#husbands to the twelfth power

[thedoctorwhocompanion]

Celebrating Seven Years of the Doctor Who Companion

Celebrating Seven Years of the #DoctorWho Companion

Today (26th March 2023), the Doctor Who Companion celebrates its seventh birthday. That feels quite mad, honestly. As you might or might not know, the DWC was created after Kasterborous seemingly sunk and the displaced crew was looking for somewhere else to enthuse about Doctor Who. I began writing for Kasterborous in 2011 and the DWC launched in 2016; while the K has been going long before that…

[unproduciblesmackdown]

between mister chestnut and mister macabee’s embrace at the end of this video & the former’s “i love my friends” in the earlier clip, this is an extra heartwarming mister chestnut’s christmas medley performance

also, with the fact that that (almost, since they’re already onstage at the beginning of the video) full uncle peenie & aunt loretta’s christmas around the world medley Performance from the tenth annual show ends with feliz navidad, i wonder if by that point (so, four years later, these clips being from the sixth annual show, 2013 vs 2017 (and that full mister chestnut sequence ft. will roland that is also available being the prior year, 2012, fifth annual show)) the mister chestnut’s christmas medley has a different song for its finale. i suppose “two sequences end w/the same number” could itself be a joke, but may as well either a) use the opportunity for another song or b) push the joke where it’s “sequences just won’t stop ending with feliz navidad”....haven’t seen later mister chestnut videos, or any uncle peenie & aunt loretta videos from before that tenth show’s, so no further info really, like if they swapped songs or anything. or even if the uncle peenie and aunt loretta christmas around the world sequence wasn’t there from the start, since even photowise i can’t say For Sure it was around before the eighth annual show or so, and no signs of it in the videos from the very earliest shows that i’ve ever spotted, for what it’s worth, my not having seen Every such video necessarily lol. so i can imagine it Could be like, if we’ve invented this new sequence, may as well move this song over to that one, and replace it with [???] here....christmysteries

[muzansfangs]

Shinji arguing with wife reader cuz he don't want her going on missions turning into passionate breeding 🙏🙏

Maternity leave.

Starring: Shinji Hirako x f!reader;

Format: drabble;

Warnings: nsfw, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, rough sex, breeding kink, mention to pregnancy, turn back the pendolum arc, power imbalance, dirty talk, established relationship, married couple, altercations, overprotective Shinji, jealousy, kind of toxic Shinji;

Plot: When you decide to request a transfer from the Fifth Division to the Twelfth, your husband feels the ground shake beneath his feet. All of his efforts to keep you away from supposedly dangerous missions had turned out to be useless. Maybe, then, it is time for him to assure your absence from the battlefield for nine months.

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

“What did ya say?” the Captain of the Fifth Division disinterestedly asked you, cheek propped onto the upturned palm of his hand, his posture indecent for a man of his rank. Trying to keep Shinji Hirako in line, however, was impossible. You had given up on it long ago, leaving the absurd and tiresome task to the brilliant Lieutenant your husband had just appointed.

Anyway, biting your tongue not to reprimand him for his deleterious habit of slacking off early in the morning, you huffed and threw your hands in the air in frustration “I said that’s my last day in the Fifth Division. Do I have to ask Captain Unohana to check your hearing?” you replied pointedly sarcastic in the inclination your voice took.

He blinked. A reaction. This time you had his full attention.

“What the heck? — he scoffed — I don’t think I get it”.

“Well, that’s not my problem. I’ll keep my rank of Fourth seat, but I’ll be working for Captain Urahara starting from tomorrow” you informed him, narrowing your eyes at his scornful attitude. You expected him to hamstring your initiative. After all, he was your husband and your Captain. He refused to let you go.

Despite that, Captain Hirako had it coming. After decades of denying you the consent to go on ‘risky’ missions in the World of the Livings, you had officially decided you were not going to accept such a treatment any longer. You were even better than the Third seat he had promoted a couple of years ago, yet he had confined you to a lower rank for the sake of his obsession to keep you safe and sound. You were so fed up. His decisions were questionable and even your collegues were starting rumors about ‘the Captain’s favoritism towards his wife’. On the other hand, arguing daily with your husband hurt you. The best solution was for you to be another Captain’s underling.

“Why? Do ya really think I’m gonna sign the documents to allow—”.

“It won’t be necessary” you cut him off, unfolding a paper signed from the Captain Commander himself. Of course you had outfoxed him. You were far-sighted, sadly. Your husband knew how sneaky you could be, when you wanted something so desperately.

He tsked, scrunching up the paper in indignation and tossing it in the bin underneath his desk “You can’t do that to me! What have I done to deserve this?”.

“And what did I do to be perpetually the last choice for missions? You secrifice lower ranks to spare my life, when I could easily get the job done unscathed and save them from a miserable death!” you snapped, watching your husband clench his fists down his sides and circle the desk to stand directly in front of you.

The tension was palpable between you two. Shinji knew you were right. He had sent the ninth and tenth seats to fight off a couple of Hollows in Karakura only for them to never return. The mission was initially yours to take. The kind Lieutenant had even offered you his support, suggesting your husband to let you make your experinces under his watch.

The idea of you in another dimension with a man that was not him revolted Shinji. Sending two young recruits to die had been incredibly reckless from his behalf, but it was not yours the name your comrades were mourning now, right?

“You should be grateful I’m protecting you!” Shinji retaliated, staring you down coldly and expecting you to fold like you always did when this got messy.

The moment you bitterly laughed at his face and shook your head at his declaration, he realized how serious you were about abandoning the Division and spit on his face for loving you a little too much “This is your excuse for making me cast off my role of a shinigami? I have been serving the Gotei 13 longer before we started dating. I am a warrior, Shinji. No matter what happens to my sentimental life. I have sweared to protect this place before you decided protecting me was your priority”.

You watched his eyes widen in horror, hand palming his forehead before he closed his eyes in what you assumed was defeat. There was nothing he could do to prevent you from working for Urahara. Still, there was actually something he could do to temporary keep you out of the battlefield. You had been talking about it for years now, but the longevity of your lives somehow alleviated the pressure of procreating. Here. This was what he had to do. He had to impregnate you, fucking you so hard and intensely you were going to beg him to fill you up over and over again.

The hot minute of silence between you two made you think it was time to leave to pack your stuff, but you were suddenly spun around by your husband whose lips stole a scorching kiss from you.

The initial surprise left your body almost instinctively as you began to reciprocate his kisses. His hands fumbled with the sash of your hakama to yank your pants down your thighs. You could sense some eagerness in his frantic actions, his nimble fingers working their way insides your underwear to pry your dewy folds open. Sharp intakes of air filled the silence of his office, whilst he began to rub your clitoris furiously.

“You can’t solve your problems with sex” you pointed out, a strained moan erupting from your throat the moment he sank his index into you hole.

“Too bad you let me fuck your attitude out of you every damn time then” Shinji rasped out, teeth nipping at your earlobe while he heedlessly backed you to his desk. How many times he had wrecked you on the office forniture. How many times you had let him do that. Today was not an exception.

You rolled your eyes at him, legs finally free from your trousers as he lined his shaft to your entrance and hovered over you completely. Your legs enveloped his narrow his, a blond waterfall of silky hair draping over your face as he snapped his hips forwards. You moaned out in pleasure, his cock splitting your warm walls apart gradually. How beautiful you looked like that to him.

Mouth ajar, you spasmed out in bliss, allowing him to bask in your beauty.

“C’mon, tell me I’m a massive idiot for putting your safety above anythin’ else” he flaunted himself, pulling himself half way out before plunging back into you with force.

The desk creaked, you whined “You think a quickie can change my mind? Bold of you to assume I’m so shallow” you retorted, hands tugging at the long strands of his hair as he liked you to do.

But Shinji knew what he was doing, when he did not pull out that night. He knew what he was doing when the following day he sent you to Urahara with wobbly legs and his seed leaking out of you with each step you took. He knew he had won when you got pregnant and Urahara granted you a maternity leave.

After all, he was not going to lose the argument, or you.

AUTHOR NOTE.

Happy Halloween, guys! I have literally picked a random thirst from my inbox and … Well, I have written it down impulsively. Hopefully, this does not suck. Anyway, let me know your precious opinions and remember to support your favorite blogs by liking, commenting and, above all, re-posting!

Love,

– Luce

TAGS: @j-u-u-z-o @jesurum-says-hi @villainsrtasty @yeowangies @my-my-my @dehemetera (un po’ di Shinji non guasta mai), @noirfan12 @pin-k-ink @persuasivus

[wonder-worker]

A central element of the myth of [Eleanor of Aquitaine] is that of her exceptionalism. Historians and Eleanor biographers have tended to take literally Richard of Devizes’s conventional panegyric of her as ‘an incomparable woman’ [and] a woman out of her time. […] Amazement at Eleanor’s power and independence is born from a presentism that assumes generally that the Middle Ages were a backward age, and specifically that medieval women were all downtrodden and marginalized. Eleanor’s career can, from such a perspective, only be explained by assuming that she was an exception who rose by sheer force of personality above the restrictions placed upon twelfth-century women.

-Michael R. Evans, Inventing Eleanor: The Medieval and Post-Medieval Image of Eleanor of Aquitaine

"...The idea of Eleanor’s exceptionalism rests on an assumption that women of her age were powerless. On the contrary, in Western Europe before the twelfth century there were ‘no really effective barriers to the capacity of women to exercise power; they appear as military leaders, judges, castellans, controllers of property’. […] In an important article published in 1992, Jane Martindale sought to locate Eleanor in context, stripping away much of the conjecture that had grown up around her, and returning to primary sources, including her charters. Martindale also demonstrated how Eleanor was not out of the ordinary for a twelfth-century queen either in the extent of her power or in the criticisms levelled against her.

If we look at Eleanor’s predecessors as Anglo-Norman queens of England, we find many examples of women wielding political power. Matilda of Flanders (wife of William the Conqueror) acted as regent in Normandy during his frequent absences in England following the Conquest, and [the first wife of Henry I, Matilda of Scotland, played some role in governing England during her husband's absences], while during the civil war of Stephen’s reign Matilda of Boulogne led the fight for a time on behalf of her royal husband, who had been captured by the forces of the empress. And if we wish to seek a rebel woman, we need look no further than Juliana, illegitimate daughter of Henry I, who attempted to assassinate him with a crossbow, or Adèle of Champagne, the third wife of Louis VII, who ‘[a]t the moment when Henry II held Eleanor of Aquitaine in jail for her revolt … led a revolt with her brothers against her son, Philip II'.

