#i'm ensorcelled by him

[wildsaltair]

a few pictures of Russell and Bridget that have made my brain go on a permanent vacation

[bigfan-fanfic]

My Blooming Rose (Enchantress' Child!Reader x Ben Florian)

@iliumheightnights Hi friend! May I please request a little story? I'd love to read a story about Ben Florian dating a son of the enchantress reader. Reader still is learning magic and Ben helps him when he can and encourages him? All the fluff please?

In some respects, no one would necessarily blame your boyfriend's father for wanting to imprison your mother on the Isle of the Lost.

She did, after all, enchant a young, albeit spoiled, prince and condemn him (an eleven-year-old, mind you) to ten years of suffering and self-loathing in a body not his own.

But no. King Adam and his Queen would never have met if not for the Enchantress.

Besides, they learned well from the example of Queen Leah and King Stefan - don't piss off the magical entity in close proximity.

And so the Enchantress lived within Auradon, and you, her child, were born.

You're not sure you quite approve of the whole Isle of the Lost thing - your mother's punishments tended to get to people before they became irredeemable, so the idea of endless incarceration seems harsh, even by her standards.

But all the same, you are invited to Auradon Prep, mainly to study with the Fairy Godmother to hone your talents in magic. And since you aren't expected to enter a royal line, you don't even have to do some of the more inane Auradon courses.

But who would have thought that without any magic at all, you'd have ensorcelled the heart of Prince Ben.

Ben is just a spot of sunshine in your world, he's so affectionate and lovely.

And supportive!

He's figured out the loophole in the rule that he can't spend all his free time with you by organizing "study dates" in addition to normal dates.

But since magical homework and study is pretty involved, that just means he hangs around in your dorm with you more often than not.

Not that either of you mind.

Except this can sometimes lead to minor mishaps.

You're practicing a spell in the mirror, meant to help disguise someone by changing their appearance.

Focusing on your hair, trying to lengthen it just a little. Just a small test.

But then Ben leaps up to kiss you on the cheek and you wave the training wand just a little haphazardly-

And Ben gets a face-full of your magic.

"Oh my gosh, Ben! Are you okay?"

"Yup!" Ben groans from the floor. "Nothing broken. I think."

He hops back up to his feet, and you gasp.

Your boyfriend's smooth jaw has sprouted patchy growths of hair that are still thickening until they make a rather nice beard and mustache. "Ben... I..."

Ben sees himself in the mirror and grins. "Oh, this is nice!"

"It was an accident."

"If even your accidents are this great, you're gonna be a better wizard than Merlin!" Ben pats your shoulder before stroking his new beard. "It's not even scratchy!"

You blush. "You look really good with a beard."

"Do I look kingly?" Ben asks eagerly, striking a pose.

"You do, but let's try and find a counterspell quickly. Accidental magic tends to corrupt pretty fast. You might end up with the hair changing colors like a chameleon or something."

"That actually sounds kinda-"

"And then I wouldn't be able to see where to kiss you."

Ben instantly gets serious. "Let's hit the books."

"But uh... when you do reverse the spell... Maybe try it on purpose? I wanna see what kissing with a beard is like."

You grin. "Oh really? Why?"

"Cause when you're my Royal Consort, I'll probably grow out a beard and kiss you all the time, so... I wanna see what I'm working toward."

You laugh and then squeeze his hand. "In that case, let's get this thing reversed as soon as we can."

"Love you. My blooming rose."

"Love you. My noble king."

[livelovecaliforniadreams]

She stands between his legs on a stool and kisses him in an attempt to ensorcel him. She asks, did you enjoy that? Cory smiles. Yes ma'am. Topanga is relieved. Okay, good. -Danielle 

Thank God he's straight. -Rider

Thank God my boyfriend still likes it when I kiss him. Very benignly. -Danielle 

Well, Danielle, in all fairness, you've got a history. I'm just saying just a history of your boyfriend's turning out to be gay. -Will

[dandelion-wings]

Stuck at the hospital with only my phone and rn the sickfic WIP isn't appealing, so why not start a new phone WIP? >> This concept originates from a longer idea @theabysscomeshome and I had once (wherein this episode feeds into a relationship shift), but rn I'm just focusing on baby Kaeya.

---

ETA: Now edited on AO3!

---

"This must be confusing for you," says the red-haired man crouching in front of Kaeya. It's the first sensible thing Kaeya has heard anyone say since he woke up under this terrible open sky.

He doesn't say that, of course. He only nods. Giving anything away to these people would be a bad idea.

It's a good thing, in a way, that he'd woken to see the woman standing behind him before anything else. Her, and the sky above her, and the symbol of the Ordo Favonius--their ancient enemies, the crusading scourge that followed the first disasters of the Cataclysm--emblazoned upon her armor. She had seemed to take both his scream and his frantic grab for the sword beside him in stride, though she had wrestled the weapon away. She'd claimed to *know* him.

Kaeya knows no Knight of Favonius, but as long as he goes along with her claim, she seems disinclined to kill him. So he can't do anything that will prove her wrong.

"I thought that he would be more comfortable here at the Dawn Winery," she's telling the red-haired man now. "He's been very shy, and I think being around so many armed knights is frightening for him."

"He was afraid of knights when he first came here," the man agrees. Which means he thinks he knows Kaeya, too. "We'll look after him until your alchemists come up with a solution."

"Thank you. I know he'll be happier with you."

Kaeya stiffens when she puts a hand on his shoulder, but all she does is squeeze. When he looks up, she's smiling at him.

"We will work tirelessly to repair this," she tells him. "For now, simply enjoy your time here at the Winery."

Then she turns and walks away, leaving Kaeya here in this softly-lit room with the man looming over him even crouched to his height. It's still better than being surrounded by Favonian knights.

"Has Jean explained the situation to you?" the man asks.

She'd told him that she knew him as an adult, that he was a captain under her, and that some Abyss Mage had ensorcelled him in a fight. She'd told him that he was her best friend. Kaeya doesn't believe any of it, of course. But *she* does.

His own best theory, right now, is that the Abyss Mage switched them somehow. Why, he doesn't know. How his name can match her friend's, and furthermore how he can look enough like the man she knows for her to believe it, he doesn't know either. But Mages are capricious; that one snatched him from where he slept at his father's side while he slept and substituted him for this Mondstadtian Kaeya seems more likely than becoming a Knight of Favonius. Or, worse, the *friend* of one of those butchers.

Kaeya just nods again.

"Then I won't try to pretend that I'm Father. Not that there would be any point in that. I am Diluc. I'm simply fifteen years older than I was when you arrived."

He seems to expect some kind of answer, so Kaeya nods a third time.

The man nods back. Then he stands, abruptly, to his full height. It takes all of Kaeya's efforts not to flinch. If the knight thought he would be happier here, then surely the person she thinks he is wouldn't.

Passing Kaeya, the man--Diluc--opens the door. "Let's go find Adelinde. She can get your room set up and feed you. I'm sure you're hungry."

That's the second sensible thing Kaeya has heard anyone say today, so he follows.

[desceros]

ajkfljskj I saw you were taking requests now and I lowkey just- 👀 I'm having sexy Bayverse Turtles intrusive thoughts. Imma share a Leo one. Ever imagined Bay!Leo sharing his hobbies with reader after she earned his trust and teaching her Japanese calligraphy? Him watching her skin glow in the candlelight, dreaming to use her naked body as a canvas for a Japanese love poem written in kanji? Sexual tension, mixed with slow, agonizing brushstrokes? Cuz I have 😏 -💙

so i got this and immediately i was like 'omg. this would work So Well as a deleted scene of sorts for tea-verse' so that's what it ended up as. kind of sexual tension but it edges more on pining. also, i'm burning now, thank you everyone for playing, we had a great run here on desceros dot com leonardo x reader; T, GN!reader, 1.8k; leo pining like a TREE. officially takes place after the leaf scene in this fic if you want context for some of the subtler touches but tl;dr reader always makes leo his tea. (the fic itself has a female reader but this snippet is GN)

He wonders if you know. 

