#heir to love and lies spoilers

[lordiavolo]

DOES ANYONE IN THIS FANDOM WANT TO EXPLAIN THIS LINE OR CAN. IS SHE LYING. IS SHE TELLING THE TRUTH ...????????

[gojonanami]

[ last updated: 10/25/2024 ]

‧ ˚. PROFESSOR GETO SERIES ↳ Professor Suguru Geto is a renown ethics professor, and you're a straight A student whose GPA he's trying to ruin. You're more intent on making him see your brilliance -- but you get more than you bargained for, when the two of you learn about what you owe to each other.

‧ ˚. PROFESSOR GOJO SERIES↳ Professor Satoru Gojo had never failed at anything -- until his latest research project. That's why he had found himself at a weeklong conference, where he discovers the perfect distraction -- you. And he can't help but be drawn to you - even after he finds out that you're the one person he's trying to avoid most

‧ ˚. SATORU GOJO

seeing you tonight, its a bad idea right? | smut, fluff ↳ seeing your ex is always a bad idea, except when its satoru gojo.

bigger than the whole sky | angst, fluff, manga spoilers ↳ before his fight, you and satoru have an honest conversation about the future.

dessert before dinner | smut, fluff ↳ satoru can't wait to have you until you get back from the sister school event, so he plies you with sweet words until you agree to have dessert before dinner.

all's fair (in love and mergers) | long fic, smut, fluff, bffs to enemies to lovers ↳ you're not sure what's worse -- being an arranged marriage or being an arranged marriage with the person who used to be your best friend.

three's a crowd (ft. suguru geto) | long fic, au, smut, fluff ↳ professors satoru gojo and suguru geto rarely wanted the same thing at the same time -- that was until you.

bloodsucker | smut, dark ↳ you had avoided your ex for so long, only to run into him at a halloween party, and he's the same as ever but has his teeth always been that sharp?

got you | smut, dark ↳ satoru finally found you -- and he's not going to let you go this time.

is it over now | angst, fluff, smut ↳ suguru thinks the only way you'll leave him is if he lies to you about cheating on him - and it is. but turns out, you're not so easy to leave - for him and his best friend (ft. satoru gojo). "if you want, i can come inside?" | fluff, crack, domestic ↳ nobara spots gojo with a sorcerer she's never seen before and of course hijinks ensue (aka hearing gojo's english va (kaiji tang) say the above line in apothecary diaries and i lost my mind).

i wanna show you off | sugar daddy au, smut, fluff, slight angst ↳ when you accompany your friends to a bar rich men and women frequent, you catch the eye of a certain white-haired rich man, who is more than willing to spoil you

tastes sweeter on your lips | fluff ↳ on a rare day off, you decide to take care of the strongest sorcerer - with something very sweet.

the doctor is in | smut, fluff, au ↳ when you go to your annual check-up, you didn't think you'd be crushing on your doctor - or that he's conduct such an in-depth examination.

twenty-nine | fluff, angst, crack ↳ it's gojo's birthday, and he can't help but reflect on what birthdays have meant to him over the years, especially the year you decide you don't really want to do anything for his birthday (but it turns out you do).

sit in my lap | fluff, crack, domesticity ↳ you and satoru take your daughter to see santa at the mall, and satoru proves that he's just as much of a match for his daughter, as he is for you.

just a little longer | fluff, angst ↳ after geto defects, you find yourself on a roof of a building wondering where things went wrong - and you're not the only one.

sweet nothing | fluff, angst ↳ satoru always comes running home to your sweet nothings -- except this time.

lower your guard | fluff, smut, au, longfic ↳ after the gojo family receives threats to their lives, you're hired to protect the heir to the company, satoru gojo - you just didn't realize how charming the rich heir would be - and just how hard it would be to resist his advances. don't want any other shade of blue but you | fluff, smut, fake dating, longfic ↳ you can't help but say yes when your longtime crush asks you to be his fake girlfriend for a year to get the gojo clan to stop arranging marriage proposals for him. but little did you know, he would be doing both of you a favor. love means to say goodbye | multi-lives au, fluff, smut, angst, jjk manga spoilers ↳ "would we love each other in every life?" it's the question you asked satoru the night before his battle, and he replied that, of course you would. but did that promise create a curse -- or were you both always cursed to begin with when it came to love? yakuza fiance (ft. suguru geto) | smut, yakuza au, fluff, threesome �� you had no patience for the yakuza lifestyle your grandfather had -- you wanted to live a normal life, but when it leaks that your grandfather is in talks to have you engaged to one of two yakuza heirs -- you realize you're in deeper than you thought -- especially when they both fall in love with you.

a house is not a home | canon au, fluff, suggestive ↳ you come home after a long day of work unable to find the person you call home anywhere — until you reach the bedroom (househusband gojo).

just wanna fuck with you, just to make up with you! | smut, modern au, fluff ↳ satoru gojo is the man everyone wants, except you - he pushed you away after you had your daughter, you divorced him. so what happens when he comes to pick up your daughter for his weekend, and he finds you ready for a date?

rumor has it that my best friend loves you (and i do too!) | smut, actor au, fluff ↳ rumors swirl about a love triangle between you and your two heart throb co-stars on the set of jujutsu kaisen. except in this case, you and your two co-stars are happily dating. but what happens when you get casted in a movie where they want you to have a PR relationship with your co-star? especially when your bfs find out who it is

break my soul in two (but you're right here) | angst, manga spoilers ↳ satoru showed no concern for himself -- so you had to, even if no one else would.

beat the heat | smut, fluff ↳ it’s a heatwave in tokyo and who better to spend it with than satoru, who has an interesting idea of how to pass the time — fucking the heat away.

feral for you | fluff, smut, angst ↳ satoru gojo rarely loses his cool. except when it comes to you. so when you get taken, he takes matters into his own hands to find out who did it and make them pay.

yours to keep | childhood friends au, fluff, eventual smut, angst ↳ satoru gojo fell in love with you from the moment he met you at eight years old. and when he sees you again, he knows — he has to make you his.

the honored one | smut, manga spoilers, canon-divergent au ↳ it's your duty as the wife of the clan head to help your husband get dressed -- even for battle. but that didn't mean he couldn't spend some time undressing you.

‧ ˚. SUGURU GETO

meant to be | smut, dark ↳ when Suguru defects, he asks you to come with him -- but he's not going to take no for an answer.

three's a crowd (ft. satoru gojo) | long fic, au, smut, fluff ↳ professors satoru gojo and suguru geto rarely wanted the same thing at the same time -- that was until you.

is it over now (ft. satoru gojo) | angst, fluff, smut ↳ suguru thinks the only way you'll leave him is if he lies to you about cheating on him - and it is. but turns out, you're not so easy to leave -- for him and his best friend

might hurt | fluff, crack ↳ suguru's popularity is truly a curse, especially when he gets hit on right in front of you. luckily, you both know how to handle those situations.

i just want to fuck all night | smut, fluff, sex pollen ↳ after swallowing a curse, geto finds his body in an uncontrollable state of arousal, and who better help him cure it than you?

would it be enough if i could never give you peace? | fluff, angst, smut ↳ suguru's birthday spent with you is like a dream -- the perfect day spent in bliss, but what happens when the dream has to come to an end?

yakuza fiance (ft. satoru gojo) | smut, yakuza au, fluff, threesome ↳ you had no patience for the yakuza lifestyle your grandfather had -- you wanted to live a normal life, but when it leaks that your grandfather is in talks to have you engaged to one of two yakuza heirs -- you realize you're in deeper than you thought -- especially when they both fall in love with you.

‧ ˚. KENTO NANAMI

no regrets | hurt/comfort, fluff, angst ↳ when nanami is injured from his fight with mahito, you're sent to pick him up. and both of your careful avoidance of your feelings for each other comes crumbling down.

armed and dangerous | smut ↳ nanami's arms were always so nice around your throat, but you never tried having his arm between your legs before, until.

good girls get backshots | smut ↳ nanami has always been a gentleman, but he finally decides to play rough and mark you up -- at your request.

five times nanami wanted to propose but didn't | angst, fluff, smut ↳ nanami wanted to propose to you so many times - but it was never the right time, and then, there was no time left.

best part of my day | fluff, domesticity ↳ on a bad day, you give nanami just what he needs, and remind him why you are truly the best part of his day.

all the time in the world | fluff, hurt/comfort ↳ after shibuya, nanami lets you tend to his burns and have an honest discussion about what happened there and what it means for your future. but i'm a fire (and i'll keep your brittle heart warm) | fluff, hurt/comfort, smut, au ↳ throughout your years of jujutsu tech, you take care of kento, whether its a wound from a curse or a simple cut his finger -- and when he returns he finds you still ready to take care of him -- even after shibuya.

‧ ˚. YUTA OKKOTSU

↳ coming soon :)

‧ ˚. CHOSO KAMO

it's a need | hurt/comfort, smut, fluff ↳ after you take an attack meant for him, choso can't seem to understand why -- so you show him just how important he is to you.

hey emo boy! | fluff, smut, au ↳ saw this boy at the mall last week. got the kind of look to make me freak. wanna fuck in the back of the hot topic?

best friend's brother is the one for me! | fluff, au, smut, bedsharing ↳ you've been asked whether you and yuji are together a million times - but the truth is his brother is more your type -- so what happens when you end up sharing a bed one night?

just one more bite! | fluff, modern au, smut, vampire au ↳ choso kamo is your coworker who seems to hate your guts - even though you're both always stuck working together, but the only reason he does is because he wants nothing more than to eat you up -- blood and all.

‧ ˚. RYOMEN SUKUNA

paint the town red | smut, dark, au ↳ you've always been a goody two shoes -- or so your friends say -- so what happens when you decide to do the first bad thing you've ever attempted and try summoning a demon -- and it actually works?

the girl next door | smut, age gap, modern au ↳ you had grown up next door to the itadoris, but you never had met their uncle. and for good reason, he had spent the majority of his life in and out of jail. but now he was finally out, and he only had one goal in mind -- getting you in his bed.

‧ ˚. YUJI ITADORI

don't want you like a best friend! | best friends to lovers, fluff, fwb, smut, au ↳ yuji itadori has been your best friend since you were kids, and when he offers you to teach you how to fuck, you don't expect him to be able to find his way into your heart too.

jealousy, jealousy | smut

which of the men whimper | smut

spooning the dilfs | fluff

jjk men and if they're good at singing | crack

all tied up | smut

househusband suguru

househusband nanami househusband gojo (1) (2) (3)

mindreader nanami

geto swallowing a aphrodisiac curse

gojo - maybe in another life

guitarist! suguru x opera singer! reader (1) (2) (3)

frat boy! suguru x nerd! reader (1) (2) (3)

curse! suguru (1) (2) (3) bringing suguru back to life

[fabled-fiction]

Temptations of the Wolf

Cregan Stark x Targaryen!Reader

Summary: Being a Targaryen meant sacrifice. Being a Stark meant sacrifice. Both these houses know the service of duty well. But when war is amiss, and two leaders of these respective houses meet to discuss allegiance, feelings for one another bubble to the surface and get in the way. Oh how the winds of war turn would be lover on would be lover.

Word Count: 3.4k

Warnings: MAYBE POSSIBLE SPOILER ISH FOR EP 1. Angst, Foribbiden-ish Love, Use of (Y/N), proof read only by author.

A/N: I AM A HOTD TV SHOW PERSON ONLY!!! I did research on wikis to try and write Cregan correctly, however I am but a simple man that writes fanfiction, so mischaracterization isn't totally unavoidable. ENJOY!

A dragon does not get cold.

A dragon does not feel the cold as they have fire brewing under their scales, penetrating not only their bones but also their soul. The soul of a dragon is a fiercely burning one, said to run so hot that their touch alone melts the thickest of ice.

(Y/N) Targaryen knew of this fire better than any dragon. Or that is what the people of King’s Landing had quickly grown to best know them by. Growing up within the tense house of Targaryen, especially during war times, justly called for you to have more than just a spine of a predator.

To survive amongst dragons, you must be able to breathe their fire.

Making every other tense occasion feel as though you were walking on air.

Perhaps there was another reason as to why you felt no fear as you flew North. A reason that bore the Stark symbol.

That is why, as Polarxes rode through the winter chill, with the wind daring to snip at your skin you felt calm. At peace almost, even as the great Wall came into view.

It was realized that in order to keep the throne that was meant to stay in the hands of your brother Aegon, relations had to be made. Families and Houses had bent the knee for King Visery’s heir not long ago, and it was soon made apparent that your family would have to make the same bend the knee again for Aegon. Just to make sure that loyalties lied with the correct Targaryen.

Whilst you particularly did not care for such politics, or politics in general, your mother had other plans. Seeing as you and Aemond stood as…the most intimidating of the family it was an easy decision to send the both of you out to ensure alliances were made and pacts bonded.

You knew that the decision to send you to the Wall was laced with more than just truce in mind. Your mother was a cunning woman, and recalled the times that whenever the Starks came to make your acquaintance you favored the nip of the cold family over the burning of the dragon pit. The touch of their ice, and the gaze of one particular wolf.

As your dragon landed, her talons digging in to break, you took a moment to yourself to feel the snowflakes rest on your warm cheeks and melt into the white of your roots. The cold felt nice on your skin that had grown used to the humidity of King’s Landing. To feel at ease in your skin, to have even the opportunity to cool off was an unknown blessing of this trip.

“I hope the ride here was not too tiresome for your dragon here, the winds can be quite hard in preparation for the change of season.”

Looking down at the boy, who looked no older than four and ten years of age, you smiled as you slid off your dragon with ease. She shook her head in response, her ivory scales offering her a sort of camouflage to the elements around her as she settled down. The heat of her breath alone melted whatever ice laid around her, the rest becoming swept up as her wings folded in. 

Whilst you looked at her with admiration, you could tell that this was the first dragon the boy had ever seen. It was a mix of awe and fear that flooded his eyes, which you did not doubt also kept him frozen still in fear of her eating him to remain warm.

“Do not worry about her, she is not the dragon that will eat you alive should you make one wrong move.”

A wolf does not get cold.

A wolf does feel the cold because the wolf knows how to bear the frigid winds. Their fur having grown to shift with the winds that come with winter. They stand strong against the chill of winter, and stand headfast at the front of the storm. 

The gaze of a wolf alone makes one question whether or not the storm bends to the wolf’s howl.

Cregan Stark knew that his house would come to be called upon soon enough. That is what comes with the winds of war. He just never felt bothered enough to actually busy himself with the calls of the storm.

But it became increasingly hard to ignore as a dragon landed at the gates of the Wall.

Especially when it was a dragon he recognized, that held a rider that had occupied his mind in the dark of the night as he stared into a fireplace. The lick of flames taunting him the same way a certain Targaryen had whenever in their presence.

He had begun to regret not knowing what exactly this storm of war would make him face.

The warmth of a Targaryen was hard to ignore, it made the men wish for the comfort of home as they were reminded of just how cold winter really was when left in their absence. A reaching hand hoping to grasp onto the hearth that was your soul. 

Even as he looked up toward the wall, the announcement of your presence was made when he felt sweat beghin to build on the back of his neck.

Turning towards you he noticed the sea of men that had parted to make a runway for you,almost as if they were presenting you to him. Or maybe it was the other way around as he noticed the way your predatory gaze ate up every inch of him.

He should have felt intimidated just by that alone.

You stood there before him, adorning only the one coat that seemed to mock the furs that he had adorned in order to retain even a fraction of the heat that you held onto. Your head was held high as you looked upon the Stark, giving him the smallest courtesy bow as your hand reached to shake his. He should not have been so eager to be in your presence upon the precipice of war.

Cregan Stark was no fool, he knew the reason for your visit. But still, appearances seemed to be becoming more and more important in this age.

“Lord Stark, I hope I am not intruding? There were some important business I’d like to discuss and well…dragons are faster than ravens.”

He offered you a curt smile as he stood to his full height, hoping to give himself an advantage on the conversation. Or at the very least to provide some distance to distract from the pit that had been lit a flame from your very speaking of his name.

“You’re not intruding in any way. Would you like to take this discussion somewhere more private, if the matter happens to be so important?”

You were not used to the Northern accent. The regality of the South had become your norm as you dealt with many affairs there, instead of bending to the will of the many Lord and Lady that wanted an audience with the great Targaryen rulers of the day. Thus you were used to their customs, clothing and accents.

Everything about the North always took you by surprise, and assaulted every sense that you had.

Cregan Stark was no different. If anything he made the divide even more stark as you set your gaze upon him.

He stood tall, and unbroken as he looked at you. The Wolf of the North was everything that had been said about him. Tall, broad, strong…handsome. His steeled eyes locked you in your place almost instantly. You weren’t sure if it was because you feared a single wrong move from you would provoke the beast or because you wanted to soak in every minute of his undivided attention. Never had you met someone with the same resolve as you, nor the same gaze.

You knew now why people were so intoxicated by you.

He always had that effect on you.

Taking his hand, stepping onto the lift you couldn’t help but be drawn to the cold that laid on his hands. The chill that ran up your arm from his touch alone made you want to keep a harsh grip on his gloved hand.

When the both of you were locked in, it was only then did your hands regretfully break apart by the jostle of the cables.

“I’m sure you know why I have made the trip all the way out here?” 

“Was it not to take in the view atop the wall?”

The chuckle that left your lips resonated throughout the cart, it made Cregan want to fill a book with quips that would draw similar sounds out of you. He smiled to himself as the ride came to a halt, and the two of you made the trip to a balcony overlooking the edge of the forsaken wall.

“ While that is a plus, I have come here as a courier from the Queen Mother. Whilst I believe you are busy with the responsibilities of defending the South from that of which come from those blasted woods, it would shock me to find you do not know of the developing situation within my family?”

His suspicions were confirmed. While there was no doubt you had come to discuss the usurping of the throne, it lifted some weight off his shoulder to know that you had been the one to broach the topic first. For some…unknown reason he felt hesitant to the idea of bringing up a topic that would only bring a scowl upon your face. Or any topic for that matter that would cause a crease to form between the bridge of your gaze.

But upon the question he found that you were calm and collected. As if you had not just brought up the topic of a deed that often led to disorder amongst the throne and council. Many of the men that served the wall had been sent here for just the discussion of mutiny alone.

Your confidence alone shook him, and confused him at the same time.

“I’m sure even the farthest reaches have heard of your brother taking his seat upon the Iron Throne. I'm confused however on what this has to do with me?”

Taking your gloves off, Cregan watched as you placed your hands on the edge of the ice that formed this pocket amongst the wall. Your shoulders dropped along with your head as you took in a deep breath. It was interesting to take in your mannerisms when it was just him instead of him and an audience. You behaved…well like a dragon. A foreboding presence that did not easily reveal their intentions, a ticking trap of anguish and fire. A continuous stream of steam left your nostrils as you took a moment to contemplate.

The dread that spilled from your exhale had Cregan convinced there was something more amiss this meeting of allegiance. 

