(for her love life, anyway), Ryn couldn't stand it any longer.

"Hm?" Red blinked as he looked up, clearly pulled from some inner monologue. "Oh. I don't know, I was about to die, seemed like--" He stopped himself, thumbed the pages of his book. "Seemed like I wouldn't get another chance, so it was as good an idea as any."

It was her turn to blink, caught off guard by the candor. The boat's engine seemed unnaturally loud as she struggled to find her voice, let alone words. "...another chance?"

He cocked his head, and that roguish edge he'd picked up in their years apart shone through. "C'mon, Xaeryn, you trying to say you've never wanted to kiss me?"

Every damn day. "I-"

The sound of rising tempers floated in from the direction of the dining deck and the card game Pan had gotten himself enmeshed in.

Ryn groaned and rolled her eyes as she and Red both pushed to their feet in response. One-God above, Panrachus, what is it this time?!

Send a pairing + AU!

Notes below :D

SO. This was a tad tricky bc they're both more Evie-coded than Rick-coded to me, but either can be the Rick figure with just a little... tweaking to their character. Red got that honor, imagine all his adventuring he had to get a little cocky/daring to deal with tomb robbers etc. (He's like 98% the same old Red and 2% Chase. Lord have mercy). Ryn is Evie, Pan is Jonathan, I guesssssss Neon would be the Ardeth stand in(?)

But see, what's fun about this is they still have the history together at the Circle. Bc that's too big a part of who Ryn is for me to take it away. Her time there and friendships with Red, Pan, and Neon were too formative, she'd be a completely different, nigh unrecognizable, person with that(+ her crush on Red /cough). So now the romantic tension is the exact opposite of what it was/is in tLBT; he did kiss her, near the beginning even, and spends a very large chunk of the story trying to either dodge talking about it or playing it as Not a Big Deal(seriously, Xaer, have you seen yourself? Most guys would want kissing a pretty girl to be their last act on earth¯\_(ツ)_/¯) and it not coming out until toward the end he's been crushing on/in love with her too. :3

So there's some changes to the relationship dynamics that make it not completely align with either of Ryn/Red's romance arcs ( @shepherds-of-haven canon or tLBT) OR Rick/Evie's. It's completely its own thing. FUN.

Love that the one constant, however, is Pan inadvertently interrupting Confessions.

[tornioduva]

Thoughts on Mistoborn (Era 1)

Ok, so, as promised, the nitpicks/preference post. I wanted to wait for the excitement to cool down, but if i wait more i'll just forget everything. so.

SPOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOILERS, BIG, HEAVY, MEATY!!!!

I'll just blurt out a list of things that i didn't like/left me concerned:

The Lord Ruler ""redemption" I thought this was going to be a more controversial take, but i've seen many other express the same feeling already, so cool. Basically, the way they talked away the evil Rashek did under his rule reeeeally left me with a disappointed. understandable, yes. all the things the characters say about him are contextually right and informative, but aside from the content, the emotions behind felt...wrong. The reader should be the one kind of above all saying "i kinda get what he was going for", not the ones that saw his massacres and cruelty. Plus the emphasis on "Ruin corrupted him, he had good intent in the beginning"; i don't hate it as a concept...but it should've have been worded differently i think. I will excuse only Sazed on this because he basically achieved Nirvana, but even from him i expected more...criticism let's say. Less gush about microorganism and more fuck you Rashek.

Disconnect of powers Now, this can all be explained away with "it is the way it is, because yes", and it wouldn't be incorrect. but still. Why either Rashek nor Vin Managed to realize, even on an insticual level, what the true nature of the mist/deepness was when they took the power? Vin is told to be able to briefly see in the past of the power, and has her senses and understanding greatly expanded; how come she doesn't realize they fit together in some way? I included Rashek because i remember he moved the planet to burn the mist, and i guess this means he viewed it as something to defeat, but i may be mistaken. Again, maybe she didn't have enough time, maybe Ruin obfuscated her understanding, maybe it's just the way it is. but, if sazed took his time to explain to me that there were organism to eat ash, he could've also told me why she didn't just know what the mist were. but it's also not that important i guess, admittedly, i don't know if it wouldn't have changed the story all that much.

There's an afterlife??? That. I rode the rolelcoaster of emotions that was the final chapters of HoA and it was amazing and heart breaking, everyhting fitting together, climax climaxing, tears tearing, me dying. The sacrifice of Vin and Elend was so moving and spectacular, i wouldn't have asked for a better one. but. Then came Sazed, giving their friend a beutiful goodbye in the form of their bodies left in the flowers...and then you follow that saying "but don't worry, they be chilling were they are now, lol". why. why Ruin (lol) such a beautiful send off by demistifying their death. or at least without elaborating on it more. without that note, their death would've have left a bittersweet taste in my mouth, happy that they both died doing what they thought was right, giving their people hope, and loving each other, but without knowing what that would mean for them, if they were just gone, reunited or else. The question of an afterlife was also like one of the big questions of this book, part of the selfdiscovery journey of Sazed. To just having it resolved in a footnote like that, right after i was starting to grieve for my main characters, was terrible. "guess i was dumb for feeling sorrow for them, they're fine anyway". Plus, to me it would've been faaaar more interesting if Sazed, even in a god form, still couldn't respond to the question of what happens, to confirm that even a god does not know what lies for him in death. that'd be chilling. instead i guess there's paradise? bah. I mean, happy for them, poor things, at least they can dance for all eternity now. I'm sure someone will RAFO me in regard to the afterlife, but doesn't change my feeling about it.

Kelsier ... Everything regarding Kelsier's actual actions post death, in regard to the voices and influece, to Sanderson saying he was briefly a god before Vin...that is all just kind of silly to me. at least presented as it is. It's too little too litle to be of any interesting significance, but at the same time his actions are relevant to the story. I'd say, either have him play a quiet, interepretative but bigger part in the story, or as is, just don't have kelsier doing wierd shit that technically shouldnn't have the powers to do. hell, Vin struggled to talk to Elend the one she had a special bond with, while in FULL GOD MODE. Idk, it feels just kind of there.

Pewter Reaaaally small nitpick. It's magic, i know, but given that pewter doesn't heal by itself, but just accellerates and intensifies the natarual one of the body (at least for how i understood it), i really think mistborns and thugs should have waaay more scars and residuals bruises than they are described with, Vin in particular. i personally choose to see her as a very scarred indivdual given everything she survived.

...Why metals? This is a strange question, like asking why a mage uses a wand to cas magic. because that's how it works. i know. still. Given how in depth of the rules of how this world functions are, and how much Sanderson clearly wants to explain them to us, to the point of, again, having sazed telling us that rashek made specific micro organisms to eat ash. like, for real. why do the powers of the gods of this world need metals to express themselves. I guess this is the most likely of all my qestions to receive hordes of RAFOs, because i'm sure he will explain it at some point, maybe by talking about the power behind Ruind and Preservation. But still, in a world where everything makes kind of sense, having to eat metal to access magic still feels kind of there as "it's that way because it's cool". It's weird too, because i wouldn't quetion it if it was just, magic powers manifesting into people. but by being this specific, having to use a finite reosource to access an infinite (apparently) reserve of power, an ability that was decided and designed by the gods that created this people...idk, feels weird somehow. i fully expected Sazed to at least question it. but i guees i'll find out later. or maybe not, and honestly i'm okay with that. it's ok to not expalin everything, it just feels weird juxtaposed to everything else being explained.

Aaaand these were my main nitpick about this saga. not too many all things considered. enough to nag at me in my mind, but not to hinder at my overwhelmingly positive enjoyment of the experience.

[vvatchword]

Paradise Lost, Book 2 (Non-Zoot Edition): Sin Addresses Satan; Satan Allies with Chaos

<- Part 2 || Back to the Beginning || Part 4 ->

I'm not zooted for this one, I just want to talk about it.

Keep in mind this is flow-of-consciousness, so I write down exactly what I think, and then later I sometimes discover i am wrong roflll

“O Father, what intends thy hand,” she cried, Against thy only Son? What fury O Son, Possesses thee to bend that mortal Dart Against thy Father’s head? And know’st for whom; For him who sits above and laughs the while At thee ordain’d his drudge, to execute What e’er his wrath, which he calls Justice, bids, His wrath which one day will destroy ye both.”

“To execute/what e’er his wrath, which he calls Justice” is a metal line and she IS NOT LYING

I am continually struck by how all of these characters have not only acknowledged that God cannot be defeated, they’ve always known God couldn’t be defeated. They still fought him anyway. If I were reading this in a less fantastic setting, I would be like: “M-hmm I feel like a few important documents are missing.”

Another interesting trait: all of these characters know the future. Sometimes it’s awkward—for example, they spend most of Book 2 trying to figure out what to do after falling from heaven, then wax eloquent about events that haven’t happened yet.

It’s hard to know how much was intentional here, and how much was just done in the spirit of the thing, but you know that saying: “With the Lord a day is like a thousand years, and a thousand years are like a day”? (2 Peter 3:8) It’s like these characters are not only devil-and-angel at once, but also every form of themselves from beginning to end. They haven’t yet committed horrors on the human race, but they also have. (This is not free will.)

This book makes constant asides as to God’s greatness. Everybody stops to talk him up—and by “everybody,” I mean “every single devil who gets a speech.” We haven’t had a single “good guy” yet: the only glory given to God that has been from a non-devil is Milton himself. While speaking of God, the devils’ tones rarely feel sullen or angry; instead, they feel very rote and matter-of-fact, as though they’re reading lines out of an encyclopedia. This is just the way the world is, and all the characters accept what is natural.

