#eleanor trapped- not just by the house but by her own thinking

[colloquialcolors]

in similar vein to reading watership down and being pleasantly surprised by how hopeful it was i have now finished reading haunting of hill house and have been kind of pleasantly surprised by how. sapphic. it was. i mean its a horror story and has left me with the correct sense of sort of quiet unease and like. im going to need to think about it for a while and like. damn. but it also was QUITE queer in ways i was not expecting going in. so thats fun! (said while thinking about houses and walls and unreliable narrators and dissolving sense of self)

[theaceace]

I'm still thinking about this and people seem to like it so here's some more thoughts, also this is getting its own post now as a follow up to this

Dream is the prince of stories and so he knows already how this story is going to end. How it always ends.

He was there, after all, the first time it was lived, the first time it was told, and heard, and sung, and wept over, and dreamt of. And not only that, but he knows every variation - and there have been so many of them over the years. So many twists and turns that have been dreamt of - so many of them by over a thousand people, until all of them were as true as each other from the beginning to the end. The stories are contradictory, but that doesn't matter. They can all be true nonetheless, and not even Dream knows now which was the original.

(He could know. It would be so easy to know. It must be there within the library - within him - gathering dust. He didn't look, even when he could. He chose not to)

There are worlds in which Orpheus looks back in doubt, in which he is afraid that he has been tricked and his love is still deep in Hades. There are versions that have him unable to bear Eurydice's cries, her wails of anguish, and he turns to comfort her even knowing that it will be their doom. There are tales that have him reach the living world, and in his exultation turn to help Eurydice a moment too soon. There are poems in which he looks back believing he is saving them, and songs in which he knows he is dooming them.

Dream wonders, as he follows silently behind Hob, which version this shall be. Just when his old, old friend will succumb to the tale, as he inevitably must. Will they make it as far as the door - will Dream be afforded a glimpse of sunlight, after a century of the dark? Will he see beyond Hob, for that single moment as he turns in the doorway, see out to the Waking, or to his own realm?

Or will Hob surrender before then? He has made it much further than so many of the others, his back straight and his steps sure. He had marched so confidently from the basement that Dream might have been able to overlook the way his hands trembled. The Dreaming will not make it easy - and Dream has not the power to control it while he is still bound within the narrative. The path through the house is clear, but it is long and circuitous - far more so than its Waking counterpart. Hob does not falter at each twist and turn, but Dream knows there will be other tricks and traps.

(Hob hears voices calling from the other room. He hears Eleanor, hears Robyn, hears the voices of all those he has loved and lost in his long life. They cry out to him, beg him to bring them back too, ask him why he didn't ask the Dream Lord for them to be returned to life. You could have asked for anything - why didn't you ask for me?

Because you're gone. Because I loved you and lost you and mourned you and still I chose to live without you! He doesn't call back. Because my friend is the only person I have never had to lose or leave behind! The voices stop eventually, and the house is silent once more but for a single set of footsteps)

(Once, he hears Dream's voice, begging him to turn and look, please, won't Hob look at him? And Hob only scoffs, because even bound naked and caged for over a century, his friend had not begged for Hob's help. He can't imagine his arrogant old stranger ever begging for anything at all. And so, the house falls silent)

Dream had never thought overmuch about the path Eurydice walked as she followed his son from the depths of Hades. Had she wanted to leave that place, as Dream does? Had she felt some piece of herself returning with each dogged step, or had she followed because the gods willed it, and so she obeyed? She had dreamt often of Orpheus, of their life together - she must have loved him then, while she still lived. Had she loved him then, when he came to fetch her, though she was but a cold shade of herself? (She must have, she must have, she must have, Dream thinks, staring at Hob's back. How could she not, when he was the first warmth she had known in that place?)

Had she known? As they climbed, and she stared at her lover (Dream's son) had she known then that it was futile? Had it mattered to her, or had she been content knowing that Orpheus loved her enough to defy the underworld? Had she watched his back as they walked, and known that the next time she saw his face would be the last? She must have forgiven him, of that Dream is sure. She must have understood.

(Dream has already forgiven Hob for his failure. He knows not when it will come, only that it must, and he isn't angry. This story is as much a part of him as any other - how could he resent Hob for playing his part in it so beautifully?)

Dream has never regretted, before, his reticence when Eurydice still lived. He thinks of his son and the mortal girl he had loved, staring at his dear friend's back, and is unsurprised to find himself crying.

Once, as they draw close to the end, he sees Alexander Burgess watching them from behind a half-closed door. He doesn't know if Hob sees him, doesn't know if his steps are unfaltering through sheer force of will. Alexander watches, his facade flickering between that of an old man, the timid thing that had shot Jessamy at the heart of Dream's prison, and the quaking child that had first followed his father through to the basement of the Dreaming house. Dream cannot harm him, of course. As a young man he had asked for safety, and so safety he would have until he left this place, after spending years glancing back like a hunted animal. Even if there should come a time that Dream is freed, he will not break that vow, and Alex will remain as trapped by his cowardice as he ever was.

But - oh. There it is. The door - he had been distracted, and by the time he looks forward again, they have reached it. Hob reaches for the handle, and still he hasn't looked back. He pulls the door open, and still he hasn't looked back. He steps out, into weak morning sunlight, and still he hasn't looked back. He stands, unmoving apart from the way his clenched fists shake, and still he hasn't looked back.

Dream stands, frozen, in the shadows of the doorway, staring out over the threshold. At the light, at the freedom, so very close. A few steps, nothing more. He doesn't understand - this is never how the story goes. All the dreamers that tried to bend it to their will (the idiots that had given it a happy ending) and inevitably it had returned to its true form, over and over. This isn't... He doesn't...

His throat works, his jaw moves, his voice is thick.

"Hob?" He doesn't understand, he doesn't -

And Hob -

End title

[fnafsbheadcanon]

This small story: Gregory has a sister named Eleanor. She’s the same age as her, it she has some dark plans for him.

Eleanor: How unfortunate for you three. That thought that you came so close and yet way too far.

*She looks at her guardian*

Eleanor: You heard from Gregory?

Jacob: Not for a couple of months.

Eleanor: I miss him… I need him back.

Jacob: Don’t you think you should let him know the truth?

Cassie: What do you mean the truth. *She asked as her two other friends that she’s been on her side ever since they met each other wanted the answer*

Eleanor: *Giggles* Oh Cassie. This whole time you seriously believed that stopping Gregory would be very over. Know that you three ding dongs are out of the way. I’ll finally get my real plan into motion. First: Gregory needs to see his sister again.

*Cassie, Tony, and Ellis had their eyes widen at the last sentence. Gregory has a sister? Since when? All of them thought Gregory was alone. But he has a sister?*

Tony: You’re his sister? *He asked*

Eleanor: *Nods* Of course. But he doesn’t know that yet. Unfortunately because of that asshat “GGY”; he nearly forgot everything about who he was and his memories of me were erased.

*The three couldn’t believe this. They all thought this was just some girl, but he was the sister of the person they needed to stop*

Eleanor: It’s very foolish of you three to think Gregory is the villain here. You idiot don’t anything of what happened. *She got up to their faces* I do though.

Cassie: What do you mean? If you said that you do know then you also know what Gregory has done! He killed people. Tried to kill me! Destroyed my friends, and hurt his own friends (Vanessa, and Freddy).

Eleanor: *She made a thumbs down at them* Wrong. You don’t the full story. ‘You’re the one that cause Vanessa and Freddy’s deaths’ *She left out that last part*

Ellis: What did you say?

Eleanor: Nothing… nothing. Anyway I think it’s time for me and Jacob to go. While you three are trapped in your little prisons of your new bodies, Gregory has a sister to meet again. Ta ta~

*The three kids screamed at her: Her lies, deceit, and the truth of who she was. She ignored them all. She didn’t care. But Gregory did. She’ll fix that. Once she has him back with her, if he still has trouble because of what those three idiots have done, then she’ll make sure that they don’t exist to him. Even if she had to erase all his memories again. She looked at the heart pendant necklace she wore. It was glowing white. That meant Gregory was on the move.*

*She gave one last look of the house. It was designed for Cassie, Tony and Ellis: To sure that they won’t escape from the house. Now that she transferred their original bodies into little dolls; she won’t have to deal with them anymore*

*Eleanor sat at the front passenger seat of the car. Jacob took the wheel, and drove off to the night. She couldn’t wait for her brother. Now that Vanessa and Freddy are dead. The three kids are now out of the way*

Oo0. Wait do you mean the Eleanor from the books cause that would be even more wild.

[fangbanger3000]

Get to Know People Better Tag Game

get to know people better tag game

thank you @savriea and @graysparrowao3 for tagging me im sending you sunshine and siamese kittens

three ships: assuming this is best limited to being within the bg3 fandom (don't get me started on daenerys missandei i'll never stop), i'll try to keep it within those means!

lae'zel x shadowheart: i mean come on. need i say more? hot women with religious trauma who hit hard and love harder. fuck. my babygirls. my angels.

aradin x rugan: fucking hear me out. first of all: this is @graysparrowao3's fault. read their fics if you haven't. second of all: that complicated relationship between a young man and an older man who somehow appears as his father figure but also an object of his desire at the same time. daddy issues x1000. does he want him to rail the daylights out of him or does he want him to pat him on the shoulder and tell him "you did good, lad"? i don't know. aradin doesn't either. rugan hopes for the first option.

wyll x astarion: besides astarion canonically having a crush on wyll, i just love the idea of these two. astarion's hatred for heroes and wyll's conflicting must save everyone i am the hero of tralalala but also here's my infernal patron. i don't have a lot of working brain cells right now but these two are the ultimate grumpy x sunshine and i love it.

first ship: i honestly don't know! i think the first i can think of is from when i was like ten reading shiver by maggie stiefvater for the first time. i really wanted grace and isobel to kiss. and then i really wanted sam and cole to kiss. but unfortunately everyone was straight for some reason.

last song: famous last words (an ode to eaters) by ethel cain!

last movie: everything everywhere all at once. for like, the sixth time. i sobbed just as hard as the first time and i had to call my mom afterwards.

currently reading: nothing! i've barely read anything that wasn't fanfiction this year, which is insane. my goal was 60 books and i have finished one (1), which was feed them silence by lee mandelo. i was also reading electric idol by katee robert, but then i lost my kobo :((

currently watching: true blood and hotd

currently eating: earl grey with a teaspoon of honey

currently craving: sleep but also finishing my chapter

favourite colour: purple. all shades. but especially this one. and this one. and this one.

favorite flavour: black currant and cherry get me every time

current obsession: aradin. aradin. aradin. drawing. my own fic and my upcoming fics, which i think about much more than i should.

last thing I googled: i googled the @ - sign because i don't know how to type it on this keyboard lmaooo

Favourite season: fall. always.

skill i’d like to learn: i really wish i was better at drawing. it's always been very daunting to me because i'm a if-i'm-not-great-straight-away-i-give-up kind of person. but i'm practicing! i've been drawing @tiefling-enjoyer's dagon a lot, alongside my own oc, which has been fun!

best advice: don't do it, eleanor told the little girl; insist on your cup of stars; once they have trapped you into being like everyone else you will never see your cup of stars again; don't do it; and the little girl glanced at her, and smiled a little subtle, dimpling, wholly comprehending smile, and shook her head stubbornly at the glass. brave girl, eleanor thought; wise, brave girl. - Shirley Jackson, haunting of hill house.

i have no idea who has been tagged but i'll do @tiefling-enjoyer because hi my dear and also @rosymornmonastery because she hates it when i tag her in stuff <333

[supermacaquecool]

About Tongue-tied.

