#idk how to write medieval people

[thevenuscross]

composure; prologue

masterlist | next chapter

warnings: lowkey the brother is annoying in some parts, thats all tbh

word count: 2.1k

authors note: the prologue was supposed to be shorter lol, d1 yapper over here y’all.

prologue

The sounds of chatter from your eldest brother and the sounds of clatter from shoes on royal tile warped in and out of your ears. It was like you were drowning, only hearing one syllable to waves crashing you deeper and deeper. There was nothing more frustrating than when your brother began his anxious rambles, where there’s no end to it because his arrogant mind cannot be aware of others' sensitivity to the matter. He wasn’t aware of how you were trying so hard not to spin around and lash out on him; to finally scold him for good after all these years. Let him know how his rambles never helped.

You took a deep breath. In and out. Clasping your hands together in front of you, you started to count numbers in your head.

It was just…you wished he could shush his overwhelming thoughts that trembled your body in fits during these kinds of situations. But never would you let your unwanted thoughts leave your lips. You will continue to conceal them in the back of your mind like you always have and always will. If there was anyone who would conceal their own worries from the ever-growing rumors of war, it was you. You who kept your head high.

Besides, his maid was providing him with reasonable explanations for his rambles. Something you were extremely grateful for.

“If this is such an emergency for them, why must they let us run across the castle grounds to reach the common? They are lucky we were not busy.”

“Sir, if I may, no one expected for them to call upon you in such haste,” His maid said in exasperation as he tried to keep up with everyone’s pace, “We were only notified of this minutes ago.”

“Maybe you should’ve warned us quicker but no, the minute you reached the botanicals, you and my sister’s maid, both decided to dally in a story of the rumors of war instead of outright saying it was urgent.”

Your brother’s maid tried to usher an explanation, probably a reason why he and your maid started with the rumors, but, typical of your brother, he scoffed, shaking his head. “By now we've already known a war is on breach. You did not need to give us a backstory on such.”

“Yes, your Highness, but you must know—“

Tempted to roll your eyes and scoff too, you squeezed your hands. You had enough of this one-sided conversation. With the commons room only ten more steps in front, you relished in pretending to let the waves tumble in your head. The voices behind you faltered and the muffled silence filled you with tranquility. Not uttering a single word, you swiftly opened the oak doors where it was lined with gold. Returning your hands back in front of you, you bowed forward to your parents where they stood, facing each other, their own conversation falling short.

“Mother, father.” You addressed, grateful they still bowed their heads to you.

It didn’t take long for your brother to spill his thoughts onto them. “Will our army be sent to the cliffside on Jackson? Or is the war finally commencing?”

Always in your life had you let your brother do the questioning, the disobeying, the defiance. . Even if your own longed to unravel that side of you. Deep down, you know questioning your parents will not be considered lightly. They had already set the future paths for you and your brother where he will be the one crowned in ruling this kingdom. And you…you couldn’t exactly realize where your life was heading. In all of your twenty-eight years of living, you only knew manners and skills they believed fit right in case they wanted you to be a future queen.

Though your parents weren’t known to be direct with you.

“There is no war in this kingdom. Or will a war happen in the many centuries to come. The conflict between us and the neighboring kingdom will be solved within months. You of all people should not be conflicted with the lies of the rumor.”

Your brother squinted his eyes in disbelief, “Then why are our maids sharing tales of rumors of the supposed war? Do you believe so little in us to come to your call because we are older? Cross I will be if it is just simple news.”

Waves were crashing upon you again. You hid the shakes of your hands by squeezing them tight together. It was an upside to staying silent for most of your life as it made you invisible to most eyes wherever you were. Your sight scattered across the room to catch something that will hold your attention for a couple of minutes and that’s when you saw them. The both of them like statues, patiently waiting for your parents to address them.

Two knights in the room and you were the only one looking at them now.

They wore high quality silver armor, their entire body hidden by the weight of it. Their shoulders aligned perfectly with the other as their chest was buffed. A steel sword rested on their leather scabbards, a shield with the kingdom’s design being held by their left hand. Their helms of silver covered every part of their face, the only thing you can see if they were closer was their visor. You were glad you couldn’t exactly see if they caught you observing them and if they knew, they did nothing of the sort to let you know.

“Listen to your father.” Your mother’s strict tone broke your observance. Her pointed glare quieted your brother, allowing him to stand beside you and listen. “There is no war and there will be no war on these lands. Do you understand?”

You peeked at your brother. He was biting the inside of his cheeks. At first, he opened his mouth but let those unanswered questions down his throat. His fingers anxiously started to tap against his thigh in a scattered pattern. When tense silence gathered in the room, your father exhaled deeply and moved away from your mother’s side and closer to where the knights were. Your brother’s eyes widened slightly but he stayed quiet.

Once your father reached the knights, his eyes met yours then your brother’s. “We’ve noticed the crime has increased due to the…lies spread across the kingdom. As people grow relentless with royalty, me and your mother decided it was best for both of you to have personal guards.”

You didn’t notice your brother glancing over at you.

“These knights are one of the best under the royal regiment. With great skill in sword, they will grant you protection. Your guard must follow you everywhere, even if you think you might not need it.”

You wanted to scrunch your face in, a flicker of annoyance rumbling inside of you. Flocks of questions crept into your throat, your lips being the gate to keep them locked. This is what you were trained to do since birth. Keep quiet in your defiances, keep your composure in your impulsiveness. Biting the edge of your tongue and gulping your questions down and allowing your brother to remark.

It’s too late now to change.

Though for a couple of minutes, your brother did not speak. His eyes were glued to the guards. His tapping increased in pace before he shut his eyes and clasped onto his hands to stop the taps.

“If you want another body to follow us like some street dog then so be it but I know why the two of you did this.”

“Brother,” you grumbled out as he shrugged his shoulders.

“Forgive me or not but you know I am right.”

You and your brother caught each other’s glance and you saw a swarm of pleas. You couldn’t hear how he whispered a please to you. Or how defeated he was when you turned back to face your parents.

“Mother, father, forgive me, but if a war will not happen in our kingdom then why the personal knights. And if the crime is increasing because of the crippling fear of war-“

“There is no war!” Your father bellowed, face contorted. His shout rocked your brother into a whimpering boy, cowering and head low, eyes shut. Slowly, his tapping was back on the side of his thigh. “What will it take to get through your stubbornness?!” The roughness in his voice, the added texture of anger, it all made the room fall to a deathly tremble.

Your brother started in a hushed croak “Father,”

“Enough.”

Your brother bit his words so your parents could carry on. With frustration quipped, their introductions of the two knights were kept short to both.

The guard to the left, slightly taller from the one on the right, was your brother’s. Trained under the royal regiment for ten years where he earned the ranking of Grand Cross, the highest of all rankings. It was an honor to be a personal knight for a royal, but to you, it seemed like a detriment. Always on the watch, always on patrol.

Seemed treacherous.

His guard bowed with his shield and fist over his heart. Your brother eyed him but soon bowed his head as well.

You prayed for his guard.

But you couldn’t pray for yourself.

It was easy for you to stay hidden and stay polite with others because you barely were around people. Either in your room honing the skills set or visiting the town square or the botanicals alone, only calling your maid when you needed her. Your life was centered on keeping your composure.

Now he, your new personal guard, must follow you around, must watch over you, must not let anything get to you. You couldn’t help but want to push and deny any access to anyone watching you.

Though one must not allow such impulsions.