That’s dissonant on multiple levels. First, these devils literally JUST tried to overthrow Heaven (aka the ideal version of the world, the world-as-it-should-be). Second, given how absolutely broken the devils sound when they give their speeches—the ways they attempt to soothe themselves and comprehend their failure, added to their sudden comprehension of time (did eternity need to be invoked in heaven or Paradise until the birth of pain?)—these acknowledgments of God’s superiority ring false, like another scribe popped in and wrote BUT DON’T WORRY—

I’m trying to figure out Milton’s motivations here. Did he want to reassure the reader, the publisher, a religious authority, or himself? Keep in mind this was published back in a day where “freedom of expression” was not a thing.

By invoking the importance of the monarchy over and over, this may be Milton's attempt to say: "Mr. King sir, this is not supposed to be a story about your overthrow. Please do not kill me."

I’ve also started wondering about the political realities of when this was published. This feels extremely Protestant. Hey Wikipedia whaddaya say

[Milton scholar John] Leonard speculates that the English Civil War interrupted Milton's earliest attempts to start his “epic [poem] that would encompass all space and time”.

YEAH THERE IT IS

This book was published in 1667… by Peter Parker. Aw yeah :) With great power comes great abuse :))))

I also didn’t know Milton was freaking blind! You know, that fits; the story’s rhythm begs to be read out loud. I love the imagery that painters came up with: Milton dictating Paradise Lost to his daughters. I don’t know that this actually happened, but it’s kinda cool. Sounds like a callback to Homer so I’m a little wary—you know how people are.

Milton Dictating to His Daughter, Henry Fuseli (1794)

I bet this is exactly how he looked too.

HEEEGUUUGGHRRRHHHHH

Also, I just discovered that CS Lewis wrote a preface to Paradise Lost. I adored him as a child. I’m definitely reading that at some point.

Anyway, want to go back to reading Paradise Lost? I DO. Remember where we were? The snake-assed lady whose vagine is a Cerberi doghouse? Well, the devil asks who she and this Dart-wielding shade are…

Without research, I’m guessing the “dart” is a spear. The other option is an arrow, which sounds significantly less dangerous, and no bow is mentioned. I mean, you can still stab someone to death with an arrow, it just seems kinda silly. It’s like running at someone and jamming a bullet into their eye.

Of course, it may be meant to be an arrow. There’s a famous image in Revelations I can’t stop thinking about: the white horseman (commonly interpreted as Jesus—Revelation 6:2) comes out with a bow, but no arrows or quiver.

Holy shit, if you put Jesus and Death together you get a bow and an arrow and the arrow is death

I’m just kidding please ignore everything I say

[The devil asks: who the fuck are you guys and why are you calling me father?] T’ whom thus the Portress of Hell Gate reply’d: “Hast thou forgot me then, and do I seem Now in thine eye so foul, once deem’d so fair In Heav’n, when at th’ Assembly, and in sight Of all the Seraphim with thee combin’d In bold conspiracy against Heav’n’s King, All on a sudden miserable pain Surpris’d thee, dim thine eyes, and dizzy swum In darkness, while thy head flames thick and fast Threw forth, ’til on the left side op’ning wide, Likest to thee in shape and count’nance bright, Then shining heav’nly fair, a Goddess arm’d Out of thy head I sprung: amazement seiz’d All th’ Host of Heav’n; back they recoil’d afraid At first, and call’d me Sin, and for a Sign Portentous held me…

Suddenly, allegory!

I’ve been researching allegory lately—not well, and piecemeal—but I’ve been interested in its function, as well as what makes a good allegory and what makes a bad one. Now, before this point, I would have said that an allegory encloses the entire narrative, not just a part of it. But here we have traditional characters (Satan, Beelzebub, etc), all of whom Milton intended as representations of real spiritual beings, and all of a sudden: the allegorical representations of Sin and Death. They are not just characters, they are concepts—and yet I’d say they belong here. I feel like I can almost put a finger on why…

Was Milton a Biblical literalist? I really don’t know. There are most likely cultural and historical differences I’m missing here. I’m sure that, if Milton were a literalist, it would not be like that of the evangelicals we see today. Evangelical literalism is a particularly stupid, flat kind, and I’m not sure it was that simple back in 1660s England.

Another neat little factoid: a lot of Paradise Lost heralds back to the epic poetry of the Greeks and Romans, right? Who else sprang fully-formed from a forehead? Athena from Zeus! So this is a great callback and recontextualizing of an old myth, setting Lucifer on par with The Rapist King.

One big theme of Book 1’s was that all the other gods of the world are demons—every one of them. So Sin popping out, appearing godlike—for a moment, just like Satan himself—is a hell of a backslap. Athena was a virgin god of wisdom. You’re about to see what happens to Sin (hint: she’s a ho)

I suppose it is also possible that this is an attempt of Milton’s to represent an evolution of theology. Speaking of CS Lewis: Lewis believed that all Classical myth was composed of spiritual half-truths—like the ancient pagan faiths of the improperly-godded Classical peoples were reaching for that absolute truth of Christ, and were unable to because he hadn’t been born yet. According to Lewis, all these old faiths would ultimately be brought together under the umbrella of the Christian God’s single one. It’s one reason why Chronicles of Narnia is full of mythological beasts particular to the Greeks and Romans.

What do you mean, “what about the Jews? Weren’t the Jews around in ancient Rome? And at the time of ancient Greece for that matter?” Girl I don’t remember it’s been a minute and this is just me talking shit into the ether and I’m not even zooted right now

“…but familiar grown, I pleas’d, and with attractive graces won The most averse, thee chiefly, who full oft Thyself in me thy perfect image viewing Becam’st enamour’d, and such joy thou took’st With me in secret, that my womb conceiv’d A growing burden.

“Proshippers DNI/Sinatan shippers DNI”

Can we please appreciate “my womb conceiv’d/a growing burden.” That’s so pretty.

“Meanwhile War arose, And fields were fought in Heav’n; wherein remain’d (For what could else) to our Almighty Foe Clear Victory, to our part loss and rout Through all the Empyrean…

Back to the devil and his minions throwing in little asides about how great God is. Does this feel weird to you, too? It’s disingenuous. Every time you’re just about to accept the demons and hell-born as characters with full interior worlds, they give up on themselves. Characters should be selfish, self-oriented, self-protective. These characters keep stopping to bare their throats.

So why did these demons turn against God if they knew they were going to fail?

I mention this because Paradise Lost waffles about “free will” a lot. At first, I thought the devil mentioned “free choice” because “choice” was an inherently fallen concept, but then I remembered that Adam has a whole conversation with an angel and “free will” is uttered as a benefit.

Here’s a fun verse—one of many, they’re everywhere—that Milton was probably trying to invoke:

The Lord has made everything for its own purpose, even the wicked for the day of evil. Proverbs 16:4

That’s very cool. thanks God. Hey free will isn’t free if you brutally punish anyone who sticks a toe out of your arbitrary line you fucking asshole

“…down they fell Driv’n headlong from the Pitch of Heaven, down Into this Deep…

If you repeat this line out loud, it will heal you of all wounds. How do poets talk about this shit properly? I don’t have the language to describe why it’s good. It hurts, it’s so tasty. I started salivating like this was a delicious cookie. That delicious alliteration. Those hard d’s. HEA(D)long, then HEA(V)en. Soft f’s (fell, from). “Driv’n”, then “Heaven.” “Down” repeated twice, both times beginning a phrase. Long phrase, short phrase—the long fall, the hard stop; hard “d” to soft “v.” You can feel the drop.

I don’t know how to explain this so say it out loud ok

“…and in the general fall I also; at which time this powerful Key Into my hand was giv’n, with charge to keep These Gates for ever shut, which none can pass Without my op’ning.”

A woman who is also an opening. That’s really neat. Oh shit Jesus knocks down the gates of hell, right? Does this imply yet more rape or… yeeeeahhhhhh

Again, I’m struck by how the wicked are the tools of God as soon as the angels are. Why does Sin have to keep this key? What stops her from tossing that shit away? What stops her from opening the gates of Hell and leaving?

The glib answer is, “God does.” However, this wouldn’t be completely fair to say. Allegorical limitations apply here: Sin is not a full character.

Now, as Sin is a concept in this case, it’s like she’s transformed Satan into an allegorical concept by proxy: only by Sin might we allow Satan in. Nice.

It’s like… a tiny allegorical universe for a moment. A wee allegorical nugget.

“Pensive here I sat Alone, but long I sat not, ’til my womb Pregnant by thee, and now excessive grown Prodigious motion felt and rueful throes.

No. No I hate this. Stop

“At last this odious offspring whom thou seest Thine own begotten, breaking violent way Tore through my entrails…

remember Alien? Unfortunate

“…that with fear and pain Distorted, all my nether shape thus grew Transform’d: but he my inbred enemy…

I know we’re very grossed out but can we appreciate this use of the word “inbred” for a moment

“Forth issu’d, brandishing his fatal Dart Made to destroy: I fled, and cri’d out ‘Death’; Hell trembl’d at the hideous Name, and sigh’d From all her Caves, and back resounded ‘Death.’

Remember the “execrable shape” and the “miscreated Front”? I laughed about it, but Milton was being literal: what else could the devil say about Death? Death is a haze without meaningful form. Death can take whatever form he needs to do what he must. And, in this case, Death is greater than his father. He’s an anti-Jesus.

I also love the use of echo. The feeling of resignation and acceptance… just mwah, mwah.