I find really challenging to write from Miu's pov, partly because of her age but mostly because her personality and interests are very different from mine. I struggle letting characters act out rashly or get carried away by emotion bc I'm usually too much in my own head lol So it's much easier for me to write turbulent inner worlds and sensations than it is to write wild actions. It's for all of this that writing Miu is a challenge, she does not play to my comfort zone as a writer. That said, I'm happy with how she came out in Tongue-tied. I usually lean on using exact wording and phrasings, but I tried to relax the prose to suit Miu

The sky was painted red and orange and purple, all the way to the first hints of black around the edges

This is a sentence I adjusted to become less tight and precise, focusing more on the input of stimuli as it's experienced.

I think I started this one by the middle section, with the idea of Miu eavesdropping on Aoi. Mostly because I thought it was really funny to write Miu getting annoyed at Aoi for asking her about whether she brushed her teeth. "Aoi is like a mother," and so I write her pestering them about their chores covertly through questions. I thought it could be interesting to fill in the gaps of Miu's dynamic with Aoi, since Survive did zero in the motherly qualities playing into the power differential and her desire to be obeyed. Miu, who has been neglected and reacts so badly to Kaito's helicopter parenting and wishes for independence so ardently still needs the emotional and behavioral guidance and for the older kids to look after her and care for her. I find the opposing directions between what she wants and what she needs interesting. So it's a piece mostly on Miu's feelings on Aoi as her second caretaker of sorts. For this reason, I equated Aoi to Kaito in this section:

Aoi sighed, bringing the fun to a halt. "If you're bored before sleeping, you could just say it. There's no need to sneak around."

Miu wanted to say she kind of needed to. She needed to at least be able to talk to Syakomon. Her partner understood this and vouched for her.

"There's nothing to worry about, I'm with her!"

"Yes, but—"

But, well, Aoi was a bit like Kaito about these things. They needed to stay safe.

Making them equal pressences to Miu felt like a good shorthand to establish Miu's mixed feelings about Aoi. It's for this reason that when I worked backwards to write the eavesdropping scene, the one Aoi is talking to is Kaito. This scene is partly inspired by a passage in the "The Haunting of Hill House" where Eleanor sneaks around eavesdropping the conversations all the others are having and confirms her neurosis one way or another. I wanted mine to work in a similar fashion, and it was actually fun to focus on the idea of missing information. I think it might even a bit heavy-handed in the contrasts to Kaito there: where he is loud and aggressive, Aoi mumbles and remains polite. Where Miu understands Kaito's stance crystal clear, she can't parse Aoi's at all. The thing that unites them being their desire to handle Miu with kid gloves 😂 This is something I wanted to make a running theme through the piece, so I tried to make Miu's frustration with Saki run on a similar note: that annoyance others keep things from her and don't talk to her straight (to be perfectly fair, Saki is like that to everyone about this topic 😂 But Miu doesn't have the perspective to see it).

Naturally, Miu's talk to Aoi hammers down on that aspect of her as a child that's being sheltered. I was very pleased with the way I wrote the conversation, having Aoi always be the one in control even if she's not necessarily being domineering. She basically traps Miu into talking to her by telling to sit with her 😂 She tries to do it in a way that still shows regard for Miu, but it's still her imposing her terms lol

Anyway, it was fun to write them running into each other's scripts and getting frustrated lol Aoi feeling bothered by Miu's ghost hunting antics and Miu feeling annoyed at her motherly disposition lol I thought it'd have to be Aoi the one to open the path to swerve the conversation into something more open and sincere, not only bc Miu is younger but because she's been struggling with this issue for far longer with Kaito and her solution has been to sneak out and have things her way where her brother can't see her lol So it really needed to be Aoi the one to bridge the gap, even if she's still doing it ever so carefully as to not to upset the balance lol Labramon was a fun aid to write in the behavior and dynamic Aoi wants to enforce lol

I'm pleased with having been able to pepper Miu's penchant for the supernatural with her idea Saki was a psychic and her excuses to Aoi lol If I were to write her again, I'd hope to be able to integrate this aspect much more intrinsically to her pov (this is what I was struggling with).

That interaction with Minoru was the cutest bridge between scenes I've written lol I do think that while Minoru is still in that position of trying to look after her as someone who's older, he's the one who comes the closest to meeting her on her own terms even in that brief passage lol I'm quite satisfied by how comfortable and relaxed their dynamic comes across.

Overall, I was pretty satisfied with this one and I thought I was able to cover what I wanted. I'd like to improve on Miu's voice as their dynamic still fascinates me, specially since Miu does grow quite attached to Aoi and trusts her to take care of her.

[andromerot]

mabel, episode twenty three: bull in the maze. in which the saint speaks

IN WHICH THE SAINT SPEAKS. ahahah nice episode 31 reference

ok she was so funny for that. truly a bdlr in infinity mirror moment

big fan of when shes cruel tbh

shes a fertile field...

"and i can’t dig you out, mabel, i can’t reach my fingers deep enough inside my own brain, inside my own ribcage" mabel trapped in the house the house as annas body the house protecting mabel mabel trying to get out of the house.

both of them convinced their story is a tragedy. mabel believing she will be the death of anna (because she was) anna believing they can never meet, not in this world (she knows what she's done)

do you think you have a monopoly on anger...do you think just because im voiceless im passive...

SICK IN THE HEAD. the king said... also i like the sick beat

annas whole person thing is just. ... accesories to personhood... and she means it genuinely but shes also trying so hard to make mabel see she's just like her. that she wont run. that she doesnt have anywhere to go to (eleanor vance moment!)

SHE WAS MORE REAL THAN I AM......still im glad you killed her....

when you ask why i like the king? yeah. its this. characters of all time. also heheh geophyte king nice my friend nemo reference

ohhh darling :( mabel mabel mabel mabel. after hearing countless anna anna anna annas

ok THIS ONE changed lives. like. what the actual fuck. what. i may not deserve you but listen neither does she. nothing tastes good without you mabel but cruelty at least slakes my hunger. anna asking for her never to forget her when its literally what she did to mabel.....I DONT CARE DONT LEAVE ME DONT LEAVE ME DONT LEAVE ME the voice...!!! underrated episode truly

[elegyofthemoon]

1, 5, 12 for female character ask

LETS GOOOOO also this will be under a read more because i will actually ramble forever lmao

female character asks

One of your favourite female characters?

I don't have a picture of her because she's just from a book, but Eleanor Vance from The Haunting of Hill House! I'm serious that The Haunting of Hill House really hit super hard and that it floats in my thoughts every now and then, especially because of the way Eleanor's story goes.

When we meet Eleanor, she was trapped in a shitty family situation, where no one really cared of her being, so the research she joins to go to a haunted house becomes her little getaway. I fell in love with her the moment she drove away with her sister's car and just dream of the many lives she could have lived in the many towns she'd go to visit on her way over to Hill House. And I fell in love with the romantic way that she viewed things in the house.

In the house, it felt like things were coming together. Eleanor felt precious in Theodora's gaze and attention. She was needed for the experiment, but it doesn't last long.

There's a moment in the story where Eleanor just disappears from the narrative, and the writing style becomes so bleak that I couldn't help but miss Eleanor's colorful flowery language. In that way she haunts the writing by her absence.

The ending though really got me. Nowhere else but this house did she find love, but the others were worried about how the house had been affecting Eleanor, so they try to make her drive home...and well. It doesn't end well.

"Silence lay steadily against the wood and stone of Hill House, and whatever walked there, walked alone.

5. A female villain you love?

I'd say she's more antagonist than a straight up villain? And mentally (and elsewhere) I've been raving so so much about her bUT-!

Alyssa Zaidelle from FF13-2! She doesn't start off as an antagonist when you first meet her, but later she winds up stabbing the protagonists' in the back and leading them into a trap to save her own skin.

She might actually be my fave villain just because of how often she kinda haunts my thoughts from time to time. In actuality, a lot of her motivations are so blatantly human, and it just makes me sad when a lot of people crap on her character. Like yes, I get it, but also. What else would you do in her situation?

Her story: she was one of the people that had died in the train disaster that takes place at the beginning of the game, but due to the timeline distortions in the 2nd game, she winds up alive again, with a haunting sensation throughout her new life about how she should have been dead, just like her friend, whose grave she comes and visits in game as well. She gets told by the actual villain of the game that if the protagonists fix the timeline, then she'd disappear. All her dreams of doing research and making a name for herself will vanish just like that, and no one would remember her. But the villain tells her that if she helps him continue to break the timeline, then she can stay.

She chooses to help the villain, luring the protagonists into a death trap, but of course, plot armor happens and in the end, the timeline gets fixed and she disappears ironically.

I think it sticks with me a lot because I just see a girl just trying to fight for her life -- all the years she had gained for being alive than dying on the train 10 years ago. All those dreams unfulfilled. It just makes me sad :/

12. An interesting female friendship?

The first one that came up is the friendship between Tohru, Uo, and Saki in Fruits Basket!!

tbh I don't really remember much of their friendship, but Uo (the blonde on the left) and Saki (the black hair girl on the right) are so protective of Tohru that they pretty much serve as second/third mom to Tohru after Tohru had lost her mom.

But it's a mutual friendship. The way that Tohru was a light for both Uo and Saki and offering them a place of comfort and safety and just being a welcoming person overall, that's how Uo and Saki become so fond of Tohru. It's honestly the sweetest thing to see, especially how strong the friendships remain over time, and it doesn't get overshadowed at all by the romance that happens. (I have a word to pick though about the romance with Uo and Kureno though ngl like that happened way way way too fast but okay I guess whatever. In my head Uo and Saki are together)

[heartofstanding]

Exactly. I've just been coming back to scribble notes because it's just... there.

Sometimes, when you're in a house full of ghosts, the most frightening thing is the absence of a ghost. Henry both wants and doesn't want to be haunted by Richard's ghost but what hurts is that Richard isn't interested in haunting him, except for the ways that sometimes Hal seems to look at him like Richard looked at him, how his mannerisms are sometimes so much like Richard's... it's why he ends up screaming at the portrait of Richard, he wants Richard to be there so he can hate him and kill all over again and he can't kill his son, who is so like Richard (or he can he?). But the portrait looks less and less like Richard now, sometimes it looks like Hal or Edward III or Aumerle/York or someone else entirely.