Angsty to be face to face in front of him, you gripped your hands. You couldn’t remember when he was in front of you or when his introduction was over for him. Or when you remembered when your body had a mind of its own and that it remembered how to properly greet someone. He only bowed with his head, shield to his heart.

He stared at you with eyes like a hawk. Through his visor, you saw the darkness in his eyes, the color hidden. If he’s like this, you may need to visit the town square less and less, more hidden in your room.

To your surprise, he hasn’t uttered the words of a knight, where one was grateful to serve for you, protect you. He just stood and soon enough, you wanted to stay in your bedroom for months on end. It was okay if he was only here for a pay raise.

It would ease the notion that he wasn’t into this job.

You formed a tight smile, “Thank you, Sir.”

One must never lose their composure. No matter the situation they are brought upon. That is how one should rule for their people, even if that one will never be the ruler.

It nerved you how he kept five paces behind you like he was supposed to. Or how he hasn't spoken a single word to you even though it was only you two in the halls. He wasn’t like your maid who tried to start a conversation with you, either if it was personal or something simple. She couldn’t bear an awkward silence like he did.

Upon reaching your bedroom, ready to twist the knob and enter, you hesitated. Secretly, you glimpsed at him from the side. You noticed how his shoulders were too tight and how he would slightly shift from one side to the other. Though, you weren’t worried about his awkward stance—you were more worried about how far these protocols went.

Standing there for a minute and racking your brain to ask him a question, your thoughts froze when his eyesight shifted to look at you directly.

“Are you gonna ask me something?” He uttered, muffled. A peep of irk in his tone. You spotted a slight accent but couldn’t decipher where it would be.

You battled with yourself on not asking him if his mother ever taught him respect or if he ever went through knight training.

You stood straighter than before and gripped the knob of your door tighter.

“Where would you be posted if I entered my room?”

He didn’t move. “Outside.” He stated it so obvious, you couldn’t help but to bite your tongue in hope you can swallow your words instead of chewing him out.

“Okay.”

The both of you gazed at one another for a couple seconds before you turned your knob and opened your door. Bowing to him so you wouldn’t show your hindrance, you then turned away.

“Good day, Sir.”

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

taglist: @mermaidgirl30

(if u wanna be added, just tell me!)

[numiolaes]

i wonder how many people would stop bitching about the writing for this show if they could've binged it all and had at least one scene per episode where someone stated everything explicitly like that one scene w/ satan in futurama

[rasberryt0rte]

what is life if not in darkness,

is our artificial light enough to show the impatience of humanity or it's resilience?

can we truly believe a winter's rest must begin at 4' in the evening?

Or can we understand we aren't acclimated to the home we reside in, that we are guests, less adapted than some of our cohabitors, our host inconsiderate of our plights,

the rain shan't stop pouring when tears spill- neither shall the sun setting halt for the lost.

[halfbakedspuds]

I've come to the realisation that the best determining factor for what terrible people your characters actually are is to ask "how big of a change in the story/premise would it take for them to become the Villains?"

Case and point, both my protagonists would need just a single, minor excuse to become the kind of threat that heroes in traditional settings need to rise up against.

That change is the IUC's end-goal on the planet.

If the IUC was there to clear the way for easier human colonisation and annexation of the planet in future instead of upliftment, Adrian would have had no problem going along with it since his only real reason for helping with the upliftment at the start of the book/s (pending on whether this becomes a duology or not cause boy howdy this is a surprisingly long story) is that he needs the job and can't go home anymore, so if the IUC was a colonial organisation, he wouldn't have blinked before committing warcrimes in the name of doing his job.

Likewise, Lyanni basically hates her species early on since she's seen them at their absolute worst and wouldn't bat an eye if some cataclysmic tragedy befell them, as long as it didn't also affect her. So, if the IUC was an invading force, she would've been one of the first native collaborators and would've probably become a Praetor Adjutant just as she does in the actual story, although in this setting it would entail far more warcrimes.

Conclusion using this method: my protagonists early on are right bastards, and that's why I love writing them.

[shivasdarknight]

#THANK YOOOOU#also re literacy: we learn he wrote reports in the moogle tribe quests#and his vocabulary and dialect is more ''posh'' Ishgardian than it is country or Brume#he's not stupid he's not any of that stuff#he's just not super gabby and I imagine he's feeling awkward around all the academic Scions#he chimes in plenty anyway often with a more practical or intuitive view#(and he's autistic coded to me so that's part of the selective socializing in my eyes)

YES EXACTLY. YOU GET ME.

I only brought up the "we don't fully know" mostly because of specifics like what level of functional reading vs functional writing, but that mention of the reports is another thing people completely skip over: the Azure Dragoon wasn't just...whoever killed dragons the best. Their role within the Knights Dragoon was that of the top commander, which meant organizational skills, reports, etc. Estinien was effectively in a similar position to Aymeric, just exclusively within the Knights Dragoon compared to the wider Temple Knights and Ishgardian military. That's a big fucking deal!

But back on literacy, that point exactly. He's still got the mid-upper class Ishgardian speak compared to how they write Brumites or rural people regardless of where they're from. He speaks like his adoptive father, who - as an aside - is a minor Lord, because House Bale is a minor house thus Alberic is still nobility to an extent. Meaning Estinien wouldn't be escaping stuff to do with reading or writing; he's just stuck with the frustrating thing of potentially a later in life learning. It's still very likely that he knew how to read even prior to being taken in by Alberic, as reading was a more common skill than writing (we just link the two together these days and take it for granted). He may have also had rudimentary writing skills, but that's something we do not really fully know - kids in xiv tend to talk about "learning their letters" if they're from places like upper Ishgard compared to places like rural La Noscea, which is where I'm basing this thought from. Regardless, a shift from farm kid, to troubled teen being raised by a guy from a minor house, to an adult and fairly high ranking officer with Lots of paperwork is a fairly drastic shift. And if you aren't used to something like, I dunno, writing? It's physically painful.

This is again something we take for granted because writing is taught pretty early on, but scribes were a legitimate profession due to it not being a common skill. Writing was a separate skill from reading, so many people hired scribes. Additional and related piece of information: writing is such a physically intensive task that the bones of scribes are physically warped compared to people who didn't write whatsoever. The action has your tendons create new connection points in your phalanges, and actually elongates them over time for more surface to grab onto. So if you're a late learner, that's more painful. If you didn't write a lot and now suddenly have a large workload, that is also going to be very physically painful. I see a lot of interpretations of "Estinien doesn't send letters" as him being illiterate or a dickhead, but I don't think that's really fair to him. Now, I do personally write him as someone who now avoids writing when possible due to how much it does hurt, but even with that he's not illiterate! He definitely reads, he can definitely write - it's just looking to his circumstances and trying to figure out something that makes sense within my writing.

I derailed a lot there, but it's absolutely that point about what group he's in now: he's the odd one out, and really only able to relate to the WoL and kind of Thancred - otherwise, he's at a loss. He's not one to hang out in groups anyways, but a group of scholars is beyond anything he would seek out. He can't contribute much to conversation and debate, so why bother speaking when the others are more valuable in that task? He sees himself as being more useful when it concerns action, and this is shown countless times as the one to actually act instead of standing around theorizing. He knows what to say and when, he knows when to act or went to talk - he just talks when he's not intruding on more important matters. He's very opinionated, he just doesn't try and intrude?? Action over theorizing, and chatting for when there isn't anything to do.