Eleanor is, therefore, less the exception than the rule – albeit an extreme example of that rule. This can be illustrated by comparing her with a twelfth century woman who has attracted less literary and historical attention. Adela of Blois died in 1137, the year of Eleanor’s marriage to Louis VII. […] The chronicle and charter evidence reveals Adela to have ‘legitimately exercised the powers of comital lordship’ in the domains of Blois-Champagne, both in consort with her husband and alone during his absence on crusade and after his death. […] There was, however, nothing atypical about the nature of Adela’s power. In the words of her biographer Kimberley LoPrete, ‘while the extent of Adela’s powers and the political impact of her actions were exceptional for a woman of her day (and indeed for most men), the sources of her powers and the activities she engaged in were not fundamentally different from those of other women of lordly rank’. These words could equally apply to Eleanor; the extent of her power, as heiress to the richest lordship in France, wife of two kings and mother of two or three more, was remarkable, but the nature of her power was not exceptional. Other noble or royal women governed, arranged marriages and alliances, and were patrons of the church. Eleanor represents one end of a continuum, not an isolated outlier."

[infinatenoise]

Shakespere plays badly described in one sentence:

Romeo And Juliet - Your "Love had different plans" writing excuse ended with a restraining order and two dead kids

Macbeth - Girlboss uses her sopping pathetic wet dog of a husband to gain political power, ends horribly.

Hamlet - Pathetic emo boy destroys career of his creepy uncle

Titus Andronicus - It's a soap opera because after you watch it you feel the need to wash yourself thoroughly

The Tempest - One man's real person ship fic saves the government from corruption

Merchant Of Venice - The way to make your play where the main villain is a jewish person portraying every negative stereotype is by making the main christian characters the biggest pricks in existance

Twelfth Night - Shakespeare was a COWARD for not making the woman marry the sister and the man marry the brother.

Othello - A commentary on racism slightly ruined by the fact that the main villain shares a name with a cartoon disney parrot

[boizandgurlzinthehouse]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐰𝐞 𝐝𝐨 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞.

pairing: coriolanus snow x toxic!fem!reader

summary: someone always throw a spanner in her works, to achieve her biggest dream —being coriolanus' lover, wife and claiming power. luckily, y/n is not on the loser side when it comes to playing.

trigger warnings: mastermind!reader, toxic!reader (for real, she's doing nasty things), reader's family is a bit fucked up, reader is obsessed with coriolanus snow, lying, swearing, blood, violence, killing people, hunger games stuff, i just love volumnia gaul, reader hates lucy gray and everybody who's around coriolanus, mental health problems mentioned such as psychotism.

𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄. 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓.

their peace was harassed. again. 

lying on her bed, y/n’s legs were flexing with the same rhythm as her heart beated and her brain ticked. 

that bitch. that dickhead. that fucking new rule.  

turning onto her back, y/n bruised her hands into her hair. too many things happened today, too fast and she couldn’t do anything. she couldn’t do anything to get closer to her first and only lover, coriolanus. it was the perfect plan she had made; going to the same places he went, organizing her whole life around him and gaining access into his heart. and after that? marriage, of course. and kids, and endless wealth that could be provided by her family and his position, because y/n didn’t accept anyone else as a husband than the president of panem. they could be the perfect couple, and her family almost gave the benediction to their marriage. 

only if this fucking day wouldn’t happen. 

today, in the school were coriolanus was studying –y/n was a private student, her family only trusted the teachers that educated the former younger members of the family like her older brother, who was now the leader of the first district–, a new rule was stated: students’ grades wasn’t the reason anymore for the plinth-prize, no. they needed to be a mentor for those poor losers who fought on the ruthless game named hunger games. y/n didn’t care about hunger games really much, but when her family was watching it on the tv in the salon, she sat down too, to watch how people’s true nature came out. while her family enjoyed watching it, they got her to take medicine since the doctor of the family stated her as a little bit mentally unstable. he said some symptoms like… lack of empathy, callous and manipulative? she was just like her grandma, astoria. it was nothing special. 

coriolanus got to be a mentor, and she got a girl from the twelfth district. it was not only the reason of her rage that that fuckhead casca took most of his chance away from winning the prize, and that he needed to work on this much more so they couldn’t be together, but… he got a girl. a girl named lucy gray. and lucy gray can watch herself if she does anything to woo coriolanus. 

y/n got to know him when they sat at the same time in the library; it was love at the first sight. she fell too deep, and from now on, she did everything to get close to him. if she was the universe, coriolanus was the sun; everything was for and about him. she made it known to him even, telling him that he has a big future, and that he needs to watch out because everybody’s going to hunt him down. but she’s gonna protect his safety, not significantly, because she knew how important pride was for men, even if she thought that it was sometimes hilarious. she’s gonna be the shadow around him, the shadow nobody can step over to get to him. y/n knew what’s good for him, and she made real intentions in the past too, from things like speaking with her father so he could soften up casca and give him that damn prize to the even action like being friends with his sister, tigris and his grandmother, the grandma’am. they were nice anyway, so she didn’t mind, same with the money she left in their house ‘accidentally’, or paying for oriolanus’ and hers dinner or snack or coffee when they were hanging out together. her father loved y/n endlessly, because she was just like his mother, her grandmother, but he couldn’t crawl under casca’s skin against the man’s will. while her whole family laughed at that damn girl, lucy gray, who sang and got knocked down on the ground, y/n knew that she was a potential danger. in that moment when she saw the way coriolanus looked at her, y/n decided that lucy gray, this or that way, had to go. there wasn’t any space for others in their love, and anyone that decided to harass it, was gonna pay the prize. 

turning on her stomach, she drew out her journal with shaky hands from anger, tearing up the page where she wrote down steps for the plan. she had another notebook for the doctor who read it monthly, and that notebook was full of ‘normal’ thoughts. but this, this journal… this contained everything that was her. and all of her love for corio, with pictures, letters they wrote to each other, little notes they changed through boring library afternoons, her plans for the wedding dress she’s gonna wear when they marry, and the names of the children they’re gonna have, not to mention the plan and the little footnotes she added to make it really, really perfect. scanning through the papers, she knew she hadn’t planned for this. how could you be so stupid? or was casca that dickhead, that fucker, he’s throwing a spanner in my works, but he’s gonna regret it. yeah, he’s gonna regret it, but not now. this was so perfectly worked out, it was truly a masterpiece, and now, some dickhead fucked it up completely. there were two things y/n didn’t like: people who stood between her and coriolanus, and people who thought they had the right to shit into her plan. 

throwing her journal away with a scream, her white, beautiful cat, persephone meowed loudly, jumping out from the way. looking into her direction, y/n called the cat closer to herself with bending her fingers. crawling into her arms, she rocked her like a real baby. 

“casca thinks he can stop us, sweetheart. but we gotta show him that we are clever, aren’t we, persy?” she asked, stroking the cat’s fluffy fur. persephone was y/n’s best friend; she never gave away her secrets, and always purred when the girl took her into her lap. “we can’t give up, no, sweetheart. we’re almost there, we can’t give up now, and we won’t, will we?” 

persephone meowed again, while y/n picked up the journal. grabbing a pen, thinking about the plan, what was wrong with it? was it not detailed enough? was it too straight? or… her cat accidentally tossed down a picture with her big tail, making y/n sigh. 

“you need to diet, persy.” muttering, when she lifted up the picture, it was her and coriolanus, her favorite picture. and in the background, there was sejanus, clemensia, arachne and many more of his classmates. in the background, blurred out, just as she liked… 

what do they have in common? 

they all had a relationship with corio. with her too, but… that can’t be all. what if the plan was wrong because she only focused on her lover? but it’s the point of it, to have a focus on him. suddenly, it hit her like a train her brother came last night with from the first district.  

she had to peel them down from coriolanus… one by one. it’s gonna be a little bit tiring and difficult, but y/n always loved challenges. and everything that could lead to coriolanus was worth fighting for –even if this fight was a little bit dirty. but her plans weren’t dirty, and she could never be dirty. she did it all for love, for their happiness. 

“you are a fucking genius, persy.” she muttered into the cat’s fur, making her meow again. 

before she could really write down the list of the people who could stand in their way, someone knocked on her door. 

“dear sister, could you come down for dinner?” it was her older sister, morphia. she was about to wed the mayor of the second district. y/n was gonna miss her, really, but not when she disturbed her mind while planning another masterpiece. 

“of course, i’m coming!” she opened the door. kissing the cat’s fur and putting her down to the bed so she could nap, noting in her mind that she needed to bring her food after dinner. morphia saw behind her back, on the bed her other notebook, the ‘normal’ notebook. 

“were you writing down your day?” morphia asked while walking beside her little sister on the hallway of the first floor of their home. they had a three floor house, the whole y/l/n dynasty lived together under one roof, including the husbands and wives who got married into the family. the wealth came from her sharp-minded grandfather, dmitri y/l/n, who had enough influence to get the control of the first and second district, getting ten percent of income from both districts for his own family after the war. he could do it because with his help, bombs were useful enough to stop rebellions. that way, the y/l/n house became rich between the richest, and they had enough respect so nobody doubted the wealth they had. did they get it dirty? yes. did they have guilt? of course not. 

“yeah, i was. so many things happened today. did you hear that corio has to attend the games like a mentor? he got a girl from the twelfth district, it’s so unfair, isn’t it?” she replied, walking beside the frescos of their deceased family members, facing the big windows shaded by heavy brocade curtains. the whole hallway covered with soft burgundy carpet, between the frescos, vases of beautiful roses stood on marble piles. everybody who took a walk in the y/l/n house, they could almost believe that war never happened. 

“you care so much about him, you’re gonna be the best wife. but still, please use your brain, sister. you are so clever, it would be a shame if our family wasted such a perfect mind between children and housekeeping.”