“I fled, but he pursu’d (though more, it seems, Inflam’d with lust than rage) and swifter far, Me overtook—his mother!—all dismayed, And in embraces forcible and foul Engend’ring with me, of that rape begot These yelling Monsters that with ceaseless cry Surround me, as thou sawst, hourly conceiv’d And hourly born…”

Oh no. Oh no no no. Noooooo

So for the record, this is Death repeatedly raping Sin, who then gives birth to dogs on the hour, every hour, for the rest of eternity. Why dogs? Because nobody wants that.

Let’s take a step back from the allegory for a second, because we can. What did Sin do that was wrong? She was literally formed without choice. She had no choice in her nature and she had no choice in what happened to her. It’s debatable she wanted to fuck Satan. It is possible she did nothing but be born and ravished.

Yes I know she’s a concept, but she’s also playing a character here. If you didn’t want me to feel sorry for Sin you shouldn’t have made her a person. Also, the way Sin is being treated is considered an acceptable punishment. The devil characters, who can be treated purely as characters, are being punished by Milton in what he perceives as acceptable ways, and it’s arguable his audience would think similarly.

If God can treat the devils like this, there's no reason he can't treat us like this.

God is a fucking monster y’all. He’s the equivalent of every redneck who fantasizes about killing an Evildoer. Except then he MADE the Evildoer so he could purposely kill them. Worse than that: he made the Evildoer so he could make them suffer.

You ever see someone write so well they fuck up their own propaganda

“…with sorrow infinite To me, for when they list into the womb That bred them they return, and howl and gnaw My bowels, their repast; then burst forth Afresh with conscious terrors vex me ’round, That rest or intermission none I find.

Heeeyyyy are you supposed to feel sorry for Sin?

According to a quote of CS Lewis’ (from Wikipedia. Again, I’m not trying to do a great job here, I’m just fucking around, who even gives a shit), contemporaries of Paradise Lost would have known there were moments they were Supposed to Feel Certain Things, and that the Devil would be considered Bad right away, without any character-building whatsoever.

This is absolutely true. I’m coming to this slow realization that Paradise Lost exhibits traits of both modern narratives—where a character’s quality is SHOWN by their behavior, which includes their dialogue, which may not be trustworthy—and those of allegories, an older literary form. Allegories of the old days were far more straightforward, with characters written to be as one-dimensional and obvious as possible. Nobody wanted to be misunderstood.

However, this is also such a tone-deaf and willfully stupid take that I reject it in part. Look, Lewis was smart, but he would twist himself into a pretzel before he’d admit God could be a fucker: contemporary readers of this book definitely had problems with the devil’s part, and the devil’s complex qualities are part of the book’s draw. I’d argue that the devil is probably the only reason we’re still talking about Paradise Lost today—plenty of good shit was being written back in Milton’s day, and you have to dig to find it. Why did Paradise Lost not fall into a dark pit where only researchers go? It’s not because its first readers decided altogether to read it in a single manner most pleasing.

People are not monoliths guys. Movements are born and slow evolutions turned.

“Before mine eyes in opposition sits Grim Death my Son and foe, who sets them on, And me his Parent would full soon devour For want of other prey, but that he knows His end with mine involv’d; and knows that I Should prove a bitter Morsel, and his bane, When ever that shall be; so Fate pronounc’d.

This is simultaneously horrible, beautiful, and the most metal thing I’ve ever read.

Sin’s longing for cannibalism is the first overt sign of her interior monstrousness (unless she desired the incest, anyway).

This is a reminder to me that to appear ugly or distasteful was often used as a sign in old literature that someone is trash. It’s not a new concept. People confuse personal discomfort with truth all the time.

I am also reminded of the qualities of old allegorical literature. Dialogue wasn’t used to expand on a character’s inner world—it was used like an encyclopedia entry, to deliver clearcut information. The character was not a person, the character was a concept, and nobody was confused about that.

I just had an interesting thought: does Paradise Lost represent a kind of middle ground between older allegorical works and more modern character-driven works?

Wait, if she wishes she could eat Death, why did she stop him from fighting Satan

I mean, Death would win, but… I don’t know. A slave to the narrative? Yeah, probably an allegorical limitation. Allegorical symbols can’t break character or they cease being allegorical. This is one of their major limitations and it’s why writing an allegory that isn’t hamfisted is like scooping your eyes out with hot spoons. I’m starting to see how it’s unwise to just throw a random allegorical character in with a bunch of Normies: first, because they’re limited; they often can’t act like people. Second, what does that say about the rest of the narrative? It opens a can of worms. The artificial limitations of the devils suddenly becomes suspect. The allegory struggles to stretch beyond its tiny nugget prison.

“But thou O Father, I forewarn thee, shun His deadly arrow…”

Oh… ok :(

goofy-ass specter running at the devil with a goddamn arrow

I mean, it’ll work.

“…neither vainly hope To be invulnerable in those bright Arms, Though temper’d heav’nly, for that mortal dint, Save he who reigns above, none can resist.”

Every now and then, you get a hint as to how a word has evolved. Today, we think of “arms” as weaponry; here, Milton uses it to refer to “armor.” As for “dint”, it could go either as “blow, stroke” (the archaic reading, according to my dictionary) or as “force, power.” Also according to my dictionary, this is where “dent” came from (take this with a grain of salt lol).

I don’t know, it’s very cool.

She finish’d, and the subtle Fiend his lore Soon learned, now milder, and thus answer’d smooth.

I love the current-day connotations of the word “lore.” It makes this kind of funny.

Reading on, I’m honestly not sure if he believes Sin or not. You think you’d remembering fucking your brainchild. Then again, this is Hell; the characters exist in a weird between place. It’s possible that in the spirit world, concepts can be people… perhaps the nature of the spiritual is its adherence to the ideal (both ideal Wickedness and Holiness).

What makes this even harder to understand is: where does Milton intend for double-meaning and earnestness to reside? I ask because it was the style of allegories and parables to be rather straight-forward, as Lewis said. But these characters are sometimes almost modern, with clear snark and ulterior motives.

“Dear Daughter, since thou claim’st me for thy Sire, And my fair Son here showst me, the dear pledge Of dalliance had with thee in Heav’n, and joys Then sweet, now sad to mention, through dire change Befall’n us unforeseen, unthought of,

Smooth.

“…know I come no enemy, but to set free From out this dark and dismal house of pain,

Wait a minute. Is this where House of Pain got their name. IS THIS WHERE HOUSE OF PAIN

(I looked it up. It’s from HG Wells’ The Island of Dr. Moreau, which is just as weird.)

“Both him and thee, and all the heav’nly Host Of Spirits that in our just pretenses arm’d Fell with us from on high: from them I go This uncouth errand sole, with lonely steps to tread Th’ unfounded deep, and through the void immense To search with wand’ring quest…

“From there I go—this uncouth errand sole,” is what I’ll say when I’m heading out on errands from now on.

“…a place foretold Should be, and, by concurring signs, ere now Created vast and round, a place of bliss In the Purlieus of Heav’n…

I had to look up a word. “Purlieu” means “the ground on the edges of a forest, especially when partly subject to the same forest laws concerning game hunting, etc” or “the outskirts of any place; an adjacent district; the environs or neighborhood.”

I really like the implication of “at the edge of law.” That’s what God keeps coming down to—that’s what the book keeps coming back to: the battle between law and anarchy.

“…and therein plac’d A race of upstart Creatures…

fuck yeah. fuck you satan

“…to supply Perhaps our vacant room, though more remov’d, Least Heav’n surcharg’d with potent multitude Might hap to move new broiles…

I had to look up “broiles,” and in the process, discovered what may be the best dictionary of all time: Shakespeare’s Words.

“Broil” once meant “turmoil, confused fighting, battle.”

“…be this or aught Then this more secret now design’d, I haste To know, and this once known, shall soon return, And bring ye to the place where Thou and Death Shall dwell at ease…”

This section is so delicious.

First, Satan is schmoozing, 1000%. We only know this because he first talked shit to Death and Sin, and has now changed his tune. That said, it’s wildly unclear what his motivations are, half because he’s talking to literal allegorical figures. Once allegories get involved, they are stringently policed: neither Sin nor Death can be surprising to us. They will exhibit all the traits of their counterparts as understood by Milton’s version of Protestant Christianity. Their purpose is edification and education. An allegory is an encyclopedic entry given flesh.

Second, for what purpose does Satan offer these things? To pay them off? Probably. Does he offer them because he has grown a heart? No, probably not. Is he just offering what these characters want to hear? Probably. But, as you’ll soon see, he’s not lying. Does he know he’s not lying?

“…and up and down unseen Wing silently the buxom Air…

“Buxom” used to mean “lively, cheerful, bright,” not BIG OL TITTIES

“…embalm’d With odors; there ye shall be fed and fill’d Immeasurably, all things shall be your prey.”

We know, because we are inundated with Christianity in this country, that he’s telling the truth. He’s explaining that once Sin and Death are free, they’ll be free to feed on the Earth.

Is he telling what he perceives as truth, or is he promising pie in the sky?

If we were to be blitheringly flat, like Lewis, we’d recognize Satan’s speech as literal: he’s offering a promise he can keep; he understands what is going to happen before it ever happens. But because he’s complex, and started off his speech with flattery, I’m also not completely sure—I can only know by reading on and finding out if he spoke the truth.

Of equal interest: Satan is also doing right by his baby mama and weird fucking son. Sure, he’s talking shit, but he’s also taking responsibility.

Just. Kinda weird situation all told.