And hey!! Similar brain! I'm sure I'm slipping autistic stuff in there w/o fully realizing it, but I'm very intentionally writing him as ADHD as so much of his actions post hvw scream RSD. Which just makes it more important with regards to how I write him to not portray him as stupid or illiterate with that intentional inclusion of ADHD (and probably also autism). The guy's not dumb, he just doesn't think or act the same way that the Scions do. He's at his most chatty when its one-on-one, and he's at his most curt and quiet when there's stuff going on within a large group. None of that means super quiet, curt or even dumb ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

one of the things that gets me about fanon lens - especially when you entrench yourself so much in a fan version of a character - is how a character can just slowly be stripped of what they are and who they are because of the self referential nature of fanworks (which isn't inherently bad, don't misunderstand; neglected characters can have new life breathed into them)

which is a long way of getting to: where did people get the idea that estinien's not one to talk, or is bad at effectively talking? I don't mean selectively mute hcs, i mean just very curt. like he's not as flowery as many of the scions or even compared to aymeric, but he's still dramatic and talks a lot. he's precise when he needs to be and extremely blunt, but just because of that doesn't mean he won't ramble

like his whole tangent about where he is today because of the wol right before the Dead Ends in Ultima Thule. his chattiness seems to fluctuate with how comfortable he is with someone, so i'm not really sure where "estinien's bad with words" came from?

he's no politician, but he's good at saying what needs to be said and saying it in a way that matters. yes, there is the whole aymeric thing but avoiding a difficult conversation rooted in guilt isn't the same as being bad at talking. he clearly knows how to get to people - especially to antagonize them into action (see: tiamat, azdaja) - so where did this come from?

[illbegottenfaith]

lucky pt 2 - theo nott x reader

after the Felix Felicis incident, your relationship with theo has dramatically changed, for better and for worse

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

a/n - by popular demand! rip my title tho the best alternative I could come up with was ‘feminine ass-kicking’ but idk if that’s too out there. also I’ve started part 3 too! (which should be the final part) this was kind of inspired by gilmore girls season 6 :)

tropes/warnings - academic rivals to lovers, angst, slow burn, miscommunication

word count - 2.1k

The Felix Felicis incident had given the both of you much to think about. Outwardly, you maintained the appearance that nothing had changed between the two of you, taking snipes at each other every now and then. But every night, before you’d fall asleep, your mind would wander back to that evening at the Astronomy Tower, the sight of Theo and the harsh contours of his face softened by the forgiving setting sun. Every night, he asks if you have anything else to say. Every night, you shake your head.

And as much as you’d like to pretend otherwise, things had changed between you. Theo became more reserved, somehow, less determined to spar with you. Your fights didn’t hold anywhere near the spark they once did. And you hated it. You hated that it bothered you, you hated that it upset you, you hated that it was all you could think about every time you were in the same classroom as him. It just wasn’t fair.

What also wasn’t fair was your entire group falling sick the day before an extremely crucial Potions project was due. They were all more than apologetic, but it didn’t change the fact that months worth of work to complete in one night if you wanted even a semblance of a chance at passing.

Which was how Theodore Nott found you in the library late one night, pouring over five gnarly tomes on Potions from the Medieval era, writing what looked like three essays at once. You flinched when you heard a noise near the bookshelves, and your mood wasn’t much improved when you saw who it was.

“Trying to read every book in one night, L/N?”

You wanted to roll your eyes. After weeks of stunted conversation, now that it was just the two of them, he was suddenly feeling chatty?

“I'm busy. Buzz off.”

Ignoring you, Theo crept closer, tilting his head to read what you were haphazardly scribbling.

“The Potions project? But we started that months ago. And it’s due tomorrow.”

You swept the papers up out of his sight. You were already in a testy mood to begin with and you were in no mood to have him crow over your bad luck.

“What part of ‘buzz off’ don’t you get?”

“Where are your groupmates?”

“Sick.”

“Sick?”

“They all went on some Hogsmeade trip together, the whole lot of them. They all caught it from each other and they’re supposed to be stupidly contagious.”

“But their reports should be fine.”

“They were, until Madam Pomfrey declared them a biohazard.” Your head was beginning to hurt from the bottled-up frustration. You knew it wasn’t their fault for falling sick, but now you had to pull an all-nighter just so you wouldn’t fail. You stood and walked past him to the shelves, pulling out any and every book that remotely looked like it might help. 

You glanced at the clock, mentally calculating how much time you’d need. There was no way you could get it all done by 9 am. Feeling quite proud of yourself for successfully giving Theo the same cold shoulder he had been giving you the past couple of weeks, you walked to the library telephone and started dialing the number to Slughorn’s office. One of the only people who could help you now was Jeeves, Slughorn’s teaching assistant, provided he was in a good enough mood.

“Jeeves, hi. Yes, I know it’s late, but I was wondering if you could delay the Potions project submission by just an hour? I’m sure Slughorn wouldn’t mind. It’s just my entire team fell sick all at once, and Madam Pomfrey threw out everything they’ve touched in the past three days, including their reports. I know it's due 9 am but couldn’t you bend the rule a little, just this once? For me?”

You rubbed your forehead anxiously, an unpleasant expression on your face as you tried to follow whatever Jeeves was yammering about punctuality. When he moved on to the importance of personal accountability, you felt like you were going to combust if you didn’t shut him up soon.

“Y’know, Jeeves,” you interrupted with a dramatic sigh, dropping your voice, “just the other day I was thinking about that one Quidditch match you had played a couple of years back. Yes, that one game you subbed in for the Chaser? I have to say, you’re no slouch yourself out on the pitch. You sure look like you know your way around a broom. Yes, exactly, way better than those oafs on the team. I always thought it was a shame you didn’t make the cut - one hour. Yes, yes, that’s all I need. Thank you, thank you!”

You hung up, already feeling much more hopeful with the one-hour extension. All that was left to do was slave away for the rest of the night, and by morning you’d have a more than acceptable report ready.

“…what was that?”

You started, having nearly forgotten who was with you. “What was what?” You asked, half-distracted, once again absorbed in rearranging the layout of your Potions project.

“That, with the - ‘you look like you know your way around a broom?’ Really?”

You glanced at Theo, frowning. “Well, how do you get what you want?”

You turned your gaze back to the book splayed out in front of you, missing the brief look of longing that passed over Theo’s face. “Hmm. Bribery, mainly.”

“Right,” you said slowly, a hint of sarcasm in your tone underneath the flurry of activity. “That trust fund isn’t going to spend itself, now is it?”

“My trust fund doesn’t kick in ‘til I’m 25, tesoro.”

You wanted to kick yourself when your heart fluttered over the stupidly endearing pet name. You didn’t realise how much you missed it. “Oh, oh, of course. Mr. Moneybags here is just absolutely rolling in it even without his trust fund. How could I forget?”

“Mr. Moneybags? That’s the best you can come up with?”

You huffed without any real annoyance. You walked over to where Theo was lounging as he lazily watched you spin like a top between the bookshelves. He had the decency to sit up slightly as you approached and dumped the stack of papers into his lap.

“Look, Nott, I’m on a time crunch here. So either help me or get out.”

Theo looked up at you without a trace of mockery in his otherwise teasing blue eyes. You willed yourself to not look away. 

“Yes, ma'am.”

You made the mistake of holding his gaze. A beat passed, then two. It seemed that it was surprisingly impossible for either of you to look away. Finally, you snapped out of it, mentally giving yourself a good shake as you hurried out of his magnetic field back to the table. If you didn’t know any better, you’d have thought you were flirting with him.

“Wha -?”