Mary haunts Henry at first as the nun she would've been had she not married him, then as herself before slowly fading and it feels like she's leaving because he's done something that she can't forgive him for but he can't work out what it is he's done to upset her. Hal looks so much like her, he's an unholy mix of the best and worst people Henry has ever loved.

And Hal feels haunted by both Richard and Mary; he's haunted by Henry. Sometimes he feels like his father would like to crack him open, become him, and it terrifies him. Sometimes he feels like he and his father are enacting the danse macabre but he's not sure who's Death and who is the dying. He's not sure who is object and who is abject, if he is even a person if his father is dead. He wants to know if his father murdered Richard but doesn't want to know. Sometimes he thinks he saved the portrait of Richard, that he saved it to drive his father mad with and that he succeeded. Then he thinks Henry did it to himself.

The girls. Blanche being given the crown of Anne of Bohemia, the beloved wife of the man her father deposed and murdered, being haunted by what she thinks is Anne's ghost but is just another manifestation of her father's guilt, her own guilt at her own complicity in it. Blanche being haunted by the image of her namesake, the white lady of Chaucer's Book of the Duchess, her fate mirroring her grandmother's but coming much sooner. Philippa feeling like she's been trailing blood she was born, haunted by the fates of her grandmother, mother and sister, trying to escape but falls victim in the end. There's no escape. Not for them.

(I wonder what it's like to be queer in this house. To have the fates of Edward II and Richard II hanging over Hal's head, the homophobic ghost (or supposed saint) Thomas, Earl of Lancaster ready to suppress and repress any hint of queerness. Is Hal spared so long as he is cleanly celibate?)

They need someone plucky to save them from themselves, from the house. But the house is like a fly-trap, it traps everyone who might save them. Joanna loved Henry, she wanted to save him from himself, but she got stuck in the house with him and found there's no escape. The things she lets Henry get away with... She wanted to help Eleanor, too, but only helped Eleanor damn herself. And Joan lives. She survives her husbands, she survives all but one of her stepchildren. She lives on, indomitable, deathless and alone...

Courtenay loved Hal. He wanted to save him from himself and from and the house, and maybe he could have succeeded. But the house killed him first. And before then, he was tall, beautiful and blondish - another Richard?

Catherine married in but she got to escape in the end. She had happy, if brief, life away from the house. But when she died, the house dragged her back and her second family took over when the first one died out.

The outsiders, the people looking in through the windows and gaps in the fences, have the sense they're looking at a mausoleum, the people inside cursed and hollow and dead. They shiver and want to get far away from the house. The wise ones do. Someone very old, old enough to remember Edward III and his sons when they were alive, once heard Hal talking and heard the same words and phrases that the Black Prince used coming out of Hal's mouth.

(And after. When you're in a house full of ghosts, the most frightening thing is the absence of a ghost. Hal's ghost is never there but John and Humphrey pretend it is.)

You make one joke and suddenly you can't stop thinking of a gothic retelling of the Lancasters

[bigstripeylie]

Ghosts theory- “sucked off” edition

Apologies for the title.

I have a theory about how each of the ghosts in Ghosts has a parallel with another Ghost and how this could be the key to them finally being able to move on, or “be sucked off’ as Mary would say.

Putting it behind a cut as this is extremely long and rambly. Spoilers for pretty much every episode of Ghosts

First of all I was listening to Mat and Jim on the Empire Spoilers podcast and Mat said something really interesting about how he intended “you stays how you dies” to refer to the ghost’s mental and emotional state, as well as physical. So Thomas always being obsessed with seeking love is because he died broken-hearted and Fanny always being so grumpy is because she died angry at her husband. 

I believe, therefore, that if the ghosts were able to overcome each of their emotional blocks that would be the thing that would allow them to move on. Furthermore, each of the ghosts has another ghost that seems perfectly suited to be able to assist them in that.

Let’s go through them:

Thomas- Thomas died believing his love never loved him back and now is forced to spend eternity seeking for love as a ghost. If Thomas was able to find someone who could reciprocate his affections, this would the resolve that issue. In the Series 2 episode “About Last Night” when Alison drunkenly tells Thomas “if you were alive and I was 200 years older, then we might have…” we hear a choir start singing and Thomas is pulled, as if compelled, through the wall, similar to how Fanny is pulled forwards towards the window to jump when she “doesn’t even realise [she’s] doing it.” Thomas desperately craves love and affection from another person, but in life was constantly rejected by the people he loved most. You know who else that sounds like? Kitty.

Kitty- Like Thomas, she is from a wealthy family who sheltered her a lot growing up, but is ultimately good and tries to be honourable. Kitty also craves love and affection as well as companionship and she tries to seek it, first in Eleanor and then in Alison (because Alison reminds her of  Eleanor, like how Alison reminds Thomas of Isabelle). However it comes up again and again that Kitty’s relationship with Alison isn’t as fulfilling to her as she would like it be because her being a ghost prevents her from sharing every activity with Alison, and Alison cannot show her physical affection. Kitty is trying to recreate aspects of her relationship with Eleanor using Alison as a substitute but this isn’t very healthy for her, as it simply traps her in the constant state of seeking affection that will not or cannot be returned fully. We don’t know the exact circumstances of Kitty’s death but after Series 3, if seems likely that her sister was in some way involved. Maybe what is keeping Kitty trapped as a ghost is her need for approval and love that she never got in life? But by seeking it in people who remind her of Eleanor exclusively, she is further trapping herself.

If Kitty and Thomas could find love with each other, they could each fulfil the other’s need for reciprocated affection. They are both equally needy so this quality wouldn’t likely annoy the other. Kitty seems to genuinely enjoy high romance in earnest and in finding an outlet for her love in Thomas, she could finally move on from her sister. Thomas would also find someone to love him and could devote himself completely to someone who would actually return his love, instead of fruitlessly pursuing women who remind of Isabelle’s rejection. This could lead to the resolution of both character’s finally moving on from their deaths.

Next up, let’s look at The Captain-

The Captain’s central conflict is obviously his sexuality. I believe that the resolution to this conflict would be him finally accepting and coming to terms with being gay and feeling comfortable with that part of his  identity. Which ghost could best help him in this?

Fanny. 

Maybe not the answer you were thinking, but hear me out. The Captain already has a strong positive relationship with Fanny built on mutual respect. He is more likely to value her opinion as an equal that any of the other ghosts and he seems to align himself with her on most issues. Which makes his choice to go against Fanny and defend the same-sex wedding and its guests to her in “Perfect Day” really remarkable.

In “Perfect Day”, Fanny expresses some pretty disapproving remarks about the wedding guest’s attire and some homophobic opinions about the same-sex wedding in general, which prompts the Captain to defend one of the guests to Fanny. “It’s chic, it’s now, and if it makes her feel fabulous…”

Imagine a scene where The Captain has to defend himself towards Fanny in a similar manner after coming out, showing that he is finally accepting of his sexuality as being the right thing for him. 

Anyway, that was a slight digression…

Fanny is still struggling to deal with the circumstances of her own death which was brought about in part because she caught her husband having an affair with other men. Fanny needs to accept and come to terms with the fact that her husband didn’t love her and that while he was obviously wrong for murdering her, she needs to move on so she can stop reenacting it by jumping out the window every morning. Because she died feeling angry and betrayed, she is trapped in that state in death. Discovering that one of her closest friends is gay and realising that it is possible for someone to be both gay and a good person might prompt her to think differently about her own life, as she started do with Humphrey in Perfect Day. 

The Captain, in turn, could be driven by Fanny’s ability to accept his sexuality into thinking ‘if she can accept that part of me, then maybe I can too.’ Personally, out of all the ghosts, I think it could only be Fanny who could prompt him to think that because it would mean the most to him coming from her.

Humphrey- Humphrey died because he was trying to protect Sophie, who rejected any attempt to get to know him and who he believed didn’t even like him. In death he is trapped in a state of being a selfless self-sacrificing people-pleaser and desperately wanting to be included in the other ghost’s activities, even allowing himself be kicked and thrown around if it means he can just be involved. In ‘I Love Lucy’ he even attempts to make a relationship with Fanny work, showing he is willing to sacrifice his own happiness for the sake of others.

Julian, by contrast, is the most selfish of all the ghosts at Button House. Deep down he feels guilty that his selfishness negatively affected the relationship with his daughter but seems not to be consciously aware that he feels like this. Julian’s selfishness to not spend time with his family ultimately leads to his death in Button House, as he neglected his family to spend more time at work and was clearly cheating on his wife, showing he is driven by selfish impulses.

If Julian were to perform a completely selfless act to the benefit of Humphrey, then Humphrey would get to feel as though someone was putting him first for once and valuing him the way he seeks to be valued. Julian would also break the pattern of selfish behaviour that caused his downfall.

The rest are little less well-defined:

Pat is the probably the ghost that we know the most about, through seeing his death and actually meeting his family in “Happy Death Day”, to the numerous anecdotes he reveals about his life throughout the show. However, I can’t decide for sure what is the thing that is keeping him a ghost. Pat himself seemed to think it was that he was missing his family, but this was ultimately proved wrong after he saw them again in ‘Happy Death Day’. Even meeting the boy who killed him and forgiving him in ‘Perfect Day’ didn’t cause him to move on. It could be something to do with Carol’s affair with Maurice but I just don’t know for sure. I like the idea of him fitting in with the plague ghosts. I think his personalty and leadership style would get along better with them than say, The Captain, who is too authoritarian. I also think Pat is someone who thrives in a group setting.

Robin and Mary are also tricky to work out what the thing keeping them as ghosts is because we know so little about their lives and deaths compared to the other characters. I think these are the only two ghosts who have not yet received a flashback to their lives. We know that Mary was in some way involved a witch-trail and this has traumatised her. Robin also has experienced a lot of trauma in his life but he seems to be more philosophical about it and accepting of it. He shows great empathy towards others both in trying to comfort Pat about his death in “Happy Death Day’ and Kitty in “About Last Night’, he could use his experience of trauma to help Mary deal with hers. They both seem to be looked down upon and ‘othered’ by the other ghosts due to their perceived lack of intelligence even though they are both very emotionally and socially intelligent.

If anyone has any thoughts about these last two pairings or any of the others, then please reblog and add your take!

I am not in any way saying that I think this is what will happen in the next series or what even I think should happen, but that this is one possibilities for much further down the road when the ghost are all ready to move on.

Also I have spent way too much time thinking about this…

[william-ba]

Lally's Game Review

Howdy hey! I've finished reading Lally's Game, and I gotta say, I really enjoyed it. Overall, while there is one story I have a problem with, the other two are really good and this was a very strong starter to the Tales of the Pizzaplex series! In comparison to the Frights, this is probably my favorite book. Gumdrop Angel comes close, in fact I even have similar rankings for the stories, however I slightly prefer Lally's Game.