He ceas’d, for both seem’d highly pleas’d, and Death Grinn’d horrible a ghastly smile, to hear His famine should be fill’d, and blest his maw Destin’d to that good hour…

God I love this description. I love how Death contains “famine”, how he blesses his empty throat with promises of glut.

…no less rejoic’d His mother bad, and thus bespake her Sire. “The key of this infernal Pit by due, And by command of Heav’n’s all-powerful King I keep, by him forbidden to unlock These Adamantine Gates; against all force Death ready stands to interpose his dart, Fearless to be o’ermatched by living might.

One guy with one arrow versus everybody.

It’s all right, tell me how it goes

“But what owe I to his commands above Who hates me, and hath hither thrust me down Into this gloom of Tartarus profound, To sit in hateful Office here confin’d, Inhabitant of Heav’n, and heav’nly-born, Here in perpetual agony and pain, With terrors and with clamors compass’d round Of mine own brood, that on my bowels feed…

OH MY GOD SHE’S DOING IT

FIGHT FIGHT FIGHT

On that note: are you saying. That if God had maybe. Not been incredibly cruel to Sin. We may not have had Sin

Lewis would say something about how Sin had made her choice, and about how the brutalities wreaked against her were her own fault somehow, and that her nature was inherently wicked, so she would be wicked even when shown mercy. Then he'd end up with "it's an allegory anyway"

The problem with this is a) Christianity is about forgiving people who have committed some real humdingers, so this is logically dissonant, and b) so far, God hasn’t just punished: he has been nasty and cruel. The only love I have seen is between devils. If this is propaganda for God it’s not doing a very good job

“Thou art my Father, thou my Author, thou My being gav’st me; whom should I obey But thee, whom follow? Thou wilt bring me soon To that new world of light and bliss, among The Gods who live at ease, where I shall Reign At thy right hand voluptuous, as beseems Thy daughter and thy darling, without end.”

YES

Kinda weird but YES

Don’t take shit from that asshole lady he sucks

Thus saying, from her side the fatal Key, Sad instrument of all our woe, she took; And towards the Gate rolling her bestial train, Forthwith the huge Portcullis high up drew, Which but her self not all the Stygian powers Could once have moved… …So wide they stood, and like a Furnace mouth Cast forth redounding smoke and ruddy flame.

I just wanted to share this for the imagery. I love the imagery of a beautiful woman on a serpent’s tail, slipping slimy and bloody over the black earth, her body broken open in a hundred places where her hungry young have burst forth, and all around her the hellhounds loping. Then you can just feel the gates of Hell open and all I can think of is how I feel when I open the front door on a haboob.

“Redound” means “to fall out, contribute, turn out.”

Before their eyes in sudden view appear The secrets of the hoary deep, a dark Illimitable Ocean without bound, Without dimension, where length, breadth, and height, And time and place are lost; where eldest Night And Chaos, Ancestors of Nature, hold Eternal Anarchy, amidst the noise Of endless wars and by confusion stand.

Most of what I’m sharing here, I just LIKE. I like the image of Chaos and void. I love how it dwarfs Lucifer. I can feel the wind surging from that hot black egress. It probably switches back on itself—in direction, in temperature, in violence.

Also, I can't stop remembering that weird starlit void lurking below the surface world of Elden Ring.

...Into this wild Abyss, The Womb of nature and perhaps her Grave, Of neither Sea, nor Shore, nor Air, nor Fire, But all these in their pregnant causes mix’d Confus’dly, and which thus must ever fight, Unless th’ Almighty Maker them ordain His dark materials to create more Worlds, Into this wild Abyss the wary fiend Stood on the brink of Hell and look’d a while, Pondering his Voyage; for no narrow frith He had to cross.

“Frith” is an ancient word for “estuary.”

His Dark Materials is a book series. That phrase and the title of The Golden Compass originate from Paradise Lost. Speaking of which, I need to finish the series. From what I’ve read, the author had a bone to pick with CS Lewis, and I do approve of that.

Again, I love the imagery of this section, and that’s the only reason I’m sharing this. See, so far, Satan has been presented as a giant. He’s enormous. He’s powerful. But the chaos dwarfs him. Could absolutely swallow him. You believe in it as a dangerous place—a primordial place. It feels older than God.

Although the void here is technically allegorical, there’s worldbuilding here. This is an attempt at realism. The boundaries between allegorical and literal smear.

…At last his Sail-broad Vans He spreads for flight, and in the surging smoke Uplifted spurns the ground, thence many a League As in a cloudy Chair ascending rides Audacious, but that seat soon failing, meets A vast vacuity: all unawares Flutt’ring his pennons vain plumb down he drops Ten thousand fathom deep…

I had no idea that “vans” originated as a word for “wings.” For a brief, heady moment, I imagined Lucifer taking off in some cool fuckin kicks.

Here's where you see what I mean about action sequences: Milton is so damn good at making you feel the rough weather and envisioning weird spaces. "Surging smoke," "ascending rides/Audacious," "a vast vacuity."

...i love alliteration and action verbs. so much

…when straight behold the Throne Of Chaos, and his dark Pavilion spread Wide on the wasteful Deep; with him Enthron’d Sat Sable-vested Night, eldest of things, The consort of his Reign; and by them stood Orcus and Ades, and the dreaded name Of Demogorgon; Rumor next and Chance, And Tumult and Confusion all embroil’d, And Discord with a thousand various mouths.

Again, I just LOVE this. I’m trying to only share things I enjoy, but it’s so hard when the whole book sings.

"Wide on the wasteful deep." Mmmmfffffff f f f ffffffffffffff

"Sable-vested Night." You know, when people adjectivize nouns, usually I get mad, but this is gorgeous.

Had to include the bit about Discord because never before have I appreciated the name so well

“Yours be th’ advantage all, mine the revenge.”

Metal. Take whatever you want: I wanna fuck this guy over. (Satan absolutely said this.)

...Satan stay’d not to reply, But glad that now his Sea should find a shore, With fresh alacrity and force renew’d Springs upward like a Pyramid of fire Into the wild expanse…

One thing I like to imagine, especially when I see visual depictions of spectacular events, is wonder how the author came to envision them. As writers, we’re very lucky in this day and age that we can go look up videos and images and firsthand accounts of farflung events, and a lot of us take cues from film and television. Milton would have had a more limited palette.

What is more, not everyone can write an action sequence. Milton can. He understands that language is about feeling, not seeing.

It makes me wonder: what inspired the image of Satan’s launch? Fireworks? Comets? Lightning? The mere interplay with light out in the world?

“Glad now his Sea should find a shore” is a beautiful line and it’s about the devil allying with Chaos rofl

Send that one to your lover one day without explanation.

But now at last the sacred influence Of light appears, and from the walls of Heav’n Shoots far into the bosom of dim Night A glimmering dawn…

The sun is heaven confirmed

We're all gonna live in the sun someday

Oh wait I'm writing this.....

...im going to hell.......

…Satan with less toil, and now with ease Wafts on the calmer wave by dubious light And like a weather-beaten Vessel holds Gladly the Port, though Shrouds and Tackle torn; Or in the emptier waste, resembling Air, Weighs his spread wings, at leisure to behold Far off th’ Empyreal Heav’n, extended wide In circuit, undetermin’d square or round…

It’s fascinating to me that Heaven is seen right away as bending the laws of physics. A different writer whose name rhymes with "HP Lovecraft" would be like NON-EUCLIDEAN GEOMETRY

With Opal Tow’rs and Battlements adorn’d Of living Sapphire, once his native Seat; And fast by hanging in a golden Chain This pendant world, in bigness as a Star Of smallest Magnitude close by the Moon.

“This pendant world” "living Sapphire" UggghhhhHHH it’s so good

Imagine for a second: the peoples of this era already knew the Earth was round, but nobody had seen it from space yet.

Milton could fully envision it—like a jewel hanging in the sky.

What I don’t understand is “the golden chain.” It may be literal lol

Thither full fraught with mischievous revenge, Accurst, and in a cursed hour he hies.

This is a word-by-word account of my green-cheek conure flying into a plate of mashed potatoes.

To Be Continued

[whoficky]

Impossible Things - Chapter 1/1

I've been going back and editing all my old work. No major changes to the fic, just cleaned up a bit.

I somehow have posted my fics under two different names on AO3, so you can find my stuff at both quirkygirl242 and whoficky.

Rating: G

Relationships: The Doctor & Jenny (The Doctor's Daughter), The Doctor & Donna Noble, The Doctor X Rose (mentioned)

Work Summary: Jenny was just starting to settle into life on the TARDIS when she begins having the strangest dreams - dreams where two words keep showing up over and over again. Bad Wolf. She's determined to find out what it all means, even if it requires a bit of sneaking around the TARDIS and confronting her emotionally stunted father.

The Doctor was engrossed in a book about a branch of mathematics only species with a time sense could comprehend when he felt the brush of consciousness that meant Jenny was awake.  Though his daughter didn’t sleep nearly as much as his human traveling companions, she did seem to need a few hours every night.  She would usually wake in the early hours of the morning, and the two of them would meet in the library or console room for what she called “Time Lord Lessons” (or sometimes “Tedious Torture Time” if she found the subject matter to be less than engaging.)  The Doctor closed the book he had been reading, and snorted at his daughter’s cheek.  She may have come into being fully formed, but she was still a child in so many ways.  Whinging about her lessons was just a piece of that.  Underneath the solider tactics she was programed with she had an innocence about her the Doctor found refreshing.  She met each new world he showed her with awe and excitement and he loved seeing the universe anew through her eyes.  It was always this way to some extent with all of his companions, but with Jenny it was different…better.  Because she was a part of him.  Because she was his daughter, a miracle anomaly doubling the population of a near extinct race.  