“I truly do not care of the affairs of my brother, he has rarely acted on his own accord. Thus why I am here, to gather support of others that will make sure whatever whims he does hold are defended from those that aim to make all of this harder than it has to be.”

Looking at the palm of your hand that had been grasping the ice with a fury, you noticed that it had only now just started to turn pink. Whereas you were sure if anyone else had dared to meet flesh with ice, it would be purple and dead by now. It was a calming reassurance to feel the calming touch of ice. When looking into Cregan eyes, you felt a similar calm as his brows furrowed into a look that resembled something of sympathy.

He understood more than anyone the weight of duty.

“If I may ask, it seems as if you do not have much desire in the battles that are brewing? So why come here to make a play with a house that is known to keep their oaths?”

Of course he knew the weight of duty. The Stark house was known to be one of the most noble houses when it came to keeping a promise. They had bent the knee for your half sister years ago, so why must you have come out all this way to try and turn their tides? You truly did not want to come out all this way, only making the trip at the request of your mother who had become a thorn in your side ever since you made your indifference to the throne known.

You knew coming out this way would not sway the Stark, but instead sway you. 

“Who wishes for war? Only mad men desire a battle that would take their life,” Taking a moment to compose yourself, you straightened your back.

“Which is exactly why I come in hopes that you share the same sentiment.”

Your eyes seemed to hold all the emotions of the seven kingdoms. Cregan took a moment to compose himself, and remind himself that he was the Warden of the North. He does not need to consult himself on ways to keep the blaze of your heart lit. He had a job, just as you had yours.

Which is why he felt himself faltering.

“A Targaryen that does not wish of war? You are a rarity amongst your family (Y/N).”

Your name should have felt foreign to say. It was not dressed with honorifics, and he meant it. The lack of title that came before your name was with the purpose of bringing this conversation down to a more personal level. 

He watched as you tensed with him saying your name. But he knew it was not in offense, he could never offend you. It was in realization of the fragility of this conversation.

His informality was sealed when he rested his hand on the small of your back. The both of you just took in the moment to look beyond the wall. Cregan knew that this simple action could warrant reaction from you, it would be justified for you to take his hand and his tongue for even speaking to you in such a casual way.

Instead you melted into his touch, turning to face him.

He took this as an invitation to invade your space once more, taking a step forward to move a piece of hair that threatened to obscure his view of you.

“You flatter me, Lord Stark. But a compliment such as that will only do so much to sway me. I was sent here for a reason.”

His title wavered on your tongue as you spoke to him. This just drew more a response from him as he did not move, humming almost in agreeance as his hand found its place on your cheek. For a moment he felt jealous of the leather that dressed his palm, for it had the honor of holding you truely.

“Hmm yes, you were sent here for a reason. But could there not have been another? One that you hold instead, that trumps the duty you feel to your house?”

He was always good at reading you.

Perhaps you should have felt unease in coming here, to think it would just be a simple trip to the Wall that would just lead you to return home with nothing but a word that the Starks were not aligned with your house.

You were blinded by the urge to see him, the want to make his acquaintance one more time before the realm tore itself apart. “Cregan…”

His name fell from your lips with a whisper, as if you were praying to the gods above to harden your resolve.

“Tell me the real reason you came here.”

He was incredibly close now, his presence shadowing over yours. He covered you in a shroud of snow, his touch almost paralyzing you as you remained locked in a fight of wills.

Who would win? The fearsome dragon or the unbending wolf?

“To speak with you. There are…alliances that need to be made in order to keep my family from tearing itself and the world apart.”

This earned a frown from him as he leaned even closer to you. He assaulted every sense you had now. His eyes burned into yours, rivaling your gaze as his scent came over you. There was a reason you favored the smell of leather and musk. It reminded you of him.

“Could you just this once make a decision that was not dictated by your family, but rather made in lieu of what you wanted?”

Your hand reached up to hold his wrist of the hand that grounded you. Your touch was searing, Cregan knew that had you touched his skin he was sure there would be a burn where you had touched him. And he would wear it with honor.

He wondered if a kiss from you would be just as searing. If steam would rise from the both of your lips as you became one.

The fan of your breath over his cheeks threatened the very resolve he was known for.

This very act alone could be considered taking a side. The both of you would seal your fate if you fell blindly into your passions right at this second. A thought crossed the wolf’s mind, how truly awful would it have been to give in, even for just a moment?

Your hand on his cheek, a mirror of his own action, made him clasp his eyes shut as a shaky breath escaped his own trembling lips. 

He looked beautiful, in this very moment, you thought.

The both of you were so close, the desire of one thing burning in your mind as you stared at him.

You were never one for politics, but could that argument alone be excuse enough to betray the whims of your family for a single kiss from a man that would stand against them?

You wished to lite his lips ablaze with the passion of your touch.

He wished to swallow the fire that burned in your throat.

A dragon does not feel the cold.

A wolf does not feel the cold.

But right in this very moment they both wished the winds would freeze them in place, if not to hold onto the memory for just a moment longer.

“Cregan..”

“(Y/N)..”

The side of his nose seemed to fit perfectly against yours as he leaned in. Your hand rested up against the nape of his neck perfectly, anchoring both of you in this stance. 

Just as the both of you felt a graze of the other, there was the annoyance of another made present.

The squealing of the lift cables broke the silence, and thus breaking the tender moment of the two of you.

It wasn't until they came to a halt did you finally step back, and Cregan was left to imagine the moment for only a second before opening his eyes to the reality of the situation.

“Lord Stark, Prince Jacaerys Velaryon of house Velaryon has arrived to speak with you.”

With a small huff of a laugh, you straightened your cloak and looked out over the wall once more. 

This would probably be the last time you saw winter…the snow…and him.

Feeling his hand grip your chin, making you face him you could only chuckle as you held his face again. Only this time with longing and remorse. You were already mourning any possibility you had with him, and he knew it too as he looked down at you.

“I wish it were that easy…”

Leaning forward, you played with fire one last time as your lips came to rest on the corner of his. It was a quick moment, only giving yourself enough of it for the small gesture. You knew if you lingered for even a moment the Northerner would take it upon himself to seize whatever he could. And then you truely would be gone to the whims of a lovely passion.

Pulling away, you watched as he held where you had kissed him, before breaking away from your eye as you made your way to the lift to leave him.

But when his hand found your wrist, you could feel the fire brimming in your throat.

“Just…think about what I said…before its too late.”

Looking over your shoulder, you couldn't help but take the moment to study his face. Commit it to memory. Perhaps that is truly what you came here for. Not some silly test of allegiance, for you already had that answer before you even mounted your dragon.

No…it was to take in one last memory of the cold.

[cjrae]

Rank And Responsibility. Or: The Hairpin Scene from Jinshi's POV.

Be warned now about the consequences of choosing to do an English Lit degree - you end up doing lit crit for fun. With that in mind, let's break down the hairpin scene at the end of Covert Operations (Episode 5). Mild spoilers for Jinshi's arc are below.

While this moment does kick off the romantic subplot, with all the implications that giving Maomao the hairpin out of his own hair has, I would argue that this is not the moment Jinshi realizes he's in love with Maomao. Instead, from his point of view, this scene demonstrates how Jinshi handles failure.

Holding Power In An Open Palm

This is still very early in the story. Our first hint to Jinshi's true rank does come in this scene, but for now we know him as the manager of the Rear Palace. For the three thousand people who live and work there, for all intents and purposes, Jinshi is the highest authority they will encounter. He literally has the power of life and death over them, either directly in the case of the servants and eunuchs, or in the case of the consorts, his word to the Emperor directly can serve the same purpose. We also see Jinshi use this power early on - he's not just there to keep order, but also to test the consorts' loyalties and virtue. We never see what happens to the lower-ranked consort who attempted to invite Jinshi back to her room, but at the very least that report ensures that her already small chance of the Emperor choosing her as a potential mother of the nation is utterly cut off - and if she doesn't bear children, she will be discarded.

We also know that Jinshi will not hesitate to order corporal punishment if he views it necessary - for example, when Maomao discovers that the toxic face powder is still being used by Consort Lihua's ladies in waiting, she mentions in the aftermath that the eunuch who failed to recover the powder was flogged, while the lady in waiting who hid the powder is put in solitary confinement. These are brutal punishments - and if we consider the historical inspirations, these are also very restrained consequences. For hiding an item that caused the death of the prince (unfortunately, the more valuable child) and has put the life of one of the Emperor's favored High Consorts in danger, Jinshi would be utterly within his rights to order executions. If ignorance is a sin, ignorance in the face of knowledge is a greater one.

Microcosm of Li

For all that Jinshi holds his power lightly, he also takes the responsibility that power bestows upon him quite seriously. It's worth noting that Jinshi takes over governing the Rear Palace shortly after Maomao's service contract is purchased. (Remember, Xiaolan talks about the "beautiful, new eunuch that's been posted to the central courtyard," which tells us that Jinshi has not been in the Rear Palace long enough to become a fixture - he's an object of speculation and admiration from episode 1).

In context it's clear that, with the birth of two Imperial children, his job is to ensure the survival of the Imperial line and investigate why children of the Emperor are dying consistently in one of the wealthiest and safest places in the entire empire. We're shown him running in between Lady Lihua and Lady Gyokuyou to ensure that their very sick children are being seen to properly, investigating what could be causing it, while also managing tensions as rumors about the Emperor's children being cursed begin to spread and outright accusations of sorcery are being thrown between consorts. While the audience might immediately scoff along with Maomao at the idea of one consort cursing another, if Maomao hadn't found the cause of death, those types of accusations followed by Lady Lihua's and Princess Lingli's inevitable deaths could have ended with Lady Gyokuyou's execution.

The Rear Palace is a reflection of the nation as a whole. No Imperial heirs plus the deaths of two High Consorts with various foreign and domestic political ties had the potential to thrust the entire nation into chaos. Jinshi's choices have very real consequences, so when Maomao discovers what the true cause of death is and sends her warning, Jinshi looks at Maomao and doesn't see a person. He sees a "perfect pawn." A tool, one with talents that have ensured that at least one Imperial child has survived and providing a rational explanation why these children have died so that it can be prevented from happening again - and a skill set that can be turned to preventing any more shenanigans in the Rear Palace that could threaten the empire's foundation.

And, as Gaoshun points out, in the beginning of the hairpin scene, she is a toy. Maomao amuses Jinshi up until this point.

For all that Jinshi is shown wielding power with a light hand and a responsible mindset, it literally doesn't occur to him that the people working in the rear palace have stories - some tragic - about how they came to be there. They are resources to be used as befits the Emperor's (and therefore the nation's) need.

Hidden Beauty

When Maomao turns around and Jinshi doesn't recognize her until she speaks, he's shocked. He thought he knew exactly who and what this girl was - ugly and unremarkable, except for her intellectual brilliance and the challenge in managing her by other means than empty compliments and smiles. He attempts to recover and assumes that she is enhancing her looks - and is shocked again when he realizes that the face Maomao has presented to him so far is a protective mask against attracting attention. In a world where beauty is both a currency and a tool that others covet, Jinshi doesn't understand why Maomao would deliberately devalue herself like that. So she tells him.

This is the moment Maomao becomes a person to Jinshi.

Not a toy, not a pawn. Someone who has been ripped from her home and her life illegally and sold off. It's in this moment that Jinshi is forced to confront the ugly side of the society he lives in, people who would rape Maomao out of pure convenience or just take a "borderline marketable" girl off the street in order to get extra drinking money.

Worse, Jinshi is complicit in Maomao's captivity. The Rear Palace has bought her contract - and as the manager of the Rear Palace, Jinshi is responsible for everything that happens within its' walls. The fact that Jinshi does not personally oversee service contracts is irrelevant. The buck stops with him. If the Matron of the Serving Women or whoever is below her is buying these contracts without checking their sources, that is Jinshi's fault because he has allowed a lax enough system to flourish. He has failed to govern this microcosm of the nation wisely, with thought for the welfare of the least powerful among his people. Worse, he has failed to even notice the problem - Maomao may say she's angry about having been kidnapped and sold, but she doesn't react in a way that indicates anger. Instead, she's resigned. Yes, what happened to her was wrong and she's angry about it, but there's literally nothing she or Jinshi can do.

Or Is There?

Jinshi offers Maomao two apologies, the first of which is our first hint to his true status. "I'm sorry we couldn't police them better." Maomao immediately blows off this apology - she points out that there's no way Jinshi should have known and has a very "all's well that ends well" attitude about her situation - her contract will be up eventually and in the meantime she's managed to land in a fulfilling role. Essentially Maomao is telling Jinshi that this apology is not his to make - he's overstepping his responsibility. And, if Jinshi were simply the manager of the Rear Palace, she would be right. It's his job to ensure that the Rear Palace is properly staffed, not to regulate that all contracts comply with the law.

Jinshi apologizes again. This time, he offers no other context. He doesn't accept Maomao's absolution of responsibility - because he knows (even if we, the audience, don't) otherwise. It can certainly be read as Jinshi refusing to accept easy absolution, and the rest of those witnessing the scene, apart from Gaoshun, certainly take it that way.

Instead, he takes the hair stick from his own hair and places it in Maomao's. Their entire relationship has just been upended; Maomao is a person who has been gravely wronged and it is Jinshi's responsibility to begin to make it right. Aside from the personal implications of giving her the hairpin (and the faint blush on his face makes it clear that he's aware of them), it is a form of restitution. There is an unspoken social contract Jinshi is offering that Maomao does not understand in the slightest. It never occurs to her that Jinshi would do something for her with no thought of what he would receive in return, because of the difference in their social ranks. But, from Jinshi's perspective, that social difference is the point. He has failed her and, as the person of higher rank, it is his responsibility to do what is within his power to begin to remedy the situation in front of him.

And, of course, in that moment he sees Maomao in a new light, the other meaning of gifting her his hairpin has fertile ground to take root in Jinshi's mind.

[the-king-andthe-lionheart]

History of Westeros tries to act like some sort of ASOIAF authority because they've re-read the books several times, but they really aren't. They legitimately released a YouTube short about Robb's Will being up in the air, which is correct, it is, but they also said that Sansa's marriage to Tyrion was annulled, which is factually wrong and just sounds like annoying Sansa Stan propaganda this fandom loves to spew that completely misconstrues and makes up about Sansa as a character and her arc and themes. I know Stansa's love coming up with excuses about Robb's Will to try to explain how Sansa can become Lady/Queen or the North/Winterfell (spoiler alert: she doesn't even have a leadership arc so how does that make sense?) but this is just next tier bullshit. Sansa's marriage isn't annulled just because you wish it hard enough. Littlefinger is hoping Tyrion is dead so that when Sansa makes her grand appearance after marrying Harry the Heir, it's not proved she's some bigamist, and that her marriage is legitimate. Littlefinger didn't magically finagle an annulment. No Sansa is still Lady Lannister in the books by the people of Westeros no matter how much this fandom wants to boo and hiss and complain about it. No matter what you want, this is what she is known to be in the books right now, just like Arya is still Lady Bolton and Lady of Winterfell (through proxy) by the people in Westeros. No matter how much you complain, it doesn't negate canon.

Can't say I'm surprised though. History of Westeros has defended the show and actually thinks what happened in the show, will largely take place in the books. And they are legitimate Arya anti's. I remember a few years ago they tried answering a question about what they think Arya's upcoming arc and endgame could be, and they couldn't think up anything beyond her either dying or sailing away. How can you be a self-proclaimed ASOIAF authority and not even take Arya's character and arc seriously enough to have legitimate, good faith ideas about where it's going considering she's one of the five main protagonists? Riddle me that?

It's ridiculous and all of this just proves my point. New fans of these books, or even older fans of these books who haven't re-read them, or haven't re-read them in a long time, need to be wary of these so-called "authorities" in fandoms, because most of the time they are biased and they spread lies. It's not a coincidence that most of the lies these people spread always misconstrued or flat out lie about Sansa's character, arc, plots, or circumstances in the books, either. I mean just look at this claim that Sansa's marriage to Littlefinger is already annulled. Look at how many things would come easier to her if that was the case. Not only would she no longer be tied to the Lannister name, but if she were to go on and wed another she wouldn't be considered a bigamist and it would be legitimate. And that's not even considering the fact that the reason Robb made up a Will was to specifically disinherit Sansa from ever getting Winterfell after being married into the Lannister family, so that the Lannister's couldn't claim it through her.

Hmm...kind of seems like History of Westeros isn't just making a dumb mistake (which you'd think would be edited out in the editing process if it was) but actually spreading lies to support their Pawn to Player/Queen Sansa propaganda even though it's still highly unlikely that Sansa would ever become leader of the North even if she got an annulment considering everything going against her in her own arc, which doesn't even include the fact that she quite literally doesn't have a leadership arc and she's the most passive POV character I've ever read and how she's constantly in lalaland. The fact that Robb, the legitimate heir to Winterfell, had to prove himself worthy in a bloody and violent and proactive way, should tell us everything about what the North is looking for in a leader, and it's not some pretty princess puppet planning parties. Sorry not sorry.

[rose-tea-and-strawberries]

After All Is Said And Done

Masterlist After the events of the winter holidays and Jamil’s manipulation, you and your friends are left to pick up the pieces.

Warning: I write the reader as female. Also the reader celebrates Christmas.

Includes: Angst, Female Prefect!Reader, Book 4 Spoilers, references to PTSD and depression, Jamil x Reader if you squint, platonic Ace x Reader x Deuce but can be read as pre-romantic

Honestly, after writing this, I’m thinking about writing a version with Riddle, Azul, Vil and Malleus...

You know I'm still standing better than I ever did

Looking like a true survivor, feeling like a little kid

I'm still standing after all this time

Picking up the pieces of my life without you on my mind

- Elton John, I’m Still Standing

“Hey Y/N, there’s another one,” Grim called out from the doorstep. You can feel your stomach sink, already knowing just what was left at your door.

“Ugh,” Ace groaned in disgust, “you’d think that he’d give up after all this time.”

You mentally agreed. Ever since the incident in Scarabia during the winter holidays, Kalim has been making an effort to invite you to his parties. Eagerly calling out your name whenever he spots you and enthusiastically telling you to come join him, listing all of the food and music he’d love to share with you. You have to admit, you did have a soft spot for the young heir, his genuine wholesomeness making it impossible for you to outright dislike him. It’s clear as day that his kindness is authentic, that he actually does want to spend time with you and wishes to bring you enjoyment. The kicked puppy look he gives you every time you politely turn him down with a new excuse each time does take a stab at your conscience but you can’t help it. Every time you think about the possibility of stepping into that dorm your mind reels with memories of darkened rooms, harsh reprimands, agonisingly scalding marches, banging on doors until your hands bruised and screaming for someone, anyone, to let you out until your throat ached.

“Just burn it, Grim, you know the drill,” Deuce told the feline, his face twisted into annoyance.