Frailty - A very strong starter to the series. My main worry going in was how involved Eleanor was with the story, as I feared her presence could potentially take away from the potential mystery and build up. Luckily, I was proven wrong, and Eleanor makes zero physical appearance in the story. As for the other characters, all of them were really good! Jessica is one of the few FNaF characters that I can relate with, and her story is really sad. Writing wise, as someone who has been very critical of Kelly Parra's past works, the writing was spectacular for the most part. However, I do think some parts go a little too fast, and could have better built up on the tone by including a few small details, like some small hesitation from characters while they're speaking or being given something, or some details on how they look and interact with the world while they speak. Also I do think the pendant failing could have made slightly more sense? It felt like it came out of nowhere instead of something naturally built up to. Still, a superb story that I'd highly recommend.

Lally's Game - It was pretty good, although I can easily see why someone wouldn't like it. The characters are… okay, both Selena and Cade have their own issues. Seeing Cade slowly degrade mentally and physically was cool. Lally as an antagonist is… well, he's an antagonist, nothing interesting or cool to say there. Now, in contrast to Frailty where I think some more description would be beneficial, I believe this story is rather too descriptive at times. Certain parts that mean very little to the story get some focus, like Selena renovating the house could have been an entire paragraph instead of multiple. Other times descriptions aren't necessary, like how "perfect" Cade's hands are. Still, pretty good.

Under Construction - Yeah this is bad. The characters are all good, minus Jaxon although his flaws were minor. I like the idea of Maya being trapped in this strange AR reality, and as such I think the jelly-things are actually pretty cool. What I don't like, and this is where the story loses massive points, is the cancer. At first it was fine with Gran, but as it went on I just couldn't help but think that it was rather in poor taste. A virus or some other disease would have had the same effect, if not improved the story. Making cancer the disease that kills almost all of humanity just feels wrong to me, even if the deaths were sad. Speaking of which, this story does drag during the simulation parts too, so even if you aren't quite hesitant towards the usage of cancer you're still gonna find this rather boring.

[rainbowbridgetomydreams]

A list of Book Quotes that I have on my phone.

B means book, A means author and C means character.

Spoilers in red

Hawthorne was giving his friendship as if it meant nothing. He couldn't know that it meant everything.

B-Nevermoor: The Trials of Morrigan Crow

A-Jessica Townsend

Even as the laws of Physics create order, that order will inevitably descend back into chaos once more.

B- Space: 10 Things You Should Know.

A- Dr Becky Smethurst

"She wants her cup of stars."

Indeed yes, Eleanor thought; indeed so do I, a cup of stars, of course.

B- The Haunting of Hill House

A- Shirley Jackson

Don't do it, Eleanor told the little girl; insist on your cup of stars; once they have trapped you into being like everyone else you will never see your cup of stars again; don't do it; and the little girl glanced at her, and smiled a little subtle, dimpling, wholly comprehending smile, and shook her head stubbornly at the glass. Brave girl, Eleanor thought; wise, brave girl.

B- The Haunting of Hill House

A- Shirley Jackson

"Perhaps, if it did happen, it was just luck. A coincidence. There is a word I like very much, Lieutenant Richler- Serendipity. I think there is black serendipity as well as white."

B- Apt Pupil

A- Stephen King

C- Weiskopf

Was it love or wasn't it that she felt for Carol? And how absurd it was that she didn't even know. She had heard about girls falling in love, and knew what kind of people they were and what they looked like. Neither she nor Carol looked like that. Yet the way she felt about Carol passed all the tests for love and fitted all the descriptions.

B- Carol (or The Price of Salt)

A- Patricia High Smith (Pseudonym Claire Morgan)

... It was Carol she loved and would always love. Oh, in a different way now, because she was a different person, and it was like meeting Carol all over again, but it was still Carol and no one else. It would be Carol in a thousand cities, a thousand houses, in foreign lands where they would go together, in heaven and in hell.

B- Carol (or The Price of Salt)

A- Patricia High Smith (Pseudonym Claire Morgan)

"There is a darkness that fringes everything. It is a most horrid ecstasy." And I felt the horror of her horror. That, I suppose, is the price we pay for love: the absorbing of another's pain as if our own.

B- How to Stop Time

A- Matt Haig

And when I felt nothing I almost became nostalgic for the grief; at least when you felt pain you knew you were still alive.

B- How to Stop Time

A- Matt Haig

The key to happiness wasn't being yourself, because what did that even mean? Everyone had many selves. No. The key to happiness is finding the lie that suits you best.

B- How to Stop Time

A- Matt Haig

But there is never a way into the before. All you can do with the past is carry it around, feeling its weight slowly increase, praying it never crushes you completely.

B- How to Stop Time

A- Matt Haig

That was the familiar lesson of time. Everything changes and nothing changes.

B- How to Stop Time

A- Matt Haig

Empathy was waning, as it often had. Peace was made of porcelain, as it always was.

B- How to Stop Time

A- Matt Haig

'This is what playing the piano does.

This is the danger of it.

It makes you human.'

B- How to Stop Time

A- Matt Haig

I loved her instantly. Of course, most parents love their children instantly. But I mention it here because I still find it a remarkable thing. Where was that love before? Where did you acquire it from? The way it is suddenly there, total and complete, as sudden as grief, but in reverse, is one of the wonders about being human.

B- How to Stop Time

A- Matt Haig

The lesson of history is that ignorance and superstition are things that can rise up, inside almost anyone, at any moment. And what starts as a doubt in a mind can swiftly become an act in the world.

B- How to Stop Time

A- Matt Haig

It may seem strange, falling in love with someone because of a gesture, but sometimes you can read an entire person in a single moment. The way you can study a grain of sand and understand the universe. Love at first sight might or might not be a thing, but love in a single moment is.

B- How to Stop Time

A- Matt Haig

'People you love never die.'

That's what Omai had said, all those years ago. And he was right. They don't die. Not completely. They live in your mind, the way they always lived inside you. You keep the light alive. If you remember them well enough, they can still guide you, like the shine of long extinguished-stars could guide ships in unfamiliar waters. If you stop mourning them, and start listening to them, they still have the power to change your life. They can, in short, be salvation.

B- How to Stop Time

A- Matt Haig

I'll continue adding to this I just wanted a place for all the quotes I've taken photos of while reading because they hit a certain way I guess.

[theaceace]

I'm still thinking about this and people seem to like it so here's some more thoughts - Dream is the prince of stories and so he knows already how this story is going to end. How it always ends.

He was there, after all, the first time it was lived, the first time it was told, and heard, and sung, and wept over, and dreamt of. And not only that, but he knows every variation - and there have been so many of them over the years. So many twists and turns that have been dreamt of - so many of them by over a thousand people, until all of them were as true as each other from the beginning to the end. The stories are contradictory, but that doesn't matter. They can all be true nonetheless, and not even Dream knows now which was the original.

(He could know. It would be so easy to know. It must be there within the library - within him - gathering dust. He didn't look, even when he could. He chose not to)

There are worlds in which Orpheus looks back in doubt, in which he is afraid that he has been tricked and his love is still deep in Hades. There are versions that have him unable to bear Eurydice's cries, her wails of anguish, and he turns to comfort her even knowing that it will be their doom. There are tales that have him reach the living world, and in his exultation turn to help Eurydice a moment too soon. There are poems in which he looks back believing he is saving them, and songs in which he knows he is dooming them.

Dream wonders, as he follows silently behind Hob, which version this shall be. Just when his old, old friend will succumb to the tale, as he inevitably must. Will they make it as far as the door - will Dream be afforded a glimpse of sunlight, after a century of the dark? Will he see beyond Hob, for that single moment as he turns in the doorway, see out to the Waking, or to his own realm?

Or will Hob surrender before then? He has made it much further than so many of the others, his back straight and his steps sure. He had marched so confidently from the basement that Dream might have been able to overlook the way his hands trembled. The Dreaming will not make it easy - and Dream has not the power to control it while he is still bound within the narrative. The path through the house is clear, but it is long and circuitous - far more so than its Waking counterpart. Hob does not falter at each twist and turn, but Dream knows there will be other tricks and traps.

(Hob hears voices calling from the other room. He hears Eleanor, hears Robyn, hears the voices of all those he has loved and lost in his long life. They cry out to him, beg him to bring them back too, ask him why he didn't ask the Dream Lord for them to be returned to life. You could have asked for anything - why didn't you ask for me?

Because you're gone. Because I loved you and lost you and mourned you and still I chose to live without you! He doesn't call back. Because my friend is the only person I have never had to lose or leave behind! The voices stop eventually, and the house is silent once more but for a single set of footsteps)

(Once, he hears Dream's voice, begging him to turn and look, please, won't Hob look at him? And Hob only scoffs, because even bound naked and caged for over a century, his friend had not begged for Hob's help. He can't imagine his arrogant old stranger ever begging for anything at all. And so, the house falls silent)

Dream had never thought overmuch about the path Eurydice walked as she followed his son from the depths of Hades. Had she wanted to leave that place, as Dream does? Had she felt some piece of herself returning with each dogged step, or had she followed because the gods willed it, and so she obeyed? She had dreamt often of Orpheus, of their life together - she must have loved him then, while she still lived. Had she loved him then, when he came to fetch her, though she was but a cold shade of herself? (She must have, she must have, she must have, Dream thinks, staring at Hob's back. How could she not, when he was the first warmth she had known in that place?)

Had she known? As they climbed, and she stared at her lover (Dream's son) had she known then that it was futile? Had it mattered to her, or had she been content knowing that Orpheus loved her enough to defy the underworld? Had she watched his back as they walked, and known that the next time she saw his face would be the last? She must have forgiven him, of that Dream is sure. She must have understood.

(Dream has already forgiven Hob for his failure. He knows not when it will come, only that it must, and he isn't angry. This story is as much a part of him as any other - how could he resent Hob for playing his part in it so beautifully?)

Dream has never regretted, before, his reticence when Eurydice still lived. He thinks of his son and the mortal girl he had loved, staring at his dear friend's back, and is unsurprised to find himself crying.

Once, as they draw close to the end, he sees Alexander Burgess watching them from behind a half-closed door. He doesn't know if Hob sees him, doesn't know if his steps are unfaltering through sheer force of will. Alexander watches, his facade flickering between that of an old man, the timid thing that had shot Jessamy at the heart of Dream's prison, and the quaking child that had first followed his father through to the basement of the Dreaming house. Dream cannot harm him, of course. As a young man he had asked for safety, and so safety he would have until he left this place, after spending years glancing back like a hunted animal. Even if there should come a time that Dream is freed, he will not break that vow, and Alex will remain as trapped by his cowardice as he ever was.