“Toast. From breakfast.”

You glanced around the room bleary-eyed, seizing Theo’s wrist a little harder than necessary as you blinked the sleep out of your eyes. As much as you hated to admit it, last night had gone better than you could have ever hoped. It helped to have another pair of hands and a brain that was almost as good as yours. Unfortunately, you must have nodded off at some point, 

Cursing as you finally made out the time on his watch, you peeled off the piece of parchment stuck to your face and continued writing, even as every muscle in your palm protested. Theo rolled his eyes and stuck the toast in your mouth, which you mindlessly nibbled on for the next hour or so. 

When you were finally done, you stuck your group’s names on the cover page and the two of you hurried down to Slughorn’s office a little before 10 o clock. Jeeves, good man that he was, was still in. But your relief was short-lived.

Jeeves did an insufferably exaggerated impression of reading the time as you walked in. “It’s 2 past 10. I’m afraid I can’t accept your submission.”

This was it. You reached your limit. You weren’t running on what was at most 2 hours of sleep just for some self-important dimwit of a teaching assistant to refuse your submission.

You grabbed the collar of Jeeves’ shirt, manhandling him with hours' worth of frustration. “Listen here, Jeeves. You will accept my group’s submission if you want to walk out of here with every part of your anatomy intact. You will take these essays I have here and you will accept them graciously, Merlin help you if you don’t.”

“What happened to using your feminine wiles?” asked Theo, thoroughly enjoying himself.

“Yeah, well, now I’m more in the mood for a feminine ass-kicking. Jeeves, come on. ”

You only released him when Theo placed a calming hand on your wrist. He reached into his pocket, offering something to a very red-faced and highly affronted Jeeves.

“C’mon, Jeeves. Maybe we could make this more worth your while.”

You hesitated, torn. On the one hand, you were raised better than to bribe people or accept financial aid, especially when you didn’t really need it. On the other hand, this project was worth 40% of your grade and Jeeves was being a little bitch. 

Jeeves mulled over the coins in his palm, taking his sweet time appraising them. Just as it looked like he was about to ask for something a little more, you slammed a hand on his desk.

“Alright, fine, hand it over.”

Once you’d finally successfully submitted your project, the two of you walked out of Slughorn’s office in a daze. Without the stress of the impending deadline to act as a buffer between you, a certain awkwardness started to set in. Theo had his hands in his pockets, rubbing at a scuffed patch on the floor with his shoe.

“You didn’t have to do that,” you started, but he waved off your protests. Still, no one pulls an all-nighter for just about anyone.

“So how much did you give him?”

Theo sighed. “L/N.”

But you were already pulling out your coin purse. “It can’t have been more than what I have on me now.”

“Y/N.” You stopped counting out your coins. He was looking at you strangely, like he didn’t understand what he was doing either. “Forget it. Really.”

Reluctantly, you pocketed your coin purse. A hysterical sort of giddiness was starting to set in. “We did it.”

“You did it.”

Maybe it was the long night of endless writing or your grumbling stomach. Maybe it was the sleep deprivation. Or maybe it was the way he was looking at you now, with a smile so sincere like he was genuinely so proud of you. Whatever it was, you took a step towards him, and then another before throwing your arms around his neck.

It was a little less dignified than you would have hoped, what with you trembling with barely any sleep and the vestiges of caffeine-induced adrenaline and him having the audacity of being a whole head taller than you since sixth year. But he steadied you before you could tip back, his arms resting around your waist. You had never shaken hands, much less hugged each other, but something about it felt so warm, comforting, familiar. The feel of his solid body pressed against yours didn’t feel so terrible.

But as you pulled apart, you caught sight of his expression, and your face fell. He wasn’t smiling like you, not anymore. 

“I’m sorry,” you blurted out, immediately feeling like the biggest idiot in the world. He still wasn’t smiling, but he didn’t look angry either. He looked - you couldn’t tell how he looked. He reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear almost regretfully, before turning to leave.

“Don’t.”

Theo paused. He didn’t turn to face you.

“Don’t do this, Nott. Don’t be cold. Don’t be distant.”

He adjusted the shoulder strap of his satchel. If you didn’t know any better, you’d say he was nervous. “I have Charms to get to.” He turned his head slightly but not enough to meet your gaze. “You should get a proper breakfast.”

And then he left, as if he had no idea what you were talking about. As if the last twelve hours hadn’t occurred. As if he hadn’t felt the void festering between you the past couple of weeks.

As if he didn’t care about you.

Part 3

[pawsmos]

100th post special!!!

this is art for my “Prince and the Knight” AU ive been working on for some time now.. here’s a meal whace nation!!

lore under cut!

KEHRHHEEB J LOVE THEM SO MUCH DUDE

vvvv

(im not that good with writing nor am i well versed in medieval honorifics and terminology or anything like that so there may be anachronisms)

(this is a separate au from any other medieval aus!! I’ve seen those and love those though)

(the rest of the drdt cast also exists in this au too btw. im considering making charles a butler or a lord or something. none of the cast are the king or queen by the way! that’s aces parents / Eden’s parents. ace also still has all his siblings)

tw for mild homophobia

- Prince Ace, a soon-to-be king, is arranged to marry Princess Eden from a nearby kingdom.

- Both Ace and Eden are upset about the marriage, as Ace is gay (he’s subconsciously aware that he isn’t attracted to women) and Eden is lesbian.

- They both feel resigned to their fate despite their discontent.

- While coping on the back balcony, Ace meets Sir Whit, the newly promoted head of the royal guard. (somehow. who knows how whit got promoted tbh)

- They talk, during which Whit makes joking advances towards Ace.

- Ace, though flustered by Whit’s passes, thinks about the consequences of both liking a man and betraying the kingdom.

(he doesn’t personally care about the latter but he does fear that his father would… idk execute him or something. he is also in denial.)

- Much to Ace’s dismay, they become close friends. However, Whit is aware of the upcoming marriage, so he tries to shut off his own feelings to save himself from feeling bad.

- A few months pass, in which Whit helps Ace overcome his own fears and come to terms with his feelings and sexuality. They start slow (like doing horseback riding together haha), but end up routinely sneaking out together.

- On one particular night, on the same balcony they met, just a day before the wedding, something happens. In a spur-of-the-moment decision, Ace kisses Whit and REALLY likes it.

- He realizes that he wants this man. But, realizing that he might get caught, Ace runs away.

- Before the wedding, Ace and Eden finally meet. While preparing for the ceremony, they bond over their shared reluctance of their marriage.

- Eden confesses that she’s actually a lesbian, and there’s a lady back at her kingdom that she’s deeply in love with. (it’s arei LMFAO)

- Ace bluntly replies that he’s gay too.

- insert uhh lightbulb ding effect

- They conjure a plan to get married for convenience, and to appease their parents, but mostly so that they can pursue their own partners. They worry about the kiss though and the people who might be watching. Especially Whit and Arei.

- Skip to the wedding day, Whit suppresses his feelings (like usual) and claps while he watches someone he loves dearly get married off to another. Whit excuses himself from the wedding.

- For post-ceremonial reasons, Ace can’t apologize or even talk to Whit for another week.

i haven’t really thought about the rest but i assume that, once Ace is allowed to go out, he will be the one confessing his love to whit. whit gets “caught”, miscommunication,,,, idek they just… ARE IN LOVE. HAHA.. if you want to write any fics about this or make any art feel free! use the tag “#whace prince and knight au”

thank you!!