You’ve caught him staring, before. It makes his shell feel tight, his skin too-hot. Even with mating season coming up, it’s too soon for him to be reacting like this; the burning ache that comes just from the bell of your voice, the alluring sway of your footsteps as you come to his side. And yet he does. Because it’s you. Just because it’s you.

“Okay, I’m excited for this,” you tell him, teeth biting into a smile as you tuck as close as you can without touching. He knows you do it for him, that you stay away because of his wishes, but it’s an agony all the same. The sweet smell of your soap haunts him, even under the burn of the incense that ghosts the room with smoke.

“Yeah?” he asks, pleased when he sees the happy, easy glow of your face. 

“Are you kidding? It’s so pretty,” you say. “Plus I like how the ink smells. It smells really nice with the tea when I bring it in.” 

Pretty, he echoes, trailing his eyes down to your throat, your shoulders, your hands. The way all your angles and curves catch the candlelight and dance in a softness that makes his palms ache with emptiness.

…He wonders if you know how soft you make him.

“Okay. Tell me the names for everything,” you tell him, studying the tools laid out before him, a gentle eagerness brightening your eyes. He smiles, turning his head and gesturing at everything to share its proper name in Japanese, then English. Grinding the ink, he explains the process, looking to you and your fascinated expression and trying to remember to breathe.

“What do you want me to write?” he asks once he’s ready, causing you to look at him and smile.

“What do you want to write?” you ask. 

Reaching out, he picks up the brush between his fingers. He studies the paper before him, blank and infinite, but his mind is somewhere else. 

…It had rained, a few days ago. You’d come into the lair drenched, laughing as Splinter had sent him off to bring you a towel. He’d returned in time to see you lift your shirt, squeezing it out over the storm drain, miles and miles and miles of skin stretching before his eyes. The curve of your spine as you turned to speak to his father, the arch of your hips as you leaned to twist the fabric, the pull of skin over your flesh. Breathless, motionless, frozen, he’d faltered in the doorway, ensorcelled by the image forever, marked, seared into his mind.

It’s that sight that comes to his mind, now, as he closes his eyes. 

He could do it, he thinks. He could ask you to turn, to pull your shirt over your head. It’s so easy to imagine the way your shoulder blades would curve, the dip of your spine, the way you’d shiver when he pressed the brush to your skin. It would tickle, at first, until you got used to it; then you’d sigh, still, and let him spread his soul onto your canvas.

Oh, all the things he wants to write there, where it would sink into your flesh like a brand. All the little ghosts of you that haunt him, memorialized with love in charcoal: the way your teeth catch your lip, the flash of skin at your hemline when you stretch your arms above your head, the wet press of your tongue to your lips when they're dry, the way your eyes flutter shut when you have your first sip of tea, the hum of pleasure you give when it tastes good. 

…He’d make you feel so good.

“…Leo?”

Leo opens his eyes, feeling the hunger in them, letting them get as far as your mouth before he turns them back to the paper before him. A pointless daydream, a torment of his own making. 

“…Sorry. I was just thinking,” he says, and it’s not a lie, not entirely, but also nothing but. There is nothing just about the way that you consume him.

It’s easy, then, to think of what to write. In long, elegant nine strokes that pull from his shoulder, he glides the brush over the paper. Each inch of ink carries a memory of you, your hands as you pass him a teacup, your care in checking the flavor, your endless drive to perfect the art just for him. 

“…Tea,” you recognize, proving your familiarity with the subject. He smiles; of course you’d recognize it, what with how often the two of you share.

“Tea,” he echoes, waiting until the ink is dry enough to handle before he takes the paper and hands it to you. “Here. For you.” 

“Wh—Really?” you ask, eyes wide. 

“Of course. It’s about time I gave some tea to you, after all,” he says with a smile that makes you laugh. He tucks the sound into his heart, next to all of the others. 

“It’s beautiful, Leo,” you compliment, holding it before you. Your eyes take in every stroke, awe open and genuine, before they meet his own and your smile goes warm like the sun. “Thank you. I’m going to hang it somewhere nice in my apartment.” 

And oh, but you are the sun, he thinks, heart pounding as he watches your fingers trail down the edge of the paper. Reaching out with warmth, lighting everything you touch, smiling as everyone around you basks in your radiant glow. What is life without you, he wonders, chest aching and so full and so empty all at once it hurts. Madness. 

…He wonders if you know. 

[merakiui]

overblot! Riddle nonconning you in front of Ace and Deuce while going on about how this is the only thing a magicless nobody is good for 👍🏼

Omg yes,,,,,,,,

(cw: yandere, gender neutral, nsfw, non-con, humiliation/degradation, public sex)

Amidst a ruined, debris-ridden rose maze, a monster looms. No one dares stray close, lest they find themselves maimed and sent to the grave, and so they can only watch helplessly from the safety of overturned chairs, tables, and uprooted rose trees. The scene was once serene, an almost-perfect Unbirthday. Now it is desolate and bleak, a nightmarish reality that leaves thick, discomforting silence blanketing the grounds.

Riddle casts a grotesquely bone-chilling shadow, and his appearance mirrors that of a creature torn from the pages of a classic horror; that's the only way to describe him: cruel and cold, all sharp, vicious edges and thorns, dripping blot. He's on the verge of a supernova, toeing the line of life and death, a monstrous mage who has reached the consequences of a culmination of excessive magic, spilled over into bitter negativity. The aura that clings to him is, in a word, utterly terrifying.

And you're right there in his shadow, a fragile, caged thing bent down on your hands and knees. Your fingers curl into the grass, tearing clumps. No one dares to speak up, to demand he release you, to fight for your safety and dignity. Hopelessly collared, Ace and Deuce, your closest companions in all of this mess, look on in horror even though they don't mean to.

It's like a tragedy spun right before their eyes. They want to look away, but they can't. It's morbidly ensorcelling.

"Observe!" Riddle's voice booms, commanding absolute obedience and attention. His pallid hips press against your ass while clawed hands dig into your hips, holding you perfectly still. Blood is drawn; it seeps beneath his sharpened nails, leaving painful indents. You feel filthy and fearful, cut down to something small and insignificant and weak. Droplets of blot speckle your backside each time he shifts. It's warm like candle wax, but it doesn't burn.

The betrayal does, though—stains through to your very soul.

You grit your teeth, squeezing your eyes shut in hopes of drifting off elsewhere. Anywhere that isn't here, speared on his cock for all to see, forced into the grass like you're bowing apologetically before the Queen and her card soldiers.

"You lack the key capabilities all mages must possess, and yet you thought it wise to challenge my rules? Here? When my word is law?" He barks out a laugh, sickly amused. Scarlet eyes narrow with disdain. "Perhaps you're as slovenly as you are disobedient. As expected of a disrespectful, magic-less fool who knows nothing! Absolutely nothing of the order I so carefully uphold!"

He pulls back, seething through grit teeth, and snaps his hips forwards. You collapse on shaky arms, gasping in pain.

It hurts more than heartbreak, more than a bruise, more than a slap. Tears spot your lash line, threatening to fall with one more well-aimed, brutal thrust. Spidery fingers dance along your waist, tracing a line towards your neck. He grips your chin and forces you to look upon a crowd of terrified faces, all ogling with bated breath. Ace is watching and so is Deuce, albeit through the cracks in his hands.

"What did you hope to achieve—to prove—by defying me?" he demands, his grip a deadly vise. "That I could be in the wrong? That all I've worked tirelessly for, all that I've done, is wrong?"