But - oh. There it is. The door - he had been distracted, and by the time he looks forward again, they have reached it. Hob reaches for the handle, and still he hasn't looked back. He pulls the door open, and still he hasn't looked back. He steps out, into weak morning sunlight, and still he hasn't looked back. He stands, unmoving apart from the way his clenched fists shake, and still he hasn't looked back.

Dream stands, frozen, in the shadows of the doorway, staring out over the threshold. At the light, at the freedom, so very close. A few steps, nothing more. He doesn't understand - this is never how the story goes. All the dreamers that tried to bend it to their will (the idiots that had given it a happy ending) and inevitably it had returned to its true form, over and over. This isn't... He doesn't...

His throat works, his jaw moves, his voice is thick.

"Hob?" He doesn't understand, he doesn't -

And Hob -

End title

When Burgess summoned Dream, instead of Dream being completely cut off from the Dreaming, instead the magic pulled all of Fawney Rig into the soft places at the edge of the Dreaming, so like Dream still can't get out of the circle and his subjects can't get in but the Dreaming suffers much less and crucially, he still has access to some tiny fraction of his power

So now the whole house and everyone in it is sort of tied to the Dreaming and there's just oodles of magic coming off it, and the house in the Waking and the house in the Dreaming exist sort of superimposed over each other. Like you can be in one and sort of be aware of the other but you can't really flip between the two

And I want the whole thing to operate on a sort of combo between Aladdin in the cave of wonders/Orpheus leaving with Eurydice rules where it's said that if you enter the house in the Dreaming side and manage to find the Dream king, he'll grant you the thing you've been dreaming of, but the catch is you have to believe you have it. You have to leave the house without checking. So Burgess asks for Randall, but he turns to look almost before they're out of the basement because if he were Dream then he would pull a trick (TBF it wasn't actually Randall, just a dream of him, but Burgess couldn't tell the difference anyway because he was a terrible father and you can't change my mind). After that, he never managed to find the basement again. Never even manages to find the dream house again, only the waking one, although he goes mad looking for it

But like. Someone else asks for riches and the Dream king says they can be found the guy's pocket or whatever, but he can't feel anything? There's no weight there, no shape, his pocket seems empty (it isn't when he checks, but as soon as he gets out of the house, yelling about his triumph, it's gone and the house is mundane again)

Alex, who doesn't ask for anything until after the death of his father (and after he murdered Jessamy) asks for peace. For safety. The Dream king says nothing, and Alex lives the rest of his life in the Dreaming version of the house, too scared to step outside in case whatever peace he's found in his personal prison vanishes

Ethel never makes it to the house in the Dreaming . She takes what she wants from the waking, and when she leaves she doesn't look back once

Time passes, and more and more people find their way to Fawney Rig, but as Dream himself said, the great stories always return to their original forms, so no one succeeds because that's how it goes

And then. And then Hob. Hob who finds his way to the house just looking for an answer. Looking for something he can do to make sure his Stranger is there in 2089, because otherwise he might lose his mind with the what-ifs. So he finds the house, and he meets Alex, who hasn't set foot outside the front door in over 80 years except it's a little hard to feel sorry for him when Hob realises why. He meets Paul, who lives solidly in the waking, and hasn't been able to convince Alex that it would be worth it to leave with him. He finds his way down to the basement, finally, and there he finds his Stranger

And at first he thinks? It's a trick? Because isn't that sort of what this place does, it tricks you? But he speaks to Dream, and he gets the rest of the story from him, and the only thing Hob wants to take from this place is Dream. And he's like I want to get you out of here, but I can't because you're trapped in that circle (which for reasons unknown to the author right now but probably has something to do with the nature of dreams and stories can't just be broken like a regular spell circle) and I can't do anything about it and Dream is all you know the story, Hob Gadling. It is a more powerful magic than the binding. Leave, and don't look back, and trust that I am following

(Dream knows the story. He's sure he knows how it ends. But he also knows that it has to be played out, that he has to give Hob this chance - he finds himself, as he follows, weeping silently for his son and Eurydice)

So then there would be the agonising climb and return through the maze of the house where Hob almost looks back a bunch of times, and eventually he makes it to the door and steps out into the bright sun of the waking, and -

End title

[sillyfeathers]

elhani + 2? i love your drabbles so much holy shit 🥺

this is an absolute honour coming from the best sitcom fic writer 👀 i hope you like it!

list of halloween sentence starters 🎃🦇

Darling, you look positively faint.

“You almost gave me a heart attack!”

Tahani steadied herself against the arm of one of her many extravagant chairs, her hand pressed to her heart.

Eleanor grinned. “Why, I can tell, you look – positively faint, my dear,” she crowed, and Tahani considered her attempt at a British accent to be, quite frankly, offensive.

“You do not get to scare the life out of me and then mock me, Eleanor,” Tahani said, eyes narrowing. If there was any implication in her glare that Eleanor should leave, the message didn’t quite get through to the blonde, who was walking idly around the elegant living room, trailing her fingers along the fine furniture.

“Forking hell, I saw this exact table in one of those McMansion pictures!” she exclaimed, delight in her eyes as she glanced over her shoulder to Tahani.

“I hope you’re not implying what I think you are,” Tahani said, eyebrows raising. To her credit, Eleanor’s comment really was a throwaway one, no implications intended – but as the opportunity dawned on her, she decided to keep that information to herself.

“Oh yes.” Eleanor’s face was split into a huge grin, and Tahani struggled to hold back one of her own. “You, Tahani Al-Jamil– ” she took slow steps towards Tahani, the clicking of her shoes against the floor punctuating her words – “live in your very own ‘McMansion’ right here in The Good Place.”

It was petty, the whole thing. Right from when Eleanor had decided to needlessly scare and mock Tahani, the events of the last few minutes had emerged from a place of pure mischief and boredom. So surely no one could blame Tahani as she swiftly wrapped her arms around Eleanor’s waist and lifted her onto a nearby sofa, straddling her before she could even choke out a protest.

“Oh, no, Tahani’s got me trapped against one of her rich little sofas, whatever will I do?” Eleanor drawled, clearly undeterred.

“Eleanor’s going to take back what she said about my house, I think you’ll find,” Tahani replied, her hands sliding underneath Eleanor’s t-shirt. Eleanor spluttered out a giggle as she felt fingers start to flutter against her stomach.

“I don’t– think– she will,” Eleanor managed to get out, back arching as Tahani’s nails found their way to her sides. Her giggles now came in a continuous stream, the combination of fingers spidering up her sides and Tahani’s increasingly satisfied expression enough to evoke even a snort or two.

“Such little faith,” Tahani sighed, reaching one hand back to squeeze rapidly at the muscle just above Eleanor’s knee. Eleanor let out what probably would have been a yell if it hadn’t gotten caught in her throat, desperately trying to kick her way out of Tahani’s grip while the hand scribbling into her ribs weakened her resolve.

“SHE MIGHT IF– IF– ”

Tahani smirked. “If she wasn’t so ticklish she couldn’t talk?”

Amidst Eleanor’s hysterical laughter, another frustrated gurgle emerged.

Hearing her laughter bordering on breathlessness, Tahani’s hands retreated. She swung herself off of the sofa, dusting her hands on her skirt as if she’d just finished cleaning the room to perfection, rather than tickling Eleanor half to death.

Eleanor pulled herself upright, still breathing heavily. “Your home– your house isn’t– ”

“Darling, please, save your breath,” Tahani teased. “You look positively faint.”

[stahp-right-there-peasant]

‘Kay, so

I really, really, REALLY want Oxventurer ghosts to show up in Blades in the Dark. And I have ideas for how it could happen.

All the Oxventurers’ ghosts would be tethered to different objects important to them and the reason they are still holding on to the mortal plane is because they are all separated from each other. Due to ghosts being unable to leave the mortal plane in the time that Blades in the Dark takes place, even if reunited, they would still be trapped on the mortal plane.

They would be some of the oldest ghosts in G’eth, as they were either A) some of the first souls to be kept from the astral plane or B) were already staying as ghosts before the thing that’s stopping ghosts from leaving happened. These are dependent on whether they cause the thing/during their lifetime the thing was caused or if that happened later in history.

Corazón would be tethered to the super-strength bracelets (so when the two are brought together, his ghost will form) or, personal favourite, he’d be tethered to the Joyful Damnation. He’d be a literal ghost ship! And like, it would show up in the harbour one day, and the BITD crew (probably Lilith and Edvard) would have to go aboard, and it would be a whole ‘exploring the spooky ghost ship’ episode where they’d have to try to figure out what’s going on and also avoid traps and ghost attacks. And the whole time, they’re trying to get to, like, the captains quarters or something. And once they finally do, everything turns into a ghostly tornado of stuff flying around them. Then Lilith would basically yell/ask the ghost what it wanted or say that they were here to help or something, and then everything would stop and drop to the floor as Corazón’s spirit appears and it would be super cool! I feel like Andy would love that.

Dob would, obviously, be tethered to his lute. And! It’d be at the very bottom of a super deep lake in/near Volesport. Like, a mythically deep lake. They’d have to use a submarine to dive down to the bottom to retrieve it and could encounter some… interesting creatures along the way, wink wink. Edvard would most definitely be involved with this one, cuz submarine, duh. There could be a little tunnel leading to a cave with a pocket of air, and the lute would be in a ghost-proof box (to keep Dob in), on a pedestal there.

Merilwen would be tethered to her bow, or to a forest. If she was tethered to the bow, the bow would be considered an expensive and beautiful antique, so some noble or rich dude would probably own it and have it on display in their house. But then there’d be strange occurrences surrounding the bow and it’d get passed off to someone else. The BITD crew would be asked to help, either because they’re an antiques store or because someone would ask for ghost help from Lilith, or maybe both. Either way, Lilith and, maybe, Barnaby would go to check it out. The noble would give them a tour of the house and then finally show them the room where everything’s been happening. They’d say that they suspect that the bow was the issue/that the strange things had been happening since they got the bow then leave the crew to fix it. Ghost shenanigans ensue, including chasing a ghost cat (aka Merilwen in cat form) around. Lilith eventually coaxes Merilwen’s ghost out into view and talks to her and asks her to stop. Merilwen wouldn’t like that and would basically say that she wouldn’t stop until she got what she wanted. Lilith would ask what she wanted and Merilwen would 1) ask to stop being bought/passed around by nobles and just hung on a wall and 2) say she wanted to be reunited with her friends. Lilith would ask the noble if they could take the bow, and the noble would either be willing to just give it away to get the thing out of their house or the crew/the crew’s ally would have to buy it.

If Merilwen was haunting a forest or a specific tree/treehouse (her childhood home?). The people who were supposed to be cutting down that chunk of trees would report strange occurrences, like seeing a ghost cat walking through the trees, glaring at them, before disappearing, or tools going missing, or machines breaking mysteriously overnight. The company would only call on the ghost department of the university when a worker was nearly killed by one of these strange occurrences (and also an expensive piece of machinery was exploded). Lilith would be asked to check it out, etc. etc.