“Hell yeah,” Grim crows in triumph, about to summon one of his beloved fire blasts before Ace swiped the ornately detailed paper from his paws and unceremoniously threw it into your fireplace not even giving it a glance as the flames burned it to ash.

“Don’t even bother,” Ace said, “stuff like this isn’t worth anyone’s time and effort. At least it can be used to kindle the fire for s’mores now.”

You looked at Ace and Deuce and you thanked The Seven for having such amazing friends. Whilst the uncomfortable twisting in your stomach still remained, their obvious attempt at helping you definitely alleviated it. 

The previous winter holidays made it clear just how much they cared about you. The moment that they realised that something was wrong, they put aside their differences and used their own resources to personally check up on you. Granted, you would have appreciated it more if they arrived a few days earlier whilst you were still being kept prisoner but the warmth you felt inside at seeing such friendly faces after so long made up for everything.

When Ace and Deuce had entered Ramshackle with Grim one afternoon to prepare for another impromptu sleepover, with bags of groceries and overnight things in their arms, they were surprised to find it completely silent. Apart from the scuttling and twittering of woodland creatures, the moaning of old pipes and the nervous whispering of the apparitions that lived with you, it was disturbingly quiet.

They felt a collective chill go up their spines, though whether that was due to the lack of heat in this abandoned building, the growing fear that something is wrong with you or the presence of undead spirits huddled up in your living room was unknown.

The ghosts’ head shot up at the sounds of the door creaking closed behind them and the thuds of the boys dropping their bags onto the floor, frazzled worry lining their wispy white non-corporeal forms as they floated towards them. Their clear agitation did absolutely nothing to soothe the trio’s growing anxiety.

“You youngins’ are here for Y/N right?” one of them asked.

“Yeah, we are,” Ace replied, his voice coming out more harsh and aggressive to mask the growing dread.

“Is something wrong?” Deuce’s voice, on the other hand, clearly conveyed every inch of fear that he felt.

“We don’t know,” a taller ghost stated, “we haven’t seen Little Miss in ages.”

“All this time she’s been in her room, without a peep,” another butted in, “it’s been hours and she hasn’t even come down for dinner.”

“And you didn’t think to check on her?!” Ace said angrily, “she could be in trouble.”

“We can’t go in there!” the shortest of them explained defensively, “that’s a lady’s room.”

“And even if we could, what’s the point?” the first one elaborated, “it’s not like we have bodies that can help her.”

“Please go see her,” the second implored, “we’re worried.”

“You really care about her, huh?” Ace noted, seeing the panicked, begging looks that were being directed at them.

“Of course we do,” a ghost stated matter-of-factly, “Little Miss is family.”

“Maybe it’s nothing,” Deuce said after a beat of silence, trying to calm himself and everyone else, “maybe she’s just sleeping?”

“Yeah, that’s right,” Grim was quick to jump to that conclusion, any conclusion that wasn’t the fact that his beloved henchman is in trouble, “Henchman’s just conked out. She’s fine.”

Despite his cheery words, he couldn’t help the pit forming in his stomach, a deep hole that not even tuna could satisfy. The three of them looked at each other before running up the creaking stairs, with Deuce throwing the ghosts a quick thank you. As they reached the top and made their way down the corridor and towards your bedroom, they could faintly hear the sound of rushing water getting louder and louder. In spite of the darkness enshrouding the passageway, your room appeared to be fully lit, if the hazy golden glow peeking out from under your door was any indication. 

With a firm twist, Ace banged open the door, completely ignoring the sound of it ricocheting off of its adjacent wall in his hurry to see you, only to find your room completely bare of any life. Noticing that the door to the attached bathroom was wide open, the trio rushed towards it only to stand frozen at the doorway. 

The sight they were met with was you, sitting hunched up in your bathtub, still fully clothed sans your socks and shoes. Your shower was still on, sending streams of water down towards your crouched figure, completely drenching you.

“Y/N!” the three of them yelled, racing towards you. Grim jumped into your arms, getting on his hind legs so that he could paw at your shoulder and face, doing whatever his tiny hands could do to get you to notice him. Deuce did the same, stepping into the bathtub whilst Ace turned off the spray of water so that he could grip your shoulders and shake you whilst whisper-shouting your name. Still, you did not react, the only result of their attempts to stir you were your eyes laxly opening at their sudden manhandling, causing them to cease their jostling.

You looked less like a human and more like a marionette who had been cut from its strings. Your eyes, that were usually glowing with personality, all bright, fierce and lively, were currently dull, glassy and doll-like, all dim and staring without seeing. The only confirmation they had that their best friend was not a corpse were the small, dainty, robotic blinks of them and the way your chest would softly rise and fall. 

“The hell, Deuce,” Ace looked more worried than he did before - and considering the amount of near death experiences he’s been through with you, that’s saying a lot, “what are we supposed to do?”

“I-I don’t know.”

“What do you mean you don’t know?!” Grim exclaimed fiercely, not moving from where he was nestled against your cold, drenched chest, “Henchman needs you!”

“I know-I know,” Deuce was quick to appease him, “why don’t we start by getting her out of here and into something warm? Then we can figure out what to do.” 

And so he brought you up into a bridal carry. Usually being so close to you would’ve flustered him beyond belief, his shyness around girls amplified around you despite all that you’ve been through together, especially now that the shower water made your soaked clothes stick onto you like a second skin and making certain aspects of your femininity more obvious but his need to help you was far stronger than any bashfulness he had.

He was scared - they all were. To see someone strong enough to fight overblots, to stand by their side and boldly face down the monsters in the mines, to live in this world that they are both literally and figuratively at the bottom of the food chain, so broken was nothing but haunting, a horrific sight that they’ll never be able to unsee.

Ace opened up your closet, grabbing some towels and a pair of pyjamas that he tossed onto your bed, as Deuce carried you to your bedroom, your head resting against the curve of your shoulder before gently placing you down onto your duvet.

“Let’s get you dried up, okay,” Ace cooed at you, smiling softly and speaking with a gentleness that surprised even him. He began to swipe a towel over your sodden frame as Deuce got to work gently drying your hair from behind you and Grim nuzzled, whined and purred against your lap.

“The ghosts told us that you haven’t eaten dinner,” Deuce murmured, “you should change into some dry clothes whilst we go and get you something.”

He got up from your bed and made a move to leave but your hand shot out and grasped onto the hem of his shirt. You continued to look down, not meeting anyone’s eyes as your shaking voice whispered, “don’t go.”

“Y/N, you’re drenched,” Ace said, “and you haven’t had anything in a while. We’ll be just downstairs and we won’t be gone for long.”

“Stay. Please,” your voice was weak and your eyes downcast, “don’t wanna be alone.”

The card soldiers gave each other a look before nodding and climbing onto your bed so that they sat as close to you as possible. You immediately cuddled up to them, allowing yourself to get enveloped by their touch.

“What’s wrong with me?” you whisper.

“Nothing’s wrong with you, Y/N,” Deuce soothed you, gently stroking your head and back like you would a wounded animal.

“Yeah,” Ace agreed with his rival, “it’s everyone else here that’s messed up.”

“Then why,” you did nothing to stop the tears from falling, your words coming out choked from the way your throat was constricting, “then why does all of this keep on happening to me?”

“I don’t know,” the red head sighed in defeat, continuing his ministrations on you.

You said nothing, allowing them to embrace you as you buried your face into their bodies, letting their clothes and Grim’s fur soak up your tears and muffled sobs.

It didn’t go unnoticed how your companions became even more protective of you after that incident. Wherever you went, they would flank you like guard dogs, shielding you from the rest of NRC and directing a glare at anyone who so much as looked at you. After hearing about how uncomfortable you felt being around certain people, they were on the lookout, not-so-sublty steering your body away from anyone they deemed unworthy of being within your gaze (you could’ve sworn that you heard Grim hiss at some students a few times).

It wasn’t just them. Your family of ghosts also made an effort to check in on you. Even when you couldn’t see them, you could feel them hovering near you in another room, making sure that you looked after yourself, gently reminding you to eat, sleep and rest. They called you over more often to join them in games, sharing stories and jokes, making sure not to mention anything that they felt could upset you.

Your past self - the person you were before your entrance to NRC, a person that now seemed almost like a stranger to you - would’ve found it smothering, almost demeaning at how they’re affections seemed to infantilise you but now, all you can think of is how much their presence comforts you, how loved they make you feel. It made you feel seen and heard, that at least the small handful of allies in your tight inner circle care enough to consider your feelings instead of sweeping them under the rug like everyone else. Like how a few words here and there and a few taps on the wrist were enough to clean up the mess that was the last overblot.

When the dust settled and all was said and done, everyone else partied whilst you were left hurt and broken and once again left to pick up the pieces of your shattered self.

It’s like your body is in constant fight or flight mode, with someone’s fist persistently banging on the ‘flight’ switch. Despite the anxiety and fear buzzing in you whenever you take a step outside, you feel constantly tired, both physically and mentally, your head feels like it’s perpetually submerged underwater and every bite of food you take tastes like sandpaper. ‘Down’ is the only word you can think of to describe yourself. Just chronically down - buried deep, deep underground with no way of clawing back onto the surface. It didn’t matter where you were or who you’re with, all you can hear is your mind constantly screaming at you that you’re in danger. No matter how many times they tried, the combined efforts of your new found family still couldn’t drive away the intrusive thoughts that crept up on you, the dark cloud of foreboding that would hover over you, the cold stare of the Grim Reaper that would follow you. Waiting. 

You couldn’t fault Jamil for his overblot. Despite the pains of your heart, the logic of your mind knew that he wasn’t truly to blame for tossing you to the ends of Scarabia, for leaving you shivering in the freezing blizzard, your body numbing from its close brush with hypothermia, for sending projectile after projectile after you with the intent to maim, the intent to kill, for leaving the imprints of snake fangs in your body as companions to the myriad of other scars that were gifted to you from him and the overblots that came before. It didn’t take a genius to know that everything he did whilst covered in that disgustingly sticky black ink (the ink that will now and forever be a recurring character in your dreams) wasn’t under his complete control, no matter what your nightmares and the sinister voices that would whisper in your ear during the dead of night told you.

But you allowed yourself to blame him for everything that happened before his subsequent descent into madness; for kidnapping you, hypnotising you, locking you up in a dark room against your will, keeping you away from the only people (and ghosts) that actually cared about you and prevented you from contacting anyone. 

You didn’t blame him for wanting freedom, for holding bitterness because of the cards he was dealt with, you just wished that he didn’t sacrifice your wellbeing in his schemes.

Whilst you did hate him for hypnotising you - in this world you already lost so much control of your life, he had to go ahead and take away even more of it - you resent him even more for manipulating you, for feigning affection in a world that gave you anything but, for using you, exploiting your weaknesses and the fact that you had no one apart from Ace, Deuce and Grim to call a friend.

Whilst Christmas doesn’t exist in this world, you made sure to make plans with your family in Ramshackle - you actually had fun detailing all that you were going to do with the ghosts and Grim: coming up with a menu, making or buying hand puppets to create your own Punch and Judy style panto, asking Sam to stock up on this world’s version of Christmas crackers, and just doing what you can to forget the fact that your friends and family are in a whole other world with no way to even give them glad tidings - but instead you spent it marching in the hot desert, contracting heat exhaustion, fainting due to said heat exhaustion when Kalim (actually Jamil) deprives you of any treatment despite your pleads and complaints, slurring your words and vomiting as you tried to ignore the worst migraine of your life and then spending half an hour breaking down into sobbing fits as you were once again imprisoned in that horrid room.

He made you believe that he was a friend, someone you could rely on. When you lost consciousness in the scorching desert, he gave you medicine and treated you to relieve the pain; when you felt confused and hurt by Kalim’s Jekyll-and Hyde-like behaviour and in anguish over not being able to leave, he provided a sympathetic ear and comforting smile as he gave you words of solace. But it was all a lie; you were suffering in the desert because of him, Kalim was hostile to you because of him, you were chased, treated horribly by the Scarabians and locked up against your will because of him. 

All the torment you felt was because of him. 

When you asked the Dorm Leader of Octavinelle and his underlings for help, you felt sick to your stomach, like scorching acid was leaving your mouth instead of words, at the very idea of having to ask the ones who conspired to make you homeless for help. But you had no choice, and the fact that he put you in a position where you had to go to people that you would rather die than ever associate with again makes you hate him even more.

Although, if you had to be honest, in a strange, warped sort of way, you almost respected Ashengrotto for what he did to you. At least he was honest when he stripped you of your home and the only family you had in this world, at least his malicious intentions weren’t hidden when he slyly slid you that dreaded contract - you didn’t even know why you were even surprised when he sent the eels out to harass you in his attempt at sabotage, he might not have invented sleaziness but he sure as hell perfected it. As dodgy as the mermen are, it would be better to have someone that you know you can never trust than one who takes your trust and then crumbles it to sand with his own hands right in front of you.

And Kalim - God, if your feelings for Kalim weren’t the epitome of mixed then you don’t know what is. On the one hand, the genuine warmth he exuded upon meeting you was unprecedented. Unlike the other students in this school, who openly treated you with hostility and malice before you could even say a word, he was the only one good-natured enough to show you the kindness you had missed from your world. Despite the obvious power imbalance, he treated you as an equal, sweeping you away on a magic carpet ride, treating you to the finest delicacies he had to offer, chatting, laughing and playing with you as if you were a person and not some magicless human that didn’t belong. But on the other hand he disregarded everything you went through under his so-called ‘best friend’s’ schemes. All the pain you suffered, all the scars you gained - both physical and emotional - were swept under the rug as Kalim answered Jamil’s public (“and insincere,” your mind adds) apology with an “I forgive you.”

“I forgive you.”

‘I forgive you’ Kalim says brightly and merrily goes out of his way to include Jamil during dorm activities like the Vice Housewarden didn’t do the magical equivalent of drugging and kidnapping you. Like he didn’t play you like a fool, dangling the possibility of friendship, of the companionship that you craved in this strange and lonely new world, before ripping it away from you and stabbing you in the back. Like he didn’t use you as a pawn in his sick, twisted game, literally controlling you and isolating you from any kindness you could get. It didn’t matter that after this you’ll never be the same again. No, of course not. 

Because in this world, you didn’t matter.

It all comes to a head when the Viper himself is the one that approaches you. 

You’re eating lunch in the dining hall when you feel an arm wrap around your shoulders and you get pulled into Ace’s chest. On your other side you can see Deuce’s hackles raise, his jaw clenching and glaring at an unknown individual with barely concealed anger, looking very much like the ex-delinquent he used to be.

“Whaddya want?” Grim drawls boorishly at the source of your friends’ ire, “we’re eatin’ here.”

“I’m aware of that,” the smooth, velvety voice of the Vice Dorm Leader of Scarabia makes you tense, an action Ace must have felt because you feel his hand squeeze yours shortly after. You writhe in place, loosening his hold and giving you enough wiggle room to get out of his grip. With your hand still in his, you turn to look at the interloper, to see what he says next, “Kalim’s hosting a banquet this evening and he’s asked me to personally invite Y/N.”

“Well she’s not coming,” Grim snapped at him.

“She’s busy,” Deuce said.

“And she has nothing to say to you,” Ace interjected, “so you can go ahead and bog off.”

Viper sighs, “I see. If that’s all.”

He turns around to leave but you stop him, “w-wait.”

At this not only he turns to look at you with bewilderment but Ace, Deuce and Grim as well. You continue, “can I please speak with you outside, there’s something I have to say.”

“Wha-Y/N are you sure?” Deuce said, looking at you with worry.

“Yeah, you don’t have to do this,” Ace agreed.

“He doesn’t deserve it,” Grim said imploringly. 

You smiled at him and pet the fur on his head before giving Ace and Deuce reassuring glances, “I’ll be fine. We’ll be just in the corridor outside so you’ll be nearby.”

“Alright then if you say so. But if he tries anything…” Deuce gives the Scarabian a glare, letting his threat linger.

With that you get up and wordlessly walk out of the dining hall and into the empty hallway adjacent to it, knowing that the other was following you without having to turn around and look. You stop at a corner and after taking a deep sigh to brace yourself you turn around and tell him with varying steadiness, “I just want to say that as much as I appreciate Kalim’s generosity and hospitality, I’m afraid that I have to decline.”

“Quite the journey just for one sentence,” he raises an eyebrow, the only expression his inscrutable face allows, “you couldn’t have said this back there?”

“It’s best if I told you this one-on-one just to get it out of the way. Make it clear that I’m the one who told you that I can’t attend and my friends have nothing to do with it. Now if you’ll excuse me-”

“But that’s not all you want to say, is it?” his question pierces you like a blade to your chest, releasing all of the air that was in your lungs.

“Whatever it is you want to say to me,” he intones, his voice as calm and collected and fake as it always is, “I can take it.”

Jamil Viper was many things but an idiot is not one of them. After Kalim’s first five consecutive rejections, he was well-aware that the so-called emergencies, errands and other assorted tasks were just excuses you made to prevent you from outright telling the Dorm Leader that you just didn’t want to attend. He can’t say he blamed you. He understood that you had a less than stellar time during your last visit to the dorm - after all, he was responsible for it. He tried explaining to Kalim that perhaps it would be best to leave you alone but his bleeding heart refused to understand that you were just being polite. He did consider you a friend after all, and truly wanted to pay you back for everything that you did to help him and his dorm during the holidays and to hear your refusals disheartened him, sending him whining about how he wished he could make you happy to thank you for all that you’ve done and make up for what happened. Jamil’s statements that maybe you just wanted to be left alone fell on deaf ears as the young heir decided to send another invite through him. Jamil bit back the remark that he would be the last person you wanted to see and begrudgingly left to do his duty.

“What if what I want to say to you is that the very sight of you makes me sick?”

You’ve got to hand it to yourself, despite having over a decade to fine tune his poker face and hide his inner thoughts, his eyes visibly widened, shock flashing over his features before immediately regaining their usual unreadable appearance.

You would’ve relished at his slip up, that for less than a second you were able to gain an upper hand over the man who toyed with your vulnerability and orchestrated your suffering, if you didn’t have a voice in your head warning you that it could all just be another ploy, another way for him to trap you in his coils and squeeze until you choke.

That’s what snakes do after all. They patiently lie in wait, completely unassuming and unthreatening, before they strike so fast and so viciously that its prey is completely helpless to the onslaught of venom that’s injected into its neck. 

He continues to stare at you, speechless so you continue, clenching your hands in a desperate attempt to stop them from shaking and willing your voice to stop wobbling despite every nerve in your body yelling at you to hightail out of there, to get away from the threat, the danger, that you’re not safe, just run, just flee to the refuge of Ramshackle before you inevitably get hurt again.

“I can’t look at you without wanting to throw up. Every time I see your face all I can remember is  what you did to me, how you used me, how my feelings were nothing but toys for you to play with to make you feel better. You hurt me. In one of the most unforgivable ways possible and I don’t think that I can go back to the person I was before the holidays.”