“i already submitted my papers to volumnia gaul. my grades and studies are great from biology and chemistry, maybe i can be one of her geneticists or scientists.” 

“it would be great. our family was never one of those who planned the games. father will be proud of you, just like me and everyone from the family.” morphia stroked her sister’s hair, going down the spiral stairs. the rain was softly falling, tapping on the windows. y/n’s smile was moderate; of course coriolanus was important, but her family was just as much. whatever, whenever, wherever you do, do it with pride. 

sitting through dinner, y/n formed the list in her mind, smiling and laughing when the others did, eating from the big plates. at night, she wrote down everything with persephone in her lap after her dinner too, a glass of wine beside the picture of coriolanus and a little, heart-shaped candle she got from him. 

the list. 

1.arachne crane. her family is part of the old guard of the wealthy from the capitol. they work in the travel industry, having developed luxury hotels in vacation destinations. she’ always very loud and always socking people. she’s not behaving like a noble, truly pathetic.  relationship with corio: they had grown up together, attending important events in each other's lives, as was natural for members of two families of money who lived close together, but did not really like each other. how to get rid of her: waiting. she got a girl from the tenth district, the tribute-mentor work will probably make her busy. at that time, i can speak on my behalf for coriolanus, maybe angering her towards me, to play victim. coriolanus doesn’t like her anyway. 

arachne was an easy prey. otherwise, the first rule of the plan was always to keep her hands clean. never, nobody could know that behind their downfall, there was y/n. 

2. clemensia dovecote  daughter of the energy secretary. she’s always up coriolanus’ ass, only because he’s the one who she can take advantage of. no original thoughts, only crawling up on everybody’s backs. really, really pathetic.  relationship with corio: only classmates. but a really annoying one.  how to get rid of her: she’s gonna fail herself either way, always wanting to be tricky, faith is gonna be her end. if not, talking with my father about her bad reputation, so her and her family’s gonna end up warned. 

y/n trusted her father enough to not to speak out loud that she was the one who intended on it. the y/l/n house always protected each other at all costs, and she wasn’t an exception. 

2. sejanus plinth // DANGER. only child of strabo and mrs. plinth, a wealthy couple from district 2. his father, strabo, made much of his wealth from munitions and weapon manufacturing. rich, has influence.  relationship with corio: his parents almost treat him as their own child. really, really dangerous.  how to get rid of him: …

y/n stopped while writing. sejanus liked her too, because he knew corio and she was almost a couple, but really… sejanus could stop him if he even said a word. it doesn’t work if she’s too kind, if sejanus himself doesn’t, his father will notice it, the bond is too tight and she didn’t want to suffocate in it. she needs to wait until something happens, and intervene when coriolanus is in doubt. 

“we have a lot of work before us, don’t we, persy?” she asked, leaning down to kiss her sleeping cat’s head. looking out the window, the rain fell continually, striking a bolt when she wrote down the fourth person. 

3. lucy gray braid // (?) family member of the nomadic group called ‘covey’, coriolanus’ contestant in the 10th hunger games. rumors say that she got into the games because she was messing around with another girl from the twelfth district.  relationship with corio: neutral. keep in mind if something happens. her actions may be out from surviving.  how to get rid of her: she has to win, so coriolanus can get the plinth-award. other than that, she’s gonna be taken back to twelfth district. keep in mind if something happens. 

lucy gray, lucy gray… you’re gonna be in big, big trouble if you take him away from me. you looked at him in the wrong way. 

y/n sighed, tossing her pen down. she needed to do some research for the coveys, whoever they were. it’s gonna be a long night, but her happy, perfect life with coriolanus will be even longer if she makes lucy gray gone. 

“songbirds can fly high enough to get away from snakes, you know that, persy? but even they can’t get away from a big storm.” y/n giggled, finding peace in the monstrous rumbling above them, heavy droplets banging on the window. sitting at her dressing table, she chose the lipstick she’s going to wear when coriolanus and she shares their first kiss. it was perfect. looking into the mirror, there was a strange glint in her eye, the one she always had only for herself. if she can’t get him one way, she will on the other. 

and anyway… her storm is gonna rock the whole panem. 

[yikesharringrove]

steve and billy teaching in the same school!! there's these teachers in my school and they work right across the hall from each other. they're always yelling into each others classrooms.

she teaches english lit 101 and he teaches gov 102

"Harrington!"

Some of the kids snickered quietly when Mr. Harrington jumped at the shout from across the hall.

He stared blankly at the last word he had written on the board, the black Expo mark wiggles from where he had jumped at the yell of his name.

He turned around, sighing exaggeratedly at Mr. Hargrove standing in the doorway.

"Kids, excuse my coworker here." He crossed his arms around his chest. "Can I help you?"

"Yeah, you can Mr. H."

Steve rolled his eyes as his husband swaggered into his classroom, leading a line of ninth graders with him.

It's not the first time Billy's interrupted his class with a question about some inane bullshit that launched Steve into an over-excited rant for the rest of class.

Steve's tenth and eleventh graders were already closing their textbooks, knowing their teacher was just about to be insanely distracted for the rest of class.

"The birds n' I are reading The Crucible."

Fuck.

Steve's pretty sure Billy's kids pay him to bring them across the hall for these impromptu lectures.

"Witch hunts. I get it."

"Yeah, you know. Anyway, I'm giving some context to the publishing of the book. The Red Scare in the United States, well, the second Red Scare, as well as the rise of McCarthyism coincided with the publishing of the play."

Goddammit.

Steve's fucking master's thesis was on all about McCarthyism (more specifically, how the second Red Scare was directly linked to the Lavender Scare.) He cited the stupid play in his research.

Billy knows that. They were already engaged by the time Steve began his master's program.

Fuck this guy, for real.

Steve quietly closed his power point presentation on interest groups in America.

"Fine. Mr. Hargrove's class, find a seat. My class, your packet is still due Friday. I'll post the slides after class." He glared at Billy.

Billy grinned right back, his tongue poking out in that frustrating way it has since high school.

"1950s United States. What do you know?"

A few hands went up.

Even Billy raised his stupid hand. Steve ignored him.

-

"Which brings us to the end of the decade. With the early 1960s, we have the reformation in the Catholic Church, known as Vatican ll-"

The bell cut him off mid-sentence, and there was a mad scramble as the students all tried to pack up as quickly as possible, before Steve could keep going.

"My class," he nearly shouted over the scraping of chairs against linoleum. "Your packets are still due Friday! I don't care that Mr. Hargrove interrupted our time."

"And birds! The rubric is posted on the class page! I want outlines handed in on Tuesday."

The classroom door closed behind the final kid.

"You're a dick."

Billy laughed.

"Nah, you just teach that shit so much better than I do."

Steve rolled his eyes. He sat behind his desk, yanking over a stack of twelfth grade research assignments to begin grading. Billy perched on the other side of his desk.

"Y'know, you could just ask me to come in and lecture. You don't have to interrupt my own class."

"Yeah, but it's fun to wind you up and watch you go. And I think the birds like it when they see that you're passionate about something. Why do you think I always start with The Joy Luck Club?"

"Because you have mommy issues."

"No. Because Ying-ying's story makes me sob like a bitch, and the birds get to realize that I'm a real-life human."

Steve scrubbed his face with his hands, collecting himself before facing his dumbass husband again.

"Wait, you said they had an essay due. What's the essay?"

"Oh, comparing the Salem Witch Trials and the goings on of the U.S. government in the mid 1950s. You know."

"So, you created an assignment, knowing that I would infodump all that shit to your kids?"

"Yes."

"I want a divorce."

Billy laughed, leaning over Steve's desk to kiss his forehead.

"No, you don't."

"No, I don't. I love you. But also you suck."

The bell sounded to indicate the end of passing period.

Billy got off the desk, stretching with a groan.

"Would you be mad if I brought my senior class in?"

Steve glared at him in the doorway.

"What's the assignment?"

"They're presenting on the parallels between 1984 and the current political climate."

Goddammit.

"Bring 'em in."

[goodqueenaly]

Hi I loved your thoughts on Myranda Royce and was wondering what your thoughts were on Bronze Yohn? He seems an honourable sort but almost a bit to Ned Starkish for his own good. Do you think him and Sansa will end up saving each other by bringing down Littlefinger?

I think Bronze Yohn Royce is in many ways about as typical a Westerosi aristocrat, and specifically a blue-blooded Valeman, as we’re likely to find throughout the Seven Kingdoms. Even before we meet Lord Royce on page, we hear of him through social-political reputation: he is the head of Ser Waymar’s “ancient house with too many heirs”, the great lord whom Lord Commander Mormont was too afraid of insulting to refuse the under-experienced Ser Waymar command of his fatal ranging, the high-ranking guest of Winterfell welcomed at table with Lady Catelyn and in the yard and at hunt with Lord Eddard. His place among the top tier of Westerosi aristocracy has been long assured: Royce attended both the tourney of Harrenhal and the tourney at Lannisport, tilting at both, and defeated at least Thoros of Myr at the melee held to celebrate Joffrey’s twelfth birthday. Nor does Lord Yohn appear less than impressive when he comes into the story himself: Sansa counts him among the “heroes of a hundred songs” who pass by her at the Hand’s tourney, and almost reverently describes his namesake runic armor to Jeyne Poole. Indeed, Catelyn indirectly acknowledges Bronze Yohn’s stature in Westerosi, and particularly Vale, aristocracy by describing Nestor Royce as “Bronze Yohn’s cousin, from a lesser branch of House Royce”; even another aristocrat in his own right should, in Catelyn’s mind, be defined by his relation to the much greater Lord Royce.