That was also, of course, why she drove him mad with worry.  That innocence and enthusiasm he admired so much seemed to have the downside of getting her into all kinds of trouble.   Jeopardy friendly! He thought to himself.  He took a moment to reflect on the similarities between his daughter and a certain pink and yellow human who’d also had a knack for trouble.  He wished the two of them could have met, and not only because it would mean Rose Tyler wasn’t trapped a universe away.  Thick as thieves they’d be, he was sure.  Probably get him regenerated in record time and it would be so, so worth it.  

Anyway,  best not dwell on the impossible.  Especially when he had the interesting conundrum of why Jenny had been awake for ten minutes and hand’t joined him yet to figure out.  She may complain about the lessons, but he suspected that she enjoyed the quiet time together, enjoyed getting to know each other, as much as he did.  It didn’t hurt that he maybe occasionally bribed her with new settings to her sonic screwdriver for good performance when he quizzed her…  

He set the book down on the coffee table and stretched magnificently while running a hand through his already wild hair.  It seemed he had a daughter to wrangle.  Blimey, who would have ever thought.  He smiled and headed toward the galley to see if she was waiting for him there.  He hoped she wasn’t trying to make tea again.  He had tried to show her how last week but she appeared to have inherited his habit of setting things on fire when she tried to cook even the simplest things.  Although even he could usually manage tea ever since Rose had picked up the electric kettle on one of her visits home.  He wondered if he would ever stop missing her.  Donna, and especially Jenny helped, but he thought the TARDIS could be filled with hundreds of people and it would still seem empty without Rose.  Which brought him to another reason he enjoyed the early morning lessons with his daughter.  They were an excellent deterrent to the brooding he usually took to at this time of the day.  There was just something about 3:00 AM, even when time was merely an abstract in the TARDIS, that turned one’s thoughts darker. 

Jenny wasn’t in the galley, gym, or any of the three gardens she favored.  He wondered if he should stop by her room and make sure everything was ok, but then he realized he was doing that smothering thing Jenny had warned him about.  Having her here was still so new and he wasn’t always sure how to act around her.  He supposed he did sometimes give in to his protective instincts a little too much, but who could blame him?  He’d lost nearly every person he’d ever cared about in one way or another.  He’d even lost Jenny for a few months before the TARDIS had taken matters into her own hands and landed him back on Messaline where he found a very much still alive Jenny helping with the peaceful colonization of the new world.  

Still, best to give her some space.  He’d just stop by the console room and then head back to the library if she wasn’t there.  Back to advanced mathematics and maybe even a quick kip before Donna woke up.  

  He knew Jenny was in the console room when he was still a ways down the hall from the brush of her telepathic presence.  The flickering light probably meant that she was fiddling with the projector again.  And probably using that bloody tablet of hers instead of using the manual controls like a proper Time Lord.  Kids and their toys, he mused.  If it had been a month ago, he may have worried that she could have mucked something up by playing around in there, but she had quickly shown to be a skilled pilot and mechanic.  Whatever she was doing, he figured it would be safe enough.  He was curious to see what she was up to and eager to start today’s lesson, which he decided would be focused on telepathic skills.  He could tell she was trying to shield her presence from him, but wasn’t quite able to.  But first, he thought, a little fatherly teasing was in order. 

“Jenny, you’re not playing with that tablet again, are you?  I told you, just because it looks cool doesn’t mean…” the Doctor trailed off as he stepped into the room and saw something he hadn’t let himself even wish for.  His hearts stuttered out of their usual metronomic rhythm as he forgot for just a moment that what he was seeing was impossible.  Rose!  Then the image flickered and he realized she was a mere projection.  

***

Jenny knew she was in trouble before her dad even opened his mouth.  She’d had somewhat of an idea that he’d be cross with her nosing through the TARDIS database.  Which was exactly why she had worked hard on her mental barriers before coming here.  It was bloody annoying that her dad always knew exactly where she was.  What was he, some kind of telepathic bloodhound?!  She’d already been interrupted twice when she’d tried to get a few minutes of alone time with the Old Girl, but had thought this time she’d finally managed it.  And, perhaps she would have if it had been just a quick information harvest like she had planned.  But as soon as she saw the image projected in front of her, she had not been able to look away.  In fact she was so lost in thought that she’d only had a fraction of a second warning before her dad barged into the console room, jabbering on about the tablet he took offense to her using.  It wasn’t enough time to switch off the projection, but she did manage to school her features into an innocent smile to greet him with.  Maybe she could play this off as being an accident?  But even if she got in a little trouble, at least she had finally gotten some of the information she needed.  (And she had learned quickly it was always easier to ask forgiveness than permission when it came to her father.)  But as soon as he stepped into the room and saw what she was doing, she realized she had grossly underestimated the magnitude of her indiscretion.

She was still getting to know this mad man who she was created from, but she thought even a stranger could have read the intense emotions that shown on his face in a few moments of rare openness.  First it was hope, and she felt her own smile grow bigger at the way the emotion lit up his face.  She hadn’t seen him look quite that alive since he found her again on Messaline.  But then the projected image flickered and her dad’s face had twisted in pain…and was that grief?  Longing?  Before she could pin the specific emotion down, he had moved on to anger, no, fury.  Oh crap, she thought. 

“Jenny!” he barked, his gaze finally tearing away from the projected image making her the focus of all that anger, “What in Rassilon’s name are you doing?!  I told you…I told you that fiddling in here was dangerous!  Are you trying to blow us all up?  Fly us into a black hole, hmmm?  Files have passwords for a reason, you know!  Some of that information is dangerous!”

Jenny gaped at him as he continued to ream her, taken aback by the intensity of his onslaught.  By the time he had yelled himself into activating his respiratory bypass, she was well on her way towards fury herself.  Who the hell did he think he was treating her like she was some rampaging Time Tot with a stollen sonic screwdriver.  She knew what she was doing!  Often times better than he did!  

Taking advantage of him catching his breath she raised her own voice, “I have every right to be here, Dad!  I’m not a child, not that you seem to be able to grasp that!  For a genius, you can be pretty damn thick, you know.”  His eyes narrowed dangerously at the dig, but at least he let her continue, “I’m being careful and I know what I’m doing.  It’s not like going through databases is all that dangerous, anyway.  And if the TARDIS really is my home like you said, I have every right to be here.  Or have I overstayed my welcome?” she asked, hand on her hip and head cocked in a challenge.  

It was a low blow, but she was so furious at him right now.  First it was weeks of him treating her like a child and now he was blowing up at her when all she did was hack into just a few files.  Who exactly was that hurting?!?  Well…him, she thought, some of the anger fading as she remembered how upset he had looked before he started with all the yelling.  And in light of what she now knew, she supposed that could make sense…still, that didn’t give him the right to treat her that way.  Why couldn’t he ever just talk to her?       

The Doctor sighed and seemed to deflate in front of her eyes, “Jenny, of course this is your home.  Of course I want you here.  And you can never outstay your welcome.  You’re my daughter.  That doesn’t change even when I get cross.”

“Even when you get really cross?” she chanced a smile and bit of cheek.  

“Even when you blow up the microwave and rearrange books in the library,” he nodded at her, very nearly showing a hint of a smile himself.  Oh she so had him.

“Even when I get nail polish on the console?”

Her dad puffed out a breath that was almost a laugh, “Well, I think you’ll have to take that up with the TARDIS, but I’m sure she’ll forgive you.  She hasn’t ejected you into a supernova yet, so I think it looks promising.  In fact, I’m sure she’ll give you back your nail polish any day now.”

“Oh, we’re thick as thieves, us girls,” Jenny patted a coral strut fondly, her hand adorned with freshly lacquered nails, “She did translate the database for me, after all.”

“Was wondering about that.  For a bit there I thought you were the universe’s fastest learner of Gallifreyan,” her dad smiled before continuing more seriously, “ Listen, Jenny, I’m…er…sorry?  Yes.  I’m sorry.  I guess I’m just not used to having someone around who is like me.  Just…turn the projection off and we’ll go start today’s lesson, eh?  I was able to sneak up on you, and that should never happen with your telepathic capacity.  We’ll need to work on that a bit.  Now come on.  Allons-y.”  

Jenny was almost taken in by his misdirection, but at the last second the projection caught her eye and she remembered why she was here in the first place.  She had hoped to know more before confronting her dad, but that cat was sort of half out of the bag already.  It was now or never.  

“Dad,” she called him back from where he had already started down the hall to the library.  He poked his head back into the room and she continued before she lost her nerve “Who is she?” Jenny asked gesturing to the woman in the projection.

“Jenny…” there was a warning in his voice, but she pressed on.

 “Look I’m sorry I’m snooping.  I’m sorry I hacked through the passwords.  I know some things are private, but Dad, there’s things I need to know and you never talk to me.  Not really.”

 Her dad walked slowly to stand beside her and they both stared at the flickering image. “So I’ve been told,” he sighed finally.  “Jenny, someday when you’re old like me, you’ll understand.  Being long lived…it’s not always a blessing.  You loose so many people.  Pretty soon the past becomes painful and the only way to keep on is to, well…compartmentalize I guess you could say.”

“And by that you mean forget and lock the memories away in the TARDIS database.”  Jenny realized she was pushing her luck and bit her lip as she waited for his response.  She was relieved when he snorted a laugh.

“Yeah, suppose that’s another way to look at it,” he was quiet for a long time.  “Her name was Rose Tyler,” he finally said, nodding towards the projection.  