“You know what?” you laugh bitterly, shaking your head at yourself, “honestly, I can’t say that you’re completely to blame. It was my mistake for actually being stupid enough to fall for your act. If my time in this world taught me anything it’s that I should never let my guard down. I should’ve known that you never wanted to be my friend, that you, just like everyone else here, only care about yourself, without giving a damn about who you have to hurt to get it. It’s my fault for not learning from my experiences, for deluding myself into thinking that someone can actually like me in this damned place. God, I’m an idiot. At least now I know better than to believe your deception.”

“Y/N-”

“Was it fun, at least? Did you enjoy it? Taking a helpless, magicless girl and using her to satisfy your own twisted schemes? Taking my powerlessness and using that as a stepping stool to make you feel better? Manipulating me like your little lamb for slaughter? At least, I can say that the whole experience taught me something and it’s that no one here cares about me, that apart from Ace, Deuce and Grim, I have no one. So I think it would be best to tell your Dorm Leader that unfortunately, I will not be attending. Or not. You could just hypnotise him. Either way is the same to him.”

You turned around and was about to go back to the comfort of your friends, before tossing a few parting words over your shoulder: 

“Congratulations, Vice Dorm Leader Viper, you’ve achieved what you wanted. You said that you did all of that so you can finally have your actions acknowledged - well, here you have it. Now I can’t go a minute without acknowledging what you’ve done.”

And with that you walked away, meeting up with Ace, Deuce and Grim as they wrapped their arms around your shaking body and walked you back to the sanctuary of Ramshackle.

[blueparadis]

❝ BACKWARDS ❞ + BYAKUYA KUCHIKI.

( cw. )—› f!reader, angst, stranger to (fre)enemies to lovers, canon typical elements, slowburn, widower!byakuya, soul society arc spoilers, arrange marriage , mention of death,smût descriptions. word count :: 3.2k | redirect to blog navigation.

( syn. )—› after an emotional whirlwind, byakuya was given a chance to recuperate his irrevocable losses but little did y/n know that it was not what he asked for and he could never have what he wanted to ask for; hence, she had to face all kinds of retaliation from him.

( notes. )—› submission for ‘a change of pace’ collab by @mekiza . also, please accept this Sawn ( @swanphantasm ) ; it is because of you that I became aware of how handsome ( and sad ) he is. well . . .he is not my favorite but i like him a lot, so much so that i wrote that same cliche trope with him. forgive me </3

Words do not express emotions and thoughts precisely. They always become a little different when they are expressed; a little distorted, a little foolish, and a little bitter at some times yet life still goes on carrying a bevy of misunderstandings. It has to go on at least for Byakuya, who was stripped of love and time. Time to grieve, give and forgive, time to heal, and time to fall in love again.

Another bright day washes over the lush green spread of the garden despite the despondency and the agony of losing his wife, Hisana Kuchiki, to illness, to mere illness . It has been a few months since he became the head of the family even though his grandfather was still alive. His grandfather thought it would be better if Byakuya became the head of the family while he has still time, time to supervise him to keep up the family's reputation at hard times. 

And so it began: the hypocrisy of rules. 

Ginrei Kuchiki, the former head of the Kuchiki clan, when death was knocking at his door declared that Byakuya needs to be re-married. He knew that even if he was the head of the family he had no freedom to exercise his wishes and desires. He was just a scarecrow now , not the head of the family. He wanted to protest. He was aware that he would have to re-marry since he is the only one to carry the family line but he did not know that it would be so soon. All he wanted was time but everyone was running sort of it. His grandfather once said that decisions made in haste yield no good. What happened to that now, huh? However, there was one thing he was free to do, and that is, to choose his wife regardless of the family background and bloodline. 

“You should be grateful that Byakuya has agreed to marry you even with all the rumors. He could have chosen a wife from the younger line of pure women” Y/N’s mother spoke as she kept on brushing her daughter’s hair, body shaking with excitement and tension brimming at her fingertips. She was not trying to hurt her. She only stated facts. Everyone knew about it. Y/N did too. Shihnōin Clan was one of the four noble families in the soul society. And the fate of the clan was hanging by the thread since Y/N’s previous marriage was full of woes. With no male heir she was the one to carry the bloodline. Even the distant families warded off when they had an ounce of the knowledge that Y/N was the reason for her husband’s death, for her own doom. And her father made it clear that she is too young to stay unmarried as soon as her husband was buried. No time to lament, nor to grieve. Tragic, is it not?

No. It is not. It was anything but not tragic. Sure, people talked, spun lies, and spread rumors but that is what they do, that is the only thing they know to do. Some said she poisoned her own husband; some said she was a witch of dark magic; some even go as far as saying that she had a secret lover who belonged to the low caste who killed her husband; But it did not matter what they said, it did not since if anything they helped to her to earn sympathy from the kinder souls, and Y/N’s mother made sure her daughter had no problem to have a stable life, finding her a proper husband and sealing the fate of Shihnōin clan with the Kuchiki clan. To people, it was more of an alliance, to the respective families, it was more of a marriage of convenience than a marriage. But to her it was a re-birth while to him it was just duty. 

It was the fourth of January when her heart beat again hearing the sound of carriage. He is here.  

Y/N could hear low voices from downstairs. Plain and prosaic but she could spot Byakuya’s voice out of them all. He specifically requested to see y/n alone and her parents did not express any objections. If she had not been married before, they would never have let her alone with a man, but as it was they thought they did not have to defend her virtue anymore. And Y/N could never tell them how wrong they were, that her previous marriage was never consummated. How shall she ever say that to him?

Byakuya was decent enough to knock and Y/N made no hurry to open the door. She bowed down, greeted him with a smile, and retreated towards the couch standing, waiting for him to follow her lead. “I hope you're aware of the circumstances of our meeting today. ” He seemed so restrained and controlled,  as if his emotions were bottled up so deep inside, not even he could reach them. It is a wonder how much of it was the result of his wife’s death and how much was his natural disposition. 

“Yes,” she said, hoping he could not see how nervous she was. She gestured toward the couch to the left. “Would you like to sit down for our talk?”Byakuya nodded. She sank down on the sofa, and he took the armchair across from her. She would have thought he would sit beside her, but he seemed content to keep as much space between them as was acceptable. 

“I assume your father told you that our wedding is planned for February 14th” Y/N  searched for a flicker of sadness or wistfulness in his voice, but there was nothing. She rested her hands in her lap, linking her fingers. There was less chance of him noticing her trembling that way. “Yes. He told me a few days ago.” Byakuya was courteous enough to give her the attention she needs. If all these were in his hands, he would not have been here. “I hope you're okay with this. With o-jii-sama’s health deteriorating and me being the head of the family, things are a little hasty. . .” Words became too heavy to reach her. She was bubbling with excitement that maybe, this marriage won't fail like the last one, maybe he won't flee with his secret lover while staging his death ( like her previous husband did ), and maybe he will see her as a woman enough. . . 

“Why did you choose me?” Y/N asked out of the blue unable to keep up with his calm demeanor anymore. She had been wondering about this ever since her father had told her about his agreement with Byakuya. She knew it was a question that she was not supposed to ask, not like this. Byakuya’s expression did not alter. 

“Of course. Many suggested your cousin but I didn’t want a  wife who’s barely of age. Unfortunately,  most women in their twenties are already married, and most widows are older than me or  have  children,  both  unacceptable  for a man in my position as you will probably understand.” She nodded. There were so many rules and etiquettes when it came to finding the right spouse, especially for a man in his position, which was why so many were shocked when y/n was announced as his future wife. Byakuya had stepped on many toes with that decision. “So you were the only logical choice. You are, of course, still quite young, but that can’t be changed.”

For a moment She was stunned into silence by his emotionless reasoning. She was not as naïve as she used to be, but she would have hoped at least part of the reason why Byakuya had chosen her was that he was attracted to her, found her pretty, or at least fascinating to some extent, but this cold explanation destroyed that small flicker of hope. 

“I’m twenty-five,” she exclaimed in a surprisingly calm voice. Maybe his aloofness rubbed off on her. If so, she would be known as the ice queen in no time. “That’s not young by our marriage standards.”

“Yes,  still five years younger than me” He sounded as if she was forcing him to marry her, as if one of the rumors, as they say, that y/n is a witch is true. His previous wife was barely a year younger than him and they had shared good five years of married life until she died due to illness on a fine morning on a spring day. 

“Then maybe you should look for another wife. I didn’t ask you to marry me.” The moment the words were out,  y/n  clamped a hand over her mouth, then met Byakuya’s gaze. He did not look angry, he did not look anything. His face was as it always was. Stoic and emotionless . “I’m sorry. That was very rude. I shouldn’t have said that.”

Byakuya has been sitting in the same manner as he did when he first took the armchair instead of the couch. He left the chair and walked towards her. With his hands now inside his slacks, his frame loomed over her. He took out his right hand, fisted, and kept the small velvet box on the side table. “Right. You shouldn't have.” Byakuya said as he noticed her eyes were still on the carpet. “But it's okay. I understand your concern.”

Her gaze flickered toward his right hand and her stomach plummeted. He was still wearing his old wedding ring. Another strange burst of disappointment filled her. If he wore it after all this time, he must still be in love with his dead wife, or was it a simple matter of habit? He noticed her gaze and for the first time his stoic mask slipped but it was gone so quickly that she thought she imagined it. Byakuya did not bother to explain and there was a knock on the door so he did not have the time either. With the exchange another set of pleasantries he left without a proper goodbye. 

The wedding day came sooner than expected. She barely had the time to count days. And as the elders of the family discussed, it was small with no engagement ceremony but with just close family members and friends. Y/N did not object, actually, no one asked for her opinion except her husband. But it would make a great fuss if she were to bring her opinions to light. Moreover, she had more serious things to worry about. If Byakuya came to know that she still had her virtue intact, it would be just a matter of minutes for her before Byakuya puts all the puzzle pieces together to get the whole picture. He is a cold, clever man. So, mercy was the last thing y/n expected from him. Her previous husband, her not-so-dead husband fled with his lover because the rules and the customs would have kept them apart. And, if Byakuya had any clue of what happened at backstage he would turn the world upside down, at least he was expected to do so.

Y/N was finally able to catch up with her life when she was in the carriage with her new husband. There was no time to decipher him with all the people around. This night was going to be her first proper wedding night but Byakuya made sure that there was no chance of it at all. He did not seem tired, or interested in her. She could not pin any moment where she caught him looking at her, not even once. Dread and relief filled her at the same time. By now it is okay to accept that she was the problem, not her fate, or him. Perhaps, she can keep the secret of her previous marriage enjoying the little freedom she has left in her life. 

The next morning was gorgeously sunny. When Y/N came downstairs she already found Byakuya on the other side of the dining table, with his breakfast and a rolled paper on a tray by his side. God knows, what news it holds? At least, not the one she was anticipating.

“I hope you slept well.” Byakuya broke the stifling silence that had made her think of all the possibilities that could end her life thinking of the contents of the letter. “I’ve already informed the staff to be here. Yesterday was an exception. Hope you did not have much problem without the staff not being around. They will be here at your beck and call, so you do not— was he mocking?

“That’s very kind of you.”

“Is something bothering you?” she nodded letting him know that there was no reason at all with a flimsy smile on her face. She could barely focus on eating the food. Byakuya noticed it too. “I thought you needed time.” his voice was coaxed with an apology. Of course. Byakuya would give her the very thing he was deprived of, for it had been his necessity too; Y/N’s glance switched to him and then to the food again. He did not look sorry though.

“As I said, That’s very kind of you.” She grabbed the tea cup and was ready to leave since there was no one to keep tabs on her etiquette and as such. If he wanted the marriage to work, then why should she keep trying all the time? all these hopes and anticipation would be the death of her if not the secret she is carrying with her.

“There will be a social gathering. On March 14th. You’re expected—She looked over her shoulder as the sound of the dragging chair made it to her ears. Byakuya hesitated before he spoke the rest, “I would like you to come with me.”

“Sure.”

Sure. Byakuya had his reasons to act the way he is acting. He was aware of the details of her marriage. Before visiting her, he made sure to do a background check and he did regret it when he recognized her previous husband. He had seen him in the land of the living. And, now he was not sure where exactly her loyalties lie: to him or to the man who left her. For now, he had no time to think about it. There were some grave matters that he had to handle.

Crest-fallen, a week prior to the gathering Ginrei Kuchiki took his last breath. There were lots of preparations and ceremonies to be done, but at the same time he could not afford to miss the meeting and so it all came down to y/n who had to shoulder most of the responsibilities while Byakuya just paid a visit to the meeting.

Time flew by as if someone were stealing it from them. Even though they spent the days under the same roof, Byakuya barely had a chance to speak to her or make things right. By the time he came to bed, she had already fallen asleep or was too tired to stay awake. Byakuya has been a light sleeper anyways. He often waited for her to be perfectly asleep so that he could slip under the same covers as hers. Y/N was too disappointed and angry to notice the small changes in him, in his gestures. Not that she tried, she did but Byakuya brushed her off every time. It was such a slow poison for her. She had made up her mind not to consummate this marriage unless they were asked for a child but fate never goes along with the human will. It opposes, always .

“You’re early,” Y/N said as Byakuya entered the room. Seeing her in a flimsy nightgown he looked away from her. She scowled when she noticed him looking away. 

“Could you wait for me? I need to refresh myself. I want to talk about something.”

Ah! finally, it's happening. She gave him a simple nod and slipped under the covers. Perhaps it was about an heir, or shifting into a different house or maybe a visit to other families or so; Y/N had no idea that her secret was going to slap her in the face.

“I see. How long have you been aware?” Y/n asked still facing away from him while Byakua was seated on the bed. “Since before our marriage.” Y/n turned and sat folding her legs, covering herself so that he does not have to look away while talking. “Ah! That’s why the cold shoulder.”

“No. No. I was just—

“Just thought that I might have a secret lover too?

Byakuya closed the gap a little, “Well, do you?” 

“Does it matter?”

Does it matter? Of course, it does. Byakuya did not respond not yet but Y/N could see his jaw tightening, muscles stiffing at the mere possibility of a ‘yes’.

She interjected, “Yeah! Thought so.” and left the bed, his sight heading towards the bathroom but Byakuya grabbed her hand and pulled her in his lap. She gasped loudly at such a sudden swift motion but more than so his bold voice declaring something so unexpected something so unbelievable that it turned her on more than it should. “Yes. it matters. It matters to me because I would be bothered, so much that I’m incapable of bearing the thought of losing you.”

Her breathing was heavy since not only his deep raspy voice stilled her motion but also made her thinking come to a halt. Byakuya slipped his hands under her gown earning a huge gasp as his lips touched her bare shoulders. Her body responded quickly, she arched feeling his cold and calloused fingers on her breasts, pinching her areola. “Tell me,���, his voice coated her skin with goosebumps, “do you want this, with me?” She turned her face, eyes holding the tears back, blurring her vision. She was burning with desire. How could she not?

“Yes.” Byakuya’s hands traveled down to her core, rubbing gently on her clit over the cloth. It was already damp. She could barely process all of these while his voice hinted impatience again, “then, tell me where you involved with him, in his act?” 

Her grasp on his thighs tightened as she struggled to stand up on her feet. With all the dim lights around it was not of any help. Byakuya pushed aside the fabric and touched the outer lips with more pressure than before. “Do you not want me?” Y/N has torn apart between keeping her self-respect and submitting her to him. She had tried countless times to get his attention, tried every lewd way to lure Byakuya that made her feel like nothing but a cheap whore.

“Do you not want me?” she managed to utter thinking of all those nights when she had to go to bed feeling like a mistress rather than a wife.

Byakuya verbalized holding her in his embrace tightly. “Yes. I do. I really do.”His voice reeked of agony and loneliness, his touch was so desperate yet so gentle. Y/N read him wrong, he was not playing games anymore. 

—

⌗ :: @sailewhoremoon @massivementalitynut @tokyometronetwork @underratedcharactercorner

[alwaysthefool]

Stranger (x Fyodor)

Warnings: None probably but ask to warn

Tags: Fluff maybe, gender neutral, no spoilers

Another party you knew would end up in your pile of things that made you sadder. Once again you were reminded that you didn’t have any friends, did not know anyone there, but had to attend as a dutiful heir to an absent family. Even people that knew you pretended they didn’t, and you wondered if it had something to do with the way you look.

You did not even try to strike up conversation. In places like these, you could only speak if you were introduced by someone else. Although sitting alone was a common experience for you, looking at others socialising made you feel like an alien.

I just have to make it through a few hours, you told yourself as the loneliness brought forth a hint of a tear to your eye. You could do with anyone, just anyone, anyone to be there with you and speak to you. Just one friend.

Please.

As you could not bear the welling loneliness and embarrassing experience of sitting alone looking at either other people or your phone, you stood up from your seat and headed towards the balcony, only to bump into a tall, dashingly handsome, thin man, with violet eyes that matched the colour of your clothes. You felt like that couldn’t be a coincidence, and in his beauty, doubted if you had chosen your garb for that very purpose.

“Uh, sorry.” you spoke a little awkwardly, trying not to gawk at his eyes, politely moving aside to enter the relieving air of the balcony. You cursed yourself mentally for not knowing how to communicate in a more polished manner, but the view of the stars in the sky, the cool breeze, and the lack of other people made you forget those thoughts for a moment. But it was the darkness you loved the most, even if it was scary, it was empty. Devoid of souls.

Or so you thought.

As you leaned on the railing, you noticed that person beside you again, yelping from how he appeared out of nowhere.

The man chuckled. “Apologies if I scared you.”

“Oh, it’s okay.” You mentally cringed at your awkwardness again. But anyway, what was he doing back there? You thought perhaps you should be the one to start making conversation, so you introduced yourself. “Um, hi, I’m [name].”

“Adorable.” You realised he was staring at you, not even turning away when you looked at him to talk. It felt like he could see right through you, and if he looked away, it meant he was done reading. You regretted asking for a friend earlier, but didn’t have it in you to leave. Besides, he was cool, in a rat sort of way. “I’m Fyodor.”

He kept staring, and you couldn’t take it. “Why are you staring at me?”

“Because you’re beautiful, and I don’t understand what you’re doing here alone.” He finally looked away. “I never intended to make you uncomfortable.”

You didn’t have any meek ‘oh it’s completely okay’s in you left, so you decided to stay silent. You didn’t want him to leave, however, and kept thinking about him calling you beautiful. As for why you did not have a date, everyone you asked kept cancelling. It was strange, to say the least, and made you feel pathetic, so pathetic you couldn’t even tell Fyodor off because at least someone was speaking to you.

“So tell me, what are you doing in the balcony?”

“Getting air.” You lied, more eager to ask what he was doing there. “You?”

“Keeping an angel company.”

You blushed at the response, hating yourself for it. “You’re really direct.”