THANK YOU FOR READING MY CLICHE YAOI FANFIC ILY IF YOU GET THIS FAR.

THANK YOU FOR 75 FOLLOWERS TOO!!!!

id also like to say that i might start opening commissions because i need a form of making money. but umm i don’t know how to start a paypal or venmo or anything like that. LOL. digital gift cards could work i guess, uhhhh idk. dm me for info!

[gayspacepiratesss]

TL; DR: Saving Minrathous allows Neve to hope.

(Saving Treviso allows Lucanis to forgive, but that's another story for another day.)

***

Every companion in DATV hits a character crux during the game, but Neve's and Lucanis's characters -- being linked to the cities they love -- are especially interesting to me.

In particular I think Neve's character is a brilliant navigation of the issues the devs faced in representing the Tevinter Imperium. In previous games, Tevinter is an ancient shadow empire of blood mages and oligarchy; if Ferelden is roughly medieval Britain and Orlais is roughly medieval France, Tevinter is the remnants of the ancient Roman empire, with a hefty number of Nero-like rulers (sadistic, debauched, unchecked) still in residence.

So: how do you make that a place the player can root for? You write the story of the resistance. The anti-slavery Shadow Dragons make sense as Rook's allies, and their work is important. But Neve is how DATV tells the story of Tevinter's losers: the vast majority of regular people, who aren't mages or oligarchs or magisters, but still have to get by in this violent, corrupt place.

Neve has been manipulated and disappointed by institutions her whole life (like, let's be real, most poc and women and lqgbtq+ folks irl). She has enough privilege to protect herself: she's a mage born in a world that prizes magic. But she's not rich, and she's too fiercely ethical to take the shortcuts that would allow her to accumulate power. If you travel with her long enough, she'll tell you about the relatives who were only kind to her because they wanted to use her status as mage, and the uncle who was different. When she's in Lucanis's family home in Antiva, he complains about decorating, and she tells him her entire Minrathous apartment could fit in one room. Her clothes are well-tailored because she knows that looking good is a kind of power, but she'll explain to Bellara that it's not because she actually HAS rich patrons; she just dresses to look as if she might. She knows how to use the theater of wealth, but at the end of the day she's firmly working class, surviving off street food and bad coffee above a second-rate bookshop.

Neve loves Dock Town, sees how badly Tevinter's institutions have failed her community, and is deeply, fiercely protective of the weak and the vulnerable. If you drop a coin in a beggar's plate, she'll drop one too, and ask if they have shelter for the night. Hal insists he owes her free fish, but notice: every time, she says "Sure, next time, Hal," and pays him anyway. She knows he can't afford to give away business, but she'll never embarrass him by pointing this out. This is the same instinct that makes her so sweet to Bellara back at the Lighthouse: her elvhen fangirl is an open book, completely emotionally vulnerable, and Neve is immediately ready to look after her.

(It's also the instinct, I think that keeps her from confronting Rook about [redacted for spoilers] -- how terrifying would it be to fall for someone with that much of a blind spot?? But she's not going to kick Rook while they're down, and she can't help being drawn to them. Like, her fear is justified. It's not a great start to a relationship.)

But Neve is also a realist: she knows she CAN'T protect everyone, no matter how hard she fights. Over and over she's seen bad actors like Aelia slip through the cracks, and good guys like Brom (who ... maybe she had a thing for? some of her notes, idk) get killed trying to make it right. So when Rook meets Neve, this is the open question for her: CAN you make the world a better place? Can you illuminate the dark corners, and lift up the downtrodden, without compromising your own values? Or is it always already a hopeless proposition?

If Rook saves Treviso, and lets Minrathous burn, that's Neve's last straw. She stops looking. There's no way to be better than the Archon or the magisters, and so she'll join the Red Threads to beat them at their own game. Unlike Lucanis, she's still romanceable in this state, because ultimately she's still fighting for the things she loves; she just doesn't really believe in the future anymore. There's a pretty sad version of Neve's story in here, especially if you choose her to dismantle the wards in endgame. It's possible for her to lose everything she ever believed in. I've seen a lot of angry people complaining on the internet that her line at the end of her last companion quest -- "This is MY city now" -- is aggressive and cliché, but these people seem mainly to have saved Treviso and to not understand, as a result, how Neve's character is limited by the circumstances they've engineered. The complaint that her voice acting is hard, guarded, or flat is missing the point: her PERSONALITY is hard, guarded, and flat unless and until you help her believe that gentleness can be rewarded.

If you SAVE Minrathous, I think, Neve's character can have the most beautiful arc -- and her romance makes the most sense here, because as she begins to hope that her efforts in Dock Town might actually make a difference, she also begins to let her guard down. Both these things scare her shitless. Being visible (letting the citizens of Dock Town SEE her fight for them, letting Rook show her some risks are worth taking) is really scary. But if you save Minrathous, Neve begins to hope that there's a future for the soft, sweet, and vulnerable creatures of the world -- and that includes herself.

When her voice starts to crack in the later romance scenes, when her brow crinkles with anxiety and her eyes go wide and soft -- that's the reward for saving Minrathous. That's Neve Gallus with a future.

[hojichiuu]

𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐮𝐥 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐝, 𝐬𝐨𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭.

featuring: Boynextdoor's Knight!Taesan x femprincess!reader

setting: slight angst, mostly hurt/comfort, secret relationship, medieval times au

summary: daughter of one of the most renowned kingdoms to exist, you were obligated to carry the weight of the kingdom on your shoulders as the next heir. one after the other, the expectations and burdens have been thrown at you for as long as you could fathom. naturally finding your safe haven in taesan; a knight chosen to serve the king, basking in his comfort when things became too much to handle. yet nothing could prepare the two of you for the news that would be announced by your parents on the night of the annual banquet hall.

warnings: for writing purposes i've written taesan which is his official title name but reader personally calls him by his real name han dongmin, mentions of parental abuse, secret relationship with taesan, arranged marriage, reader has a panic attack, talks of self doubt and burdening expectations, pet names (kinda?), so so much comfort, let me know if i've missed any!

word count: 3.8k (this was meant to be a short i blacked out)

author's note: the idea sparked from jaehyun's speech during HOW? comeback era where he says "you know what kind of person Taesan is, how warm and kind he is." :( this is just something small i've written, idk if i'll add a prologue or epilogue yet as i'm still continuing the gryffindor!jaehyun fic which i'm not entirely sure when it'll be out but i'll try my best! REBLOGS AND COMMENTS ARE ALWAYSSS APPRECIATED <3333

It must be both a blessing and a curse to be able to feel things so deeply. 

Dusk seeps in as the air temperature begins to drop, daggers of ice contaminated your lungs with every breath you seemed to take. Grabbing as much of your gown as you possibly could whilst mindlessly trudging through the unkempt grass that laid behind the palace. 

You didn’t know where you were going, you had no clear destination. All you knew was that if you stayed any second longer at the ceremonial banquet you would’ve either thrown up on everybody or passed out. 

When did all of this this start?

Was it months prior when your parents sat you down by the dining table, discussing with you that you've reached the age to be betrothed? Was it when they scolded you to start thinking about the future, the reputation of you and your people? Was it when weeks turned to days to hours of men continuously knocking at the door asking for your hand in marriage in order for them to rule? Or when your father tried smacking some sense into you once he found out you had been sabotaging each proposal that was made for you. Berating you at the fact that many other kingdoms have decided to cut ties and supplies due to your immature behaviour.

Despite the continuous declarations of love by the front gate from men decades older than you, despite the physical discipline your parents instilled into you, despite the pressure of ruling the future kingdom daunting down on your shoulders.