Unfortunately for Bronze Yohn, being so typically aristocratic has at times influenced his decision-making, occasionally leading to unwinnable situations where traditional blue-blood lines of thought and operation simply do not work. If Royce was not alone in rejecting Tyrion as a bridegroom for one of his female relations, his refusal reflects the widespread ableism found among Westeros’ elite. Along with the majority of the other great (male) aristocrats of the Vale (at least according to Kevan Lannister), Lord Royce sought to court the widowed Lysa in order to exercise power as a sort of jure uxoris regent; unwilling, perhaps, to engage in a sort of Ainslie Bond-like approach to forcing Lysa into an aristocratically appropriate marriage (much less actually trying to imitate the historical Earl of Bothwell), and convinced that the Vale could only be ruled by an Arryn or one of the highest birth who was himself (specifically himself) closest to an Arryn, Bronze Yohn was perhaps, like his countrymen, stuck with simply trying to woo Lysa into marrying him in order to effect the changes he wanted. Even more problematically for Bronze Yohn (and his allies), in their approach toward Petyr Baelish the Lords Declarant were simply outmatched, caught by the very aristocratic forms they were trying to enforce. Certain that only a blue-blooded Valeman would do to raise Jon Arryn’s son, disdainful of the relatively lower born second husband of Lysa Tully controlling the Arryn heir, Bronze Yohn was, like his allies, limited to making bald but impotent threats against a man with sufficient personal and royal resources (themselves largely one and the same, of course, as the late great Steven Attewell explained) not to be intimidated by such posturing. In turn, Bronze Yohn seems to have poured at least some of his energies into cultivating the would-be Arryn heir, Harry Hardyng, staging (in every sense of the word) a melee at Runestone and knighting the victorious Harry thereafter; it is perhaps not unlikely, if no better for it, that Bronze Yohn, intractably opposed to Littlefinger, encouraged young Harry to look down on Littlefinger - a snobbishness that for Harry has extended, at least initially, to open rudeness toward “Alayne Stone”.

However, Bronze Yohn’s ironclad (or should it be bronzeclad?) belief in his aristocratic position does not preclude him from a willingness to act in the name of honor, and to lead his family accordingly. While he might have been pursuing Lysa as a suitor, Bronze Yohn was nevertheless not shy about “stirring up all sorts of trouble”, in Lysa’s opinion, by demanding that “[Lysa] call [her] banners and go to war” on the side of Robb Stark - a recognition by Lord Royce, I think, not just of the historical kinship between Stark and Royce (and the threat to him personally, as one of those identified in Cersei’s initial demand for homage) but also of the generally dishonorable conduct of the Lannister-Baratheon regime. Too, though Yohn Royce obviously did not know about the secret agreement between Lyn Corbray and Littlefinger (nor, by extension, the pretended dramatics Lyn acted out during the Lords Declarant meeting), Bronze Yohn responded with honorably appropriate fury - denouncing the man he believed was his ally to defend the hallowed tradition of guest right (even where the beneficiary of that tradition, in this scenario, was the much-loathed Petyr Baelish). Likewise, I think due credit should be given to Bronze Yohn for raising at least two of his sons (certainly those two most familiar to us as readers) with a sense of duty and bravery even in the face of unwindable odds: though both Waymar and Robar demonstrated some of the haughty self-assurance typical of young Westerosi aristocrats of their rank (albeit perhaps not totally for Waymar), both also proved willing to die in the name of honor - Waymar distinguishing himself as a man of the Night’s Watch in doing battle against the Others, Robar allowing Catelyn and Brienne time to flee while he himself fought the grief-stricken Loras Tyrell following Renly’s murder.

Ultimately, I do believe that Bronze Yohn will be an ally to Sansa, both because of that aristocratic standing as well as his personal sense of honor. Sansa already considered revealing herself to Bronze Yohn when the latter came with the Lords Declarant to the Eyrie, and while she decided against doing so in the moment, she had no way of knowing that her reasoning was wrong: Royce did want to fight for Robb, and with Sansa the last remaining legitimate Stark (or so Sansa and Bronze Yohn believe for now, anyway), I think there is a very good chance that Royce will want to fight for her once Littlefinger’s plan to reveal her kicks into gear. Moreover, if Sansa, learning of Littlefinger’s crimes against her family and her friend Jeyne, calls upon northern and Vale lords to cast him down, I firmly believe Royce will be first in line, ready and more than willing to cast down the man Sansa knows was responsible for Jon Arryn’s death (among much else).

[literary-illuminati]

2024 Book Review 32 – The Adventures of Amina al-Sirafi by Shannon Chakraborty

This is the first book this year I picked up specifically and entirely because it got a Hugo nomination; I’d previously vaguely heard of it, but never in any detail and the title didn’t really grab me. Despite what an exercise in masochism the whole ‘read every nominee for best novel and novella’ turned out to be last year, I’m actually very glad I stuck with it. Not sure I’d actually vote for it – this years best novel slate is actually incredibly strong – but it was an absolutely lovely and just fun read.

As one might assume, the story follows the eponymous Amina al-Sirafi, infamous and legendary corsair, smuggler and general rogue plying the Indian ocean sometime in the 12th century. Dragged out of an obscure retirement by the aristocratic mother of a former crewman whose fate still haunts her, she is sent on a mission to rescue the crewman’s kidnapped (or runaway) child by the twin incentives of more money than she could ever spend on one hand and blatant threats to the safety of her own family on the other. From there, she puts her crew together, has an unfortunate reunion with her demonic not-technically-ex husband, makes a pact with an island of officious peris, and races to prevent a Norman warlock from seizing control of an ancient relic to make war upon God.

The setting is honestly the point of this as much as the actual plot or any of the characters are. The late medieval Islamic maritime world and the wider Indian Ocean trading networks are an incredibly rich milieu to sink your teeth into, and one the author’s clearly fallen wholly in love with. I can’t speak for their accuracy, but little details of life and flourishes of historical terminology drip off every page, and the whole thing sings with the amount of research that was put into it. It’s the vanishingly rare work of fiction with a list of further reading at the end that actually makes me want to go hunt them down.

Specifically placing it in the twelfth century is kind of interesting, in terms of placement in the Islamic Golden Age – long, long after political power became fully fragmented and the Islamic world was linked more by economic and cultural ties, in the midst of the Crusades in the Levant, but still a few generations before the Mongols sack Baghdad. I really don’t have any ideas or assumptions about te why here, it’s just centuries later than the voyage of Sinbad the book is clearly riffing off of, so it makes me curious.

The enthusiastically researched and real-feeling setting does sadly kind of stop with the characters. Amina is sincerely religious and comfortable with the supernatural in a way that feels much more fitting than the vast majority of fantasy protagonists, but in every other sense she is clearly written to be relatable and sympathetic to an assumed audience of modern liberals. (Near-)Queernorm settings are great, but does jar with the fixation on historical grounding a bit. (The whole beat where dragging a runaway bride back to their family and decades older rich fiancee is unfortunate but for their own good until it’s realized they’re trans also kind of feels like a parody of a certain kind of identity-focused liberalism).

Between this and the Radiant Emperor duology I’m definitely rediscovering a real love for historic low fantasy. The research burden is immense but it’s hard to beat the actual past for making a world that feels lived in and real, and provide the vital sense that there are a thousand other stories happening just out of shot. The complete lack of generic-western-fantasy magic and monsters is also nearly as appreciated as the lack of castles and earls.

Which is good, really, as if you ignore the setting there isn’t really much to chew on here. To an extent this seems deliberate – the story is trying to be a pulpy, larger-than-life swashbuckling adventure, what with the getting dragged out of retirement for one more big score and the getting the band back together and the cackling 1.5-dimensional villain trying to make himself as unto god. In the main it absolutely succeeds at this (though the introduction of a generous and competent pirate captain who lends Amina a ship and a spirit-cutting magic sword out of nowhere at the end of the second act does strain things a bit). It does end up feeling a bit like using the most gorgeous, lusciously details stage in the world for a bunch of puppets to act out a pantomime, though – Amina is basically the only character in the entire story that feels like a person instead of a cartoon. They are, at least, more amusing cartoons than not. Raksh the murderous but cowardly ambition-seeking incubus husband was a highlight.

All in all, a very fun, page-turning read. I’m looking forward to the sequel.

[thetardisisnotourdivision]

THEORY: SUSAN FOREMAN IS THE ONE WHO WAITS.

And also possibly Ruby's mother. 

And also Mrs Flood. Probably.

The Doctor promised her that he'd come back. And she never stopped waiting. She's been waiting for sixty years. 

THEORY, (it's very specific because it's inspired by “Wait For It” from Hamilton):

So Susan is left on Earth with David, whom she loves. Over the years, they become closer, even when sent to separate battlefields. The pain of being abandoned softens over time, and as she and David grow closer, eventually she allows herself to love him properly. He proposes, and they get married, and have children.

But over time, especially once she finds Ian and Barbara's diary - and possibly, subsequently, their graves - it starts to weigh on her. And, slowly, first her husband, her friends, her son Alex, and then her other children, her grandchildren, their children, start to die around her, and she's powerless to stop it.

And still the Doctor does not come back - she waits and waits for him, but he does not return. 

Until one day she receives summons from Gallifrey - a Time War, and they need her. She's extremely powerful, the only living descendant of the Timeless Child, (EDIT: in canon she had strong telepathic skills that even the Doctor was impressed by, and which almost got them all killed a few times) and one of the most important people they get on their side. Therefore, they also need a way of controlling her, which they don't yet have. During the Time War she spirals out of control - she repeatedly throws herself towards death and danger, only to find out that she cannot die once she's killed for the twelfth time. She starts experimenting with her power, testing her limits, seeing how powerful she can become. And when people ask who she is, she leaves a message for the Doctor - “tell him I'm still waiting for him to come back.” This leads to her being nicknamed "The One Who Waits".

Eventually, this madness manifests as her trying to attract the Doctor to her - creating mysteries, eventually creating fear and destruction amongst her enemies, terrorising the Pantheon - able to predict, via telepathy, every move that the Toymaker will make - in an attempt to lure him in, just so that she won't be alone anymore. (see: that one post about Sherlock post-Reichenbach where John is the murderer to lure Sherlock back to him).

The Time Lords realise that they need a way to control her, PRONTO. 

Now this bit in particular is a bit iffy:

Ruby might have been an orphan that Susan decided to look after, feeling responsible for the deaths of her parents

She may have been created like Jenny in an attempt to make more soldiers to fight, only it went wrong 

Maybe Susan fell in love, and as such has a baby.

Whatever the case, the Time Lords suddenly have their hostage. 

And they take Ruby. 