“It’s no secret I’d like to whisk you away from here.” He looked at you again, and so did you, his dark eyes glittering in moonlight, everything about his pale face perfect.

You didn’t realise how long you’d just been staring at each other, or when he closed the distance between the two of you, his lips feeling dry and somewhat chapped, but perfect, as you kissed him back, as if allowing him to drink from your own lips. His hands snaked around your waist, pulling you closer, as yours rested on his shoulders. Even though you were the one out of breath, he pulled away first, as if allowing you to breathe.

“Sorry.” He noticed. “You were just too… sweet.”

Maybe you had one more ‘oh it’s completely okay’ left in you, just for him. “Now, how about we go somewhere more private, and less… suffocating.”

“Please.”

[thecountesstribe]

House of The Dragon 2x8 Spoilers and Review.

This is gonna be a rant but I'm still putting a spoiler warning cause some people were waiting for the entire season to drop before they watched. I was spoiled during the week and I'm mad as hell about it. Yes we all know it's fuck book canon atp but at least make sure the story flows and make actual sense.

The finale was mid. I felt like there were a lot of things missing and it was kinda confirmed. We're gonna have to wait 2 long years and knowing season 3 is about to just be the assassinations of characters because season 2 didn't really do anything, nothing moved story wise except the death of Jaehaerys, the sowing of the dragons seeds and the death of one of the realest women in Westeros. It was just glorified fanfiction and most definitely not the good kind.

I'm begging Ryan and Sara to please read or at least have someone else read the source material before they get back in that writers room.

Lucerys, Visenya and Jaehaerys deaths were supposed to haunt the narrative for the entirety of the season, how they could fumble it so bad that it just feels like a drop of water on your hands while washing it is beyond me. Blood and Cheese felt insignificant as fuck considering it was also a major event that led to the destruction and death of one of the most prominent houses in Westeros, majority of the Targaryen's lineage and the death of most of the dragons. I should've known when they started promoting the 2nd season as Alicent vs Rhaenyra instead of Rhaenyra vs Aegon II, y'know the usurper, that it was gonna be some bullshit. The other major events in the second season, Rhaenys' death also felt brushed aside. This is why the show needs to be at least 12-14 episodes. Abolish the 8-10 episodes shit.

I'm gonna get hate for this but could they please let this Rhaenicent relationship go! For the love of everything that is holy, let it go. Season 1 focused on them, fine. Season 2 you gave them a reunion, crazy but okay. There was literally no reason for a second reunion. Sure the scenes were beautiful, shout-out to the actors but let it go. The plot already felt cheapened when they chalked up the dance to one big misunderstanding. Which is crazy considering, Otto and the small council literally had this entire plan set in motion since Rhaenyra was named heir and even a little before. I need Ryan to understand that sometimes friendships just end. Sometimes your friends cross the lines one too many times and you just need to let them go. Alicent overstepped and crossed the lines with Rhaenyra it was downright disrespectful for Rhaenyra to even be in her presence at all tbh. This is the same woman who made her life a living hell, raised her children to be vile, hateful, spiteful little shits towards their own sister and her children, embarrassed her and tormented her in court, started and participated in the rumors and smear campaign about Rhaenyra's character and children, essentially ran her out of her own home, lied about the death of her father and the news didn't come from her or the council immediately but after and that's only because they were holding her former mil hostage and she got away. Alicent knew Viserys was addled and delirious and out of his mind when he was rambling about the conqueror's dream (she didn't know about the prophecy but still), so nothing he said was supposed to be taken seriously and just because he said “Aegon” she decided to be spiteful/hateful and usurp the throne knowing it would've hurt Rhaenyra. I don't know why people gloss over this fact either. Aegon said it himself, his father had years to name him heir and he remained steadfast to Rhaenyra's claim. Aemond said it again this season, the small council and his mother plotted to usurp the throne. What more was there to talk about? The only talking that should've been happening is Rhaenyra signing her and the council's execution warrants for treason. This all started because Rhaenyra omitted the truth about who took her virginity btw. She didn't lie, she never slept with Daemon in that brothel. Not to mention that Alicent son also killed her child!! Let it go!

I'm gonna reiterate this point but we didn't need to spend all that time with Daemon in Harrenhal and his hallucinations. That should've taken 3 episodes top and then they could've had him work on his relationships with his family instead. Especially his daughters. The only thing I liked coming out of the Daemon hallucinations is the prophecy. DAENERYS STORMBORN TARGARYEN IS THE “PRINCE” WHO WAS FUCKIN PROMISED!! NOT THAT BUM JON SNOW. Fuckin finally. We could lay the discourse to rest. GRRM could've posted it on a billboard for the entire world to see and it still would've had the select few that will insist on Jon being the one who the prophecy was talking about. The events in the show and the book supported this btw so I don't even know what the argument was about but let's lay it to rest now. Although show wise it doesn't fuckin matter either way because D&D fucked the last seasons but book lore wise this is what GRRM intended or intends. Still waiting on the next book! The term “prince” was gender neutral. And everybody celebrates. Daemon swearing allegiance to his Queen, as he fuckin should. Raising the army in her name as he should. He's got voices in his head now apparently. Also he has a new friend in Alys, good for him.

Aemond did what he was supposed to do this season. He's still an unhinged psychopath, absolutely no one is surprised. No complaints on my end. I need him to keep his grubby hands to himself though. Helaena gave him his death notice and rubbed in the fact that nobody gave a damn about him in the end, she did that for me.

Criston even though I hate to admit it, same thing. He's still a woman hating piece of shit though and I want him dead immediately. We didn't need all those alicole sex scenes though. We got it, they were fuckin, kudos.

Larys and the small council did what was also expected.

Aegon is still fried. Now he's apparently heading to Essos. He wants to usurp the moniker “Realm's delight” too and to that I say absolutely tf not. That is reserved for pretty women only. Aegon has officially been castrated!! That was for all the women in the realm. It's what he deserved. I don't believe for one second that Sunfyre is dead. I think that'll be a swerve.

I wished we focused on Helaena more though. Her grief was explored a little more than Rhaenyra's but it was also brushed aside. Why? That would've been important to her characterization. Also why did they have Helaena astral project into Daemon's dream? She was so cool as well, like that man didn't have a hand in the death of her son.... You can't make this shit up. The scene was essentially “you killed my kid cool but since you're so good at killing could you get my brother next?” I'm convinced they are doing this shit on purpose. Why do they keep making the female characters in the show this peace seeking, docile beings when they were just as and even more chaotic than their male counterparts (with reason might I add). The men just do the most unhinged shit for glory and in the name of war sake and the women gotta be the peacekeepers even though they're the most wronged.

Alicent's character didn't deserve half the screentime she got because if you cut her scenes in half the majority of them contributed nothing to the moving along of the plot. Absolutely nothing. We already had limited time as is.

Baela and Rhaena I am so sorry you have incompetent people telling your side of the story. Sure they got more lines this season and that's a stretch but they're lacking characterization as well. Ryan and Sara scrapped the Nettles plot, okay (that was fuckin stupid). Nettles had a major role to play. Gave her story to Rhaena in the last two episodes and we still didn't even see her claim Sheepstealer. It's up in the air. Also one of the princesses of the Realm managed to escape and you mean to tell me nobody is looking for her? She just fucked off and that's it. Yeah okay. Also I hated how they wrote her relationship with Jeyne. She was so kind to her in the books and Rhaena actually had a story in the books when she went to stay with her. Sure she would've been living her princess core era life but it's what she deserves. It would've helped flesh out her character as well, led to her hatching Morning and her life after the dance.

Baela lost the majority of her characterization as well even though she's inherently more fleshed out than Rhaena. Baela was chaotic as hell in the books. They swapped her personality in a sort of way with Jace, although he does have a temper (and rightfully so. They did kill his little brother and sister and he seems like the only one who cares) but Baela is supposed to be more unhinged than him. We only caught a few glimpses of her book personality and that's it. Again why are they writing the female characters as these docile, peace seeking beings? They also completely brushed aside their grief concerning their brother/betrothed, sister, mother and grandmother. I'm tired. We kinda got something for Baela in her grief but it was the bare minimum and it was barely mentioned again. Rhaenys was a parent to those girls (more than Daemon at least) and she got a fuck all remembrance. We totally should've gotten even better Jace and Baela's relationship development. We got her being more of his support system though they were each other's. Baela's feelings weren't explored more besides her hating her dad. Unless they're planning to explore it more in season 3 but well y'know 💔. Her telling Jace to stop pouting though and him insisting he's not even though he totally was🤣🤣😭😭. She gathered him and rightfully so. Also their unspoken conversation during the dinner scene with the dragonseeds. Peak wife and husband behavior. I hope we don't have to mourn for what could've been more than we will already be doing.

Rhaenyra character this season was all over the place. They only stick to what her character was from season 1 in episode one and then after that it was like she did a 180. She was destroyed by the grief of her son, daughter and father. They completely forgot that and had her doing the stupidest stuff. She had one of her biggest supporters die as well and it was just cast aside. Development wise we got to see her more open. I'll give them that. They also brushed aside her grief. It felt like Lucerys didn't matter to her in some instances. I have a feeling they're gonna go down the “mad Targaryen” role for her as well. If a woman has to be in power then she has to go crazy. That's what that cult Rhaenyra vibes is giving. I'm not tripping, you guys see it too right? I touched on the second reunion between her and Alicent but her whacking her this last episode was satisfying. I don't trust Alicent's plan and Rhaenyra knows and hopefully she sticks to it. She knows that she has to kill Aegon now. A son for a son. This is who I wanted to see this season. It's like she got back her personality traits in the last episode. She still needs to work on her standing as queen. She had that bum Ulf disrespecting her at the table and she needed to have his tongue expeditiously. Mysaria and her are doomed yuri confirmed. Mysaria has her ear but is only telling her what she wants to hear and that is going to be her downfall. I still can't figure out her angle though but we'll see in season 3. She inadvertently hurt Jace again when she chose Addam to go to Harrenhal. It's like one step forward and then 3 steps back with them. I'm hurt knowing the possible outcome of this situation. Daemon and her reunion were good. I like how she didn't fall back into his arms. Stand on business and continue to stand on business Rhaenyra.

Corlys grief was brushed aside. He didn't really do anything this season besides deny his sons, lie to his wife in his last moments and try to make his legitimate granddaughter heir after laughing off the idea of making his other legitimate granddaughter heir. His ship is finally fixed though. “The Queen Who Never Was ” is the new name of it. I had tears in my eyes, I could admit it. I'm not ashamed. Everything that he's doing now he's doing it for Rhaenys. 😭😭😭😭😭😭 Why did he wait so freaking long to honor her properly though 💔. There is no denying he loved his wife, he just could've loved her better. I'm glad Alyn dragged his ass for being a deadbeat though. Gave his ass a reality check he so richly deserved. He hurt those boys and he deserved to know. Imagine your father could've made your life easier but he decided to be a coward while favoring his other children, a tongue lashing would've been the least he got, I would've fought him. They're on to meet the triarchy though.

Jacaerys character was developed stellar this season. He didn't have plenty of screentime and he was mugging down for most of it but the rage, the grief, the despair was all palpable. He lost a part of his soul in Lucerys and it was there for everybody to see. He didn't get anything to do until the later half but when he got to go he did. I said it before and I'll say it again I love his and Baela's relationship. Him resting his hand in her lap after her scolding and her gently massaging it. Yeah those are real lovers. His beef with Ulf is so personal to me. Like yes threaten that uncouth vermin some more. Really reminded me of his fathers there. It's crazy though how Addam and Jace parallel each other though. Two of the best boys in Westeros that deserve the absolute world. Fate was unkind to them both as well.💔

Shout-out Simon Strong. One of my favorite characters this season along with lil Oscar. I love how he didn't let that traitorous snake Alfred slide. He let his queen know immediately. I love a loyal diva.

Tyland and the triarchy were funny though. Who would've thought I could've shown a Lannister besides Cersei love?!

I'm wrapping up this rant cause it's already so long-winded. The show is only slated for 4 seasons though btw. LMFAO.

Until next time folks. Take care of yourselves in the meantime.

Until season 3 folks.

[littleandless]

SEASON 2 EPISODE 5 THOUGHTS

spoilers ahead, of course.

i realized during this episode that corlys has lost his brother, both of his children, his heir, and now his wife as well. it’s certainly enough to bring anyone down. but i’m bothered by the fact that he offered to make baela his heir, despite her being the future queen, and not rhaena who lacks a dragon, a fiancé, and any inheritance of her own. she literally has nothing! and i understand that she’s far away and he doesn’t have the chance to advise her in being the lord/lady of the tides, but she’s still young, and as far as he knows there may still be time for that after the dance is concluded. someone PLEASE throw rhaena a bone, i’m begging you😭

baela and jace enjoyers (me) were feasted tonight. baela seemed so noble and fierce, and jace has fully embraced his sassy boy era. like, compared to the last few episodes where they have a combined screen time of 2 minutes, we are positively gorging ourselves.

at this point we all know alicent was made redundant as soon as aegon was crowned, but watching her slowly and painfully acknowledge her fate as a bystander in all of this bloodshed has been hard to watch. the part she played (and is currently playing) is not small by any means, but it’s mostly done. she was a large part of the setup for the dance, but now her lot is mostly to sit by and watch everything fall into place…much like rhaenyra.

YAY SOWING OF THE SEEDS YAY!!!!! that means we’ll see more addam soon🤭💋🩷

ugh…what else to say about daemon? he was never my favorite character, but at least in season one there was more to him than whining about his title and betraying his child bride. please do us all a favor by passing away! oh and the mommy boinking was certainly something. i was not expecting alyssa targaryen to appear at all, let alone in a waking oedipal dream. i’ve become mostly desensitized to targcest but mother-son action is still a bit too far for me.

alys rivers is based as usual. lovely side profile, too. her and mysaria are the new heroines of the show.

aemond fully doesn’t give a fuck anymore. from his very first appearance in the show, we saw him wistfully imagine what he’d do as heir. when aegon complains about his sister-wife helaena, aemond says that he’d do his duty if their roles were reversed. he claims vhagar in the dead of night, seizing an opportunity to ride the most fearsome living dragon in westeros. he honed his body and mind if not his social skills and lied in wait for an opportunity. he wanted to rule, knew he could do it better, and said as much when it came time for aegon to ascend. but for the most part, he simmered. he was always outwardly dutiful and obedient, knowing that he and his brother needed to appear as a united front against those who supported rhaenyra. this is something alicent told aegon, and probably aemond at some point too, but he was the only one who really took it to heart. aemond suffered humiliation at the hands of his nephews, but he probably had an easier time coping with that from the rumored bastards of a contested heir than he did from his own brother, the other claimant to the iron throne whose case was only stronger than his own because of pure chance. aegon had everything aemond ever wanted, even his own loyalty, and he couldn’t even respect him enough to cease the teasing in adulthood. so i can’t say that i blame aemond for taking a shot at his competition, even if they are technically on the same side. there are many for whom any son would do at this stage. and hey, we saw him and helaena speak to each other for the first time in a long time. maybe he’ll take her too.

also we’re hearing more disillusionment from the smallfolk yippee!!! the mask is slipping.

[lordiavolo]

Ok

[gaslightgatekeepgirlbosscombat]

Group H, Round 4, Poll 2:

Propaganda under the cut

Li Lianhua/Li Xiangyi

All men do is lie. He's a "miracle physician" (citation needed) who lies himself out of every situation he's in. Didn't so much as fake his death, rather let everyone believe he was dead and then lie to their face when asked about who he really is. Convinces everyone he's just a weak doctor who doesn't know any martial arts but has a cunning mind, despite the fact that he literally used to be the head of the martial arts world before being poisoned. Somehow nearly everyone he meets is in love with him. He's everything to me

#THE LI LIANHUA PROPAGANDA LEFT OUT HIM DRUGGING PEOPLE MULTIPLE TIMES #TO AVOID (POTENTIALLY) GETTING ASKED ABOUT THE ISSUES HE IS CHOOSING TO LOOK AWAY FROM AND NOT SEE #ALSO THE TIME SOMEONE FIGURED OUT HIS TRUE IDENTITY BUT THEN THEY FELL UNCONSCIOUS #AND HE GOT AWAY WITH IT BY TELLING THEM THEY HAD BEEN HALLUCINATING WHEN THEY WOKE UP

#if he doesn’t lie thirty-seven times a day he will die #you could show him a dna test proving he is li xiangyi and he’d deny it to your face

#HE ONCE SAYS TO A CHARACTER THAT ‘HE NEVER LIES’ TO GET OUT OF A SITUATION AND THAT WAS A BIG FAT LIE #TELLS A CHARACTER AN INTRICATE STORY ABOUT FINDING HIS OWN CORPSE ON THE BEACH COMPLETE WITH PHYSICAL EVIDENCE AND ALL JUST SO THE CHARACTER #REACHES THE CONCLUSION THAT HES DEAD #HE GATEKEEPS THE VIEWER FROM KNOWING HIS FULL STORY ON RELIABLE TERMS AND YOU HAVE TO PIECE IT TOGETHER PAINSTAKINGLY

#continuously lies to the person he calls his jianghu bff to evade his questions regarding his identity #puts on a mask and defends the bff in fights#then shows up later like #🥺 wow that was so scary glad you were here to protect me! i have no martial arts skills #evades arrest by pretending like being shoved against a wall broke his ribs #'🥺 i'm just a little guy and you're so strong you'd better check out my ribs' #and then throws knockout powder at him

Ianthe Tridentarius

She is trying so hard to be the main character by lying and manipulating her sister, her cavalier, her mentor, her ?love interests? (Spoiler???) And also god. Not sure how it's working out for her but she does love to lie and manipulate

Worstie Ianthe is the DEFINITION of gaslight, gatekeep, girlboss. She is one of a set of necromancer twins that are the heirs to their houses rule. Except wait, only she is a necromancer and she has spent their entire lives doing necromancy for the both of them. She is constantly mean to their cavalier, Naberius, who she occasionally nibbles on like a chew toy, before eventually killing and eating him to ascend to sainthood. She goes to gods spaceship with another woman who ascended to sainthood who she has a crush on, this other woman is like…. Both incredibly mentally unwell and also haunted by at least 211 ghosts. Ianthes method of flirting with her? Gaslighting her about the corpse that keeps moving around and hiding under her bed. For no real reason tbh. She is clearly plotting to overthrow god, and at the moment that consists of her manipulating him while he’s too sad about his long term partners betraying him and subsequently exploding to really care. She dresses in terrible outfits and makes soup by burning onions to the bottom of a pot, putting meat in and some vegetables and then it doesn’t taste like anything so she puts in a few teaspoons of salt so it tastes like a few teaspoons of salt. She had her crush amputate her arm and regrow her a new one out of bone and it’s one of the horniest things I’ve read in my life.