"Riddle..." You wince in your futile attempt to pull away. "Riddle, please... I... I'm sorry, but please... You're hurting me..."

He turns your head towards him, eyes ablaze with a furious tempest, and he leans closer, pinning you with startling ease. His cock presses up against your insides, enveloped tightly in your walls, and you shudder through the discomfort and the agony. A single claw traces dangerously close to your jugular.

"Speak up if you have something to say!"

"It hurts!" You gasp again, outright sobbing now. "It hurts! Please..."

"It's a punishment," he sneers, glaring disapprovingly. "It's meant to impart a lesson—one learned through pain. If you understand this, stop sniveling and respond appropriately."

You're not sure which is worse: humiliation at the hands of someone you considered a friendly acquaintance or the fact that, no matter how villainous he may be, you only wish for him to return to himself. You'd never wish this fate on anyone, but maybe it's your too-big heart that makes it impossible to hate him. You don't hate him. You can't.

And perhaps that's the worst part of all this.

You hang your head, defeated and devoid of hope. "Yes, Dorm Leader..."

And so he teaches you and all those who witness the devastating spectacle a lesson neither will ever forget.

Red is passionate and fiery, a reflection of roses and redamancy. But it is not a pleasant color. Not anymore. Not in the aftermath.

Red is the color of Riddle and Heartslabyul and blood and pain and anger. And every time you spy the slowly healing marks from that day, you feel it all over you. Red everywhere, inside and out. Externally, you may heal with all matter of magical cures, but internally it's not an easy fix.

So red is no longer a comfortable color. You wish you could look upon it and admire it for what it is: a color. But that proves impossible, for a color that is so highly revered as pretty does not evoke pretty feelings for you.

[leaderpinhead]

Gidel - Lucky Ear Rubs

Prompt: Carnival I've done really well in the past year avoiding any big spoilers for the Playful Land event until it released in English, so I'm completely ignoring everything that may happen post Part 1 of the story. But I also acknowledge I prefer the names on the JPN server, so I'm sticking to Gidel and Fellow Honest for now. :P

Girls were easy targets. At least that’s what Gidel tried to tell himself when he found the girl and her direbeast playing the carnival games. Gidel smirked. While Fellow was handling the older Night Raven College students, Gidel thought he’d handle the easier guests. 

Gidel silently slid up to Yuu’s side. She didn’t look at him, concentrating on the target she soaked with a water shooter. The small whale connected to the target slowly raced across the booth, falling behind the other whales played by “invisible” competitors. Grim cheered her on, hopping across the counter and shouting above the carnival music. The game ended with a loud buzz before her whale reached the finish line. 

“Poor luck,” the marionette manning the booth hollowly lamented. Its stiff limbs woodenly swung a small stuffed fox towards Yuu. “Here’s your consolation prize.” 

Grim growled and snatched the stuffed fox from the marionette's hand. He threw it into the growing pile at his feet. “This game is rigged! How are you supposed to win the big prizes against players that don’t exist?” 

Yuu’s eyes narrowed at the large stuffed animals sitting on a high shelf at the back of the booth. She pointed at the large whale taking up most of the shelf. “You’re mine, Whalebert.” 

Gidel inched closer. He eyed Yuu’s pockets in search of something valuable. The magic of Playful Land may have changed their clothes, but that didn’t mean any of their belongings had vanished. 

“Do it again!” Grim demanded. He jumped on the counter and kicked the water shooter. “If you don’t get it this time, I’ll—Myah! Where did you come from?” 

Gidel smiled when Grim finally saw him. He nearly fell backwards off the counter in his surprise but was saved by Yuu. Gidel hoisted his hammer higher on his shoulder and smiled at Yuu. 

“Hi there,” Yuu greeted. She dropped Grim onto the ground where he huffed. “You’re just in time. Give me the sacred lucky ear rubs.” 

Before Gidel had a chance to be confused, Yuu gently grabbed his ears. Gidel stiffened, his heart thundering in his chest. Looking as earnest as Fellow performing a high-stakes scam, Yuu gently rubbed his ears. The repetitive motion slowly eased the shot of anxiety he felt. His eyes involuntarily closed. 

“Stop harassing every beastfolk with animal ears and win me that whale!” 

Gidel tensed when he realized he leaned his entire weight against Yuu. He jerked back and gripped his hammer like he was prepared to clobber her. She didn’t seem to notice his attack stance and instead turned to grab the handles of the water shooter. 

A bell dinged to signal the start of the game, and Yuu’s whale bobbed along the track after the other whales. Gidel lowered his hammer and watched her whale take the lead. It traded places with another whale for the first half of the track before it pulled ahead and stayed there until it reached the other side of the track. Upbeat carnival music blasted from the booth, and the marionette performed a little dance to announce the winner. 

Grim cheered and jumped onto the counter again to accept the large whale. Gidel knew the game was rigged—the booths in the park ensorcelled to let real players win after a few losses—but he couldn’t help smiling when Yuu turned back to him. He stiffened when she suddenly grabbed him in a hug. “The lucky ear rubs strike again!” 

“Stop harassing the kid!” 

“You’re just upset because your ears have lost all their luck.” 

Grim harrumphed and marched over to the next game booth, holding the whale high above his head. Yuu released Gidel from the hug and leaned down to grab the other toys they had won. For a moment, Gidel had the oddest yearning to lean back into the girl. He didn’t realize he was leaning closer until she looked back up at him, and their noses bonked together. Gidel ducked back and covered his nose. 

Instead of showing any anger, Yuu laughed. “Did you want to help? That’s sweet! Way sweeter than Grim.” 

“Less talking, more winning,” Grim shouted from the next booth. 

Yuu hummed and gathered the remaining toys in her arms. She dumped them on the counter of the water shooting game and moved as if to join Grim. Gidel grabbed the back of her vest and pointed at the toys. She shook her head. “We just wanted Whalebert. Those can go to any of the other visitors in the park. Or you can have one!” 

Gidel stood in frozen shock as Yuu abandoned her winnings to join Grim. He looked back and forth between the pair and the pile of toys. The marionette behind the counter woodenly invited him to play. 

Gidel slowly shuffled over to stand at Yuu’s side opposite of Grim. She smiled at him and pointed at the large donkey hanging above a pyramid of glass milk bottles. “We’ve decided Whalebert needs a friend.” 

“I said we should name it Sir Ass-ington, but Yuu says we can’t!” 

“I’m sure Ace would get a kick out of that, but Trey’s here too, so we have to keep things classy.” 

Gidel glanced between the two as they laughed and began throwing baseballs at the pyramid. He sidled closer to Yuu until their elbows brushed together. Without even looking at him, Yuu used her free hand to pet his ears. He leaned more heavily into her petting and silently cheered with them when they finally won the donkey after their fifth game. 

By the time Fellow came looking for him, Gidel had completely forgotten his original plan and was instead carrying Whalebert under one arm and Sir Donkeyton under the other while totally not taking advantage of their losses to get more “sacred lucky ear rubs.” 

[zeldaelmo]

I guess I need to start promoting this story a bit, seeing it starts in ten days. I could use some motivation for the last stretch, too. I'm struggling a bit, so some encouragement is greatly appreciated. 😆

This is from chapter 10, Link just learned a couple of things that happened during his time in the still world after Zelda beat him in a sparring match with his own tricks.

“So, about your sword. Your echo left it behind and… well, when I took it… I don't know how to explain it. Every time I touched it, a spell fell over me," Zelda explains.

“A spell?”

“That's the best word I can come up with. I suddenly knew how to use it and I assume now my body remembers it, even without the magic.”

Link chewed a moment on that, his gaze flickering over the grasslands stretching out before them. The windmills in the distance must be Kakariko.