Jenny rolled her eyes, “I know that dad.  I can read, you know.  But who was she?  To you?  All I got a chance to read was that she traveled with you a few years ago.”

She looked over at her dad and saw that he was tense, like he wanted to bolt out of the room.  “Jenny I…” she thought he was going to continue, but then to her disappointment he only brushed her off.  Like he always did when she asked about anything important.  “Doesn’t matter.  Come on.  Time for lessons.”

He reached into his pocket and with a flick of his sonic, the image of the woman blinked out.

“Hey!” Jenny was growing more than a little irritated at him again, “I wasn’t done!”

“Leave it Jenny.   Time.  For.  Lessons,” he enunciated each word as his patience seemed to wane as well.

Instead of following him out of the room, Jenny just frowned and after a few swipes of her finger on the tablet, she had the image back up and was frantically reading through the rest of the data in the file.  She was only a few paragraphs in when he came storming back into the room, sonic whizzing and eyes blazing.

“Are you trying to get your sonic taken away?!  Because that’s where you’re headed!” he yelled as they proceeded into a furious battle of closing and opening the database, “I told you to leave it!  Bloody hell!  Why don’t you ever listen!?!”

“And I told you I want to know about her!  If you won’t talk to me, at least let me read her file!” Jenny was yelling again but she was too frustrated to reign herself back in at this point.  Oh her dad could drive her mad sometimes!  The stubborn git!

“What is so important about Rose Tyler anyway?!” he barked at her, temporarily getting the image turned off before Jenny made it flicker back on.

“I have the right to know -”

“You have no right, Jenny!  No right!” he roared, “You don’t even understand what you’re doing - what you’re asking of me!”

“Let me finish!” oh great, and now she was crying and that made her voice go all squeaky.  Like that helped anything.  She abandoned the frantic tapping on the tablet to stare at him, “I have the right to know about my own mum!”

She was so busy staring daggers at her insufferable father that she didn’t realize he had dropped his sonic until it clattered to the grating.  He broke her gaze and collapsed onto the jump seat, head in his hands.  “Is that what this is about?  That you don’t have a mum?  I know I’m rubbish at this Jenny, but I’m it.  We only have each other.  And I’m trying.  Really I am.  I just don’t know how to do this.”

Jenny set her tablet on the console and sat down next to him fiddling with the rings on her finger, “It’s not about you, dad.  Not everything always is,” she tried to joke, but he didn’t laugh.  She supposed now may not have been quite the right time.  Her dad wasn’t the only one who thought they were a bit rubbish at this relationship.  She was still getting used to existing.  She didn’t know how to be a daughter.  

Jenny continued more seriously, trying to make him understand, “She’s my mum.  I know it.  And she’s gone and I don’t even know why and I’ll never get to know her.  I just wanted to at least know about her - what she was like, you know?  I just want, no, Dad, I need to know where I come from.  It’s not because you’re not enough.  You’re the best.  I’m so happy that you came back for me and that we’re traveling the stars with Donna and you’re teaching me how to be a proper Time Lady.  I wouldn’t have it any other way.  But there’s this piece of me, a whole part of me, that I don’t understand.  And Dad, I really need to.”

She stared at her fingers, not quite knowing what to expect from her father.  She really couldn’t take him yelling at her again.  She was still so furious at him, but she was also guilty for making him so upset, and hurt at how he talked down to her, and sad that she’d never get to meet her mum - like there was a hole in her life that could never be filled.  It was just an awful lot to feel at once.  She wondered if Time Lord Lessons would ever cover how to deal with things like this.  Based on her father, she was pretty sure the answer to that was no.  

She finally raised her eyes to meet his and realized he looked nearly as emotionally exhausted as she was.  “Jenny, I’m sorry.  I don’t know what brought this up, and I don’t know why you think Rose is your mum, but I’m telling you it’s impossible.  Remember what I said about losing people?  It…hurts to look back, and that’s what I had to do just now.  That’s why I got so angry.”

“So you lost her?” Jenny asked.  She knew her mum wasn’t there with then, and to be honest she was a little afraid to know why.  But the question had come out before she could hold it in.

“Yeah,” her dad breathed out, the word laced with regret and pain.

“And you loved her?” 

“Jenny…” he warned.  

She just calmly repeated the question, “So you loved her, yeah?”

“Yeah,” he answered in barely above a whisper.  

“I’m…I’m sorry Dad,” Jenny was sorry for herself too.  

“Yeah,” she was beginning to think her dad had become stuck in a time loop where he could only repeat that word, but then he continued, “She’s not your mum, Jenny.”  He sounded so tired.  He sounded just like Jenny felt. 

“No, but she is though.  I know it.  I…” Jenny got an idea and perked up slightly, “I can prove it!”

Her dad raised an eyebrow, clearly skeptical.

“Ok, for starters, just look at me,” she started, priming him to allow her to do the test she wanted him to.  “I know you can see it, see her in me.  For the longest time I didn’t know why you got this funny look on your face when you looked at me sometimes, but I think that’s it.  I think sometimes I remind you of her.”

“Just because there are a few…similarities, it doesn’t mean anything, Jenny.  I’ve traveled with loads of people.  Sometimes they’re similar.  It’s bound to happen.  I had a feeling you weren’t paying attention during our logic lesson.  That’s not proof, Jenny.”

“You’re right, and neither is the fact that I’ve been having dreams about my creation.  Dreams where your hand glowed right as they were putting it in the cloning machine.  Dreams where all the words on every sign, label, and paper say one thing, just one thing.  They say Bad Wolf.” 

Her dad gasped and she knew she almost had him, “Then last night, it was the same dream, but this time it faded into a sort of garden place and mum was there.  She knew who I was and hugged me and we cried.  She said she wished it was real.  I woke up before I could tell her that I thought maybe it was.  So what do you say Dad?  It’s not proof but I reckon it’s enough to warrant a DNA test, don’t you?” Jenny finished.  She could easily run the test herself, but she’d rather do it with her father’s support.  She was obviously rubbish at sneaking around.

The Doctor stared at the machine as it hummed through an analysis of two very important DNA samples, one from a hair he found on Rose’s brush and one from a swab of his daughter’s mouth.  It would only take minutes, which he knew in theory was a short amount of time, but right now each second felt like a lifetime.  

He’d been so angry, so hurt when he saw Jenny rifling through Rose’s file.  Not only was seeing her image painful, but the thought of his daughter stumbling on something so private sent all his emotions flying.  Some things were too precious to share, even with his daughter.  He had considered his memories of Rose to be in that category.  But now…he wasn’t sure of much of anything.  The things Jenny said, of Rose being her mum, they were impossible.  And yet, how many times had Rose and Jenny both challenged the definition of that word.  It was impossible for Rose to have taken in the time vortex and end the Time War.  It was impossible for Jenny to have come back to life without fully regenerating.  It was impossible that his daughter was having dreams about Bad Wolf.  And yet…all those things happened.  The fact that he would know for certain any moment now didn’t calm the wild speculation that was raging inside of his head.   

And what if Jenny did have a mother and that mother was somehow Rose?  It was an equally alluring and painful possibility.  To have a part of Rose here, always with him…To have created such a remarkable person with the woman he loved, it would be…fantastic.  But at the same time, could he live with the constant reminder?  Could he live with knowing that every time Jenny reminded him of his lost Rose, it was because Jenny was made from a bit of her?  And what about Jenny?  He’d always wished her and Rose could have met, but if Rose was her mum, the idle wish would turn into a deep yearning.  A girl would never know her mother and a mother would never even know she had a daughter.  There was cruelty and blessings a plenty here.

Jenny’s timid voice brought him out of his whirling thoughts, “Dad?”

He turned to face her and saw that she was fidgeting with her rings again.  For all her conviction before, she now looked like a lost little girl.  “Yes Jenny?”

“Um…I’m kinda scared,” she whispered.

It took him three short steps and he was at her side pulling her into a one armed hug, “Me too,” he admitted, “We don’t have to do this.  I can stop the test.  Or I can save the results for later, for when you’re ready.”

Jenny shook her head, “No, I’m…I’m ready.  Or close enough.  It’s just…before, when I started looking into this, I didn’t realize you had loved her.  Don’t know why.  That’s kind of the norm, right?  Mums and dads loving each other?  I think this is one of those things Donna talks about when she calls us ‘bloody aliens.’”

The Doctor chuckled recalling more than a few instances of that exact phrase coming from his companion in the couple of months Jenny had been back, not to mention the hundreds of times Donna’s exasperation had been directed at him alone.

Jenny laughed a bit herself before continuing seriously, “What I mean is that I’m scared about how this is going to change what you think of me.  You’re my dad, and most of the time I feel like I still hardly know you, but I love you.”

“Jenny…” she talked over whatever he was going to say.

“And I know you love me too.  But you looked so…sad just seeing a picture of mum.  Am I going to make you sad all the time now?” Jenny sniffed and he realized she was trying hard not to cry.

He pulled her in to a full hug and kissed her on the top of the head, “Oh Jenny, you drive me mad with worry, make me happier than I’ve been in a long time, frustrate me to know end with your bloody cheek and inability to listen to anything I say, but sad?…No Jenny, I’ll never look at you and be sad.”  He realized it was true. 

“Not even when you see mum in me?” she sniffed into his chest.

“Especially not then.  I won’t pretend to know what all this means, but I definitely know it’s a good thing.”

She shrugged out of the embrace, never one for hugs, his daughter, “Promise?”