"Gaslight = told her lobotomized (she helped), schizophrenic girlobsession that there was no corpse under their bed, even tho there totally was. Gatekeep = girl did NOT share the secret to god-like ascension. She kept that shit to herself until it was time to eat her boytoy, and by then everyone knew already. Girlboss = she has a non-necromancer twin sister, and literally Everyone thinks they r both necromancers because Ianthe is so good at it. She reverse engineered ascending to the aforementioned ascension without even completing any of the supplementary tasks. She held her own in a fight against a 10k year old lyctor. She becomes the figurehead of her entire empire. "

She uses a man as a chewtoy in the first book, literally gaslights the protagonist of the second book about a corpse, and elder-abuses God when he gets depressed in the third book. Nobody is doing it like her.

Dives headfirst with no regrets while basically laughing and covered in blood into murdering her cavalier once she realizes what the gothic locked room mystery/competition leads to while everyone else is questioning it, helps perform lobotomy on harrow so she doesn't remember the person she loves, manipulates everyone to get to the top

idk just everything about her

her relationship with her sister is incredibly Bad, she fosters codependency and views Corona(the sister) as an extension of herself. This does not stop her from keeping up the con that Corona actually has magic (She doesn't, it was always just Ianthe) for 22ish years and every single person who interacts with them falls for it. She killed a man against his will (most dying for this purpose specifically go willingly) and she consumed him and she will be burning his soul for eternity. She's completely repulsive and still somehow incredibly hot.

she takes advantage of the fact that the main character is prone to hallucinations. at one point she gaslights the mc into believing that the corpse under her bed isn't real just because she can. she reverse engineered a set of very complex trials on her own without anyone realizing she had the skills to complete them normally. she's also babysat god through his drunk and pathetic era.

[starrynightmuse]

A Character Study: Aegon II from House of the Dragon

3k+ words. Just a compilation of my thoughts concerning the character of Aegon Targaryen II. I'm not trying to debate or prove a point, I just wanted to pen down my views of him. Also, I did not mention Daeron because I wanted to focus on the TV show.

Beware, spoilers.

Aegon is a product of abandonment — by his father, mother, and his elder sister — and his personality holds all the signs of it. Viserys, for all his dreams of having a male heir, neglects the boy when he finally is born. The king instead showers all his affection on Rhaenyra, the only surviving child born out of the marriage with the true love his life, the late Queen Aemma.

Rhaenyra sees Aegon only as a rival and threat to her claim on the Iron Throne. In the book, the only reason she even agreed to marry Laenor Velaryon after the infamous Daemon scandal was because Viserys threatened to replace Aegon as his heir if she didn’t comply. Aegon's her competitor and nothing more. Rhaenyra makes it obvious when she makes a point to address him only as half-brother (she addresses all of Alicent’s children as half-siblings, for that matter).

As for Alicent, Otto Hightower was removed as Hand of the King shortly after Aegon’s birth — an event that Alicent blames Rhaenyra for. She’s now left in a court full of schemers; she has zero allies save for Ser Criston Cole and Larys Strong (the latter who she treats with trepidation because, let’s face it, he’s a creepy guy and his job as professional torturer doesn’t help). Her new position as Queen only isolates her further. To top it off, her husband blatantly favors her step-daughter over both her and her new baby boy, which only fuels the belief that Aegon’s life would be at risk should Rhaenyra succeed him.

Alicent is now feeling more alone than ever. I also think a part of her saw Aegon as the final event that ended her childhood once and for all. He represents a time of significant losses to her — loss of her maidenhood, loss of her father, loss of her bond with her childhood friend. She feels deeply betrayed by everyone she had been close to. By Rhaenyra, who lied to her about Daemon/Criston despite swearing on Aemma’s grave (which holds so much weight for Alicent because both her and Rhaenyra bonded over the deaths of their mothers). By Viserys, who married her when his heart still belonged to Aemma. By Otto, who had a hand in making her marriage with Viserys happen and then left her to raise her son — his grandson — all on her own. 

So Aegon had an absent father, an unfriendly older sister, and a mother who feels paranoid and isolated. Aegon may have only been a toddler but I don’t think he was clueless to the woes of his mother and tensions happening in court. Children always pick up on emotions.

It was the perfect recipe for creating the irresponsible young man he would grow up to be.

Now we’re going to be stepping into headcannon land, but bear with me. I’m imagining Aegon as a young boy in the throne room. He’s hiding behind Alicent’s skirts because I think young Aegon would’ve been a scared little kid. Growing up in court amidst all the animosity would have him both confused and anxious all the time. He’d blame himself for his father’s neglect and his mother’s worried eyes and frown lines. His older sister also hates him for apparently no reason too, at least according to Aegon. His mother whispers to him that the Iron Throne would be his one day, but soon he notices the cuts that his father gets from sitting on the damned chair. Cuts that always fester and that the maesters would eventually have to leech. He sees Viserys getting weaker and weaker each time he sits the throne.

That’s when Aegon decides that he doesn’t want the throne. He doesn’t want that fate.  I think Aegon is smarter than people give him credit for. He sees the Iron Throne for what it really is: a decoration and a cutting hazard. More importantly, he sees it as an extension of Viserys. The Iron Throne = the king = Viserys = the father who doesn’t care for him.

Well, fuck that, young Aegon thinks. I won’t care about you either. Fuck you and everything you stand for.

So he lets all his inhibitions run wild. I think it would start with small childhood acts of defiance — like boisterously interrupting important meetings around the Red Keep and playing rude pranks on lords and servants alike. Eventually he’d discover the secret passageways and he’d sneak off to Flea Bottom, pick fights with the locals just because he can, and get high at the Ale houses when he’s supposed to be studying.

What started as just a fun little drink to loosen up becomes his lifeline. Being sober opens up the path for analytical thought, and Aegon doesn’t want that, not with all the constant anxiety he feels. He wants to be far away from his reality, from his father, from his Targaryen heritage and everything it meant. 

So he drowns himself in cup after cup. One addiction leads to another, and pretty soon he finds pleasure and fighting rings added to his list of addictions too. This boy is an adrenaline junkie, and he chases high after high — be it from wine, from flesh, or from violence — just to keep his mind off the fact that he's a firstborn Targaryen prince. 

And if Alicent yells at him, what of it? All the slaps to his face only meant that she cares about him. Isn’t that the most important thing? Aegon thinks. The more debauched his activities became, the more she cared. (Aegon adopts the "Red Means I Love You" mentality).

I also think Aegon is jealous of Rhaenyra, sort of like how Aemond is jealous of him. Rhaenyra's irresponsibility is swept under the rug. Aegon, on the other hand, is treated as the family disappointment. No matter how many bastards she births, Viserys continues to dote upon her. No matter how many rumors circulate around King's Landing of her and her paramour, Harwin Strong, Viserys' love for Rhaenyra is unconditional. In other words, she easily receives what Aegon had always coveted.

As for his relationship with Jace and Luke — Aegon couldn’t care less that they were Rhaenyra’s bastards. Status and symbols mean nothing to him; he’s far happier in the taverns of Flea Bottom with the common people than he ever was with the stuffy nobles in the Red Keep. He has no quarrel with them, and they laugh along to his jokes and pranks. At least they know how to have fun, he thinks. Better Jace and Luke than shy, quiet Aemond who keeps to his studies (the fucking nerd) and weird Helaena who only talks about bugs.

Remember, Aegon feels awfully detached from his family. Aemond and Helaena definitely felt detached also; they too were neglected by Viserys. Each of them coped by withdrewing —  Aegon to his brothels and alehouses, Aemond to the library, and Helaena to her interest in insects.

But Rhaenyra’s side has never quite felt like “family” to him — Jace and Luke look nothing like him, while with Aemond and Helaena, Aegon sees his own silver hair and purple eyes staring right back at him, symbols of his Targaryen heritage. I think he truly did consider Jace and Luke as “friends”, or at the very least, playmates for a time. He teams up with them to bully Aemond, whom he could not feel more distant from, despite being closer in blood to Aemond than he with Jace and Luke.

Aemond's a twat, Aegon justifies. Helaena's a twat too. They both represent family and duty to him, especially Helaena, who is a constant reminder of the duties he must perform as prince and firstborn son. Aegon just wants to love and be loved, and he knows he can't give that to Helaena, nor she to him. "We don't have anything in common" is the excuse he uses for not wanting to marry her, if only to lie to himself that they have everything in common. They have the same last name, the same hair and eyes, the same blood of the dragon running through their veins. And they will be stuck in the same loveless marriage together.

So when Alicent scolds him (Rhaenyra’s sons won’t be your play things forever…We are family… out there, we protect our own), the full weight of what she’s saying doesn’t hit him, not immediately…

Until Lucerys takes out Aemond's eye.

Aegon’s not stupid — he knows how Viserys gives Rhaenyra and her children free passes for everything. But I don’t think he realized that it also meant the blacks would get away with maiming his brother, the king’s own son, too. The moment Viserys was more angry over the fact that his grandsons were called bastards than his son losing an eye was when Alicent’s words truly cemented into his mind. We are family. We protect our own.

(Jace and Luke never seemed sorry for their actions too. Were these the boys I sided with against my own brother? Aegon asks himself.) 

Aegon would be good at hiding it, but he’d feel immense guilt for not being there to protect his little brother. Viserys had proved to be undependable, so as the eldest son, it was now his job to protect his family.

He's relunctant, he admits. He can't connect with Aemond — his little brother was duty this, responsibility that, and frankly, it was annoying. He had never really understood Helaena (she's autistic coded). But Aegon is mad terrified of Viserys now. If his own father had threatened to cut out the tongue of anyone — noble or otherwise — who speaks a word against the blacks, and had refused to take justice for a Targaryen prince... then is anyone in his fraction truly safe? 

So Aegon stops bullying Aemond. Not that he had any cause left to bully Aemond with. The little boy had claimed the meanest, baddest dragon in the world and Aemond reminded everyone of this fact whenever he got the chance. But Aegon starts keeping his jesting to a minimum, and he decides to leave Aemond in peace. At least, for most of the time. Except for when he took it upon himself to teach Aemond "how to be a man" —  Aegon's version of sex education — something that Alicent would scorn if she ever found out but Aemond will eventually marry and someone needs to prepare him, Aegon thinks. Plus, it wouldn't hurt if my brother loosens up. He's all work and no play. 

(And when Aemond turns 13, Aegon takes him to a brothel on the Streets of Silk. Aegon thinks he's doing his little bro a favor. Aemond would never forgive him for it — but that's a story for another time.) 

Aegon also gives in and marries Helaena. Better me than Jacaerys, he thinks. If Helaena married into the blacks, Rhaenyra would always take Jace's side. The blacks didn't have a sense of justice and Aegon wouldn't subject his sister to that. I'm sure that deep down, he feels protective of her in a brotherly way, although he doesn't show it. He continues his debauchery despite knowing that it could harm her reputation but wine and women is where Aegon draws the line. I'll do what mother asks but I can't give up this.

(Aegon may think he would protect Helaena from the world but he fails to see that Helaena may need protection from him. Aemond sees this and steps up for the job.)

Aegon is also holding onto the hope that people would stop seeing him as heir if he acts unworthy enough. But in the attempt to distance himself from Viserys, Aegon turns out like his father in the process. He becomes an absent father to his children with Helaena. Good thing Uncle Aemond is there to help with the kids tho.

In spite of it all, things had started to fall into rhythm in the Red Keep for the Green kids. Aegon does his duty while still continuing his depravities, Helaena dedicates her time to her needlework and her babies, Aemond studies and trains with all his might to compensate for his lack of an eye. All is well, or as well as it could ever be. 

Until the matter of Driftmark's succession brings Rhaenyra’s clan back to the Red Keep.

While the petitions were being held, Aegon was indifferent to it all. To be clear, he didn't want Luke — the bastard who maimed his brother — to get Driftmark, but he wouldn't complain if Luke did, because it would only strengthen Rhaenyra's claim to the throne, thus making his own claim less valid. Aegon attends the ceremony and treats it with the morbid amusement of a man who had nothing more to lose. 

Then Daemon beheads Vaemond. That's when Aegon is reminded of who he is really dealing with. The blacks are no longer just Rhaenyra and her children — Prince Daemon, the notorious Rogue Prince, was now added to their list of foes. It was clear to everyone: the price for challenging Rhaenyra was immediate death. No trial, no mercy, no justice.

When Jace asks Helaena for a dance during dinner, Aegon’s protectiveness kicks in. He looks at Aemond, like, are you seeing this shit bro? 

This bastard thinks his family can get away with maiming my brother and he wants to dance with my wife as if nothing happened?

When the fight breaks out between Jace and Aemond, Aegon sees Luke rushing to Jace's side before stepping in to stop the boy from reaching Aemond. We protect our own.

I think that afterwards, Aegon was hit with the overwhelming reality that he had, more or less, managed to ignore for the past few years. It was easier to ignore the danger he was in with Rhaenyra gone. But now that she was back... and after witnessing Daemon's recklessness in the throne room... 

He sees his own head in the place of Vaemond’s. This could be my future, he thinks. Aegon wants to save himself before it was too late. 

To Aegon, running away probably seemed like a win-win situation. Rhaenyra gets the crown she wants, and Aegon gets his freedom. It’s better for everyone this way, he reasons.

“I will find a ship and sail away, never to be found,” he pleads Aemond, grasping his brother’s face with both hands. He’s desperate, and he’s hoping that his brother would understand. It’s not until Ser Crispy Cream arrives that Aegon ultimately gives in and abandons his plans.

“The queen awaits,” the knight says.

In the book, Criston Cole and Aegon spend time exchanging a few more words.

“What kind of a brother steals his sister’s birthright?” Aegon protests.

It’s not until Ser Criston explains to him that the lives of his mother, brother, wife, and children will be in danger that Aegon finally relents. The book made Aegon’s motivations behind his acceptance of his fate much clearer than the show, but I thought the series incorporated a cleverer, show-not-tell way to explain Aegon’s compliance. 

Think of it like this: Aegon’s holding on to the face of the brother whom he failed to protect seven years ago. Then his mother’s sworn protector — the knight who had been more attentive to him than his own father had, the man who watched him grow up — approaches him, putting an arm around his shoulder, saying “the queen awaits”.

At the mention of his mother, Aegon comes to his senses again. We are family, we protect our own. 

If Aegon fled, he would be leaving his family to the wrath of Daemon and Rhaenyra. The only way he can ensure their protection is to stay and become king. It’s the Targaryen Hunger Games. Neither will live while the other survives.

Aegon decides that he would not make the mistake that he made seven years ago at Driftmark. He lets go of his brother and follows Ser Criston.

In stories, heroes separate themselves from villains by being the ones who act out of love instead of ambition. Aegon’s morals are questionable, and he certainly is no saint, but his last act in HOTD season one — the one that would change the course of history — was done out of love.

Why else would he ask “Do you love me?” while Alicent is lecturing him in the carriage on the way to his coronation. He’s saying Look at me mother. I don’t care about the politics, I am doing this just because I love you and I need to know, I’m desperate to know, if you love me too.

I can’t wait to see the route that the show writers would take his character in the later seasons. Aegon is an attention whore, and judging by how he commanded the crowd during the coronation scene, I’m excited to see him in his role as king. I think he’d absolutely have fun pulling rank. I’m the king now so I as might as well milk this position for all it’s worth.

I want to see Unhinged Aegon when Blood and Cheese happens. I want them to show Aegon letting out the most feral scream that even Aemond would stand frozen in shock. I want Aegon promising Helaena that he’s going to kill the ones who murdered their son and swearing that he’d do anything to protect them all from this day onward. (Fate heard him say that they don’t have anything in common and decided to take it up as a challenge.) 

I want them to show Aegon and Helaena coping with the death of their son in their own ways — I want them to show Aegon killing every rat-catcher and Helaena locking herself in her own chamber. I want Aegon to have such a rage and thirst for revenge that Aemond seems almost harmless in comparison. Blood and Cheese awakens a monster in Aegon. Aemond’s mind unravels due to his guilt (Jaehaerys wouldn't be dead if he hadn't killed Luke) and Helaena drowns in her grief. Alicent can do nothing but watch as her daughter becomes a shell of a person and her sons become deranged.

[danmeiarchive]

The Disabled Tyrant’s Pet Palm Fish by Xue Shan Fei Hu -- a brief review (VAGUE spoilers under the cut)

Novel length: 156 chapters

My Rating: ♥♥♥♥½ / 5

This novel is a fun silly romp with plenty of face-slapping and courtroom drama. Overall, this is a fun one and while I enjoyed it very much it is perhaps not one for everyone. Our main character is pretty OP and seemingly able to overcome any and all trials with his powers of being a CUTE MAGIC FISH.

Content warnings and some VAGUE SPOILERS in regard to the disability and representation under the cut.

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What kind of story is The Disabled Tyrant's Pet Palm Fish?

DTPPF is a transmigration story. So anticipate all sorts of transmigration shenanigans and tropes. It's also a story that is clearly meant for fun and not to be taken seriously. But that doesn't mean that it doesn't have heart -- there were a few times I teared up and cried as I got hit right in the feels. This is also a story with mpreg -- something that I hadn't anticipated just from the title and synopsis.

(If you are worried about the mpreg just know that it is vaguely referenced and kinda handwaved in a 'it just works' way. The novel does not go into the how or physiology. It just happens.)

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What about the disability? The tyrant is mute -- and there are some genuine moments of how he struggles with it. There's even a couple moments when he sort of uses his muteness to his advantage. It is an integral part of his character as it has changed how others treat and perceive him. It also affects his life in the imperial palace and his right of inheritance as one of the emperor's sons. It does not feel like an afterthought. That being said please check below the cut to see some more of my thoughts on this matter.

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Overall while this story does have a good amount of courtroom intrigue, drama, and backstabbing I'm still left feeling that it's a fairly lighthearted and fluffy story. I think this is mostly due to how seemingly easily and consistently our main character and his love interest are able to solve the problems they run into. It was also terribly endearing as the reader to see the tyrant falling desperately in love and just wanting to tell the main character that he is loved and that he accepts him no matter what kind of creature he is.

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Who are the main characters?

Without going into details here's a little bit about our main squad:

Li Yu aka Xiao Yu - the main character of our tale, he is a modern young man transmigrated into a webnovel he had been reading... but as the protagonist's fish! He is tasked with helping the tyrant but how can he help when he is but a small fish? He gets creative and gains some special abilities that allow him to help cause chaos and help the tyrant before eventually he is able to regain his human form for a certain amount of time. (He is referred to as "Xiao Yu" at first by the tyrant as he is a "small fish" (xiao = small, yu = fish.))

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Mu Tianchi aka Jing Wang - the protagonist of the novel Li Yu had been reading. His name is Mu Tianchi but is often referred to by his title "Jing Wang" especially at the beginning of the novel. He is said to have been born mute and as such he is not considered as a viable heir to the throne. This does keep him out of some courtroom drama but certainly not all of it. As the other brothers are fighting, scheming, and taking each other out Mu Tianchi does continue to prove to be very capable and difficult to manipulate. He also goes above and beyond when it comes to spoiling both "Xiao Yu" (the fish) and Li Yu (his human form).