Prudence would probably be tethered to a Grimoire or a Cthulian artifact of some kind. Either way, spooky, old, cursed thing. It’d probably be found somewhere spooky by an archeologist and sent to a museum or got collected by some noble, where she would almost immediately begin to wreak havoc/terrify all of the people around. The crew would either have to steal the thing (cuz valuable) or the ghost uni would send Lilith to deal with it. It’d probably be a Lilith and Zillah mission.

Egbert would be tethered to the True Polymorph mace, which would no longer be magical, but would be super haunted. Eleanor would ask the crew to get it, cuz it used to be magic, without knowing/telling them that the mace was also super haunted. It would probably be a Barnaby and Lilith mission. I think they’d have to steal it from somewhere or something, maybe a super rich dude who also has the right stuff to contain ghosts and likes old relics. Maybe he’s having a party at his house and/or is showing off a new relic he received recently.

Anyways, I’ve had that in my head for a while. Sorry that it’s so long ^^; I got really into it •v• Enjoy the ramblings lol

( @outsidexboxofficial )

[aelin-queen-of-terrasen]

𝐕𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐧𝐭 | 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 - 𝐅𝐨𝐮𝐫

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The next morning found all the townhouse residents asleep, Celaena decided to take her leave of her brother—how she marveled at the word—through a note, citing prior obligations that needed to be attended though he was welcome to visit her in the evening if his duties could spare him, which she left with the efficient butler, who assured her the message would be delivered. The ride back home was unexpectedly short considering the roads were teeming with entourages of families returning from their country estates for the London Season or ladies running off to modistes to have their wardrobes updated with the latest fashions before the invitations started rolling ko in.

Her relief at returning was great, though she purposefully hid from her parents—or her elder sister, Eleanor—attending diligently to her correspondence. It was a miracle the stack of letters thinned at all, considering how preoccupied her mind was. Two hours after the torment of trying to focus on her letters, Celaena gave it up in favour of returning Countess Lieven's visit from last week. There was a considerable difference in age, personality and social ranks between them but both enjoyed each other's conversation, and the russian ambassadress was excellent company. Celaena did not expect to find the woman alone—the countess' drawing rooms rarely ever were—but she did look forward to sensible conversation about politics and such and was thoroughly displeased to find that esteemed lady attempting to look interested in Lady Jersey's—another lady patroness of the Almack's and a social leader whose favourite pastime was gossip—rants about the latest love affairs of Lady Caroline Lamb, and Mrs Burnwell among other ladies, who though a sensible lady did not look much pleased with Celaena, though she could not tell if it was because of her rank or her public insult to the lady's beloved niece—Lady Perrington—at the dinner party the other day. Despite the former's thrice professed hatred for the topic, Lady Jersey lament about Caroline Lamb extensively and with all the knowledge of one well-informed of her activities. The other ladies listened keenly and with interest, and by the end of their visit, Celaena felt she knew Caroline's social life better than her own and the countess looked ready to pull her hair out.

"I cannot stand her hypocrisy," said Her Ladyship once they were alone, "condemning Caroline—as obnoxious as she is—for her 'love affairs' when her own mother-in-law is so infamous a mistress to the Prince of Wales. If she thinks it is different just because the Royal House of Hanover is involved—oh, I cannot countenance her. It is a pity she should be such a public figure that I cannot avoid her, or I should happily see the back of that one. Come, my dear," said she, noticing her friend smile behind her teacup, "you came looking for an enjoyable half hour and were instead subjected to gossip and derision. You cannot have anything to say in Lady Jersey's defence?" this said with a tone that indicated she did not know how anyone could have anything to say in Lady Jersey's defence.

"I cannot defend her, but I can understand why she thinks the situations are different—it's not because the prince regent is involved, but rather Caroline's utter lack of discretion. I could easily forgive her affairs if they caused harm to no one but herself, but alas, as it is, her husband's standing in society is affected by her behaviour." This was said in reference to Lady Heathcote's ball in July, 1813 where, after being publicly insulted by her—former?—lover, Lord Byron, she had slashed at her wrists with a broken wineglass and only her mother-in-law Lady Melbourne's prompt thinking and quick intervention had kept her from serious harm. When it became clear she had no suicidal tendencies, the whole affair attached such a ridiculous air to all the parties involved, it could not have been in anyone's favour.

"You would condone her actions if she were only being discreet?" asked Countess Lieven, surprised.

"Perhaps not condone, no," said she, "but I would not object to them. Really, she and her husband are both adults in a marriage that is less a marriage and more a business contract based on terms and conditions. If both decide between themselves that the other can look for love—or rather, a lover—outside their household, and if they can manage it discreetly, what is the harm in it? Viscount Melbourne admits himself he does not care for his wife, nor she for him. If they must remain in a marriage neither wants, I do not see the harm in looking for satisfaction outside with both spouses' consent."

"But you would not act in the same way in her place," accused she.

"If my marriage was more like hers?" she wondered aloud. "I would hope to reach an understanding with my husband we can both be happy with." Seeing her friend look unconvinced, she said, "Really, I strongly believe that if something makes you happy, you must ask yourself if it harms someone? If it does not, I would not hold myself back out of respect for society's ridiculous edicts; not at the expense of my happiness."

"Adultery would be a disrespect to one's marital vows."

"Oh, certainly," agreed she, "but are they not already disrespecting their marital vows by vowing to love each other? I would rather a husband and wife live by an arrangement that keeps both happy than be miserable trying to respect marriage vows they never truly meant."

Countess Lieven who herself was faithful to her husband—a rarity among the upper ten thousands, whose own marriage was arranged and who lived—if not happily, than in a content state of harmony with her husband, could have nothing more to say on this subject, so she steered the conversation away from it. "I suppose you are thinking of the Whitethorns when you mention that example? I admit I was surprised to hear from Mrs Burnwell earlier Mr Whitethorn appreciated your company so—oh, do not be offended, dear—it is only that I have never seen him appreciate anyone's company at all, though I say he has fine taste if he does indeed show you preference."

Celaena had been thinking of him in relation to the subject, but denied it. "I do not think their troubles can be solved simply by taking lovers." Celaena put her teacup down and leaned forward, more to stop drinking the overly sweet concoction than to show interest in the subject. "I had the impression those two do not get on because she is not suited to the duties his rank and station entails and he is not equipped with enough knowledge or patience to know how to guide her in it. They are bound by constraints of society in a marriage that makes both miserable."

Countess Lieven looked at her speculatively before the subject was dropped.

A perverse curiosity drove her to mention meeting Mr Galathynius and Lord Fenrys, which had the happy effect of inducing the countess to volunteer information about that family.

"The House of Galathynius," said she, "has been suffering from a lack of inactivity. Lord Rhoe lost a child some years ago and has not been the same since. His father abdicated his title after a severe bout of influenza in their county, but he soon recovered. The damage was done; Rhoe, the poor man was not prepared for the title and his estates and position suffered for it; now his sons take care of the properties while he pursues politics. The grandfather constantly battles them for power but he does not have half the influence as Viscount Layton—that is the elder brother, hardly social at all, so solemn and reserved but he is a responsible man. Far better than the rakes and dandies of town spending their days in the club, neck deep in debts of honor."

"Viscount Layton? I have not heard much of him at all, aside from his fondness for the written word."

"So you would not, for Galathynius is a name that does not appear in the tabloids often. The younger son does not have the trademark grave countenance of his forefathers—he inherited the ashryver charm from his mother and the elder is so antisocial, he hides himself in the country. For two boys who lost their sister and mother at an early age and were brought up by an uninterested father, they grew up to be fine indeed."

"The Countess of Narrowcreek, yes. Mrs Burnwell told me she was a fine lady."

"Lady Helen was, not pretty but so well-mannered and polite! She died of fever an year after her daughter, though some say it was the heartbreak that killed her."

"They are a big family, are they not? You said something about the ashryvers? I met one of them."

"Yes, the cousins," said she, "fine young men, all either determined bachelors or trapped in poor marriages. The ashryvers don't have their Galathynius cousins' impeccable reputations but the natural ashryver charm easily accounts for that." The Countess smiled knowingly and she shifted in her seat at the silent implication that she was interested in one of them—god forbid—and not wanting to further this idea, Celaena was obliged to put an end to this line of inquiry and introduced a generally neutral topic of conversation. Though Celaena was far too aware of the speculative look on the countess' face everytime she looked at her, the visit ended pleasantly on both sides, with one party anxious and the other intrigued with the subjects of conversation introduced.

That afternoon, Celaena was admitted into Lysandra's modest apartments by a housemaid who bade her to wait in the drawing room. Impatient to her own detriment, she thought nothing of barging into her friends' room and was wholly unprepared for the sight she was met with.

"Oh, no," said she, stupidly, "I-I came to talk, I didn't know—Captain Ashryver, I-I-oh."

Celaena flushed, prompting the colonel to fish for his clothes while he clutched the bedsheet in an attempt to cover his lower-half. The poor man looked ready to fling himself off the nearest cliff, which soothed her mortification somewhat. Like all englishwomen of respectable birth, Celaena had a suppressed but prurient curiosity that was only encouraged by the books available in her father's well-stocked library. Her odd fascination with the ladies of the demi-monde had been one of the initial reasons she extended an acquaintanceship with the courtesan who was now her dearest friend, though she soon learned to love the lady for her own merits. However, all education in that area did not prepare her for exposure to such a sight. She colored, gaped, stammered an incoherent excuse about needing air and fled the room. Her distress increased when Captain Ashryver stepped out of the room first, properly dressed to the boot.

He bowed formally, which seemed absurd given what had passed before.

"Captain Ashryver."

He flushed. "Miss Sardothein. It is—it is actually Colonel Ashryver now."

Celaena murmured vague congratulations, studiously avoiding his eyes. "I thought you were still with the army, sir, in Brussels—I am surprised to find you here. Do you know yet how long you will stay with us?"

"Six months," said he, looking away.

"Aedion," called she, startling him with her address of his given name, "I hope you know you are as dear to me as a brother. If there is anything you wish to talk about, I would happily listen to you."

Hesitation warred with trust in his eyes, and he looked cautiously towards the bedroom.

"I will not betray your confidence to anyone," she assured him firmly.

Aedion looked at his hands, blonde strands of hair falling in front of his eyes. "I was offered a posting here in London and—and I am not sure if I can accept it."

"It must be hard," she observed, "to give up a career you spent half your life pursuing."

"It is, and yet, it is not the only reason. I didn't choose to go to the army—I—when my grandfather found out about my inclinations," this word was spat out with enough venom that she knew what he thought about the man, "he sent me there and I accepted it as my lot, as if I were a second son. I don't know if father knows why I insisted on joining the army but, gods, I did belong there, with my men—there were some others from aristocratic families like mine who hoped any unusual proclivities would be beaten out of us there. It was just part of a job—killing people was not a good thing or a bad thing—it just was. But I was at Hougomont, Celaena," this being one of the chateaus in the village of Waterloo, "and by God, I never saw so much death as I saw there, so many friends dead, their wives widowed, their—their children orphans. I did not—if I have to see a war half so drastic as that again, I do not think I will survive it."