Doesn't really work. Susan's accustomed to committing war crimes at this point, therefore probably qualifies for President automatically - anyway, she storms the Capital and takes her baby back. But now she has the problem of how to protect her. So she takes Ruby to her own home - Earth. Uses a chameleon arch on herself, to make herself human, and watches over Ruby as Mrs Flood (that's a whole other theory that I'll post very soon)

Either this, OR

While Susan spirals out of control, the Time Lords, in retribution, dump Ruby on Earth, in 2004, just before we first meet the Doctor again (so near the end of the Time War probably is what I'm saying). The Doctor possibly has something to do with it. Susan, furious, burns through space and time in an attempt to find Ruby - which is why we keep seeing Susan Twist. She then - having regenerated - came up with the false identity of Mrs Flood upon finding Ruby living in London and settled down as her neighbour.

(EDIT: I would guess that Susan Twist is a red herring, created and fractured through time by the real Susan in order to find Ruby, but not only that - she's a mystery that the Doctor cannot resist, and he'll follow the trail, and finally "come back", like he promised.)

Whatever happens, Susan begins to blame the Doctor for hers and Ruby's situation, blaming him for taking everyone she loved from her - for abandoning them both on a planet where they would outlive everyone they love. 

There's the theory. Now, even in the Classic series, while Susan is often shown as the typical screaming girl stereotype, this is not the case - often, it's her who tips the balance of power within the TARDIS, she's often violent, quite ruthless, threatening, even, and seems to know more about hers and the Doctor's home, and why they left it, than the Doctor does. Whenever Gallifrey is described, it's Susan describing it - she reacts almost in horror when he says that they'll someday return there - and when Ping Cho asks where her home is, she replies evasively - “that's a very difficult question to answer, Ping Cho”. Usually, she's the one to explain things to others, a role that, when she leaves, the Doctor then takes on. 

I'm writing this out now because in the latest DWM there was an article on The Legend Of Ruby Sunday/Empire Of Death, with no less than SIX REFERENCES to Susan's era, directly using the phrase "unearthly children" to describe the Space Babies. The article also contained the phrase, "it started out as a mild curiosity in a churchyard -" (a play on a first doctor quote, "it started out as a mild curiosity in a junkyard") "- Now it's time to return". I take this as a reference to the line "One day, I shall come back" - and use it as further proof of Susan, who is waiting for him, ending up with the nickname The One Who Waits.

There's a lot more to this theory, including the Mrs Flood side of it, but there's the basics of it. Let me know what you think :-)

[sunlightmurdock]

Ceasefire | 0.8 | Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter | Masterlist

Synopsis: Bradley Bradshaw is in San Diego, summoned to Top Gun for the first time. Commander “Hyde” Simpson is his flight instructor, and she doesn’t have time for schoolboy crushes.

Warnings: ex-husband!beausimpson, divorce, age gap (rooster is somewhere between 26-28, reader is 38), power imbalance between instructor and student aviator, swearing, angst, smut, unprotected pinv, arguing

…

When you had read over Bob’s hastily typed note of Bradley’s address, you had failed to consider than number 4c was likely to not be a ground floor apartment. Three floors up, your heels are digging into your feet and you’ve still got the taste of Beau’s tongue in your mouth.

With your jacket abandoned at the wedding, you pad along the hallway of the building and knock politely at the blue wood. Cold breeze, shame, and an entire day spent near an open bar — you’re not in the mood to be playing waiting games. The civility fades from your touch with each bang against the cheaply painted, powder blue front door.

The door to the apartment finally swings open after maybe the twelfth knock.

Bradley’s standing on the other side, his suit jacket and tie long discarded, the sleeves of his white shirt rolled up to the elbows and the top few buttons popped open. Ignoring you clearly wasn’t going to work. Handsome, hurt — gearing up to slam the door in your face again, you need to work quickly. Words pour into your head and spill out again just as quickly, not a single one of them making it past your lips.

He stares at you, nailing the wounded look. You’re so filled with guilt that it’s already pushing up and spilling out, he rolls his eyes as you start to pour with apologies.

“What do you want, Hyde?” He asks dully, keeping his body between the opening in the door, making it painfully clear that he wants you nowhere near him.

“I’m so sorry that you saw that, Bradley — I didn’t mean-“

He scoffs and pushes at the door, leaving it to swing shut as he turns away. You catch it before it slams in your face, pushing yourself inside and shutting it behind you.

You’re standing now in his living room. It’s a sparsely decorated space, a grey L-Shaped couch in the corner, navy and white area rug in the middle, a big tv with a gaming console plugged into it.

“Rooster, let me explain, please.” You sigh, taking a step towards him. He’s hurt. He takes a quick step back and holds a hand out towards you, keeping you at arm’s length.

“Are you still in love with him?”

It’s a loaded question, and you think that you’ve got the answer to it instantly. He knows what you’re going to say, but after what he saw tonight, he doesn’t want the first answer that springs to your mind. The look in his eyes makes you pause. You sigh softly.

“I’ll always love the memories that we have, the family that we created,” You answer gently, your tone sincere. Rooster stares at you. “But I don’t love him. He doesn’t make me happy, I’ll never be happy with him.”

You take a step towards him and this time he doesn’t move. You rest your hands on his hips, smoothing your fingers along the neat fabric of his white button up, lifting your gaze to look him in the eye. You both know that there’s still a gaping question, waiting for an answer. Does Rooster make you happy?

You trail your fingers up, along his forearm and curl them gently around his bicep, pulling yourself slightly closer to him.

Rooster scoffs, brushing you off of him, “But you’ll let him kiss you in front of everyone when I’m not even allowed to stop by your office anymore.”

“I didn’t let him do anything! — He was drunk and he just did it, Bradley. What was I supposed to do?”

“That’s not how it looked to me.” Bradley answers back, shaking his head. He steps into your space, “You were all over him all night. Look, Hyde, you’ve got kids with this guy — if I’m in the way, if there’s even a chance that the two of you are going to get back together, say it now.”

“How many times do I have to tell you that it’s over between him and I?” You groan, leaning your head back and sighing.

“After he just stuck his tongue down your throat in front of me, you might have to say it again.” He snaps back, cheeks reddening, brown eyes darkening. He hasn’t ever talked back to you like this.

You groan and and follow him forwards again, “Rooster, god fucking damnit — I’m divorcing him, I left him—“

“You’ve been divorcing him since I met you and he’s still wearing his fucking wedding ring!” Rooster bites back.

“He wasn’t — he wasn’t wearing it today.” You answer quietly, brows scrunching together. You hadn’t realised that Rooster had taken notice of that before now. He has, every single time he has seen your husband on base for the entirety of the summer, his eyes have always been drawn down to the gold band on Beau’s finger.

“Fucking Christ, you know what I meant.” Rooster mutters, shaking his head. He turns his gaze back towards you, cold. Your chest aches, knowing that if you reach for him again, he’ll just brush you off. He takes his time to read your expression. It’s clear that you’re feeling guilty, but he knows what he saw today, and it wasn’t two people who don’t love each other.

There’s a long pause. You know that there’s nothing you can say that will calm him down, he’s trying not to say something out of line. Still, after fifteen years of marriage to a man that can count the times he has smiled in the past year on one hand, you’ll be fine.

“I don’t know why you even came here.” He tells you, his voice low and careless. “You should go.”

Unfazed, you tilt your head and squint. Rooster stands firm opposite you.

“So, you’re calling the shots now? — The decision’s all yours?” You challenge, scrunching your brows at him. After the evening you’ve had with Beau, you’re tired of men and their egos, and the blame landing on you every time.

“Yeah, I am.” Rooster answers. “Let yourself out.”

Your mouth hangs open as he turns away from you and grabs his open beer from the end table before heading down the hallway. He makes it to his bedroom and still hasn’t heard the front door slam. He groans as he swings the door open.

The sound of your heels on the hallway floor ring through the apartment. It’s a small space, Javy’s room is opposite Bradley’s and Jake’s is on the other side of the living room.

“Go away, Hyde.” Rooster mumbles, taking a long drink from his beer and setting it down on his dresser.

“No, you listen to me—“

He scoffs, turning to face you, standing in his doorway and scowling at him like he has done something wrong.

“I’m done fucking listening to you!” He snaps. A few steps in your direction, the vein in his neck struggling against the white of his collar. You stand still, turning your gaze towards the ground just so you don’t have to see how much tonight hurt him. “Do I mean anything to you, Hyde? — Do you even give a fuck—“

“Oh my god, can we not do this now?” You groan, pinching the bridge of your nose. He chuckles dryly and takes another drink, then shakes his head.

“My thoughts exactly, I don’t have anything to say to you right now, so you should just leave.” He mutters, leaning back against the dresser and folding his arms over his chest. His muscles strain against the white of his shirt, hair messed with loose curls falling down onto his forehead.

The anger slips for a moment and you see just how hurt he is, all of the hurt that he’s holding in those pretty brown eyes.

“Can you at least let me explain?” You bite back, crossing the room and pointing your finger into his stupid, muscled chest.

A muscle in his jaw ticks. He swallows softly and leans back, folding his arms over his chest. An entire summer of trying to convince you that he’s worth the risk, and you crushing it all in the space of one evening. Like you weren’t just laying in his arms this morning, tracing your fingers over each of the freckles on his arms.

Furious is an understatement. His face flushes, throat tightening as he tries to keep his words to himself. Rooster had been wondering this whole time what you had possibly had in common with someone as cold as Cyclone. Now, after a summer of letting him think he had a chance, he gets it.

“No. You should go.” He stands firm, squaring his shoulders and glancing down at your finger still pressed into the fabric of his shirt. Your features tighten.

“Rooster, for god’s sake, it was just—“

He leans forwards and grabs the back of your neck, tugging you harshly forwards and pressing his lips to yours. One hand curling harshly into your hair, he tugs at your roots, taking advantage of the small whimper you let out after.

Lips parted, he slips his tongue into your mouth and grabs at your hip with his other hand. He presses harder into you, kissing at you mouth with a blind passion, your teeth knocking into his as you bump into the foot of his bed.

“Have you thought about doing what you’re told for once in your damn life?” He mumbles against your mouth, curling his hand tighter into your roots. You moan softly into him, pain and pleasure, him and only him. You let him have that one.

His hand comes up, catching hold of your jaw and tilting your neck back, angling your head exactly where he wants it as he drops his mouth down to suck at your throat. Almost painfully hard, leaving purple marks, covering them with his teeth and then kissing softly at the pressure points.