Your eyes, head and heart only fell on one thing. One person. 

You never once spared a glance at those who publicly set their eyes on you. The thought of ever marrying one of these men had only ever left you with a deep unbridled disgust that harboured within your gut.

On the day of the ceremony in which you were told was a celebration of a new peace treaty. Which although not entirely false, was used to cover up big news that everyone else seemed to know but you. 

You knew something was wrong.

Feeling the back of your neck begin to heat up from the warm lights that illuminated the halls, the sweat that built up on your hands as you nervously fidgeted with your fingers, the continuous tapping of your foot. There was a sinking feeling in your chest you couldn’t quite seem to shake off.

Yet nothing could ever compare to the pang in your chest the moment your parents publicly announced your engagement to the prince of Ansan, an engagement you’ve never even heard about.

Crowds hooted and hollered over the fantastic news that united both kingdoms, all eager to celebrate through drinks and dances for the rest of the night.

You didn’t move, didn’t speak. Terrified that if you made a single movement, everything you had so carefully built up within yourself would break.

Instead, you kept your eyes staring daggers into the back of your parents, silently cursing them as they never once decided to look back to you. Carelessly chatting away with the current rulers of Ansan over a glass of freshly produced wine.

You knew that they planned this engagement as part of the peace treaty, that they would offer up their daughter to a strangers son for the future of both kingdoms.

You knew they purposely didn’t tell you the news because they knew how you would respond.

You knew all this and yet, you had never felt so small. 

Suddenly aware of the thousands of mindless conversations that filled the room, the occasional sounds of glasses clinking and chairs creaking along the polished floors began to cloud your mind and ring your ears.

Since when did the room becoming so small? Why were the lights shining brighter than usual? Thoughts clouded your mind one by one, little by little, until the only conscious thought left was hearing the sound of your rushed heartbeat as it bursted through your eardrums, the feeling of your corset suddenly became increasingly tighter by the minute, your palms felt sticky. And for something so natural you did since birth, you wondered…

Since when did it get so hard to breathe.

Getting out of there was the only reoccurring thought you had. Not caring about the consequences that lied beyond as you messily stumbled your way out of the ballroom, ignoring the countless stares you earned as you pushed through the crowd in panicked daze, avoiding those who expressed concern about the sudden paleness of your face or the fact you tripped over your gown multiple times.

You couldn’t think straight. You couldn’t seem to care anymore, because the moment that engagement was announced, all you could possibly think about was that you couldn’t see Taesan anymore.

-

Nights where you would sneak out of the north wing as you cautiously made your way to The Keep; a chamber where all the knights resided.

Times where Taesan would help you quietly to his room, hushed giggles and reckless stumbling as you both climbed into bed, letting out a sigh of content once you fell into each other’s embrace.

The countless nights that were filled with quiet love confessions and soft kisses, nights where the world finally fell quiet.

Where despite seeing him on duty around the corridors of the palace, you two were only ever able to exchange small looks of longing to one another.

In times where Taesan would silently clench his jaw as he spots another group of men by the gate waiting to whisk you away.

Where in those specific nights, Taesan let himself love you just a bit more, let his hands linger intertwined with yours for just a bit longer. Praying his burning touch could translate into the words you both never dared to say. 

Because in truth, deep down, you both knew that this would never work out. That a knight such as he could never be granted permission to ask for your hand. You both knew that in no world such as this, would the two of you ever be accepted.

Yet as night falls, without a second thought, Taesan slowly kisses away the thoughts that plague your mind, murmuring soft words of comfort into your skin.

You don’t miss the way he embraces you every night as if it were his last. 

As the sun sets, through tangled sheets and soft sighs, for just a moment; you both let yourselves forget about the fate you were bound to.

-

You knew Taesan heard the news.

Everyone that resided in the palace was instructed to stand by the door in order to hear the anticipated speech of the night.

You don’t know what expression paints his face, if he allowed his mask to drop for even a second when the news announced, how many thoughts were racing through his head.

For a moment you wonder if he felt his heart sink such as you did.

So despite the calls of concern from passerbys, you stumbled your way out of the banquet hall. Letting your feet take you as far away from the palace as you could, until you were sure couldn’t see the lights from the windows that ignited the night. You don’t know how long you’ve been running, the meadow was vast after all, and your feet were beginning to sting from the stiffness of your heels. The sound of your heavy breathing begun to fill your ears as you try to catch your breath. Taking in the scenery that filled all your senses, the crispiness of the air, the buzzing from the cicadas of the night, the wind that occasionally brushed against your skin that filled with goosebumps as a response. 

Craning your neck as you begin to count each star that illuminated the night, allowing your breath to steady with each count.

Breathing in as you close your eyes, reminiscing back to the moments before where you sat at the banquet table, surrounded by hundreds of strangers with their piercing gazes that never failed to send shivers down your spine. To the times where you had mockingly cursed those who hovered by your door of the castle, asking for your hand.

Blurred memories of faceless figures begun to cloud your mind, seeping their way into your soul to break it piece by piece for their pure satisfaction. You think about the lonely days at the palace; days filled with silence and discipline, you think about the drunken men whose arms lingered far longer than usual on your waist as you greeted them, the way their wedded wives looked at you in the face of disgust whilst whispering vulgar insults to wouldn’t dare wish on anyone. Only to plaster a mocking smile in your direction once caught.

Yet you will never forget the stares of your parents that stabbed their way into the darkest depths of your soul, where no words were ever needed to show the disappointment they carried for their only child. 

You let the anger hold itself as the lump in your throat you tried to so desperately swallow, you let it gather unspent in the corners of your eyes as it threatens to spill out, you allow it to boil as your blood that flowed through every nook of your bones.

Years worth of unexplained grief had begun to claw its way out of your skin. Making its way to your fingertips as the grip you had on your gown subconsciously began to loosen, silently allowing the soiled mud seep into the soft fabric. To your knees that slowly gave out as they began to buckle beneath you. Letting yourself drop as if the weight of your burdens suddenly became too heavy to hold, to your lips as you choked out a whimper in the silence of the night. Covering your mouth as your quiet whimpers morphed into choked sobs.

For once, you allow the unbridled grief within you to trickle out the corner of your eyes and onto the grass beneath you.

For once, you allow yourself to feel.

Trying to curl yourself into your soiled knees, praying no one could hear the strangled cries you held within. As one arm hug your sides whilst the other clasped around your jaw, covering your mouth in hopes of easing the noise. All useless attempts to keep you from slipping any further.

You wanted to scream, to wail, to love, to smile purely, to punch someone. Yet despite the sting in your lungs from the cold air, the roughness of the soiled grass that lay beneath you, the futile attempts in drowning out your cries – you prayed someone, somewhere, anywhere might’ve understood the turmoil that boiled deep inside you.

-

You don’t know how long it’s been since you ran out the hall. You don’t know if your prayers were heard by some great deity, but you didn’t miss the reverberating noise of chain mail clanking continuously onto the armor that belonged to whoever began quickly pacing towards you. 

But before you were able to react towards the noise, a large pair of arms silently wrapped itself around you, one arm circling your waist as the other gently rubbed your nape to help ease your sobs. Pressing your cheek against the cold armour that embraced you, taking in its smooth texture before hearing the hush murmurs of comfort that tickled your skin.

Hush murmurs of comfort that were no stranger to you in the night.

You tense under his hold, not daring to look up because you knew that if you did, you would break completely.