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Wang Xi - protagonist's eunuch / advisor / assistant / caretaker. He's incredible and deserves so many props. He would do anything to help Mu Tianchi and Li Yu. I don't have much to say about him other than I don't know what Mu Tianchi and Li Yu would have done if Wang Xi had turned against them.

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Chu Yanyu - the original love interest of the tyrant in the novel. I won't spoil things but I will say I wanted to yeet this character every time he showed up. Just when you think you've seen the last of him he. keeps. showing. up.

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What is the plot of The Disabled Tyrant's Pet Palm Fish?

The plot of The Disabled Tyrant's Pet Palm Fish follows Li Yu's journey on regaining his human form, helping prevent certain events he knows about from the novel, uncovering the conspiracies and mysteries from Mu Tianchi's past, and securing Mu Tianchi's place as crown prince. Meanwhile Mu Tianchi and Li Yu fall in love with each other of course.

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Small critiques

I've only read this title once (so far) but unlike Silent Reading and Heaven Official's Blessing, I feel like DTPPF doesn't really have clear arcs in terms of where one book would end and the next would start -- I will be curious to see how Seven Seas splits this one up into volumes.

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There are some characters that never get names. This is not the only webnovel I've read where this happens but every time it happens I'm a little disappointed. Like, on one hand it can be hard to keep track of a ton of characters and their names but... it also is just so weird to me whenever a character continues to show up but is only referred to as "the scarred man" or in the case of this novel "the princess of JinJue." She's a pretty great character but she never got a name!

I do hope that when Seven Seas releases their translation that they will include a character list like they have in other books to help keep track of everyone. Because when the emperor's sons are mentioned sometimes it's by their birth order or title and sometimes it's by name. And of course they all have similar names (they even share a generation name -- Mu TianZhao, Mu TianMing, Mu TianChi, Mu TianXiao, etc).

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Click 'keep reading' to see more on the disability (VAGUE SPOILERS) and trigger warnings.

Disability representation in the novel

Without going into the HOW and WHY I feel it is important to mention that Mu Tianchi's disability is CURED pretty late in the novel. While I did find the outcome touching (when the main character hears the tyrant's first words and how the tyrant feels upon finally being able to speak) I think that this could be a touchy subject. I think that the novel could have not had the tyrant be cured and I would have enjoyed it just as much. And I imagine that if you're a person with a disability and or chronic illness that is reading a story where a main character struggles with his own -- only to end up magically and conveniently cured of his disability -- that it could be frustrating.

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There is also discrimination against Mu Tianchi for his disability -- he isn't considered a viable heir for the throne because he is mute, even if he is the best choice. Also since he has this disability the other characters (and the tyrant himself) worry that his children would also be disabled.

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content warnings: there's several times when jokes are made about bestiality (and a couple characters assume that Mu Tianchi's feelings towards his fish are not strictly platonic).

There is also various attempts of harm towards young children that might inherit the throne including poison, kidnapping, and threat of physical harm. Similarly, there are attempts at drugging (with aphrodisiacs, getting someone overly drunk, etc) and dubious consent situations -- (however this does not occur between our main couple). This is done in hopes of earning someone's favor, forcing them to take responsibility, and or moving up in rank and society.

There is also a character that was taken as a concubine (against her will) after her kingdom was defeated in war. All of this seems fairly standard to courtroom drama stories but I figured it would be good to mention. If you've also read this novel and think I've left some cw out let me know and I'll add them to this list.

Another user pointed out that the character of the JinJue princess is 16-- so there's some setting compliant marriages / relationships with folks who are under 18 years old. I would be surprised if she was the only character this applied to but I can't remember others right at this moment.

[dell-amor-te]

“The Hare, the Crow, & the Unhappy Marriage”

Word Count: 5,906.

Warning(s): Spoilers for what’s been revealed in pre-released content, canon-typical combat depictions, no beta but I try my best.

Pairing: F!Rook x Lucanis Dellamorte. 

Summary: Lucanis takes on a major contract and makes an acquaintance he’ll never forget. (Also known as “the Lucanis and Nöa pre-canon cringefail meetcute that won that poll forever ago that I finally finished.”)

🐦‍⬛ Read on ao3.

9:51, Dragon.

Minrathous, the Thalsian Estate.

“It was a lovely service, Magister Thalsian. A perfect coda for the loss of a titan of our empire. Worthy of a man of your father’s standing.”

She stood still and poised like a marble statue in the moonlight gardens, waiting for any sign of life from the younger man standing before her. His black-clad back remained affixed in her direction while he stared up at an actual, imposingly tall marble statue that was carved in his father’s image.

Larger than life, much like the now deliciously departed Festus Thalsian, Sr.

His living junior always seemed small next to his father, but the statue’s towering height made the discrepancy almost comical.

Once she was certain he would not answer to her first statement, she cleared her throat, making another: “I imagine, as the newly appointed representative of one of the Imperium’s oldest and most respected families, you must be feeling quite proud somewhere underneath your grief.”

A beat, a reconsidered addendum to follow, but not a misstep.

“Somewhere amidst all that grief, of course.”

Nothing still.

Now she was growing impatient.

Again, then.

“I—”

“What do you want, Magister Renata?”

“So formal, my lord.”

Zara smiled easily, taking the break in his silence as her invitation to come stand at his side in the looming presence of his father’s cold and impassive homage. He gave her a not-so-veiled look of derision before his face turned down once more, his tired eyes further fatigued by dark circles under them.

She took a chance to take a proper look at the statue. While the flesh and bone Festus was already ashes stuffed into a gauche urn and shoved on a mantle somewhere in the grand Thalsian estate, this monument would remain in the family’s private and labyrinthine gardens; his perpetual company would be the other members of the family tree who had been so honored.

Forever able to give his son those same withering glances he always had.

“He looks as proud as your father always did of you.” Zara lied smoothly.

“Again: what do you want, Zara?”

“Tut, tut, Festus. Is it so wrong to want to offer you my condolences in person?”

“It is when the funerary services were a private family affair.” His reply was as stiff yet spineless as his current stance.

“I almost married your uncle.”

“But you didn’t. How did you manage to secure an invitation?”

“Oh, I still see him every so often.”

Festus sighed haggardly.

“Really, I’m hurt, Festus.”

“And I’m still left wondering why you’re here. You must want something. You always do.”

Zara chuckled. “See, you do know me.” She said, though it brought Festus no pleasure to be so praised.

To wit, then.

“Your father’s death creates a power vacuum in the Magisterium that having a son and heir to take his seat will only quell for so long. Your father cast quite a large shadow.”

“And we all know I don’t have what’s needed to fill it.”

“I wouldn’t say that.” She chided with practiced gentleness.

Not here, anyway.

Zara clapped her hands together. “You are more than capable of rising to his heights, Festus. He and my father began their time in the Magisterium together, if you’ll recall. Neither one of them was anything more than we two are now when they began.”

Festus studied her with wariness, like she was an asp—a shining smile hiding fangs ready to strike. While she may have been missing the fangs, she certainly managed to hold the same venom and sharp tongue.

“True enough. But my father had exploits no other mage in our family could hope to replicate. So grand that they made up for his few shortcomings.”

Such as the fact that neither of the sons he produced were born Dreamers.

Zara closed the gap between them, heels clicking authoritatively against the cobblestone. “Then why not show our peers why you’re the heir to the Thalsian name?” She challenged.

“We all know why. It’s certainly not because of my own merit.” Festus snorted, looking to the memorial statue again for a moment.

“And why can’t it be?” Zara asked sharply, shoving one perfectly painted nail into his chest, right into his very heart. “Because you’re going to show them that you’re capable of righting even your unimpeachable father’s wrongs. What could be a finer tribute to his legacy?”

Festus’ brow twitched.

“I’ve had the pleasure of reading some of his notes on Dreamers and the ancient elves, you know.” Zara informed him. “He was onto something with those experiments of his. I know you know that—he mentioned you in his writings.”

“Yes, but if you’ve truly read them—and I won’t even question how—then you know he abandoned them.”

“Yes, because he lost his two prized lab rats. Or should I say lab rabbits?”

“You could say that. But it would be incredibly on the nose of you.” Festus’ own nose crinkled in distaste. “They weren’t just prized. You must have seen the records and ledgers, too. He almost bankrupted our family on purchasing hundreds of different brutes over the years. They were the only two who weren’t only viable, but exceptional.”

“Indeed. His golden goose and lucky rabbit. What’s the elven for that again?”

The younger mage’s spine stiffened with a sharp intake of breath.

“This is a moot point.” He said quickly. “The mother was killed by my father.”

“But the little rabbit escaped. Obviously.” Zara scoffed.

He scoffed right back.

“Come now, Festus, surely you don’t take me for a fool.” She crossed her arms, resolute. “Elves might not be rare in this city, much as we all like to pretend, but elves who bear those savage markings are rare indeed. And I doubt it’s a coincidence that this one goes by a moniker that happens to match the name your father gave her when he came into possession of her.”

Festus set his brow. He wouldn’t indulge her.

“Glower all you like, but I know you must be aware of her exploits.”

“Oh, and what makes you so confident?”

“Because the Magisterium won’t acknowledge what’s happened. A rogue rattus ran about, a runaway, stealing others property and setting it free? And no one can seem to catch her? And then she vanishes into thin air? You know as well as I how our colleagues love their gossip, and they won’t even dare to speak of her. They’re embarrassed.” She nodded. “Just as you keep quiet. Because you habor some sentiment for your lost pet.”

Festus’ cheeks burned red, catching as quickly as a wildfire from a firebolt gone awry.

“You’re hardly the first man in this city to get a little too attached to one of the family pets.”

“That’s quite the accusation to make without any sort of proof.”

“Is that right? Tell me, isn’t that locket you refuse to let leave your neck made of ironbark? Or am I mistaken?”

She, of course, was never mistaken.

Festus said nothing, confirming her suspicions without so much as uttering a single syllable.

“It has her portrait inside of it, no doubt.” Zara spoke in a disinterested tone, picking at one of her nails with another nail before strolling away from the statue.

She kept walking until she reached the balcony overlooking the rest of the gardens below, draping her back against the cool stone of the baluster, the cape attached to her gown lying tastefully of the smooth barrier. She smiled knowingly when she turned to find Festus close at heel, absently fiddling with the locket in question.

“You’re proposing I get her back and continue with my father’s plans.”

It wasn’t a question.

“This world needs Dreamers. More importantly, the Imperium needs Dreamers.” Zara mused, smiling as if he had missed his own joke. “And it should be the Imperium who brings them to life.” She heaved a dispassionate sigh. “It’s a pity that such pristine breeding must be tainted so by lesser, wild blood, but we all have to make sacrifices for the greater good of Tevinter.”

Festus met her at the balcony at last, his arm supporting him as he leaned in and considered her words. He never had managed to learn how to read her. She remained as lost to him as an esoteric tome from eras bygone and best left forgotten. And yet he couldn’t stop trying to understand.

If not an understanding, then at least to twist to his advantage.

“She may be persona non grata throughout the Imperium, but people will catch on if I or my men go hunting her bounty, no matter how we try to spin it. And then there will be no Dreamers. Do you intend to offer my men aid?”

“For the right price, of course, darling. And believe me, once payment is confirmed, I’ll happily use every tool in my arsenal to help you. In fact, I’ll have a new shiny toy soon enough, if all goes to plan. And once the blade’s been honed, I’m certain there won’t be anything standing between you and your little rabbit’s sweet reunion.”

“I’m sure that price tag must be hefty. I did mention my father’s spending habits nearly bankrupted our family, didn’t I?”

“Oh, but who can appraise the priceless gift of acclaim that will accompany being the man to reestablish the Dreamers in the bloodline of the First Dreamer himself?”

“You, I’m assuming. Or you think you can, anyway.”

“It’s a trifle, truly, in comparison to having your precious little—”

“Zara.”

She heaved a sigh. “My father has designs to marry me to some cadet branch from a particular family—one who has recently joined with those traitors, the Lucerni.” At Festus’ pointed look, she waved a dismissive hand. “He’s desperate, and he’ll see the contract through even to them for the sake of creating alliances. Unless someone can make a better offer, of course…”

“And you’re short of suitors.” Festus assumed.

“Not if a certain newly-minted magister puts in his bid. I hear he’ll be plagued with marriage offers come daybreak. And won’t all those pesky marriage interviews keep him from his true passion—his studies?”

It was a grim prospect, one the more introverted Festus didn’t relish.

Zara moved in closer, her breath warm against his cheeks as she whispered in his ear. “Besides, this potential Dreamer will need a more…tamed mother, won’t they? One who won’t ask questions or betray the existence of her sweet husband’s…” Her head bobbled as she considered the best phrasing. “Well…less-than-appropriate mistress?”

Festus hid his repulsion for the woman hanging on his arm under a thinly-veiled feint of consideration. It would be a lie to say he hadn’t thought of her everyday since her unfair escape from his family’s estate. Dark-bright eyes oft haunted his dreams. They haunted his waking hours, too. It was a lie he kept close to his chest.

What he wouldn’t give just for the chance of seeing her again…

“It’s traditional for my family to marry at the end of the year, during the holiday festivals.” He informed her. “Now, would you like to share this plan of yours with your fiancé?”

Zara smiled knowingly.

…

The memory played again and again in his mind.

I’ll never forgive you.

I understand.

Lucanis Dellamorte sighed.

The toes of his boots hung off the edge of the rooftop by mere centimeters.

Below him, the city of Minrathous danced at its full tilt. Lights of magical-illumination. Bursting pubs. Beggars in the gutter. Unaware of his presence, and yet Lucanis knew better than to let his guard drop. He certainly couldn't while he was here, not while he was in unfamiliar territory.

Vyrantium was one thing. Minrathous was another beast entirely.

But his target was here, and so he had come.

His target.

Zara Renata. Newlywed of Magister Festus Thalsian, the junior of a recently deceased father. A brave match that could see the Empire forward for generations with the heights they could reach together.

Unless Lucanis got to work, that is.

Little was known about the Thalsian family almost in spite of how well-known they were. What was known beyond their names and prestige was limited to what its members allowed outsiders to know. They were prideful, ever seeking more power and power beyond. This fact was likely not helped by their connection to the first recorded priest of Dumat. The lack of any other concrete information about the family as a whole—not to mention individual members—was frustrating for Lucanis.

He hadn’t been able to fill even a full page with what paltry intel he had been able to gather before journeying to Minrathous. In a perfect world, he would have had another week to do some more footwork, perhaps even a day or two to observe the Thalsian estate before he ever crossed the threshold.

But the world was not perfect, and Lucanis had not been consulted on setting a date for this particular wedding.

While the Thalsian family remained obfuscated, the Renata family was much more prone to chase the spotlight. They were a moderately affluent house, but this union would no doubt do wonders to elevate their standing in the Imperium.

The last time he had crashed a wedding, it had ended with the father-of-the-bride dead before Lucanis was mysteriously spirited away from the festivities.

Even as unfamiliar as Minrathous was to him, Lucanis was able to follow the interconnecting alleyways easily enough. A fancy manor in this city was much like a tree in a forest or sand on the beach, even with the special occasion being held at this household. Lucanis was able to find the Thalsian estate with little trouble, and without detection.

The serpentine crest wrought into the black-iron gate of the estate confirmed the proud owners of the home. Sneaking inside undetected amidst the sea of well-wishers and wedding guests was one of the easier maneuvers Lucanis had executed in his time as a Crow.

And so he found himself in much a similar position as the one he was in out on the streets, tucked up and out of the way on a makeshift perch. Rather than a seedy and rain-slicked rooftop, he found security behind a granite-carved serpent, an eave mounted high about the festivities below, stuck in an indefatigable vigil over the decorated and gilded ballroom.

He was charming in a disarming sort of way, Lucanis could see that much from his current vantage point.

The magister’s smile was ostentatious. It wanted your attention—no, demanded it. It was bright, flashy, like vibrant scales that warned potential prey of poison lurking in the body of a predator, just waiting for the one foolish enough to fall to its charms.

It certainly didn’t help that his looks would appeal to anyone.

“You’re sure it’s secured?” He asked with minimal movement of his lips—Lucanis just barely made out what he was saying to his new bride.

Zara Renata offered a much more practiced, poisonous smile as she made to meet her groom. “Of course, darling. She’s downstairs with the rest of the wedding presents.” She said, lip movements less covert than Festus’.

Festus stiffened then, but nodded with a certain eagerness that Lucanis found raising his hackles. The shine that overtook the magister’s eyes did nothing to set Lucanis at ease. There was a hunger—an affection, if it could truly be called that—that had been missing from every moment spent with his bride, even while he bound himself to her.

The bride herself, however, did not share Lucanis’ offense.

“I must admit, she’s prettier than I expected. I can almost see the appeal. Almost.” Zara told her newly-wedded husband, hooking her arm in his. “She shouted something at me in that blasted tongue of theirs. So uncouth.”

Surely they didn’t mean…

Lucanis cursed the magisters under his breath. Both of them—for good measure.

Though his mind immediately set to lecturing him, reminding him that he had a job to do and his window to do it and get out was closing with each step the couple took toward their marriage bed, his heart and legs rallied all the stronger. He left his serpentine perch with a soundless leap, heading into the first corridor he saw with a descending set of stairs, mindful of each step.

His gut lurched with each repetition in his ears of those words as they played over and over again in his mind.

Wedding presents. Wedding presents. Weddings presents.

He heard Illario’s words in his ears, too, ringing like a warning bell, tolling and warning him away from a course he was already on.

We’re not heroes, cousin.

Lucanis kept close to the ancient stone walls. For all the variations in façades, Tevinter homes above a certain degree of nobility and prestige all had similar layouts. Wine cellars often masked more nefarious rooms—holding cells. Often barely distinguishable from the house servants’ sleeping quarters, though they sported chains and shackles the quarters did not.

The sounds of the wedding party slipped away from him as he neared the false wall of casks, and a hushed conversation filled his ear instead. He knelt down behind the end of a row of casks that acted as the mouth to a slip of hallway leading to the unlit cells beyond.

His brow twitched as he listened in.

“Oh, hush, Strife! I’ll have us out of here in no time.”

“Didn’t you say those things were untested? What if you tip off the whole damn household?” A man’s deep cadence questioned.

Whoever he was, Lucanis could hear the years in his voice. The certainty was unusual, raising Lucanis’ eyebrow. Most caught up in the slave system of Tevinter didn’t sound so confident, especially if they had years under their belt.

“Please. I can hear the band playing from here, which means they might as well be deaf up there. Besides, the mister and missus should be making their way to the marriage bed by now. Now stand back, will you? Just in case.”

The second voice was distinctly feminine, sporting an accent that sounded slightly Nevarran to color her words. It was clear she was well-acquainted with the man she spoke with, given the familiarity in her tone.