Your fingers curl into the fabric of his white shirt, creasing it under your grip as you tug it free from his belt. Rooster curls his fingers tighter around your jaw, cupping your throat in his hand as he sucks kisses against your neck.

Dizzied by his hold on you, his mouth against your skin, you fumble with his buttons, fingers trembling as you try to work them open. As his lips work along your throat eagerly, teeth doing maybe even more work than his lips, his hands are on your chest again.

Knees weakening, you grab onto his shoulders for leverage as he kneads your breasts under his palms, kissing feverishly along your neck. You stumble slightly, finally getting his shirt open. A longing sound slips your lip as you push the fabric back off of his shoulders, almost a groan, not quite a whimper. He pulls back just slightly, shrugging the material down his arms and discarding it onto his floor.

Rooster catches your wrist and turns you quickly away from him, grabbing the zipper at the back of your dress and tugging it down harshly. There’s a faint sound of something ripping, but that’s truly the last thing on your mind when his mouth is attached to your throat and he’s tearing you out of your clothes like a man possessed.

“Rooster!” You gasp, stumbling slightly as he spins you to face him again, letting your dress fall around your ankles.

“You want me to stop?” He breathes out, almost impatient as his hands curl around your hips. You stare at him, silent, blinking and trying to process what is happening in front of you. Slowly, your head shakes from left to right. Rooster nods his head hurriedly, going for his belt. He makes easy work of the buckle, tugging it out of the loops, dragging his zipper down and stepping out of the dress pants, leaving him in black boxers.

Your mouth goes dry, lips parted, eyes widening as he tucks an arm around your waist and pushes forwards, pressing his knee into the mattress and lowering you down onto his bed. He pins your body to the mattress with his, squeezing your hips under his palms.

He lowers his head and kisses at your chest, holding you close with one hand as the other cups your breast. You let your head lull back. You should probably be embarrassed at how easily he coaxes a moan from your lips. He nips at your skin, making his way downwards, glancing up at you with a smirk on his lips as you gasp.

Most of the time, Rooster is careful and tentative with you. Taking his time, taking care of you in every way that he can. Neither one of you is in the mood for that today. You’re his — he wants you to be all his, just his, and he needs nothing more than to let him know that’s exactly what you are.

You gasp again as he grabs your hips and pulls you under him with ease. He plants his forearm beside your head, nudges your underwear to the side, and guides his cock between your legs. You kiss his lips needily, quickly remembering the heavy heels on your feet. You push yourself onto your elbows, reaching for the strap around your left ankle, “Oh, wait—“

“Leave ‘em on.” Rooster pushes you back down, catching the back of your knee and hiking it up around his waist, watching breathlessly as he guides the tip of his cock between your folds. You whine, shifting desperately under him.

Your breath catches in your throat as you take him. You whimper softly, adjusting to the hot, thick stretch of him. He kisses your jaw lazily, fucking into you in short, soft thrusts until he’s buried into you completely.

Rooster barely waits a second before his hands are on your hips, holding you in place as he fucks into you. That gold cross necklace he wears dangles over his pronounced collarbones as he grunts desperately at the feeling of your walls around him.

Your hand trails up his neck, curling into his hair, tugging hard as he rocks harshly forwards. His fingers press into your hips, holding you still so that he can keep up his pace. Filling you completely and then dragging back, rocking you towards your high, making your head spin.

He lets go of one side of your hips, moving it down between your bodies. His thumb presses harsh circles on your clit making you tighten your grip in his hair. Rooster grunts out, moaning against your collarbone. You whine from the added stimulation, squeezing your eyes shut, pressing your heel into the small of his back.

Head falling back against his checkered sheets, your scrape your nails against the nape of his neck, marking up his tanned skin. Rooster grabs your hips and tugs hard, pressing your thighs back so that he can angle himself deeper. He sinks back in slowly, watching your lips part into a desperate, panting ‘o’ shape.

This angle is deeper, but not painful, it just means that the tip of his cock grazes your g-spot each time he’s pulling back.

“Fuck!” You cry out, stomach curling into knots as he drives himself into you. He presses his mouth eagerly against your open mouth, caressing his tongue against yours. Rooster’s palm slides around to your ass, smacking your skin, snapping his hips forwards harder and harder.

Your nails dig into the backs of his biceps, clinging to him, unable to do anything other than cry out his callsign and take it — and you couldn’t be more content with where the events of tonight have led you.

“I’m gonna cum, Rooster — ungh, Rooster, fuck!”

Javy’s walking ahead, stumbling forwards, barely stopping himself from tumbling head first onto the entryway carpet. Jake swings the door shut behind him, brows furrowing slightly as the two of them realise what’s happening down the hall. The rhythmic sound of Rooster’s headboard slamming into the wall, overwhelmed by the incoherent babbling of someone getting their brains fucked out is a pretty good indicator.

Rooster pulls out all together and flips you onto your front, filling you again. He nods hurriedly as your walls squeeze around his cock, nudging you forwards and covering your body with his.

“Holy fuck.” You breathe, cheek pressing hard into the mattress as he bottoms out again and again, pounding into you. His hips stutter slightly as you clench around him again. Still, fighting to keep his head on straight, his hand reaches around your middle to play with your clit, rubbing in tight fast circles.

You moan out, curling your hands tight into his sheets as you feel your orgasm washing over you. Dark spots appear in your vision when your eyes are open and white ones blink behind your closed lids, the sound of his skin hitting yours just as loud as your moans for him. You ride out your high, so breathless that your head is spinning, the sound of his desperate groans from behind you.

His thrusts falter, growing sloppier with each movement, groans growing strained as his fingers press hard into your skin. Your eyes roll back, your walls fluttering around him with each thrust. Rooster just about remembers to pull out, knuckles whitening around your hips as he slips out of you.

Rooster’s heart thuds in his chest, adrenaline pumping through his veins as he tries to catch his breath. You exhale hard, resting your forehead against the sheets, whining softly.

He runs a hand through his curls, standing up and grabbing the box of tissues from his dresser. He sits down on the edge of his bed, tucking an arm around you and pulling you into his lap. You rest your head against his broad shoulder as you let him clean the two of you up.

“Listen, Rooster, I-“

Rooster shakes his head as he tosses the tissues into his trash can, pressing his lips to your shoulder as he moves on to getting you out of your heels. He tosses them into the same pile as your clothes. “I don’t want to talk about it anymore, Hyde.”

You nod softly, letting him wrap you in his arms. Still naked, tucked under the checkered duvet, his chest pressed to your back, you fall asleep in his bed. Falling asleep with him is the easy part. It’s waking up with him, knowing how last night went, that’s the hard part.

Afraid of the conversation that’ll come once he’s awake, you lie as still as you can for as long as possible. Maybe forty minutes, just watching the sun rise from under the blind on his window. He groans softly against the curve of your neck, pressing himself forwards and squeezing his arms tighter around you.

You wriggle just a little, letting him know that you’re awake. He loosens his arms. You turn around, pressing a kiss to the scar on his cheek. He sighs softly, pulling back and pressing the base of his palm into his eye socket, rubbing the tiredness away.

“I’m so sorry about last night,” You murmur softly, tracing your fingertips over his bicep, voice muffled slightly from where you’re tucked against his chest. “I’m going to fix this.”

Rooster presses his lips tenderly to the top of your head, brushing his thumb up and down over the small of your back. He exhales slowly and nods his head. “Okay.”

Your heart aches, curling your fingers around his bicep as you pull back to look him in the eye. “I mean it, I don’t want to lose you.”

His lips quirk softly at the edges, eyes scanning over your features like he’s looking for a sign that you mean this. That you really mean it. Rooster leans forwards, kissing you slowly, lazily, fingers pressing into your back as his naked chest presses into yours.

“I love you,” He murmurs, pulling back and kissing the corner of your lips, brown eyes meeting yours as he leans back again. You know this, you’ve known this for going on a week now — it’s clear in the way he looks at you. Yet, it’s hard not to tense up when you’re hearing it for the first time. “And I’m okay with waiting for you to feel the same, but if there’s any chance at all that you and him—“

As much as it makes your muscles freeze up so badly that it’s a pain consistent with having just worked out, you’ve got a feeling that you’ll get used to hearing him say that. There are definitely worse things in this world than letting someone love you like he does. You can handle this. In fact, you want it.

You shake your head, hooking your leg over his hip and shifting closer. He relaxes into you, closing his eyes just briefly as your fingers smooth over his cheek, your lips grazing his tenderly.

“Just you,” You promise, brushing his curls back off of his forehead, kissing him again. Rooster slides his arms around you, humming contentedly as he pulls you closer, guiding your thigh up higher around his waist. “I want you.”

Rooster kisses you, lips moving lazily against yours as his hands grip your waist. You hum against his mouth, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, pulling yourself impossibly closer to him. He grinds his hips forwards, brushing himself up against your core.

“I want you.” You say again, lips grazing his ear. His arms constrict around your middle, pulling you tight against him as he noses at your jaw, pressing gentle kisses to your neck.

He presses forwards, turning you onto your back so that he can slip between your legs. This time is softer than last night, you want him and you’ve got him — all of his attention, his entire heart. He’s trusting you again. Making sure to be gentle after last night’s pace, you’re on cloud nine, content in your decision by the time you’re done.

Even realising that the zipper on your dress is busted and now gapes open at the back doesn’t dampen your mood.

“Yeah, no — Jake and Javy would’ve come in late, they won’t be up yet.” Rooster promises as he secures the safety pin at the back of your dress, pressing his lips to your shoulder. “This isn’t working… um… here.”

He grabs the grey zip up hoodie from the back of his closet door and passes it into your hands, turning around to find a shirt for himself. You slip it over your shoulders, stepping around him to smooth out your hair in the mirror.

“You ready?” Rooster checks, as he slips a white crew neck over his head.

You make the mistake of stepping out first. Your second mistake is walking forwards, confident that he was right about his roommates sleeping because of the silence from the front of the apartment. The second that you round the corner, you realise your mistake.

Coyote’s got the freezer door open, standing halfway in it as he searches for something to cure his raging hangover. Jake, having given in to the feelings of nausea a while ago, is sitting at the counter with a glass of ice cold water, staring right at you.