Celaena reached for his hand, frowning. "Then why hesitate?"

"I did not go there by choice; he—my grandfather, that is—forced me into it and he will not be pleased if I am against him. If he decides to cut off my allowance, on a colonel's payroll alone, I will not have nearly enough to pay off Lysandra's debts."

"I can help with that—"

"No." His voice was soft, but firm.

"Aedion, don't be foolish. You haven't much choice. You said yourself you could not survive another war and I could—"

"I said no."

"Pride goeth before a fall, colonel."

"Pride!" exclaimed he, looking resentful at the implication. "It is hardly that. You know what Arobynn did the last time you tried to pay off those debts—and whatever you can spare from your allowance, you need to save for your own future. Lysandra is not the only one bound to a monster by law."

She did know, but because she felt like being difficult, Celaena scoffed. "Say what you mean, sir. You do not wish to have help from a woman. If it had been a male friend offering instead, you would have jumped to accept—"

He threw his hands up. "You are putting words in my mouth."

"I am saying what you are too proud to admit out loud."

Aedion did not take the bait, replying calmly that he would not save one of his ladies from the Hamel's fire only to throw the other in it. Celaena could find nothing snappish to say to that, but having gotten over her own embarassment, she was determined to be difficult. "This is all well and good," said she, "but I hope the next time you will lock your door."

"The maid knew to leave you here," argued he. "If you had followed the instructions—"

"Instructions!" cried she. "This is not an army camp, colonel, and I am not a fellow soldier under your authority."

"I say, a good thing you are not. You have not the discipline for a soldier's life."

"If all your men are as disagreeable as you, I am happy to have missed the chance." Clamping down on the very inappropriate desire to stomp her foot on the ground, she turned her face away. "At least I am well-mannered enough to not lay blame on others for my own faults."

"Fine manners you have indeed, walking into someone's bedroom unannounced."

"The door was open," argued she, weakly.

"The latch broke last night," he flushed and she decided she did not wish to know how. Celaena felt a pair of accusing eyes fixed on her. "But the incident was a fitting punishment for you—I hope you will think twice before doing that again."

To no one's surprise, they retreated into a calm silence while their tempers cooled off. Both were impulsive and hot-headed, too similar to never fight and too prideful to give in, and they had surprised everyone—including themselves—by striking up a lasting friendship that had suffered through time and distance. Propriety dictated an unmarried woman could not write to a bachelor, so she had her father address it for her; society said they would be ruined if they were found together without a chaperone, so they started meeting in each other's homes, where they could not be found at all; decorum demanded they speak not a word of love untill the gentleman offered marriage—and that the lady should not at all say anything but a polite yes, so they talked of everything but marriage. Their showdowns with each other were frequent something to watch—and friend was not at all an ideal title to assign to an eligible gentleman; it raised many an eyebrow at balls and dinner parties where the Colonel was so attentive to her, and all felt certain a marriage proposal was not far away. Speaking materially, it would be a splendid match—with his rank as the penniless second son of an earl—and her, an accomplished society woman with an inheritance big enough for all to overcome the worst of their prejudices about trade. It would have been a splendid match; if he wasn't taken and if she was more amicable to the idea of marriage, that is. Celaena thought guiltily of all he had done for her, fending off suitors determinedly like a dutiful elder brother all the while pretending to be one, and she wondered shortly what he would say if he knew who she was. Did he know her brothers, or Lord Fenrys perhaps? He would be sceptical at first, she knew, and then he would be pleased she was close to being free of Arobynn's shadow. Celaena looked up to do something—to tell him perhaps or to apologise? But there, he had his eyes fixed on her already—his eyes, thought she, were turquoise blue ringed with gold. Oh.

Celaena rose from her seat, saying unsteadily, "Forgive me, but I just remembered I have an appointment at my modiste."

"I can drop you—"

"No, no," she was already out of her seat, donning her cloak, "I came in my carriage. Pray, tell Lysandra I will return tomorrow."

The carriage ride back home was so short, she hardly felt it. Celaena had not much time to ruminate on her present realisation, but she felt stupid at her distress a few minutes ago. Her new family—a reality which had seemed like such a surety this morning—was now shrouded in doubts. Aedion had not recognised her as his cousin for years, and if he who was practically her mirror image by all accounts, did not, no one else could be expected to believe her claim by one look at her face. But what other proof had she? It was with near trepidation that she entered her house, and was happily recieved by her brother who had been waiting in her parlor for a half hour.

"I thought," said he, "I should personally come to you with an invitation to a dinner party tonight at my home—our home, rather. I should like to reintroduce you to relations who are already in town—they have all been waiting so long, Aelin, if you like? You are acquainted with most of them already, and I know father wishes to apologise."

"He does? I hope he is feeling better after that—that attack." Celaena thought ashamedly how little consideration she had given him except to worry the others might follow his lead, believing her to be a fortune huntress.

"He is," assured James, "He refused to believe me when I told him—and then to see you, looking so much like mama, he was overset. But he is fine now, and very remorseful, dearest. I hope you will not hold that first impression against him for long—we had all quite lost hope, and it seems fragile still, like I would look away from you for a moment and you would disappear into the mist, he was being cautious."

"I will try my best," she promised in an attempt to appease.

Celaena knew she was blessed with a handful of attractive features that compensated for the majority of average ones; and, by early adolescence, she had discovered that with the help of cosmetics, these average features could easily match the extraordinary assets. Vanity she had always acknowledged freely to be her chief sin after pride, and she felt her nerves ease at the familiar ritual of having herself pushed into a pretty dress, her hair tugged and pulled before an event. By the time she was dressed in a fine evening gown of soft pink muslin, golden curls pinned atop her head with diamond pins gifted by her brother—a family heirloom, apparently—she was almost beaming on her brother's arm. In the carriage, she distracted herself by asking him questions about his involvement in the House of Lords, their father's health and had the immense pleasure of hearing him talk about meating Madame d'arbley who wrote Cecilia, which had been her favourite novel since she first read it. The talk soon turned to the night's guests and she inquired after their identity.

"You already know Fenrys and the younger Mr Whitethorn; Fenrys' parents will be there, as will our father and Rowan's parents, his elder brother is out of town and his younger sister, Mrs Parkinson and her husband could not attend, and the little Whitethorn boys will come too; though their mother holds the traditional belief that children should eat in the nursery until they are fifteen, so I do not know if they will be present at dinner."

"Rowan—that is Mr Whitethorn's given name, yes? I met his children before," said she, "in the park yesterday. They were sweet, well-mannered boys."

Her brother allowed it to be so, regaling her with anecdotes of their youth and Celaena felt she had never spent a half hour half as entertained before.

"Really, Rhoe," said Lady Meave, rising from her seat, "you are being absurd. I would think thirteen years of grief would make you accept it, but you are starting to grow more deranged with time."

The family members had all arrived a half hour ago when Rhoe explained the purpose of the meeting. James believed that the family would be informed of the situation before meeting Aelin so the element of surprise would not bring out ill-mannered reactions and accusations like this one and Rhoe had agreed to do it himself as the head of the household, though whether he did out of obligation or out of a desire to redeem himself in Aelin's eyes, Fenrys could not tell. Their cousins had more or less recieved the news with good grace, curious but tentatively delighted. The Whitethorns were curious, though Lady Mora expressed her delight at the news repeatedly and tearfully. Lord Jared was more reserved in his congratulations—a reserved disposition was a Whitethorn trait—as was his son, Rowan, who seemed more curious than anything else. His wife made incoherent noises about how nice it must be to be surrounded by all of one's relations, which made her husband stiffen. It was public knowledge Mr Whitethorn's relationship with his mother-in-law was contentious. She was a widow who lived in her father the earl's home, infamous for her very public affairs with Lord Shuttleton and the Marquess of Mowry, and did not have much regard for propriety or morals. The Earl had recently sent her back to live with her relations in Scarborough, prompting Mrs Whitethorn to insist her mother be invited to stay indefinitely in her home instead, an idea which Mr Whitethorn did not approve of. This served to increase the tension between the mismatched couple, and that Mrs Whitethorn seemed wholly unaware of it only served to aggravate her husband more. Fenrys was saved from replying when Lady Meave having finally processed the news, loudly and fervently denied it.

Rhoe did not look at all perturbed. He said, "We thought Aelin died, because we found a girl's dead body—which was unrecognizable—and an anklet near it. I am now ashamed I did not once consider it might not be her, for if I had, perhaps she would have been with us—but I do intend to make up for the lost years, cousin. I believe the anklet we procured was either circumstancial evidence or a delibrate cover-up. I have hired private investigators to look into the matters, though we have not much hope, but as it stands, I believe—no, I know—Aelin is alive and will be joining us all for dinner. Oh no," he added quickly, holding up a hand to forestall their aunt's objections, "This is not a discussion where Your Ladyship can pitch in her own two cents. If you are not prepared to acknowledge Aelin, you may see yourself out."

"You are putting a lot of faith in a fortune-hunter."

"Really, my lady," interrupted Fenrys, bemusedly, "I have met the lady on three occassions before; I can assure you she looked like an ashryver—"

"That proves nothing!" cried she, acerbically. "How do we know she is not one of your father's by-blows, hoping to extract a fortune? You are the one who put this whole idea in James' head—so perhaps, perhaps you are in cahoots with her."

"Sister!" exclaimed Mora, wide-eyed at the acid spewing from her mouth.

Poor woman—bless her gentle heart—looked scandalized her sister would even think those accusations, let alone voice them out loud. Rowan patted his mother's arm, looking pained while his father turned all sorts of blue and red. Lord Jared was offended on the behalf of his dearest friend—Fenrys' father, the Earl of Bedford. To Fenrys, the idea that his noble, stuck-up, proper and prudish father would have a mistress—let alone a bastard child—was laughable.

"Hold your tongue there, Meave," chided Lord Jared disapprovingly. "This childish petulance does not become you."

"You believe him?" Seeing none of them deny the accusation, she said, "If you are determined to fool yourself, please do. I will have no part in the downfall of this family." And so saying, she turned on her heel and left.

"If anyone else has grievances with this new discovery," said Rhoe, "they may join Meave in her self-inflicted banishment from my homes."

"Oh, Rhoe," said Lady Mora, defending her sister. "I hope you will forgive her. The news was very much surprising, and I think she was much surprised. I am sure she was only being cautious to save you from one she thought was a fortune hunter. We are all very happy little Aelin is back." Fenrys thought he would not assign so pure a motive to his other aunt's outburst but Mora was a compassionate soul, incapable to think meanly of others so he let the statement go unchallenged. Before the silence could turn awkward, he heard Colonel Ashryver say dryly, "Well, at least when Aelin comes, we can assure her there is no lack of entertainment here."