In the low light of the pocket hall, Lucanis couldn’t quite make out what was happening, and he certainly didn’t come to terms with it until after it had happened. A bright flash of light—completely soundless—exploded into the air. Unprepared, Lucanis flinched away, pressing his forefinger and thumb into his eyes to alleviate the discomfort.

It took everything in him not to curse aloud.

Beyond the wall, the conversation continued.

“Ye of little faith.” The woman declared smugly. “I tell ya, people in this town are too obsessed with figuring out how to use magic to stop time, or turn it back, or how to manipulate people using their own blood. A little bit of creativity, and they’d actually be a threat.”

“It’s not little faith in you, brains. It’s little interest in having your old man turn me into a walking dead man if he finds out I let a Thalsian get hands on you. Again.”

“Good thing I’m going to kill Thalsian, then. Two Thalsian’s, now.” A pause. “You know that’s not what my father does, right?”

“Don’t try to explain it to me again, please. It’s weird.”

“Only in places that aren’t Nevarra.”

“Yeah, which is everywhere else in Thedas. Come on, let’s liberate our fellow man and get outta here.”

“After y—”

The pair went quiet.

While Lucanis blinked away the after effects of the shocking surprise, his vision still a colorful daze as though he had looked directly into the sun, a pair of thighs wrapped around his neck. The Crow cursed that time, shifting his focus on getting this unseen person off of him.

His hand instinctively went for one of the knees, hoping to disbalance and then sling his assailant off of him. Instead of loosening grip, their knees closed in, ankles locking for extra security.

He couldn’t catch his breath. If they had half a mind, no doubt they could twist their lower half and take his neck right along with them. At such an angle it would be unlikely to kill him, but he still didn’t relish the thought of a neck ache or the accompanying headache.

He just had to catch them by surprise.

And so Lucanis struggled to his feet, balancing precariously with the added weight on his shoulders.

And then he let himself fall backwards.

His piggybacker made a tactical decision to protect themself from injury—rather than keeping a hold on him and risk hurting their own back, their legs released his neck, allowing the attacker time needed to roll out into a safer position just before they both hit the marble floor.

“Bloody shem!” The woman’s voice was warm against his neck.

The woman from the cell, he saw now.

Before either of them could make another move, laughter echoed off the stony walls.

“Take it easy on the poor guy, Nöa.” A tall, muscled elven man, the owner of the male voice Lucanis had heard, chuckled amicably, standing over them in their entangled heap. “I don’t think he’s interested in hurting either of us.”

Lucanis said nothing, only offering an easy smirk in reply once his coughing subsided and allowed him to. He rubbed at his neck absently.

“Oh, forgive the mistake—I saw a figure in black and my brain assumed Thalsian guard.” The woman, Nöa, chuckled easily, offering him a hand up as soon as she was back on her feet.

Lucanis considered the outstretched gloved hand for a moment, before accepting.

“Sorry for trying to choke you, by the way.” She added quickly. “I usually buy people dinner before I start wrapping my thighs around their neck.”

“No, no. I don’t mind…”

Strife snorted, and despite the smug look on her face, the woman blushed. When he realized what he had said, Lucanis cleared his throat.

“Are you alright?” He asked instead.

“Hm? Oh. Fancy meeting a friendly here. You’re not to Festus’ tastes, so you must be a gift for the new madame of the house.”

“What? No. I came to help you.” He shook his head. “No.”

Actually, he had come to kill the new madame of the house and her new husband. But here he was. He could almost hear Illario berating him. It was a harmless enough lie, since he knew she was also keen on seeing the sun set on the world with two less magisters in it.

The woman put her hands on her hips, head cocking to the side as she studied him, rounding him like a surveyor. “Hm. You’re obviously not with the Shadow Dragons.”

Her left eye glinted with a mischievous light, its prosthetic partner seeming to reflect the same sentiment despite its inorganic nature.

“Neither are you. Obviously.” He said pointedly, standing straight up as she circled him.

“Oh, and that accent.” She all but crooned, leaning in closer when she rounded back to face him. “Antivan, right?” Conspiratorially, she posited: “I’d wager you’re a Crow, then, given your ensemble? I’ve always wanted to meet a Crow.”

Lucanis’ brow betrayed him by bunching up, belying his bemusement.

What in the Maker’s name is wrong with her?

Before he could do more than open his mouth, she raised a hand to keep him quiet.

His lips pursed.

A pair of Thalsian’s estate guards passed by, but now before the shorter woman had pulled into an alcove, her taller companion already back behind the wall. Lucanis would have protested, but his focus was squarely on the two guards.

The woman’s hand held him in place, pressed into his chest, before her eyes darted to him, then to the guards.

They were drunk, by the way they laughed and hung on one another—unaware. No doubt they had imbibed on their lord’s wedding wine. They didn’t even notice that the elves tucked within the cages held onto doors that were half-open and slowly, carefully closing.

“And then what did he say?”

“Well, he goes—”

Before the guard could finish their tale, Lucanis and the woman moved as one. They both closed the gap carefully. Just before they reached the pair, the woman muttered something—a spell—under her breath.

The pair quieted, then stilled. Lucanis prepared to end the guard on the left with a clean twist of his neck, but the woman stopped him. It was curiosity, not mercy, that stayed him. He watched as she put a rag to the man’s nose.

His eyes rolled back in his head, and then he crumpled to the floor.

She gestured for Lucanis to let go of his quarry, and she repeated the action with the rag.

“Yeah, just like that. Big, old breaths. Really take in those heady notes of felandaris.”

“It’s a paralytic, but I added in a little extra surprise.” Nöa told him. “They won’t remember a thing.” She folded the rag back into her breast pocket. “Totally harmless to the touch, but works a wonder once it’s inhaled.” She explained. “I don’t mind killing where it needs done. These guys are barely more than slaves to the powers that be, though. Might even be indentured.”

Lucanis hummed curtly. She was much more…exuberant…but the way she spoke of the chemical reminded him of Viago. While he could picture her with a similar deadpan, he couldn’t conjure up a Viago so lively, even in his imagination.

“Well, now that that’s settled, you can shake a leg” Nöa nodded her head toward her companion, the man she called Strife.

She stared at him expectantly.

“Me?” Lucanis had to keep his composure. “I don’t know Minrathous well enough to get them out of the city. You clearly do.” Lucanis said. He gestured toward the man with a sweeping arm.

“No can do. I have business here with Thalsian.”

“And I have business with Renata.”

“Alright, you two, that’s enough. This is getting a little too hot for my tastes.” Strife stepped in between them, separating them with his body.

“I assure you, you’re in no danger from me.” He looked from the elf to the shorter, somewhat elven woman. “The only one I’m here to kill a magister.”

“Well, so am I.” She insisted.

“Crows don’t abandon contracts.”

“He’s mine.”

There was so much conviction in her words that Lucanis found himself frozen.

“I’ll get them out of here.” Strife decided at last. “Nöa, do what you have to do—but if it comes to it, let ‘em take the Crow.” He smirked at Lucanis before turning back to his companion, staring her down seriously as his hand found her shoulder. “You get yourself out of here, that way I don’t have an angry necromancer using me for anatomy lessons because I let his daughter get herself nabbed.”

“Your skeletal structure would be very good for articulation lectures.” Nöa mused.

“See, that’s the kind of strange stuff you’ve gotta stop saying.” Despite his words, the man chuckled fondly. “I better be seeing you back at base.

“Jumper’s honor.” She signaled him off with a small wave before turning to Lucanis. “Shall we go ruin a marriage?”

Lucanis followed her, even if he couldn’t help but wonder what exactly he was following her into. He studied her as they slunk back up the stairs. There wasn’t a hint of tension in her shoulders. If it wasn’t for the surreptitious nature of their movements, he would have thought she belonged here.

“How do you know where to go?”

“Who says I do?” She teased.

“Your body.” He said.

“Ser, that implies you’re paying attention.” She hummed, pleased. “Like what you see?”

Lucanis didn’t answer, which made her laugh—quietly, mindful of their situation.

“Let’s just say I’ve spent more time in this house than I want to think about. Thalsian and his bride will be in his chamber. Which will be in the west halls. It’s a whole private suite—belonged to his father before he croaked.”

Lucanis said nothing, pausing when she reached back a hand, holding him in place. She barely reached her head around the end of the corridor leading back to the main ballroom. Then she swore under her breath.

“Venatori.” Nöa told him, turning around to face him with a thoughtful hum.

Her hand didn’t leave his chest.

“Wouldn’t that just ruin the good Magister Thalsian’s name if it got out.” Lucanis noted, raising an eyebrow at her.

She met his gaze. A wolfish, understanding smile struck her features.

“After you, my lady.”

Nöa hummed, pleased, before reaching down and pulling a simple dagger from her belt. It looked like little more than a letter-opener, but she held it with certainty.

“So, were you all invited, or are you the hired help for the night?”

“That mark on her face! It’s the Hare!” One of the agents cried.

“Well, fools! Do your duty. Just don’t kill her—Festus wants her alive.” He sneered, lips twitching. “No doubt he’d prefer her face untouched, too. Her pretty little friend is fair game, however.”

Lucanis glowered, readying his own choice weaponry. “I’ll go left.” He told Nöa, practically growling.

Nöa said nothing, setting to work on the right side of the small troop.

They worked quickly, methodically.

Whoever these Venatori agents were, the spellcasting couldn’t match either of their opponents for speed. Nöa had uttered spells and conjured fire before they could get out more than a syllable. Who she didn’t burn, she stabbed.

Lucanis, meanwhile, showed his foes what a Crow could do. They may as well have been a training exercise compared to contracts he had taken. Forfex came to mind at once, along with a slew of names he couldn’t remember.

“And then there was one.” Nöa said, panting slightly as she leveled her gaze at the magister before them.

“Magister Iranicanus.” The portly man bowed dramatically, unfazed by the efficiency with which his men had been dispatched.

Lucanis wondered if it was pride or sheer arrogance. With magisters, sometimes there was hardly a difference.

“Never heard of you.” Nöa said dryly, stalking toward him.

“How dare—”

With a muttered but committed spell, Nöa had the man frozen, though Lucanis couldn’t see any signs of frost or fractals on the man. She swaggered toward the magister, unfazed, surveying him with a critical glint in her eyes.

Then, she used that particular dagger from her belt to create a simple but deadly cut along the path of his carotid artery. It was precise. Almost surgical. There was no pleasure in it, only a sense of necessity.

Justice.

Within seconds, whatever magic she had used on the man disappeared, and he fell to his knees, then to the floor. Dead at her feet, bleeding freely even after life had left him. That blood trickled down the steps of the altar that had been used to bind two magisters earlier that evening. Now it acted as the resting place of another.

“Well, this was fun.” Nöa decided at last, smiling once again.

Lucanis blinked in surprise, stunned by the sudden feeling of her lips against his cheek for the briefest of moments. He stared at her, eyes wide and lips pursed.

She laughed, no doubt inspired by the look of shock on his face. “What? This poor altar deserved to see at least one proper kiss today. And I’d say you’ve more than earned it.”

“You call that fun?” He asked, still stupefied.

“Well…” She drawled out harmlessly. “At least a magister died today. Right?”

Lucanis sighed. “Now, what do we do about Renata and Thalsian? The whole household will be on alert now.”

“I—”

“Well, don’t just stand there! After her!”

“Like I said.” Lucanis said with absolutely no satisfaction in his voice.

He heard the woman speak in a language unfamiliar but not unknown to his ears: elven. If her tone was any proper indicator, she had cursed.

“Thalsian.”

She reached for a dagger tucked against her waist.

Lucanis grabbed her wrist, shaking his head firmly.

She waved her hand at the door, eyes wide and incredulous.

This was the whole point.

“It’s too public.” Lucanis hissed.

She huffed, frustrated.

“Come on, we need to go.”

“I thought Crows didn’t abandon contracts.”

“We don’t. But we retreat when we know it’s necessary. You can try again if you get out. Not so much if you get killed.”

They were both running out of time.

“Fine.” She grabbed his hand. “Come on, there’s a window with a trellis just up the grand staircase. He never locks it. We can get out through there.”

Lucanis didn’t argue—not with her plan and not with her authority over his hand.

They bounded up the stairs quickly. Nöa climbed into the deep sill of one of the overarching windows, unlatching it and pushing its heft frame open before giving Lucanis a hand up. He joined her, but not before the doors below opened with a resounding crash, tailed by the march of Thalsian guards.

“Hey, Crow. What are you doing?”

He looked over his shoulder, then back at her.

They would follow too easily if he didn’t buy her time.

“Hey, hey!”

He shut the window, ramming one of his daggers into the lock so she couldn’t pry it open. And slammed a fist against the outside of the window, horrified.

He offered her a small smile, and then he dropped out of the sill.

It didn’t take long for those rushing footsteps to reach him.

At least Illario hadn’t come with him, after all.

“Well, well, well…”

It wasn’t Thalsian who had come, after all.

“If it isn’t the Demon himself. This isn’t Vyranitum, you know.”

Lucanis froze, keeping his back to the witch he knew stood behind him.

First the attack on the ship, now this.

The magister ran her fingertip along his chin. “Hello, Master Dellamorte. I’ve been oh so eager to meet you. Seems like someone else gave you a warm greeting, too.”

Her fingertip traced upward to his cheek, removing lipstick red as blood. He knew the cut on his cheek was bleeding, but it took a moment for him to realize the witch now had access to his blood.

Access to him.

“Or was it a bitter farewell, hm?” Zara chuckled, the sound malicious and melodic. “You let the little beast escape. My husband will be disappointed, but, well…that’s not my problem.” She clicked her tongue. “But what to do with you, darling?”

He couldn’t move. Not his hands. Not his legs. He couldn’t lash out. The only thing left untouched by the tendrils of her blood magic was his eyes. She wanted to see his fear. But he wouldn’t give her the satisfaction.

“I do hope that little act of chivalry tasted sweet while it lasted, Master Dellamorte. And I do hope she was worth it. Though, I suppose one good turn deserves another. I won’t tell my husband she was here. Fair enough?”

Lucanis closed his eyes.

He thought of Illario, and of a summer spent chasing after pretended-wyverns in the mud.

And then he thought of nothing at all.

[docholligay]

The Lies of Locke Lamora by Scott Lynch

Nonspoilery: This is a super fun read that is very much in keeping with how I like my fantasy. I wish it were slightly more on the con man side, but I recognize that those are very difficult to write because one needs to actually be clever enough to come up with the insanely clever plan that unfolds, and, you know what, I'm not there either. But it absolutely is a fun crimey fantasy novel, well written that expects you can actually follow a line of description and maybe even look up a big word, that tries very hard not to bore you with needing to refer to a glossary or map.

I will say, and I'll talk about this more below: There are basically no women in this novel. it's a little disappointing. I still overall think it's worth it if you like this sort of thing though.

SPOILERS BELOW:

THIS is the kind of thing pitchless draw was made for. You could not have talked me into reading this book. Unless you possess an incredible skill--I'm not sure *I* could have talked me into reading this book, and supposedly no one knows me better.

But I did really enjoy myself. This is a flat out FUN novel, that doesn't mind being long but never feels long. I LOVED the long bits of description in this book, I BEG for flavor in some many modern novels that strip away anything that isn't an immediate moving of the ball. Actually, one of the things I would say that's not a criticism so much as a preference, is that I feel like this book, and probably this writer, remembering his short story from Rogues, is more plot-driven than character driven. I am a girl who loves a really interior novel, and this isn't that, but it did not stop me from having a GREAT time. It's a romp.

I like Locke, and his whole backstory. I wish he were a woman. Specifically, I would love to see a femme con artist, second coming of Minako Aino, Becky Sharp ass bitch. THAT would be my dream for Locke Lamora. And I know my friends who have read this book all want butch Locke and I love that for you, and I know y'all have known me long enough to know I love a butch, but I deserve a treat as well, and I LOVE con artists, and goddamnit, if I could change one thing about this novel, Locke Lamora would be a femme lesbian and I would change NOTHING else. You wouldn't even have to. One fo the great things about Lynch not being a real interior writer is literally any of the mains could be a woman and it would change nothing.

This does segue into the big problem here--there's no women in this novel. It's a 700 page book and I could condense the lines said by women into like two or three pages. I actually DO get it. I think we're reaping a little bit of what we've sown, as a community, with the requirement for perfection in our representation that leads to very boring and safe choices. Everyone is a man. We're only swarthy at best. Can't be criticized for bad identity writing if you don't write them at all! ANd this isn't me being salty, I get how that happens, I have also sometimes fallen into making any character of identity boring as fuck or not writing them at all to avoid any criticism. And no one cares about ME, I'm not a best seller. I do think, maybe, people will get better about this. Pendulums and all. I miss the awkward, good faith 90s where you had the United Colors of Benetton and one character who randomly celebrated Hanukkah. We'll see.

ANYHOW NOT RELEVANT. But I do find it irritating that because of this, we don't see women in this huge story at all. None of the gang, even though it would have been easy as fuck to make, say, Bug a girl. Even doing something like making Nazca Barsavi the actual heir apparent, and to have her marrying Locke because she knows he won't try to be Capa, and she'll let him do whatever the fuck he wants, can play the henpecked husband while being the Thorn of Camorr, could be really fun and would do more for Nazca and also play up their friendship. It could make her death mean a lot more, if they were running their own little Barsavi con.

Anyhow, the really fantastic behind the scenes worldbuilding was how I wish more fantasy novels did it. It didn't often try to explain things to me, it spoke as if I mostly understood them, or had cahracters say them in ways that made sense to the story (In this capacity, Lukas Fehrwright is fucking BRILLIANT as Someone That Must Have Camorr Explained). So I didn't feel like I was being sat down and told the history of a place I barely know, while having stupid fucking vocabulary words thrown at me. We never define any physik or magic beyond what needs be done because fuck you that's why. I love it. Thank you for not telling me what alchemical botany can or can't do. Thank you for dropping literally only what I need to kjnow about wraithstone into the plot. You have a crown in heaven.

Or I know I said I wish it would have been more con-ny and less "kill the new mob boss" at the end there, but oh my fuck, how much did I love the whole job at the counting house. I SCREAMED. It was so good, I had no clue where it was going the whole time and I would never have gotten there, but I LOVED it. What a great time.

One...weakness, for me, I guess I'll say, is that lack of interiority makes it hard to really feel the weight of some things. We don't get enough about Galdo, Calo, or Bug to feel anything for them, and I knew Bug was dead from the time he showed up. Actually, I thought we were going to kill jean Tannen, because that was the only relationship REALLY laden with emotional weight in the book. Didn't bother me enough to not recommend the book, as I'm mostly recommending it on fun, but I did notice.

ANYWAY, uh...any specific questions I'm happy to take!

Unfortunately, this means that @verbforverb nabbed me again. So, I had a great time reading the book but at what cost