But Taesan knew you, your little ticks, subtle movements, he knew how to read it all. He knew what the silence meant.

“I’m here, shh please don’t cry anymore. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. So sorry my love I’m here now.” his soft whispers of reassurance attempts to drown out your whimpers. You feel his hurried breath fan your skin as he nuzzles closer, burying his face in the dip of your neck. Chest heaving almost as if he had been searching the whole castle inside out to look for you.

“D…Dongmi..n..” you managed to choke out broken phrases. Grabbing the hand that rested on your nape, feeling the familiar rough texture that had held you for countless nights,your eyes squinting to make out his figure in the night. 

As your eyes begin to adjust properly to the dark, you let yourself admire his moonlit kissed features. The way his brows furrowed, lips tight in a thin line, eyes filled with a void of tenderness and worry that made you want to cry.

Yet despite everything, all you could think about was how beautiful he looked. 

The ruffle of his hair that laid unkept from roughly taking off his armour, his honey brown eyes swirling with millions of unsaid thoughts and emotions that shone under the night sky, his lips raw from his continuous biting habits, his flushed cheeks; pink from hysterically searching for you. You try to take him in further, eyes gazing along his long slender fingers that brushed against your skin through countless nights.

He was undeniably the most beautiful this kingdom ever had to offer.

“Dongmin I…I didn’t know,” you hiccuped, swallowing your spit as you shake your head. “I swear, I promise. I’m sorry please believe me, I didn’t know about the engagement. I can’t… I don’t want…” stumbling over your words in a panic as you try so desperately to convince him that you played no part in your own betrothal. 

You couldn’t help but notice his eyes widening at your unnatural outburst.

From the moment Taesan spotted you curled up within yourself on your knees in the middle of the pasture, taking in your small shrinking figure in contrast to the vast fields of grass, something in him had started to break. That he was so sure his heart couldn’t possibly sink any further after hearing the news of your engagement. That there was nothing else left that could shatter his heart further.

And yet the moment he gently cupped your fragile face in the palm of his hands, feeling your soft hands grip tightly around his wrists ro anchor yourself, noticing the way your knuckles begun to turn white from how much you were squeezing him. As if you were holding onto him with all your strength, as if he was all you had left to keep yourself from slipping into the abyss.

Taesan felt his soul break into pieces. 

As he lets his eyes rake over your grief stricken face, the glow of the moonlight highlighting your tear stained face as the sound of your choked sobs filled his ears. He holds you, engulfing your fragile body with his. Pouring all his unspoken words into his embrace, praying you heard. Silently wishing he could shield you from all the bad in the world, all the ugly and hollow. All the things that weren’t you.

“I know.” he whispers, eyes softening. “I know my love…no I know, of course you couldn’t have known. I believe you, I promise. So please…” he slowly takes in a deep shaky breath, praying the tears that threatened to fall would stay put. That he can drown in his emotions once he was alone, but right now he needs to be here for you, with you. 

“Don’t worry…I…we’ll work something out, I promise. We’ll be okay, so don’t cry anymore…okay? Please my love, please don’t cry anymore.” his voice betrays him as it breaks, kissing your hair as he lets your scent invade his lungs, letting his arms wrap around you even tighter. 

“I see you,” he consoles you through quiet whispers against your ear, words only for you to hear.

“I see the way you carry yourself, despite the words that come your way, I see the situations you’re forced into by your parents, how lonely you get by the dinner table, yet still mustering the courage to compliment the chef, the pressure of everything bestowed onto you… I see the way you hold yourself with such strength that only I could ever dream of.” 

Feeling your soft cries slowly drown out into small sniffs and hiccups, looking up to see his eyes crinkle into small crescents as lips curl up into a small smile. The rarity of a smile you could admire for the rest of your life, the smile that he talks about with such insecurity when in actuality, you couldn’t begin to express how often you wish to carve it into the mass of your bones. 

He tenderly rests your head on his shoulder as he rubs your back to ease the discomfort, continuing to whisper soft praises to you. 

“My kind, beautiful girl…” he begins to pepper soft kisses across your face with each word, lips kissing your cheeks, the crown of your head, the side of your face, your eyelids, everything he could reach. “The embodiment of strength…the purest of hearts...my precious love… my most cherished.” each peck reigniting a fire in your heart that had been burnt out long ago.

Letting out a breathy laugh as you scrunch your nose in anticipation for the next kiss, only to open your eyes to see him staring at you with such adoration.

His gentle gaze. Seeing you, for all you were, all you are, all you will be.

Suddenly feeling insecure under his gaze, you shake your head, eyes faltering as you whisper.

“I am not what you say I am, I am not even close to it.” your voice shakes, continuing before he could protest.

“I am…tired of it.” you attempt to piece your thoughts together amidst the chaos that plagued your mind. Refusing to look him in the eye as you resort to focusing on the curve of his armour. “These people make me feel as though I have a hole in the middle of my soul. I don’t think I’m fit to rule them and..and yet… and I don’t mean to be cruel I…” 

Despite feeling self conscious of your continuous stumble over words, Taesan brushes the hair out of your face, silently urging you to continue as he wipes your tears with such gentleness you feel the tears build up once again. 

“I swear that I am kind… that…that I have love in my heart, inside of me…I can’t prove it but…my mind feels all messed up. I don’t understand my own thoughts and yet, I fear that the bad thoughts that I carry within me are all that I am.” mind flashing to unpleasant memories of your fathers aggression and mothers disappointment, feeling a small tremor in your breath as you purse your lips together, Letting out an amused laugh in futile attempts to ease the tension in the air.

You hear a beat of silence, followed by another. And for a second, you wonder if opening up was a bad idea after all.

“I think you have the most beautiful mind.” 

He whispers it with such warmth and truth, as if these words came so naturally to him that he never once thought twice about it. Blurry eyes that once stayed focused on Taesan’s armour blinked up towards his face, only to see him look at you as if you had hung up the stars in the sky one by one. You let out a breath you didn’t realise you were ever holding.

“You are not hard to love,” he carefully wipes away your dried tears, “not at all…not in the slightest.”

He lived and breathed you, always and only you. Taesan knew that.

You feel his eyes linger on you, his fingers mindlessly playing with the loose strands that fell out of your bun.

“You know when we first met,” he starts. “I put some sort of…mental barrier between us.” 

Sensing your confusion to his sudden storytime, he lets out a light chuckle as his other arm squeezes your waist “I already had rumours spread around about me, that I was mean, coldhearted. That I was basically a robot wired to only serve the king.” 

You don’t miss the slight quiver in his lips as his head tilts to the side, he knows you don't miss it either. Giving you a soft smile to somehow lighten the mood, a smile filled with thousands of silent confessions.

“The rumours spread throughout the entire castle…I obviously wasn’t surprised, gossip was made to be spread after all.” he shrugs

“Yet even though you heard the rumours…you still went to see me. To talk to me.” 

“And it wasn’t just that, it was the fact that you spoke to me so naturally that it threw me in for some sort of loop.” he chuckled, you feel the rumble through his chest as your cheek presses against it. 

“After having everyone speak to me with such…I don’t know…tension? Discomfort? You coming up to me so naturally made me subconsciously break down the barriers I had so carefully built up.” 

He pulls you slightly away to take in your features, tucking back in the loose strands of your hair as he rests his forehead against yours, eyes interlocking.

“I love you with such a strange tenderness that it honestly scares me. Because all this time, I would never allow myself to be so soft for anyone, anything.” despite your noses touching, you don’t miss the way his eyes linger on your lips for a second longer.