“And you just picked it up and let it put a spell on you that changed your bodily abilities?” he asked and returned his gaze to her. Something about this didn't sit right with him. “That happened in the still world, right? Didn't it occur to you that it could have been a trap? Dark magic? It was an evil echo leaving it behind, after all!”

“Don't patronize me,” she snapped. “Did you know what would happen when you fired an arrow at the crystal? Or when you hit Null’s extremities with your sword? No. There's always a certain risk involved with these kinds of things.” She huffed. “And you didn't seem to mind too much when I freed you from the crystal with your bow.”

“I'm not patronizing you,” Link shot back. “I just find it kind of weird that you trust an evil echo of me enough to pick up things it leaves behind and when you get ensorcelled by the item you just roll with it? I mean, didn't you fear the spell could turn on you?”

Her face shifted into a frown, then back to a scowl and she kicked her horse into a sprint. Link’s mouth fell open. It hadn't even occurred to her! 

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

You're Special to Me | Us Too

You’re Special To Me is so? mmm I don’t have the words to describe it but. (it’s really good) (all your fics are really good but this one just hit the spot for whatever reason) …any plans for a second part with more comfort than hurt? where the others realize what they’ve been doing to Remus and make it up to him (and summon a mattress from the room and have a cat pile sleepover)? – anon

All I've got to say is: touch-starved Remus. That's it. In anything. Just poor Dukey needing a damn hug. (/nf) – anon

Read on Ao3 Part 1

Warnings: none

Pairings: none

Word Count: 3323

The others have a nasty habit of comparing Roman and Remus. It starts to get grating after a while. Good thing Roman's always thought his brother was the best.

 

Logan comes up to him when he's in the Imagination weeding Ollie's pond. The Kraken rumbles and shifts in the water, making the reflection dance as he turns to see a figure with a large bag over its shoulder emerge from the mist. He stands up and wipes his hands on his overalls.

"Lolo? Is that you?"

"Yes, it's me." Logan finally steps out of the fog, holding one hand in front of his face as if to shield his glasses. "My apologies for intruding, but Roman said I might find you here."

"You found me, good job. Did you want something?"

"I was hoping we could talk."

A cool greyness far starker than the surrounding fog starts to creep into the edge of Remus's vision. "Talk? What about?"

"It's come to my attention that I've been very unfair to you. And by that I mean Roman gave me a kind reminder as to what it's like to have your work process judged, verbally or otherwise, and I'm here to make it up to you."

Remus blinks. Logan is here to what, exactly? And Roman did what? And Logan what? "What?"

Logan sets down the bag on a nearby rock and comes to stand next to Remus, who only then realizes he's wearing over-the-knee muck boots. "It was my fault for assuming that you and Roman would have similar processes because you are both Creativity. My response to realizing my error should not have made you feel as though your process is inferior or inadequate compared to Roman's."

"O-oh. Uh, I don't think you meant it, but, um, thanks?"

"Of course."

"Why're you…" He gestures to Logan's everything. "This?"

"Well, I was hoping we could have another brainstorm if you were feeling up to it—no pressure to say yes, obviously, this was not planned ahead of time—and I brought things to help."

"Help with the brainstorm?"

"Roman had mentioned you were looking to test the salinity of Oliver's pool in case you needed to introduce other creatures to his habitat," Logan explains as he opens the bag and unfolds it to reveal a series of vials and jars held in fabric sleeves, "and so I thought I would—"

"You made this for me?"

Logan pauses, looking up at Remus's disbelieving face. He huffs a laugh. "Yes, Remus, I made it for you. I was intending to leave it with you to do on your own time, but I figured as I had an apology to make—"

"You're forgiven, exonerated, whatever." Remus all but pounces on the bag. "Now shush and help me run some tests. Ollie! Get ready to throw your ball around a lot 'cause we got work to do!"

Logan chuckles and pulls out a notebook as Ollie trills in excitement, already fishing around in the kelp for his ball.

2.

"You got your gloves, right?"

Roman flexes his hand—his already gloved hand—and Remus rolls his eyes. "It's okay, I'm excited too."

"Shut up and let's get going. I want to try and have this ready for the afternoon."

"Shutting up!" Roman opens the Imagination door with a flourish and they walk out into a sunny field of lavender. The smell is nearly overpowering; if it weren't so pleasant, Remus might offer Roman something to plug his nose with, that's how strong it was. The last time his nose had been so thoroughly ensorcelled had been when— "Re? You okay?"

Remus blinks and sniffles. "Yeah. Sorry. Smell got me remembering Willow."

Roman joins him in the quiet as they walk through the field, both of them remembering the baby dragon that loved the flower fields so much when she was still a hatchling. The dragon had grown up and flown off to the Cloud Kingdom, somewhere high up in the Imagination that they could only get to on the back of Roman's dragon—so they didn't go very often anymore. The lavender rustles around their legs and does a great job of cheering them up when they finally find a spot to gather the plants.

"How much do we need?"

"Let's try and fill these baskets if we can, I think we need to have enough for both the glaze and the cake itself."

"Sure." Roman nudges him as they crouch down. "This was a really good idea, Re, I'm glad you suggested it."

"Thanks for coming with me."

"Oh, shoot—" Roman pats his pockets and stands up. "I think I forgot the stopwatch."

"You mean the one that we take into the Imagination each time so we remember what time it is in the rest of the Mindscape? That one? The really important one that we keep on the hook by the door—"

Roman cuffs him half-heartedly on the shoulder. "I'll be right back, you asshole."

"Love you too, Roro."

Roman walks back down the rows of the field as Remus gets to work. He doesn't bother with the gloves, not at first. His hands spend too often smelling of Kraken slime and other gross things, which normally he doesn't mind, but if he has the chance to smell of lavender instead, he'll take it. He falls into a soothing rhythm of plucking and pruning, the basket at his side growing slowly fuller, until a shadow falls across his lap.

"Ro, you're back, did you…?"

He trails off when he looks up and sees someone who is decidedly not Roman.

"…Pat-Pat?"

"Hey, Remus!" Patton looks around. "This place is really pretty. Did you and Roman make it?"

"Yeah." The flowers start to grey a little at the edges. "Did you see him on your way in? Is he almost back?"

"Yeah, I, um, passed him in the hall." He suddenly looks sheepish, fiddling with the sleeves of the hoodie tied around his shoulders. "He agreed to give me a few minutes to apologize to you."

"To what?"

"I'm not very nice to you," Patton says bluntly, "I know I'm not. It was—Roman was really upset with me over the whole baking thing. I didn't know—I didn't realize how it felt that I basically bossed you around for the whole time and you didn't even get to make what you wanted."

"…so you're apologizing for it?"

"Yeah, I am. I'm sorry, Remus, I was mean to you and it wasn't your fault."

"Uh, thanks." He drops another lavender leaf into his basket. "I appreciate that."

"Are you guys making something will all the lavender?"

"Yeah, we're gonna make a tea cake."

Patton claps his hands. "Ooh, that sounds really good! Can I help at all, or should I just wait?"

"I think you'd better wait, Patton, too many cooks and all that," Roman's voice comes over Patton's shoulder and Remus thanks everything he's ever made that his brother knows how to say the stuff he wants to say in the way where no one actually gets mad at him. "But we'll be sure to save you a big slice!"

Patton claps his hands and squeezes Roman in a hug before he's leaving the Imagination. Remus holds his breath until the door closes and then sags into Roman.

"I'm sorry," Roman murmurs, "I didn't realize he'd…I thought that'd be easier on you than it seems like it was."

"It's fine, it's not your fault. He's just a lot sometimes."

"Yeah, he is. But on the good side, I'm pretty sure that means you and I have free run of the kitchen all afternoon."

"Can we make him regret it slightly?"