"If I recall, she was rather fond of drama as a child," agreed he.

"No, no, that was Fenrys," said a voice in the doorway. "Aelin just liked to follow him in whatever he did." James looked affectionately at his sister, escorting her inside.

Aelin smiled at Fenrys who kissed her cheek. "Welcome home, Aelin."

"It's Lady Aelin now, sir."

Two different voices called 'Miss Sardothein?!' though no one paid them much attention as Lord Rhoe stepped forward tentatively in front of his daughter.

"Aelin," he said.

Fenrys tried instead to look at Rowan and Aedion, both of whom were gaping inelegantly but failed, eyes repeatedly snapping back to Aelin who was watching the old man warily. She returned his bow with a curtsy, then rose on her toes to kiss his cheek. "Father."

Lord Rhoe said tearfully, "Oh, Aelin."

"It is all forgiven," said she quietly, in response, "I was surprised too."

He was almost disappointed when Aedion interrupted the father-daughter reunion. "You," said he accusingly, turning to the lady of the hour, "You knew the truth this morning?"

"Yes."

"You didn't tell me."

"With all the commotion of the morning—which by the by was your fault—I did not realize," said Aelin. "And when I did, I was too surprised to do anything more than flee."

"Wait," said James, suspiciously. "This morning? I thought you were to attend your business affairs this morning, Aelin."

Aedion's face flushed, matching Aelin's in it's hue. "Yes, well," she said, "I had, uh, some calls to return."

"You called on Aedion?" asked Fenrys, surprised.

It was terribly improper for a gentlewoman to call alone on a bachelor, but with her formerly a tradesman's daughter, Aelin did not bother to stick with the more ridiculous edicts of society; she would not have accepted their dinner invitation if she had. Besides as far as he was concerned, Aelin could grow two heads, murder someone or dye her hair lavender and he would still consider her perfect. Fenrys did not know about the others but he had missed the little spitfire terribly; pranks were not nearly enough fun without her trying to stifle her giggles by his side.

"I did not call on him; rather, on a friend he too was calling on," she defended herself. Her face was red.

James narrowed his eyes, looking between them. "You are courting each other!"

"Heavens no!" said Aedion. "Believe me, you have nothing to fear on that account." At the look of mock-offense on her face, he smirked. "You are not half as pretty as you think you are, Cel—Aelin."

"Did I permit you to address me so informally?" she asked primly. "Considering I look almost the same as you do, my appearance is not something you should be disparaging, colonel."

Rhoe huffed in amusement, "Yes, well, come along, children, there are others waiting to be introduced."

And so they did, though Fenrys could tell James was not yet convinced there was nothing between the two. Lady Mora was every bit as pleased as she had claimed, greeting her cousins' daughter with pure delight. Lord Jared was more formal, though not at all unkind. Mrs Whitethorn had a distracted air towards her, though she did smile pleasantly and Fenrys could detect no animosity in her. It was Mr Whitethorn—Rowan—whose reaction surprised him the most. He looked—pained, almost—which did not quite make sense, though perhaps that was just his discomfort with strangers shining through. The civilities were only just exchanged when the butler announced dinner was ready and the whole party proceeded inside in an informal order, Rhoe ditching the normal propriety edicts in favour of leading his daughter into dinner. He seated her at the opposite end of the long, mahogany table as himself, in the seat reserved for the mistress of the house.

Aelin's answering smile was a lot more genuine than before.

Dinner passed almost pleasantly, the seven course meal enough to sustain the conversation for some time and if the silence ever stretched, it did not stay long. With fine conversationalists like Fenrys and James at the same table, and with Aelin's lively manners the atmosphere was merry enough to overcome even the infamous Whitethorn reserve, Lord Jared expounding passionately on the fine horses in his stables on such occassions when provoked. Mr Whitethorn talked animatedly of books—but only with Aelin and only when she delibrately directed her statements to him—and even Mrs Whitethorn ventured a few shy remarks here and there. They were in the best of spirits when in the middle of the dinner by the end when the men stood up to retire to the study for port—a traditional seperation of sexes following dinner—when the door opened. The poor butler hastily entered the room behind the new addition, struggling to keep up with the man's but determined to follow the protocol, announcing to the room between pants, Viscount Preston, Lord Edward Galathynius of Graceview.

Celaena's fork clattered on the floor; her eyes were fixed on the dark-haired man, curls just barely pushed away from his face. A light pink tinted his cheeks and the tip of his nose—a result of the biting wind outside—and dust clung to the lapels of his overcoat, white cravat almost coming apart. Edward's eyes so identical to her own were entirely cold; he bowed formally to the dinner guests and she had the impression he had stormed inside unaware of them. He did not see me, she thought, embarassed as he was at having the attention directed at him. Edward's eyes went over the crowd in a quick movement and he murmured polite greetings—until they caught on her and her heart thumped wildly inside her chest. Edward's noble mein was intimidating and his features arranged neutrally and she worried the boy whose memory she had clung to for years was but an illusion until he whispered her name 'Aelin' with a quite awe and muted wonder; for the first time, it felt like hers. Then he choked on a sob; Aelin was running at him and he had his arm around her, a movement so natural like he had been doing it all his life.

Aelin buried her face in her brother's neck, trying to commit his scent to memory.

"Shh," said he, lovingly, caressing her cheek with one hand, "Please don't cry, dearest."

"You smell like horses," said Aelin, tearfully. "It's making my eyes water."

Edward threw his head back and laughed, a sound rare enough, she could feel her cousins' surprise from behind them. He sighed quietly, a small, contented noise that made her smile. "I missed you, Aelin, though I know I have no right to say that. Had I done something differently—"

"Ridiculous man," said Aelin, tenderly wiping the tears from his cheeks. "James told me you were not four and ten; what could you have done? I have long since learned not to regret what has passed and make the best of my lot. I had a good life, brother," she told him, squeezing his hands, "if not a perfect one. I—I was brought up with an education no lady recieves. It suits my disposition perfectly and you may call me selfish but I am happy I had that chance—though I wish we had more time together."

Edward smiled softly, "We have all the time in the world now."

"Perhaps not all the time," she teased with an imp-like grin, seeing the whole table's attention fixed on them, "After all, you are in dire need of a bath and if I am forced into your vicinity for another half hour, I shall faint from the horror of it." Edward too stiffened, and she realised the extent of his shyness. "Refresh yourselves, sir," ordered Aelin, in her best haughty tone, and had the desired effect of making him laugh, "and when you are ready, you may call for me. I will bring a dinner tray to you and we may talk all we like."

Edward bowed gallantly. "I am but your loyal servant, madam." He kissed her cheek and she detected in him a hesitation to leave.

"I will not go anywhere," assured Aelin, smilingly, "I promise I will not."

Edward formally took his leave of the dinner party and retired to his rooms. Aelin collected herself, joining the ladies with an enthusiasm she did not feel.

No one commented on the happy tears that flowed from her cheeks.

tags: @thesirenwashere // @courtofjurdan //@little-crow-corvere // @the-dark-swan // @queenofgreenbriar // @clockworkgraystairs // @julemmaes // @rowaelinforeverworld // @mymultiversee // @queen-of-glass // @strangely-constructed-soul // @mijaldraws // @http-itsrebecca // @aesthetics-11 // @lord-douglas-the-third // @flowersinvegas // @towhateverend17 // @aelinchocolatelover // @justabunchoffandoms // @cool-ish-nerd // @faerie-queen-fireheart // @sad-book-whore // @didsomeonesayviolin // @atozfantazyxx // @hizqueen4life // @the-gods-killer // @booknerdproblems // @annejulianneh111 // @firestarsandseneschals // @b00kworm // @mysweetvillain // @moondancer-204 // @thesurielships // @witchling-leonor // @ladywitchling // @amren-courtofdreams // @ifinallygavein // @jlinez // @faequeenaelin // @df3ndyr // @in-love-with-caramel-macchiato // @bitchy-knees // @superspiritfestival // @xx-fiona-xx // @stardelia // @maastrash // @miihlovesnoone // @totenhamboys20 // @sanakapoor

[kylejsugarman]

i simply think that the chipettes believed for most of their childhood that being wholly self sufficient and independent was not only necessary but natural since they had so little exposure to any other people their age until they were eight and trying to make music to live instead of just surviving, and that meeting the chipmunks and seeing how they lived in a house with dave and were taken care of made them all feel separately strange and jealous and confused because they were starting to realize that they Weren’t Normal. living by themselves in a treehouse, having spent their entire childhoods sleeping on the streets and working for a penance—it wasn’t normal.

being independent is satisfying in its own right but this realization reawakens this quiescent desire for love and care and protection in all three chipettes that they can’t quite articulate but it’s there and it’s powerful. they’re trapped in this cognitive dissonance of Knowing that being self sufficient is the Only Way and Wanting to be cared for as the children they are, which is why it’s initially so hard for them to contend with living with miss miller. beatrice isn’t accustomed to being a mother but she tries and starts to realize that these little girls, precious as they are, are carrying some heavy baggage.

brittany won’t listen to her or her instructions, not out of bullheadedness but out of a persisting instinct that she can’t trust any adults and is the one who knows what’s best for her and her sisters: no one has ever tried to help them and she knows better than to think otherwise. jeanette is so sweet but she’s so so nervous, she treats the house like a museum and miss miller like a teacher, never fully sitting down and always trying to smile politely and saying thank you after everything even when it’s something as simple as a glass of water. eleanor does the cleaning and the cooking without question, always insisting that she doesn’t mind!! even as a frightened glimmer leaps through her eyes that if they don’t work hard enough, they’ll be kicked out on the streets again. beatrice doesn’t know what to do other than be patient and gentle with them because even though she doesn’t quite know how to be a mother or put all their fears at ease, she does know that she loves the chipettes dearly and wants them to stay and feel safe.

she tries and it shows, in the best way. she starts making dinners and packing lunches even though she has a tendency to burn things and get the salt and sugar mixed up and writes little notes to slip into their lunchboxes. she asks them what They think is best for their bedtime and their bedroom and their routines. she takes them shopping and even though her heart aches at their wide eyed disbelief that they can Have these nice things, she tells them that all young ladies deserve to have a pretty dress for every day of the week in their closets. it takes a while for the girls to fully warm to the idea of being children and depending on someone else for their livelihood and she thinks that maybe they’ll always be a little cagey, a little afraid of it all disappearing, but it happens as sure as spring coming. while cleaning up the girls’ room, beatrice finds that jeanette has been keeping every single one of her lunch box notes in a little jewelry box. brittany stops fighting back so much and starts letting beatrice brush her hair and telling her all about her little world of gossip and drama. eleanor starts asking for little things, maybe a hug or a snack or a trip to the soccer field, and her eyes have never seemed brighter.

the chipettes finally get to be dependent. it may not always feel natural or right but the warmth and security makes them feel like they’re finally home.