“Yep,” he popped the P enthusiastically.  “No matter what the test says, you’re still my daughter, Jenny.  Nothing will change that.”

The machine dinged signaling the results were processed.  “Gods does everything with you have to ding?” Jenny joked nervously.

“Oi!  What’s wrong with a ding?  Ding’s a good thing! Ha!  Ding’s a good thing!  Could say that all day.” 

“Oh you’re mad, you are!” his daughter laughed.  Their laughter turned to chuckles and then they both quieted.  The very atmosphere in the room seemed to thicken with tension.

“You sure you’re ready?” he asked.

“Yeah.  Um…you?  Now that I know this doesn’t just affect me…” 

He smiled and held out his hand, “Allonz-y.”  They pushed off the counter they were leaning against and slowly approached the DNA analyzer.  He flipped open the display screen and turned it towards Jenny, allowing her to be the first to know.  He studied her face with his heart in his throat as she scrutinized the readings.

Finally, Jenny smiled widely, “I knew it!”

He thought that somewhere in the back of his mind, he’d known too.  Maybe since the beginning.

“Alright then Jenny Tyler,” He grinned wider, very much liking the sound of that, “Did I ever tell you about the time your mum and I were in London for the blitz?”

His daughter smiled, biting her lower lip and shook her head, “Well for starters, she wandered off before we had been there five minutes!  Almost worse than you, she was!  And oh, right out of a horror movie there was this empty child…” he continued the story as they made their way to the library, finding it easy, and even a relief for the words he had kept closely guarded for so long to come spilling out.  He thought about a picture album Rose had kept of their travels and decided it was about time to brave a trip into her room to fish it out.  Maybe someday the remaining pages of the book would be filled with new adventures.  Maybe other impossible things were in store.  

[sneverussape]

For the asks :33 some fun ones and a lot of angsty ones. As always, feel free to skip if this is too many!

8, 9, 10, 13, 16, 33, 36, 41, 50

u know for whom :3

ah my friend you do me a great favor by asking for angst specifically XD i shall do my best to deliver!

8. Unpopular opinion about them

in the same way that people love to argue that lily was such a 'bad friend' to severus, severus also could have been equally toxic for lily. she was right to break off the friendship if she had felt unsafe. she was right to have set up boundaries to protect herself. she was not responsible for severus or for his happiness and ending their friendship could have been the healthiest way to move forward.

i'm also on team average!height snape (6ft is the tallest i will accept as his height but he's so willowy it doesn't really make him look formidable). compared to his da, he's pretty much a runt.

9. Scene that first made me love (or hate) the character

already answered here!

10. Best moment on screen (or in the book)

ooooh i have several favorites in the books, but one is this scene:

“That is just as well, Potter,” said Snape coldly, “because you are neither special nor important, and it is not up to you to find out what the Dark Lord is saying to his Death Eaters.” “No — that’s your job, isn’t it?” Harry shot at him. He had not meant to say it; it had burst out of him in temper. For a long moment they stared at each other, Harry convinced he had gone too far. But there was a curious, almost satisfied expression on Snape’s face when he answered. “Yes, Potter,” he said, his eyes glinting. “That is my job.”

i like it because it cements him as one who truly understands and accepts his responsibility that he is the adult in the situation and they're supposed to be doing the hard work, not the children. there's also a sliver of trust between him and harry in this scene that rarely shows itself: harry has just practically outed him as a spy, but he stays calm about it and merely acknowledges it. a begrudging sort of respect has started to form between the two shown by how, even though severus insults harry at the onset, he also allows harry to acknowledge the reality of their situation by letting him freely say what he did with none of the usual repercussions. the 'almost satisfied' expression was my undoing. you can say severus was almost proud.

it's rare that an adult actually treated the kids the same way snape did in this instance. they (dumbledore, the weasleys, mcgonagall, etc) always vacillated between treating them like babies by not allowing them to know of any sort of information, or cutting them loose to let them fend for themselves. you can tell snape didn't want them to fend for themselves. he wanted to help, and proved it by doing everything in his power to lead the kids to the next step of their mission.

13. Dumbest thing they’ve ever done

i know i wrote about the hippogriff scene based on canon events but as an hc...i'd say the dumbest thing he's ever done was provoking local cokeworth hooligans to a brawl when he was younger, on one of those days that he desperately needed to feel something after the falling out with lily. it's not that he didn't know how to fight back with his fists; he did, but he had also deliberately picked a gang of 4 (and wasn't that familiar) probably just to prove to himself that he could take them on. he was sorely mistaken in that regard. his parents had been apoplectic with rage and mam spent a good bit of that week's earnings on potions ingredients so she could brew him bruise balm and blood replenishers. taking him to st. mungo's would have raised ministry alarms for wizard endangerment and none of them wanted that. da kept trying to get him to tell him the boys' names but severus kept his silence. it didn't matter anyway.

16. Deepest darkest secret they won’t even admit to themselves

hmm. maybe that there were times when he did enjoy the surge of power that came with being a death eater. he didn't like acknowledging it because he was deeply uncomfortable with the notion that he truly was the sadist many of the children saw him as.

also that petunia was a pretty bird, especially when she was a teenager while he and lily had still been children, but that's something he had buried deep in his unconscious mind, way before it was even a coherent thought.

33. Something guaranteed to make them cry

old muggles who were homeless or begging on the streets.

mr. khatry's red curry.

his students' atrocious spelling and writing. (dumbledore really should overhaul the curriculum to include english reading and writing classes for these miscreants; he spends far too much time teaching the little fools basic syntax and grammar when he could be focusing on the actual subject matter).

36. Their favorite season

summer! not only are there no classes but he deeply enjoys how long and languid days the days are. it's also the time of the year when he spends the most time out in the sun since he has to help with the upkeep of his neighbors' homes. this always results in him getting a bit of a tan that's made all the more evident when he troops back to the castle. minerva teases him mercilessly for it and he always lies and says he got it vacationing in pompeii or alexandria or some other exotic location. minerva doesn't believe a word of it but enjoys their little game and always asks him for stories about his travels which he embellishes with ridiculous details.

there's also a single week in the summer when time seems to stand still and the air seems breathless and the ghosts of his childhood seem to hold out their phantom hands out to him. he disappears for hours on end on those days, and no one dares to ask where he's going or where he's been. he always comes back at the end of the day, rumpled and slightly disheveled, with his head hung low. the neighbors know well enough to keep their distance on those days, and collectively breathe a sigh of relief when the winds turn once the week is done and severus is back to his acerbic self.

41. If they could have lunch with anyone in the world (living or dead, from any fictional universe or the real world), who would it be?

this is a good question! knowing severus and his incessant thirst for knowledge, he'd probably choose someone he could learn from, like merlin. lunch would be spent not eating but for learning and experimentation. other viable choices would probably be alan turing, charles darwin, and salazar slytherin.

50. A memory they’ve blocked out

i've written a piece about this before that i never published. instead of one, i'll give you four memories straight from that piece :)) they revolve around the breaking down of his and tobias' relationship.

--

cw corporal punishment by parent (switching)

excerpt from In the House of My Father (unpublished):

—

“Da!”

The first memory: he was six years old and clattering down the stairs just as his father opened the door. Tobias was large and took up the entire frame of the entryway. He easily picked Severus up as he came running, then swiftly moved him onto his shoulders, securing the boy’s balance by placing his hands behind his back for support.

“’Ere’s me lad!” his father shouted, his voice booming in the tiny hallway. “The tallest boy in the world!”

“Aye!”

“Wipe your shoes before you come in, Tobias, I won’t have you messing up the floor I just cleaned, you hear me now?” Eileen’s voice could be heard from the kitchen, strained with tight annoyance. “And wash your hands before you come for supper. Bring your son with you.”

Your son. Severus felt a burst of pride at that label. Of course he was his father’s son. Who else would he be?

“Ye hungry, lad?” His father asked, peering up at him.

“Starvin’, Da.”

“Ye’r sayin’ grace tonight, ye hear? Can yer remember them all? Them’s big words.”

“’Course!” He had spent most of the day committing to memory the short prayer Da usually had them utter before meals, no matter how meager. Tobias agreeing for him to say them that night was the proudest moment of his young life. He was not going to let his Da down.

“Tha’s a good lad.”

--

The second memory: him at eight in front of the mirror as Eileen brushed out the tangles in his hair. He was wearing his best shirt, the white one with the crisp collar, and trousers his Mam had freshly ironed, the one that had nearly no patches. These were his Sunday clothes, and he secretly looked forward to wearing them after a whole week of wearing the ill-fitting outfits he had to endure on other days.

Eileen stood behind him, gentle in her ministrations as her long smooth fingers ran down his scalp.

“Won’t you come, Mam?” Severus asked, although this was an argument they always had and the answer was always the same. It never deterred his determination, however.

“No, Severus,” came the predictable reply.  

“But why?” He couldn’t help his statement from curling into a whine. “Yer already missed my Holy Communion!”

“We’ve discussed this before. I never perceived you a dense child.” Eileen raised an eyebrow at him in challenge and Severus huffed. “Do stop.”

“It’s just Mass, Mam. Fr. Delaney says—”

“This is something between you and your father and I cannot join, Severus.”

“But you’re married!”

“It is allowed for us to be so. That’s hardly the point.”

Severus crossed his arms. “All yer havta do is sit there and copy what Da and I are doin’…”

“Severus.” Eileen sighed. “It’s not the same. I do not belong to that group. I do not share the same beliefs.”

“Oh? Is it the same as Da not bein’ able to do mag—ow!”