"Oh, we can make him regret it way more than slightly—"

"Yes."

"—with how good this tea cake is."

Remus pouts and Roman laughs.

3.

"You look sad," comes Janus's voice from beside him as arms wrap around his waist, "so you're getting cuddled now."

Remus just turns his face into the crook of Janus's neck and breathes out, long and slow. Janus hums, setting his chin on top of Remus's neck and rubbing his back. They shift around a little to get elbows out of ribcages and knees out of groins before Janus starts scratching his hand through Remus's hair. Which isn't fair, and he knows it, because it always makes Remus want to tell him what's wrong, even when he doesn't want to.

Like now.

"I'm so tired," he whispers, the words leaving him with no small amount of shame, "I'm just so—I want it to stop."

"Want what to stop, sweetie?"

"This," he mumbles and bonks his head against Janus's chest, "this, this thing in my brain that won't shut the fuck up, I want it to go away and leave me alone."

"Do you want to tell me what it's saying?"

"No."

Janus pauses, then shifts up enough to press his mouth against the crown of Remus's head. "You be quiet in there, you here me? Don't make me put my angry gloves on."

The reference to a set of gloves Remus had made when they were younger, complete with snarling mouths that opened up when the palm was exposed, makes him laugh. Janus chuckles along with him, kissing his forehead and holding him a little tighter.

"You're doing so well, sweetie. Everything is a lot right now and you're dealing with it as best you can. You're going to be okay."

"I'm really tired, Janny."

"Then sleep." He shifts underneath him to lie down properly, Remus arranged atop him like some great weighted blanket. "You're nice and warm and I am excellent at cuddling. Have a nap."

"Right here?"

"Yes, on this couch, where we're both safe, where I can take care of you and steal all of that body heat you and Roman hoard to yourselves." Another kiss to his temple. "Do you want a blanket too?"

"Yeah."

A quick snap of Janus's fingers and there's a thick green comforter resting on top of them, not too heavy, not too hot, just enough weight and cover that some part of Remus actually relaxes underneath it. His eyes begin to drift closed against his will, something he knows Janus realizes by the slightly smug turn in the air.

"Shh, now," comes the soft voice, "that's it, sweetie, just go to sleep. It's alright, everything's alright, you're safe with me, I'll take care of you."

"I don't know when the last time someone hugged me who wasn't Roman was."

Janus is quiet for a minute. Then: "I hope you know I'm not letting you out of here until dinner time, and maybe not even then."

"Okay."

"And I might kidnap you to warm up my room since I've been getting cold falling asleep."

"Okay."

"And I might have to get Virgil to help me too."

"…okay."

"As long as you're aware of what's about to happen, sweetie."

"Mm."

4.

Janus does end up telling Virgil, which is how he ends up with a heavy lapful of Emo one evening when they're all lazing around before movie night. He'd sat down on the couch to finish digesting the insane about of spaghetti he'd managed to eat during dinner, and yelped when something landed on his lap, sighed, and squirmed around to get comfortable.

"Virgil?"

"Hey, Remus." Virgil grins up at him. "You don't get to be mad about me surprising you when that's literally all you do to us."

"I wasn't—okay, maybe slightly," he amends when Virgil gives him a look, "but…it's not like you do this, not to me."

"Yeah, well." Virgil shifts a bit more and one hand comes up to clumsily pat Remus's shoulder. "You and I haven't been around each other that much lately. I gotta make up for lost time and all that stuff."

"You do?"

Something flickers across Virgil's expression and he sits up, his face only a few inches from Remus's. "Yeah, Remus. We were—not as close as you and Janus were, but we were close. You used to sneak into my room to put on crazy shadow puppet shows and I used to run to you when I was scared of the thunder. And then I…left, and we haven't really been that close since."

"Because you made everyone think we didn't like each other."

He winces. "Yeah, I know. But I—hmm. I'm really trying to be better about that, Remus, I am. I really did miss you."

"You did?"

"Yeah." Virgil quickly glances around and leans closer. "Don't tell anyone about this, okay?"

"Okay."

"The reason I started picking on Princey at first was because he reacted kinda like you did when I pushed Janus's buttons. He got all uppity and loud and it made me think of how you'd always pretend to be some weird knight riding to Janus's defense whenever I pissed him off."

Remus's cheeks flushed. He'd forgotten about that, when Virgil was being a pest and Janus was running out of patience, he'd jump in between them and start a play fight with Virgil to defuse the tension and get everyone laughing again. To hear—well, he'd known that Virgil got close to Roman for similar reasons—but something like this? Just because he missed Remus? And here he was thinking that Virgil was thanking his lucky black holes that he was away from Remus.

"I didn't know."

"I know you didn't," Virgil says, his voice softer now, "and I know you didn't think I cared enough to notice you were touch starved."

"Well—I—I didn't—I only—Janny said—"

"Janus said, Roman said, I thought." Virgil flops back down onto his lap, burying his face in his stomach as he wraps his arms around Remus's waist. "You get cuddles because you need them, and I give them to you 'cause I spent too many years pretending I didn't wanna."

"That was mean," but it's weak as Remus starts to sag into the warm embrace.

"I know, bud, and I'm done with being mean to you. Now we just get along unless we're play fighting, deal?"

Remus nods back, but his voice is too shot to make anything close to a reasonable response, and Virgil doesn't seem to mind.

5.

He's having another bad day when Roman sinks into his room and carts him back off to the Imagination, this time picking one of their favorite rooms in the high castle. It's all warm grey stone and warm wooden floorboards that've been sitting in the sun all day, pillows and blankets tossed about the room for making temporary mattresses. He sags into Roman's side and refuses to budge when Roman insists on getting some of the blankets and pillows.

"In a second," he laughs as Remus whines in protest, "just let me go for two seconds and you'll be happier, I promise."

Remus pouts but does wait the few seconds for Roman to throw something together. Then he just lifts his arms like he's a toddler asking to get picked up. Which he does, and he's tossed unceremoniously onto the pile of pillows. He bounces and Roman laughs at his surprised face.

"Come on, no pouting," he teases, lying down in the blankets too and pulling Remus into a cat pile, "let's just enjoy the sunset, okay?"

Imagination sunsets are the best. There are always a ton of pretty colors, always enough strategically placed clouds to keep you from being entirely blinded, and they last for just as long as you want them to. The one today they can see through the wide windows of the high tower is no exception. Rich blues and purples chase the reds and pinks around the sky, the clouds airbrushed with the most delicate versions of the colors as the sun slowly descends over the hills. There's no risk of mugginess this high up, nor any biting insects thanks to the constant breezes around the top of the tower. Remus feels his eyelids growing heavier and heavier as he sinks into Roman's embrace.

"Hey," Roman whispers and he hums something in reply, "you're the best brother ever, you know that?"

"No, you."

"No, you." Roman squeezes him around the middle and presses a gross, smacking kiss to his cheek. "And I love you."

"Don't get all sappy, Ro."

"Sunsets are sappy times, Re! Besides, you've had a really long day and that means getting cuddles while I tell you how much I love you 'cause you're a great brother."

"You mean it's the time you try to kill me with sap overload."

"Semantics."

Remus swats half-heartedly at him and his drama queen of a brother yelps like he's been struck with a whip, but he can't keep the smile off his face.

Roman loves me. He really, really loves me.

It would be a very different world if he didn't have such an amazing brother.

+1.

There are still bad days where he doesn't feel like getting out of bed or talking to someone who isn't his brother.

There are more good days. Days like this, where he gets to spend it surrounded by his family.

"Shush," Virgil mumbles, swatting Logan's leg with a pillow as he tries to go on another rant about a certain trope that Remus never caught the name of, "it's sleep time."

"You're going to fall asleep on the floor?"

"Right, good point. Princey?"