Not anticipating your sudden stop, Rooster bumps into your back and knocks you forwards. Now you’re both standing at the edge of the hall, Rooster’s chest pressed into your back, frozen.

“Hey Rooster, did you take the last — holy shit.” Coyote’s eyes widen, jaw hanging open as he registers who is standing in front of him. Jake sets his glass down on the counter and tilts his head slightly, taking time to now understand the big picture.

An entire summer of sneaking around, wondering why the hell Rooster was so adamant on keeping it a secret. It all suddenly makes sense.

“Boys.” You greet sheepishly, trying not to stare too much at their stunned faces. You can practically feel the amusement radiating off of Rooster as he stands behind you.

“Ma’am.” Jake nods back, whilst Javy still remains too stunned to speak behind him. Rooster taps your waist.

“Anyway, we should get going.” Rooster decides, nudging you forwards. Jake’s eyes trail the two of you, an amused smirk toying at his lips as you’re ushered out of their apartment. The door swings shut and you turn quickly, smacking his chest.

This is going to make the remaining two weeks of class significantly more interesting.

…

@cherrycola27

@mak-32

@khaylin27

@stoncms

@shanimallina87

@cool-ultra-nerd

@angelmavmurdock

@gingerbreadandpaper

@mizzzpink

@whisperofsong

@throwinsauce

@perpetuelledaydreaming

@n3ssm0nique

@jostyriggslover96

@thedroneranger

@abaker74

@marantha

@puckleee

@ghxst-heart

@diamond-3

@shawnsblue

[cultofdionysusnet]

𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓛𝓪𝓷𝓰𝓾𝓪𝓰𝓮 𝓸𝓯 𝓕𝓵𝓸𝔀𝓮𝓻𝓼 ~ 𝓜𝓛

It's spring and the flowers are blooming! Take a walk through a cultivated garden or a wild meadow to inhale the wonderful medley of aromas provided by mother nature. But with each blossom and bundle of pollen is always an underlying meaning. Whether you're broken hearted, attempting to explain your feelings, or simply looking for subtly-worded revenge, flowers can be your language.

°˖✧✿✧˖° Masterlist°˖✧✿✧˖°

°˖✧✿✧˖°First Flower by Jackie @mint-yooxgi: One Love (Mingi, Ateez) Yellow Tulip {One Sided Love}

Summary: The ones we love never truly leave us, do they?

°˖✧✿✧˖°Second Flower by Dee @desirehorizon: Hibiscus (Mingi, Ateez) Hibiscus {Gentle}

Summary: be gentle with your pretty boy :((

°˖✧✿✧˖°Third Flower by Rain @itsnotmydejavu: Make Sure To Forget Me Not! (Chan, Stray Kids) Forget-me-not {true love}

Summary: being a teacher was tough work, but you loved watching kids grow into smart and amazing kids. If there was one thing, however, you were confused over was how Mr. Bang, the father of little Felix, was handing you so many forget-me-nots. And why it makes Felix giggle every time his dad did. No matter, they were beautiful and perfect for your house and…wait did Chan ask you on a date?!

°˖✧✿✧˖°Forth Flower by Jackie: Permanent (Wooyoung, Ateez) Bluebell {Grateful}, Lavender {Faithful}, Lily of the Valley {Sweet}

Summary: Expect the unexpected, especially when it comes to your boyfriend.

°˖✧✿✧˖°Fifth Flower by Kat @hee0soo: The Meaning of a Flower (Jongho, Ateez) Carnation {fascination, distinction, love}, Daffodil {respect}, Daisy {faith}, Camellia (white) {waiting}

Summary — The language of flowers was something Jongho had never bothered with. Maybe he should heve tho...

°˖✧✿✧˖°Sixth Flower by Bro @bro-atz: Freesia (Wooyoung, Ateez) Freesia {childish, immature}

Summary: all wooyoung wants is someone to love him.

°˖✧✿✧˖°Seventh Flower by Anya @anyamaris: Morning Glory (Yeosang, Ateez) Morning Glory {willful promises}

Summary: Your best friend comes over after an unexpected visit from your cheating ex, and a night of comfort produces something unexpected.

°˖✧✿✧˖°Eighth Flower by Rain: Paradise (Taehyun, Txt) Spanish Jasmine {friendly, graceful}

Summary: you - the queen of this land- had just lost your king, whatever shall you do? In your husband’s will, he had told you to move on, to find someone suitable for your heart…and you figured, who better than the man who you loved first, Kang Taehyun.:

°˖✧✿✧˖°Ninth Flower by Jackie: What about Me? (San, Ateez) Yellow Rose {jealousy}

Summary: An innocent gesture, or something much deeper?

°˖✧✿✧˖°Tenth Flower by Topaz @sanjoongie: I belong to you (Yeonjun, Txt) Zinnia {loyalty}

Summary: when you, a vampire master, learned of your lover Yeonjun's death, you fell into a deep sleep rather than mourn the loss. Yeonjun, as it turned out, wasn't dead but was devoted to waiting until you woke up. This is your story~

°˖✧✿✧˖°Eleventh Flower by Anya: Devoted to you (Soobin, Txt) White Rose {innocence, silence, devotion}

Summary: As you tend your garden, you're unaware of the presence watching over you.

°˖✧✿✧˖°Twelfth Flower by Topaz: I will consume you (Hyunjin, Stray Kids) Endelweiss {courage. power}

Summary: When a horrid government decides the only way to deal with you is to make you a priestess of a dark god, 'a great honor', when actuality is a death sentence, you put on your bravest face and go head to head with the horror of your fate. But when it turns out not everything is as it seems to be, just perhaps you could be in charge of your fate... if you survive, of course

°˖✧✿✧˖°Thirteenth Flower by Jasper @starlitmark: The Magnolia (Yunho, Ateez) Magnolia {natural}

Summary: You were enjoying a peaceful moment in the café when a man came to sit across from you at the table. Something in you changed.

°˖✧✿✧˖°Fourteenth Flower by Sar @kpop-stories-21: If You Walk Away, I know I'll Fade (Yeonjun, Txt) Lily (orange) {hatred, revenge}

Summary: You're used to Yeonjun being mean, teasing people and calling them awful names. You just brush it off as harmless fun, calling the ones that get upset wimps who can't take a joke. But when Yeonjun's acidic words get turned on you, you suddenly realize just how toxic your boyfriend really is.

°˖✧✿✧˖°Fifteenth Flower by Queenie @wooyoungqueen: Revenge (Ateez) Lily (orange) {hatred, revenge}

Summary: a young king doesn't care for anyone but himself, destroying everything . but two villagers will stop him and get their revenge

°˖✧✿✧˖°Sixteenth Flower by Bro: Daffodil (Hongjoong, Ateez) Daffodil {respect}

Summary: you can't help but have a crush on your child's teacher, mr. kim hongjoong.

°˖✧✿✧˖°Seventeenth Flower by Ki @kwanisms: Sweet Temptations (Seonghwa, Ateez) Lily (white) {purity, chastity}

Summary: Y/N favorite part of working at the Sweet Temptations Cafe is the view of the gorgeous flower shop across the street and the handsome and kind florist who comes in every morning at 7 am on the dot.

°˖✧✿✧˖°Eighteenth Flower by Topaz: I can fix you (Yunho, Ateez) Black Lily {love, curse}

Summary: when a devastating accident in the engine room destroys your body, a scientist offers his abilities to repair you... he sees a beauty, you see a beast. His love is truly a cursed one

°˖✧✿✧˖°Nineteenth Flower by Rie @pyeonghongrie: Guilty as Sin? (Hongjoong, Ateez) Camellia (yellow) {longing}

Summary: Faded fantasies making way to labored breaths, the idea of a person making a home in your mind, even when the nights are long and lonely. You can't find it in yourself to feel guilty.

°˖✧✿✧˖°Twentieth Flower by Bro: Chrysanthemum (Jongho, Ateez) Chrysanthemum (white) {truth}

Summary: you and jongho lay everything out there over chrysanthemum tea.

°˖✧✿✧˖°Twenty First Flower by Bro: Iris (Mingi, Ateez) Iris {good news, glad tidings, loyalty}

Summary: mingi just wants to be a dad, but you don't really want to have a child.

°˖✧✿✧˖°Twenty Second Flower by Daeeun @daddyfordaeddy: I Can't Make You Love Me (Jongho, Ateez) Tulip (yellow) {one sided love}

Summary: You're in love with Jongho, but all he wants is your body. Against your better judgement, you keep letting him use you.

°˖✧✿✧˖°Twenty Third Flower by Bro: Cherry Blossom (Seonghwa, Ateez) Cherry Blossom {kind, gentle, transience of life}

Summary: seonghwa wants to take you on an animal crossing date under the cherry blossom trees.

°˖✧✿✧˖°Twenty Forth Flower by Jay: @twisted-tales-of-all: Until We Meet Again (San, Ateez) Camellia (red) {in love, perishing with grace} and (white) {waiting}

Summary: Although San is left alone to watch the shrine after his friends move onto the next plane, he faces someone who reminds him of his past love.

°˖✧✿✧˖°Twenty Fifth Flower by Bro: Daisy (Yeosang, Ateez) Daisy {faith}

Summary: you keep plucking daisy petals trying to figure out if yeosang liked you back.

°˖✧✿✧˖°Twenty Sixth Flower by Sky @yoonguurt: The Secret Garden (Hongjoong, Ateez) Gardenia {secret love}

Summary: Spring brings with it the need for a change. You're in a writing rut and that just can't happen right now. You decided to spend a few months with your aunt at her massive garden estate. for the first time in 10 years. Dreams of a boy you don't remember become a nightly thing. Who is this boy?

°˖✧✿✧˖°Twenty Seventh Flower by Bro: Dahlia (San, Ateez) Dahlia {good taste}

Summary: san is your perfect man, but he's also the perfect man for others.

°˖✧✿✧˖°Twenty Eighth Flower by Bro: Carnation (Yunho, Ateez) Carnation {fascination, distinction, love}

Summary: you find a photo album that you've never seen before, and you have many questions

[evita-shelby]

Twelfth Night

Or during the Riley Clan's celebration of the Day of the Three Wise Kings at their new mansion, Tommy discovers Franz Kafka.