To his surprise, Eileen’s grip on him tightened and he was wrenched sideways to look up at his mother. Her eyes, which were usually dark and emotionless, were suddenly clouded. The breath she released was a tremble. Severus stared back at her, confused.

“Mam? Are you…”

“Severus, you must never mention magic in front of your father.” Her voice had dropped to a harsh whisper, and her nails were digging into his shoulder. He winced. “We’ve discussed this before! Do you want all your magic to be taken away? Do you want us to be taken away?”

Severus shook his head, suddenly unnerved by the change in his mother. “N-no. Never, Mam,” he whispered.

“Good.” Her grip on him loosened, but only by a fraction. “I do not want to discuss this again, do you understand? Or I will leave you here alone, Severus. I swear it. No more of this talk.”

“Y-yes, Mam.”

--

The third memory: The first time he had done accidental magic that he could remember was as he watched his father make his way down the icy steps of their home on the way to work. He didn’t know how old he was. But Tobias had slipped, his boots suddenly unable to keep his balance, and all of a sudden, he was tumbling headfirst onto the street, seconds away from cracking his head on the frozen pavement—

Severus raised his hands instinctively and his father’s form hung suspended in the air as though he was held back by an invisible force. Moments later, he crashed down, face first, but this time he had had enough time to shield himself with his arms. The commotion was loud enough to alert his mother, who rushed out of the kitchen and into the cold to see what had happened.

“Tobias!”

“It was angels, ‘Leen! I swear to Christ, the hand of God jus’ saved me!”

--

The fourth memory: Spare the rod, spoil the child.

“Bend over.”

Severus was ten. There was a scorch mark near the wall where the fire in the grate had flared up with his accidental magic. His father had not seen, but he had heard the argument that had taken place between Severus and Eileen. He had heard his son’s raised voice and had immediately appeared, switch in hand.

“Bend over now, Severus!” Severus bent over. Five strikes against his bare bottom made him howl in pain, and he had not hated his father any more than that moment.

--

and that's it! i never finished this piece hehehe. but i thought it was appropriate because he starts remembering these as he lay dying in the shrieking shack. :3

[lia-land]

A Court of Wings and Ruin by Sarah J. Maas

4/5 stars

Spoilers*

I love that the acronym is ACOWAR.

This was a good book, but my hopes were insanely high after A Court of Mist and Fury. This had specific scenes that I enjoyed, like the solstice and the High Lord’s meeting, but I got bored with all the war talk. It’s kind of like Taylor Swift’s Folklore and Evermore albums. Folklore was an amazing album as a whole, and Evermore had a few amazing songs, in my opinion.

The entirety of Feyre’s time in the Spring court was really enjoyable to read about and was a very strong start to the book. All of those chapters were on par with ACOMAF for me. There’s a lot of character development apparent there and I enjoyed SJM’s writing style here im not telling the reader about Feyre’s plans until after she had succeeded. Nothing really caught my interest after that until the conversation in Tarquin’s office, and then the High Lord’s meeting.

The only thing I explicitly disliked was how none of the main characters died. This is not to say that I expect a character to die in every series, but when you have as many main characters as this series has had, it just seems too convenient that they all live. Not just that, but Amren and Rhys did die, only for both to be brought back to life. I have read the rest of the series and cannot see any reason for Amren to have needed to come back to life. The excuse for it was also very rushed over, with Rhys saying that he just found her in the Cauldron when he was dead himself and brought her back. Her death did not surprise me at all as it just made sense and I felt like it was coming, but her revival confused me. Maybe she will have a purpose in future SJM books, but it would have been far more impactful if she had died and remained dead. It might have felt less out of place if Rhys hadn’t also died and been revived a few pages later.

Regarding Rhys coming back to life, I wish there was more justification on why the other High Lords chose to revive him. I can’t see why Beron and Tamlin would ever agree to do so, regardless of diplomatic pressure. Tamlin, I could maybe justify with his love for Feyre being so great, but even then, his character did not seem like the type to make such a sacrifice. I see absolutely no reason for Beron to have given his power. There obviously must have been one and I hope we find out in future books, because as it is now, it just feels like a convenient thing that happened for the sake of a happy ending. Potentially, I can also see why it might have caused some sort of refugee crisis since Rhys didn’t have an heir, but as it’s explained in later books, the Cauldron in unpredictable in how it chooses the next High Lord, so sometimes it's not the son of the previous High Lord anyway. Based on that, I assume the Night Court wouldn’t have been left without a High Lord, so we’re back to square one.

Mor, in general, was a very disappointing character. What even is her power? Her character would have made more sense to me if she didn't had a power, because what was the point if we never see her use it anyway? To be fair, in this regard, all of the characters were disappointing in the sense that we don't actually see their full potential. Feyre, especially, had so much potential with the magic of all seven courts and if this war was not an occasion for her to take full advantage of those powers, then what is? I know we see Rhys' beast form which he says he only resorts to when needed, but I was just expecting more from all of them. This didn't bother me much since I wasn't that invested in the battle scenes anyway, to be honest, so it hasn't majorly affected my rating.

I don't know how I feel about the ending. 1. Rhys and Feyre flying off into the night was a bit cheesy, but I'll live. 2. The death pact. I have manyyyy thoughts on this decision. On one hand, I completely understand that they are two people in love and witnessed each other die and never wanted to feel that pain again, but they are rulers. It is irresponsible and somewhat selfish in so many ways for the only two rulers of a whole court to make that bargain when they had no heir. This causes a paradox because they can either 1. never have kids, and leave the fate of the Night Court uncertain if they both die unexpectedly at the same time or 2. have kids and both die at the same time, whether expectedly or unexpectedly, which can have drastic effects on the child. I wasn't surprised when Feyre proposed such a reckless pact, but Rhys is 536 years old and has been High Lord for at least two centuries and I like to think that if he had thought of it in full, he wouldn't have agreed. (Although this is backed up by the Evil!Rhys theory, which I love to entertain so I'll let it slide for now).

In my review of A Court of Mist and Fury, I mentioned how I thought Rhys’ trauma from Under the Mountain was overlooked and I was hoping it would be acknowledged more in this book, but instead, Lucien faces something similar and that gets overlooked as well. I suppose it is on par with how our society doesn’t always acknowledge men’s trauma, but it would have been significant to have seen some sort of conversation about it.

I'm so embarrassed to say that the Cauldron scares me as of this book. The whole thing with it 'noticing' Nesta and then stealing Elaine in the middle of the night while 'singing' creeped me out.

[rubydracogirl]

I think it’s a thing that, when you��re obsessed with something, you see it everywhere, including unlikely places, right? (This isn’t really a question, I know full well how mad obsession can drive you 😂) Anyways, big fat ramble about Stan and Ford Pines below the cut.

This has been on my mind because I just finished rereading Jane Eyre for the first time in a long time (it’s been years good lord). I love that book so much, it’s exactly the kind of story I can lose myself in.

So, even with my previous hyperfixations, I always read Jane Eyre as its own thing, with no outside influence from other media. This last read through was a bit different.

When I got to the descriptions of Jane’s ‘love interests’ (Mr. Rochester and St. John) I started seeing parallels to Stan and Ford Pines. (St. John was never a true love interest, but humor me.)

It started with the description of Mr. Rochester’s appearance. Jane describes him as being square, rugged and short with a strong athletic build. That instantly made me think of Stan, I’m embarrassed to admit. The further I read though, the more I felt compelled to compare Stan with Mr. Rochester. They were both the black sheep of their family, and both of their fathers were obsessed with gaining wealth. Both of them hid a terrible secret and lived a double life, and both proved themselves to be good men who are willing to sacrifice themselves. I'm not saying they're mirror images of each other, not at all, but I think there's a lot of similarities that they share.

When I got to the later part of the book after Jane escapes from Thornfield and finds shelter with Diane, Mary and St. John, I noticed one really big similarity between Ford and St. John. Ambition.

Both Ford and St. John are obsessed in their endeavors to strive to be more. The methods and ideologies they follow are different, but both of them have an instinct to push others away, to focus their attention on their end-goal and to become closer to those that they perceive as a means to an end.

For St. John, that came in the form of missionary work, and his purpose in proposing to Jane was that he recognized that she could be useful to him in his work. But he doesn't love her, and refuses to compromise with her when she offers an alternative to his desire.

For Ford, his ambition was to build the portal, to prove his theory of universal weirdness. It's undeniable that Ford is incredibly lonely and isolated, but he does this to himself and he only grows close to Bill Cipher because he believes Bill has the answers he so desperately wants.

Ford literally only reaches out to Fiddleford and Stan because he sees them as a means to an end. He used Fiddleford to help with building the portal, often at the cost of Fiddleford's well-being and ultimately his spiral into madness.

He called Stan to hide his journal (but not destroy it). When it becomes clear that Ford didn't reach out to reconcile, Stan is understandably incensed.

Even when the world was in danger, Ford refused to give up his ambition, to his own detriment.

In a way, both St. John and Ford give up their lives for their ambition.

The similarity ends there for St. John and Ford because where Ford gained humility and perspective, it's unlikely that St. John ever did. Ford reconciled with his brother in the end, while St. John continued to pursue his missionary work to the bitter end.

One other, smaller trait they share is restlessness. Ford hates going to sleep because he needs to keep busy and St. John cannot bring himself to settle into a domestic lifestyle because he also feels compelled to keep working.

That's all the thought I have about it, I guess, it was brewing in there and my thoughts wouldn't shut up about it XD If you took the time to read this mess of a ramble, thank you. If you have any thoughts about it, I'd love to hear it.