"Coming right up." Roman snaps his fingers and the familiar giant mattress appears in the middle of the living room, much to the delight of Virgil and Janus, who both sprawl onto it like overgrown kittens.

"You both need to make some room," Remus grunts as he shoves at an errant leg, "c'mon, let the rest of us on."

"Ooh, I want Remus cuddles today," Virgil mumbles, only for Janus to snatch him. "Hey!"

"Too slow."

"Children," Logan scolds, reaching out and ruffling Remus's hair with a wink, "I could've sworn we talked about consensually abducting cuddle victims."

"I'll fight you for him," Virgil declares, already reaching for a pillow, but Patton grabs it instead. "Hey!"

"No," Janus whines as Patton joins in the playful fight for Remus cuddles—when Remus himself is more bemused than anything else and Roman and Logan are just smiling, the useless wonderful bastards— "get your own Remus! This one's mine!"

"That's all of our Remus, you have to share!"

"Yeah, give us each a limb or something."

"No, I want the torso!"

"I want the head," Logan remarks casually with another wink when Remus blushes, "but I think Roman would prefer we kept his brother intact as much as possible."

"You can share," Remus gasps out eventually when he's getting battered with pillows, "I wanna cuddle all of you!"

"Well, if that's what he wants—"

"Who are we to say no?"

Janus just chuckles as the four of them quickly make themselves at home in the middle of the blanket, arms slung over Remus until he can't quite tell whose limbs are whose. But the warm pressure and familiar scents of all of them right here, safe, under the blankets are sending the everything good, sleep now signals that his brain is having a hard time ignoring.

So maybe he won't ignore them and he'll just fall asleep.

He makes eye contact with Roman before his eyes slip closed properly and the last thing he sees is Roman's soft grin.

There will be good days, there will be bad days.

But Remus never feels truly grey ever again and for that, he's happy.

General Taglist: @frxgprince@potereregina@gattonero17@iamhereforthegayshit@thefingergunsgirl@awkwardandanxiousfander@creative-lampd-liberties@djpurple3@winterswrandomness@sanders-sides-uncorrect-quotes@iminyourfandom@bullet-tothefeels@full-of-roman-angst-trash  @ask-elsalvador @ramdomthingsfrommymind@demoniccheese83@pattonsandershugs @el-does-photography @princeanxious@firefinch-ember@fandomssaremysoul@im-an-anxious-wreck@crazy-multifandomfangirl @punk-academian-witch@enby-ralsei@unicornssunflowersandstuff@wildhorsewolf @thetruthaboutthesun @stubbornness-and-spite @princedarkandstormv  @your-local-fookin-deadmeme @angels-and-dreams@averykedavra @a-ghostlight-for-roman @treasurechestininterweb @cricketanne @queerly-fluid-fan @compactdiscdraws@cecil-but-gayer@i-am-overly-complicated@annytheseal@alias290@tranquil-space-ninja @arxticandy @mychemically-imbalanced-romance@whyiask@crows-ace @emilythezeldafan@frida0043 @ieatspinalcords @snowyfires@cyanide-violence@oonagh2@xxpanic-at-the-everywherexx@rabbitsartcorner @percy-07734@triflingassailantofmyemotions @virgil-sanders-the-gay-emo@cerulean-watermelon@puffed-up-bees@meltheromanstan@joyrose-fandomer@insanitori@mavenmush@justablah65@10paradox10@uhhh-hi-there-i-am-nervous@cutebisexualmess@bella-bugatti-frogetti-baguetti@ultrageekygirl

[noodyl-blasstal]

ooooooooh how about Tiny child in awe of you in a public space and whoever calls to you!

This got real silly real fast and I'm probably even a little sorry about it! Thank you so much Reeese! The prompt is from this list and I’m still open to requests.

-

“Why are you doing that face?”

“What face?”

“You know, the…” Taako scrunches his face up in his best approximation of Kravitz’s weird smile.

“It was happening again.”

Ah, that explains it. “Goth baby?” 

“Goth baby.” Kravitz nods solemnly, gestures to her with his eyes. “I thought I’d try and commune.”

Sweet, wonderful idiot. “Did it work?”

“Maybe?” Kravitz sounds uncertain. “Although. No. I don’t think so. Maybe I need to try something more clear?”

“How about a hand shake?” 

“Oh, of course, how rude of me.” Kravitz begins to walk forward and Taako yanks his arm back.

“Just checking, handsome, just picking up the phone to ask you a quick question, were you just about to walk over to that stranger’s baby, hold out a hand, and do the whole “‘ello it’s me, the grim reaper, wanna shake me ‘and?” bit?”

“No?”

“No question mark; or no full stop?”

“No full stop?”

“Cha’boy’s still hearing the query in there, bones.”

Kravitz sighs heavily. “I… I was going to do that, yeah. I might not have done the accent though.” He adds, optimistically.

“Babies love the accent.” There’s no point in denying it.

“You’re right, of course you’re right, I… yes I would have done that.”

Taako rests a soothing hand on his shoulder. “I’d let you shake my baby’s hand.” He says, reassuringly.

Kravitz breaks eye contact with the ensorceled baby and raises an eyebrow at Taako. “You didn’t let me interact with Angus at all for months! We only got to speak when he figured out we were dating and came to interrogate me at work.”

“And what did you do when he arrived in your office, Kemosabe? Whatmst did you deign to do when the baby genius himself rocked up in your workplace in his jamjar specs and his fancy hat and said he was there to see you? Hmm?” Taako hasn’t ever asked, he doesn’t need to, he knows it in his bones.

“I shook his hand.” Kravitz says, downcast.

“You shook his hand!” Taako’s triumphant, maybe a touch gloaty, it’s fine, Kravitz likes him like that. Before he can do anything ridiculous like attempting some humility Kravitz stops doing his pondering face.

“Fine. I won’t shake hands with the baby.” 

Taako doesn’t want to ruin it entirely. “You could try waving.” He suggests.

“What kind of wave?”

“Fancy one.” Taako demonstrates.

“Like this?” Kravitz waggles his fingers dramatically at Taako.

“I think you can do better.” Taako does a trick shot, passing a hand behind his back to wave from one side.

Kravitz snorts, but spins round on the spot then waves back. Perfect man. “Okay.” He takes a moment to think. “How about…” he waves in a sweeping motion, then circles back up the other side to form a full greeting circle.

“I like it. See if the kid does.”

Kravitz waggles his fingers in a fancy circle. The baby remains stone faced, she doesn’t break her stare.

“I don’t think she liked it.” Kravitz shrugs, pocketing his hands as if they might try again if he doesn’t holster them.

Taako shrugs. “Her loss.”

Kravitz nods. “Yeah… you’ll wave back at me no matter what, right?”

“Natch, Taako wouldn’t leave you hanging.”

[jaskierx]

I'm glad Izzy's dead BUT I will forever regret not getting one particular scene. Izzy canonically thinks that Ed and Stede have been banging since at least the Run Me Through moment on-deck and possibly longer. And that Ed is the ensorcelled victim of Stede's magic dick. I would have loved for the proverbial penny to drop for Izzy that at that the time when Ed renounced Blackbeard/piracy/every cornerstone of his life with Izzy to save Stede's life, he had never even touched Stede's lips with his own, let alone had carnal knowledge of him. That THAT's how much he loved Stede and would never love Izzy. Imagine the look on Izzy's face, Ed risking it all for a man he'd never even kissed.

anon i have a post you're gonna enjoy lemme just find it

okay after a long and bloody battle with tumblr's abysmal search function i've finally dug it up

but yes you're so right. ed fell so hard so fast. the relief on his face when stede wins the duel against izzy. the way there's not even any question of whether he'll leave with izzy/advocate for izzy to stay/etc - he just stays with stede

and now he gets to stay with stede. forever. and izzy can't get them anymore. that's a love story babey

[liketwoswansinbalance]

Rhian, drop your morning/night routine!