Mentions of accidental violence, and Tommy’s insecurities and also Kafka’s writing

1923

Tommy had been curious about the traditions Eva’s country had about the twelfth night.

He had introduced her to the English ones on her first time celebrating it by making sure she got the pea in the Twelfth so she could have the paper crown John’s children made for even if he got the clove instead of the bean. Tommy had also played a harmless little prank on her the following morning which resulted in her reacting with her fist right on the kisser.

They laughed about it then ---well he did to make her feel less guilty for punching him--- and laugh about it now as they take a holiday to America to see her family.

They’d bought a mansion in the country, the second largest home in all of fucking America to be exact and would be hosting the entire family now that they had a place more than large enough to accommodate them.

Arrow House as an estate was about twice the size in terms of land, and quite large too, but it looked like a modest row house in comparison to the 19th century castle the Rileys had acquired.

It was a status symbol as well as a home just as much as Arrow House was.

But strangely enough, the Rileys treated the cavernous hall as anyone would treat their home while Tommy still felt a stranger in the bed he and his wife had bought.

Children laugh and play with their parents and nannies, servants bustle about preparing for tonight with the members of the family helping out and while everyone treats him well, Tommy feels as if he stepped through the looking glass.

“I didn’t want to interrupt, but I wanted to check on you before dinner,” she said softly as he hid in the library reading Robert Frost. He’d read Kafka’s short stories and when that made his feeling of otherness worse, Tommy decided to turn to poetry and the whiskey in the crystal decanter.

“If you’d come minutes ago, I would’ve asked you if you’d love me if I turned into a cockroach.” He tries to shove his discomfort away and remembers Eva hardly ever saw her family and they’d be home by next week.

“Kafka is definitely worth learning German for, even if his work is rather dark.” The witch smiled as she joined him on the sofa. She smelled of pastries, even in her fine clothes she was found in the kitchen with the staff.

Hates being idle, a trait that seems to be as common as brown eyes in her family.

If she wasn’t helping about, she was taking care of Charlie and taking him to explore the nearby town or the unending grounds.

“So, would you?” he asks shifting to get comfortable with her, with the army of servants and relatives willing to take one year old Charlie off their hands, it was nice to have her all to himself for a while.

Even with so many roaming about, Tommy and Eva still had quite a lot of privacy.

“I’d find a way to turn you back, and in the meantime, I suppose I’d let you roam Arrow House and eat all the rotten food you want.” Eva answered as if she was powerful enough to undo even something as strange as Kafka’s metamorphosis. “Just imagine the stories of Thomas Shelby, the successful businessman and giant fucking cockroach.”

He laughs at her words and wished they could skip dinner, but formal gatherings came with the life he’s made for himself and Eva’s family was a good place to start.

“Anything I should know before your cockroach husband sits down to dinner with your family?” he asks hoping he is all caught up.

“No matter what I tried to stop it, the tiny Jesus figurine is in your slice of rosca. I’m afraid we’ll be hosting my darling family next year. Or have another baby, depending on who you ask.”

And sure enough, on January 1924 he hosts the Rileys at his home on the condition the tiny Jesus isn't on his slice of cake and convinces his wife to have a second child.

Rockwood Hall was the second largest home in America, remodeled and owned by JD Rockefeller until his death in 1922 and then demolished in the 1940s. It had over 204 rooms and spanned 1k acres. Surprisingly Arley Hall, which is used as Arrow House has 2k acres but the house is smaller.

Kafka’s The Sons ,a collection of short stories that features the Metamorphosis was published in german in 1915. Tommy in this fic can understand German as the translation to English wasn’t made until 1930.

[wishesofeternity]

“Few figures experienced such a dramatic and disastrous turn of the wheel of fortune as did Eleanor of Aquitaine in the autumn of 1173, when she fell from her place as Henry’s assistant in ruling his collection of territories to detention as his prisoner in Chinon Castle. Eleanor inspired and participated in her sons’ rebellion of 1173–74 that became a widespread revolt against Henry. Spreading throughout his domains, it was the greatest challenge to his authority that he would face until his last days. The record of the royal couple’s sons for rebellions against their father and for fighting each other is almost unequaled in medieval history, and the queen’s active part in a revolt against her royal husband was near unimaginable to contemporaries. Writers ever since have accused the English queen of fomenting her sons’ rebellion, and the family’s troubles are still so notorious that they are a subject for films and plays. The chronicler Ralph Diceto writing not many years after the revolt admitted that young Richard, count of Poitou, and Geoffrey of Brittany in fleeing to Paris to join their elder brother in 1173 were “following the advice of their mother Eleanor.” He then listed over thirty instances of sons rebelling against their parents, but was unable to specify a single case of an earlier queen rebelling against her royal husband.

The dysfunctional character of the family life of Eleanor of Aquitaine, Henry II, and their sons was no secret to their contemporaries. One late twelfth-century monastic writer likened the English royal family to “the confused house of Oedipus,” and another commented that “this father was most unhappy in his most famous sons.” Courtiers at the English royal court could only explain the intense hostility by recalling an Angevin legend of the Plantagenet family’s diabolical descent, having as ancestor a demon-countess of Anjou. In fact, Henry was largely an absentee father during his sons’ early years, and following aristocratic custom, he was content to leave their upbringing in others’ hands. Once his sons became adolescents, they resented their father’s refusal to share power with them, denying them authority over the lands that he had designated for them in various partition schemes.

- Ralph V. Turner, “Eleanor of Aquitaine: Queen of France, Queen of England”

[haveihitanerve]

There is an old tradition, that when a Regalian royal comes to the throne, a random peasant is picked for them, and they have one night together. It has been effective in the past, the royal appreciates their people more and usually the peasant is given a high rank within the military or even a part of the Royals court. One queen even made her peasant her king, although they spent more than just one night together before the choice was made. (this tradition is done whether or not the said royal already has an established relationship, everyone is aware of the tradition and if they chose to be in the relationship before their spouse comes to power that is their choice to make, although an exception was made after a twelfth cousin eight times removed came to power and had already been married for over twenty years, seeing as no one, especially not her nor her husband had anticipated gaining the throne) Most of the time, the random peasant will be similar, if not the same, in age, sometimes older, sometimes younger, but never underage. But for the young queen Luxa, an exception was made. A young boy, perhaps a few months older than the queen, from the city, the most peasant of the peasants, was chosen. (of course, any chosen peasant may refuse, and if the royal feels uncomfortable at any time they may also refuse, but it is not common, most pairings work well enough) Queen Luxa braces herself for an arrogant, preening, whiny older boy who thinks himself above her, cocky with his pick at bedding the queen, and prepares to call her guards to claim she is uncomfortable. (which, if her predictions are true, will not be a lie) instead, she gets gregor, a stumbling, shy older boy who blushes when he looks at her and truly sees her. He, Luxa decides, is a far worse partner. But she cannot call the guards on him. She can’t.

[wonder-worker]

"...The rise of royal bureaucracy and organized jurisprudence from the eleventh century was transforming formal government operations into a male preserve. At the same time, the Policraticus by […] John of Salisbury gave the body politic its classic medieval formulation as patterned on the human body. Morphological analogy exemplified an ideal cooperation among that body's members, but no function John detailed administrative, military, conciliar, or ecclesiastical-nor any bodily member to which these functions corresponded, implied a female body. A king's male frame, especially, embodied his realm and betokened its strength and vigor; its impermeability figured the security of the realm's boundaries from intrusion or invasion. To a body politic so imagined, women in general, queens in particular, were outsiders, their pervious bodies perilous openings that could threaten the realm. Subjected by royal ritual to the king's body as the site of supreme authority, the queen's body could not serve as the seat of power.

These developments did not bar kings' wives from all access to power, but they did critically affect representations of a queen's position and the methods open to her. The rise of bureaucracy meant that, as reflected in the disappearance of queens' names from witness lists to twelfth-century English and French royal charters, the advisory role of a king's wife was no longer officially publicized. [...] Of course, charters and other records that witness such changes were written from a male perspective, and do not prove that queens' power was contracting. But the way they were seen to perform their roles changed significantly. It was no longer visibly, in the council chamber, that a queen fulfilled the duties the coronation ordo urged upon her as a counsellor, mediator, or intercessor with the king. Given her primary function as the mother of his children, the focus of her activities was now the bedchamber, in which at least one thirteenth-century queen chose to receive petitioners as a means to advertise her intimate relationship to the king as the real base of her power. ['But if queens no longer shared openly in formal consultation, medieval royal government was always personal and [...] directed from the royal household, whose domestic model gave that household's women effective if informal means to persuade royal business.'] As this intimate, wifely access to the king was not rightly subject to (male) official restraint, any formal limits on her voice implied by her advertised presence in the council chamber fell away. Whatever other parts of the regal anatomy she did or did not command, she was always assumed to have the king's ear. But any wife, queen or subject, who was seen to abuse an ecclesiastically sanctioned access to her husband menaced the right order of society. Thus a queen's persuasive influence, inextricably tied to her sexual and domestic role as bedfellow, could seem to threaten the order idealized and represented by evolving male officialdom in ways not understood to exist when her place was affirmed in written acts that announced the king's decisions. The queen was left uneasily poised between the official and the domestic, a position that heightened fears about her ability to sway the king and her potential role in court intrigue. Chroniclers witnessed these anxieties about queenly influence by focusing on the approved performance, or the perceived corruption, of a queen's domestic roles as wife or mother. If later medieval portrayals thus make it seem that queens' power had declined, they none the less witness, by criticizing behavior as inappropriate or by praising compliant and selfless deeds, consorts' continued eminence as exemplary figures to society, as potential participants in court intrigues, or as fomenters of confllict, especially in the familial contexts that remained central to dynastic politics. Significantly, Peggy McCracken sets within this same changing political terrain her study of the increasingly prominent image of the adulterous queen in Old French romance."

-John Carmi Parsons, "Damned If She Didn't and Damned When She Did: Bodies, Babies, and Bastards in the Lives of Two Queens of France", Eleanor of Aquitaine: Lord and Lady (Edited by Bonnie Wheeler and John Carmi Parsons)