Rhian: In the morning, I don't "wake up" like most do. Instead, I simply get out of bed since I'm usually up all night attempting to fall asleep. Repose rarely overtakes me, and my mind's always reeling. I may have to commission a sleeping draught from a witch one day.

At this stage of the morning, Rafal is usually still out cold, and it doesn't matter how loud I am, so I listen to the morning Kingdom Council spellcast reports from a mirror I've ensorcelled at full volume and review the Putsi market trends as I start on my routine.

The Gillikin Gazette's updates about its ongoing cathedral construction are my favorites though—its flying buttresses rival Camelot's dated, heavier Romanesque designs. I only manage to catch those reports on Saturdays though since I have to be out of the tower and on my way at an early hour most days. Oh, and I tend to cast a spell, so my bed makes itself while I busy myself with more important tasks.

Firstly, I need my ermine slippers and silk dressing gown. I shower and usually start with a facial, rosewater, or whichever magical cure-all I'm currently using to remove my under-eye shadows with.

Though, Rafal's been a bother about the cucumbers I go through. He thinks I'll drain the Woods' supply and that he won't have any left for his sandwiches. Mind you, that isn't true in the least.

I use charcoal imported from Akgul to remove impurities of the skin, and that's been rather effective as of late. I also ice my pores, page through Maxine's progress reports, and keep tabs on the lackadaisical performers. Tracking's very important at a School like ours, you know.

On some occasions, I do my own makeup, but really, it seems to me that only the Evergirls care if they notice at all. These days, I've been fond of whipped beetroot tinctures and orchid cologne. Then, I arrange my hair, dress suitably for the day's activities in whichever clothes I pressed the night before, and polish my boots. I polish Rafal's too. He doesn't notice or care—thinks we're immune to disease and scrutiny—but he's missing the point. It's about image, of course. And I worry that he'll bring bird mites from his Stymphs indoors, and that would not only be unseemly for a School Master, but a disaster of inordinate proportions, even if our health isn't at risk. Think of the parent complaints we'd receive, if we had an infestation. The picket-lines would never end!

When I head out, Rafal's almost always still asleep, so I bring us back breakfast, and wake him then.

Well, I say "wake him," but rousing him isn't as simple as I've likely led you to believe. By now, it's turned into an awfully elaborate burlesque. I switch mirror channels to the Jaunt Jolie Music Hall's Cricket and Brass orchestra production of the day. If that fails, I bang a ladle on our breakfast's silver cloche over him. And if all else fails, I shout "FIRE," "INVASION," or even "PIRATES" if I'm desperate and running late, and that does the trick. I still haven't figured out if he's been deluding me though, or if it's his dreams that leave him with those horrid little grins.

Yet, this particular song-and-dance of sorts has been more of a recent development. His clarion-belled alarm clock from Geppetto's broke last month, and he hasn't had the time to replace it. The flight's a day's trip, and this new class of Nevers cannot be left alone for more than a day because he's sure there'll be either an outbreak of some pox or of some general pandemonium since he doesn't think I'm capable of maintaining order. I'm more than capable in truth.

We eat then, he in his pajama shorts and shirt and black stockings with the runs I chastise him about throwing out everyday, and me in my typical smart attire.

At the end, I wash up, sit, and wait for him to set the dishes to scrubbing themselves, comb his hair, and dress. After that, we split off to our respective sides for the day, and I see him again at dusk.

"Bye." or "Morning, brother." is as talkative as he gets at this time of day before he vanishes into the Tunnel of Trees or crosses the Halfway Bridge into the smog, unless he has a storybook victory to congratulate himself over or another point to bolster his side of an argument with—arguments I naively believed we'd already put to bed the night before.

After a full day of overseeing classes, Rafal legs it over the window sill when he returns and showers immediately when he gets back. Then, he grades papers and exams. On days when he's exhausted by puppeteering mock battle raids or Storian knows what he subjects those poor children to, he passes out in bed fully-clothed without showering, and showers in the morning.

All the while, I perform my nightly skin- and hair care routines, snuff out the candles, and get in bed with an eye mask, in my attempt to get a good night's sleep, often sooner than he goes to bed because he reads news updates and whatever musty tome he's tearing through late into the night.

Sometimes, I wake in the middle of a night terror and realize he's still up marking or reading or scheming, so I confiscate the candles at that point and force him to sleep. Rarely does he listen, and I've stopped bothering most of the time as he reads by the light of his fingerglow instead, contrary to all sound advice. He doesn't view sleep as necessary seeing as the Storian sustains us, but he has no sleep troubles, so I suppose that's an easy conclusion to form if you're him. The latest remedy I've resorted to is tucking lavender into my pillowcase, but I've had not a drop of luck.

[tothestarsinvelaris]

My unhinged reactions to the chaotic ride that is The Folk of the Air series ((first two books only bc I'm only 30% through The Queen of Nothing soooo ---- no spoilers plsss))

The Cruel Prince Worst Betrayals:

TARYN - MA'AM!!?????!??? You knewww?? you knew Locke was playing both of y'all??? and you weren't even ensorcelled or whatever?!?!? GIRL?! "if you let me seduce your sister in front of you and keep your mouth shut it proves that I love you" I'M sorry?!?!!??? I absolutely cannot. Someone will need to give me some serious break down of why tf I shouldn't jump in there and smack the bitch myself for being so stupid and betraying her sister like that smh ((more on this bs later bc i've made it far enough through TQON to know things))

JUDE!!!!!!!! - Girl why tf are you gonna do my boy Cardan dirty like that???? He finally TRUSTED YOUR ASS okay?! he is clearly a lil bby who has never had a hug and never felt loved and is v much into you so maybe you should be NICE TO HIM (or mean bc hes into that obvs) but like -- you put the damn crown on his head when he SPECIFICALLY ASKED YOU NOT TO?!??????? oof

The Wicked King:

I sat there really trying to figure out who tf betrayed Jude already when Nicasia's jealous ass said that and like I knew it was not my boy Cardan bc he has never done anything wrong in his entire life and he has a plan and reasons and you can't tell me any different okay!? someone ((JUDE)) just hug the damn boy and pat his lil head and tell him everything is gonna be okay pls?? and I knew that boy Locke and stupid idiot Traitor Taryn were sus. Obvs Madoc is a dumb murder bitch so like?? DUH he was gonna do something stupid since you know, he already fucking committed treason. I just sat there from page one waiting for those three to pull some stupid shit to betray Jude and OBVS I WAS RIGHT ! those stupid idiot dumb dumbs can't help themselves but betray Jude! hate them allllllll hate hate hate

but the scream i screamed when the Ghost of all damn people - (me picturing him as some kinda cute lil spy cutie) - called for Jude in that tower and was like "naaaahhh I worked for Dain bitch, not your ass" I'm???? sorrryyy??? betray ME?! the READER OF THIS BOOK?!??! excuse you!

but also the way Cardan was like "tell me you hate me" and "i want to tell you so many lies" and "i'm a sad lil bby and nobody has ever cared about me" and "i trusted you" and "marry me" and "crawl to me" crawl to meee????? sir. and he sent her ass to the mortal world but did not deny her and did not revoke their marriage so likeeee??? jude girly use your damn brain okay babes i know its in there somewhere so pls just get back to your 4D chess game you had in book 1 and realize this man loves you and is trying to PROTECT YOU OKAY ugh!!!!!

Currently reading The Queen of Nothing so like.... doing my damn best to fly through this book so I can finally look at fanart and fandom shit okay? gh

[rabid-reads]

I finished Dark Heir and Sarcean is my favorite character now. He gets the best lines and sleeps with everyone. I can't remember if the Sun King's hair color was mentioned, but I'm going to bet it's blond and he's in love and angry with Sarcean. Hence the ✨️ensorcelling✨️

And oh no, those letters to Justice from Marcus. It's the Dark Rizz equivalent of Gojo and Geto, and I am so sad they will never be together. 😭💔

Also, that scene where Visander is not cool with Tom and Devon sleeping together (which admittedly is pretty weird) and starts describing Phillip as some sort of discount Sarcean is pretty great. Visander's a lot of fun. He's much better than Katherine. When Visander is jealous and asks Devon if he lets Tom ride him 👌😂

It is painful watching Will be everybody's scapegoat when their real issues stem from themselves and their detrimental prejudices.

And Ettore. Love him. I might try and see if I can find any fanfic for him. Since he's like...kind of single now. 💀

That scene where James tells Will to take his virginity. 👀 I had to put the book down and pace around my backyard while smiling like an idiot. Why couldn't Will kiss James then? 😭😭

Damn. And when Sinclair snaps the collar on James, it was so satisfying to see James stand up to him. 👊

Wow, everything Will felt and went through during those last few chapters. Pacat is incredible. He's such a great character, and tbh even if Will turns out to be evil I would still be on his side. Because fuck em, that's why. Cyprian is so dumb. I'd be ok if he died in the next book. Even if this series ends with James and Will ruling the world that'd be fine by me.

That was a lot to take in and I have too many thoughts.

[goforth-ladymidnight]

On ACOTAR Faeries and Names

For some reason, SJM undoes most, if not all, of traditional faerie lore in her books. (I haven't read TOG or CC so I can't comment on those.) The cynical part of me thinks it's because faeries can be difficult to write well, therefore she took the easy route; the more forgiving part of me thinks it's because she set out to explore why humans believed certain myths about faeries, but then lost interest as she spent more and more time in the realm of the Night Court. (Side note: I find it odd that SJM chose to emphasize that the Illyrians are NOT really faeries, whether High or "lesser". I honestly wonder why that is.) Regardless, there's nothing very faerie about SJM's High Fae, etc. except for their ethereal beauty and pointed ears and the fact that they can do magic, I guess.

I've already written about Aging and Lying when it comes to ACOTAR's Faeries, and I thought I'd touch on another aspect of faerie lore that SJM chooses to ignore. (Heh, that rhymes.)

Names.

His [Rhysand's] eyes shifted to my face. “What’s your name, love?” Giving him my name—and my family name—would lead only to more pain and suffering. He might very well find my family and drag them into Prythian to torment, just to amuse himself. But he could steal my name from my mind if I hesitated for too long. Keeping my mind blank and calm, I blurted the first name that came to mind, a village friend of my sisters’ whom I’d never spoken to and whose face I couldn’t recall. “Clare Beddor.” My voice was nothing more than a gasp. ~ACOTAR ch. 26

Clare and her family are killed because Rhys revealed that name to Amarantha, even though he admitted later (in the next book) that he thought she made it up. So, Feyre's fears were not unfounded, but once she is Under the Mountain with everyone else, she is still reluctant to give her name when Amarantha asks for it.

Lucien is even brought forward and refuses to give away Feyre's name. For his defiance, Amarantha orders Rhysand to shatter his mind before Feyre finally gives in and shouts her name for everyone to hear. The Lady of Autumn even repays her sacrifice by helping her with one of Amarantha's "household tasks".

What is the sacrifice, though? It would seem that the only reason Amarantha wants to know her name is because Feyre knows hers, and wants to address her "properly":

“Feyre,” Amarantha said, testing my name, the taste of the two syllables on her tongue. “An old name—from our earlier dialects. Well, Feyre,” she said. I could have wept with relief when she didn’t ask for my family name. “I promised you a riddle.” ~ACOTAR ch. 35

In traditional faerie lore, it is said that names have power, so giving a faerie your name gives them power over you. (It is important to note that they cannot take anything from you. It has to be given.)

There is a scene in Hayao Miyazaki's animated classic in which the young protagonist Chihiro signs a contract to work for the sorceress Yubaba. In a beautifully animated sequence, her signature floats away and into Yubaba's waiting palm. She literally signed away her name. Chihiro is then given a new name in exchange: Sen. By the next day, she has already forgotten her original name and her purpose (freeing her enchanted parents). It is only when another ensorcelled young man gives her the bundle of her old clothes with a card in the pocket (with her name written on it) that she remembers who she was, and why she's there.

I just think it could have been very interesting to give Feyre a similar plotline in ACOTAR. By giving Amarantha her name, she no longer has it, and can no longer remember it. (And since the story is told in first person, it's easier to convey.)

How she gets her name back could be handled in one of two ways: Lucien gives back her name like the true friend he is, or she doesn't remember it until the very end.

If we explore the second option, this is what I'm thinking: Amarantha sought to break Feyre in mind, body, and spirit. The one thing she could never take from Feyre was her love for Tamlin.

“I love you,” I said. “No matter what she says about it, no matter if it’s only with my insignificant human heart. Even when they burn my body, I’ll love you.” My lips trembled, and my vision clouded before several warm tears slipped down my chilled face. I didn’t wipe them away. ~ACOTAR ch. 43

In my Faeries and Lying essay (linked above), I think it would have been more powerful for Amarantha to want Feyre to admit to lying about her love for Tamlin. In the same vein, I think it would be that much more impactful for Feyre to admit that even if she does not know her own name, she knows she loves Tamlin, and that's enough.

It's the one thing Amarantha couldn't take from her. It's the reason Feyre went Under the Mountain in the first place. And most importantly, it's the answer to the riddle. Love. And that's enough.

[merakiui]

i love this idea about everyone revealing when they started liking (or let’s be real, appreciating) jade leech. tbh that mofo had me hooked in the prologue!!! on the character select page!!!

he’s one of the two characters that has only two, short lines of description for themselves in the ‘take their hand’ section!! (the other two-liner is his twin!) and i was like this soft-spoken, courteous mofo has secrets and i must know them all. ≖‿≖ he BEWITCHED me. i want to pry him open on a laboratory table and dissect him.

he WILL be under my scalpel one day.

though, i only did start writing for jade leech, my beloved, when i read ‘the most dangerous game’. that fic reminded me of how fun specifically fanfic-stylized writing is! (*≧∀≦*)

This is so real!!! He's extremely bewitching. There's just something about the way he is that leaves me hopelessly ensorcelled every time I think about him. orz the power of Jade Leech and his charm... the need to dissect him is always so strong!!! He's so fascinating. I want to study him inside and out.

I remember I stopped paying attention to twst updates back when the game was still exclusive to Japan and Octavinelle book had just come out (I was closely following Heartslabyul and Savanaclaw books because those dorms had my favorite characters), so when I later found out the twins were actually eels,,,,,, WHAT. I thought, what do you mean they're all mermen?!?!?!?!?! It was an exciting shock that interested me only slightly in the eels and then I remembered my dislike for them. T_T so the interest vanished quickly.

But now I'm here and I love Jade Leech (and the rest of Octavinelle) so dearly!!! It took a while, but he inevitably bewitched me in the same way he did to you. OTL I never thought they would become my favorites, but then I actually played book 3 and realized Azul is just like me fr and suddenly I was in love with him and two devious eels. I once made a diagram illustrating all of the similarities between Azul (as well as Riddle) and myself to show my friend just how bad it is LOL. Yana saw my lore and started cooking with Riddle and Azul. ;;;;

Hehe joking aside, fanfic-stylized writing is wonderful!! It's an honor to be able to behold your Jade masterpieces in this world. ⸜(｡ ˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡ tmdg made me realize I was officially a Jade Leech appreciator and I have never doubted that since. <3