“Do you understand me? You are not hard to love. I loved you so hard that I began to soften.” he gently engulfs your hands over his, kissing the pads of each finger.

“If you were able to get through a hard headed guy like me, then you are more than capable of capturing the hearts of the people. Give yourself more credit, my love.” 

Rolling your eyes over his hard headed comment, you slap his shoulder pad, eliciting a laugh out of him. Eyes unable to pull away from how his smile stretches across his face, silently painting it into memory. Not noticing the way your eyes begin to sting with the way Taesan so naturally held the broken pieces of your soul to slowly mend it one by one. 

Before you could even open your mouth to add onto his joke, his hand moved to cradle the back of your head as he leaned in. His lips moulded with yours with such strange gentleness, as if you were some fragile being he dared to touch.

“Shit, sorry I…” he murmurs out of breath, “I couldn’t help myself, you looked so pretty and I just lost control for a moment I didn't mean to cut you o-” 

For once, not caring for what he has to say, you snake your arms around his neck to return the gesture. Both of you sighing as your lips seemed to fit like a puzzle, moving in sync. The mix of yearning and love carried behind each kiss as his grip squeezed around your waist, letting his arm wander across your back, feeling you.

Lips moving in tandem, messy and clashing yet full of passion that mirror the nights you two spend alone. You latch onto the plushness of his lips, addicted to the feeling of it against your own. Suddenly feeling lightheaded as he continues nipping at your bottom lip, his long eyelashes flutter against your cheek, groaning as you tug at his hair.

After pulling away for what felt like a lifetime, you try to catch your breath despite the close proximity you two were currently in. Taesan prays you don’t notice the erratic pacing of his heartbeat along with the heat rushing along his ears.

“I am irrefutably in love with you Han Dongmin,” your use of his full name rather than the one given to him by the kingdom stirred a deep adoration that melted Taesan’s heart. “And I’ll be damned before I'm forced to be betrothed to another.”

He lets out a breathy chuckle, shaking his head as he lets out a boyish grin, arms circling around you pulling you closer, “As if I would ever let that happen.”

Your eyes soften as you rake over his features, he lets out a sigh of content as he closes his eyes, letting you feel across his face. Fingers dragging over the thick hairs of his eyebrows, to his eyelids, to the concave slope of his nose, his plush cheeks, feeling the plumpness of his lips. 

“I don’t believe I am fit enough to rule the hearts of the civilians... after all I only ever wanted to be with you.” you murmur quietly underneath your breath. The pads of your fingers feeling the way his lips curved into a huge grin. His hand captured your wrist, cheekily biting your finger as you let out a tiny yelp before placing the palm of your hand to his chest, his heart.

“Your royal highness you really do have a way with words, speak to the crowd in this manner and you shall capture all the hearts in no time!” he jokes, mocking the tone your parents tend to use during speeches.

Laughing as you hold his face in the palm of your hands, bringing it up closer to you before pressing multiple pecks against his giggling lips. The crowded thoughts in your mind gently dissipating, the once ringing in your ears had vanished and was replaced by his soft laughter. 

“Besides…” he murmurs against your lips, “I’ll be with you the whole time, I won’t let anything else happen to you.” 

Your presence was the sun, and those who caught a glimpse of your light were never able to look away. Taesan could only pray that one day, you were able to see yourself the way he saw you. Strong-willed, beautiful, gentle, and so, so incredibly loved. 

So for when the day eventually comes, Taesan promises to spend every waking moment of the rest of his life reminding you of your worth, of his adoration and dedication for you, helping you slowly heal the wounded scars you held deep beneath your soul, showering you with nothing but love and admiration, all knowing you would do the same for him.  

[muffinsin]

Greetings. I know thyeth awaiteds of trial, aka, thoueths inbox, is full of requests, so, if thou doth perchance chooseth to bless thy anon, by choosing to grant myith humble pleads, take your time.

I sincerely ask of thou to consider thy dumb lil giggleshits by writing about the dimitrescu sisters (seperate, not as a polycule) reactions to their s/o (thats us!!! Thats you!!!) outright demanding to be 'bitten better' after getting a large wound/scar/scab or something, because, like, if im correct, thats just like, alot of ur bloodcells rising to reform damaged skin??? or something?? Idk. I failed science. I just think it would be funny to be like '(BELA/CASSANDRA/DANIELA), GIT OVER HERE AND BITE ME,, I HAVE PLACES TO BE AND I DO NOT NEED TO EXPLAIN TO PEOPLE HOW I TRIPPED AND FELL ONTO THE HANDLE (?? Do they have handles?) OF UR DUMB (friggen) SICKLE!!!"

I thanketh thee for thoueth time.

with utmost respect, thoueths truely,

Corvina, aka, stupid, medieval-talking dork.

-⚔️🧷

Haha I love this!! XD That’s some fancy talk right there🧐🎩! (Cassandra likes to insist on your point, biting to make her lover feel better. She’s just helping, really!)

Now, let’s get into this!🙌 :)

Masterlists

Bela

You’re bored, waiting for your girlfriend to finish up her work

Really, you doubt it will ever be finished, but at the very least Bela promised to set limits for herself as it comes to work, to avoid overworking herself, and to allow her to spend more time with you

Now, she probably would be more motivated to wrap things up immediately if she knew what you’re up to

Bored as you are, you desperately need something to do

And really, the castle- or village in general- doesn’t offer too much that doesn’t include murder

And even that isn’t your thing, at the very least not without Bela

As such you find yourself sitting at the unoccupied desk in her room, lazily playing with the sickle she left there for her nightly hunt

You’re sure she wouldn’t mind! After all, it’s not like you’re breaking it!

You’re merely playing with it!

What could go-

You flinch when it slips from you, then yelp when it’s sharp blade slices through your inner thigh, then falls from the chair and to the ground, at last laying bloodied between your shaking legs

Oh oh…

You whine a little as you look down at the cut, deep, but hardly lethal

The sight of the bloodied flesh and the feeling of the painful ache surrounding it is enough to have you run off to find Bela

Which is precisely why you find yourself the way you do now, sat down in her office chair, your face flushed and cheeks burning up as you look down at her

Her lips and tongue tending to your cut, her body below you as she kneels between your legs

Needless to say, it’s an explicit looking image, one that has your entire body tingle

Yet, the glare she shoots you over and over again has your thoughts stay in the gutter

You pat her hair apologetically, scratching softly at her scalp just the way she likes it

Soon enough, thankfully, your cut stops bleeding and no longer aches this much

Still, you know her work is not yet done

As such, you send her a shy smile, apologizing for foolishly playing with her weapon yet again

You don’t think it wise to point out that you only did so because you were bored. Her glare is deadly enough as is

Though, it’s adorable how her eyes soften when you scratch her scalp just right

And, admittedly, she looks adorable with her lips and chin stained in your blood

You gasp when she bites down beside the cut, then at the other side

Again and again, and again and again does she tend to the gentle bites

Soon, your entire thigh is throbbing, but experience tells you the sensation will pass soon and the skin will heal fast

You lean back against the chair as she rises and reaches into her drawer

You throw her a weak smile when she bandages you up, and can’t help but grin when she kisses your forehead

Your cheeks heat up again when she grabs your face, raising an eyebrow at you

Still, you can’t help but smile at her

“Don’t touch my things again”, she warns, her tone playful

You nod, happily taking the kiss you receive in return

Cassandra

You love Cassandra

You love every part of her, treasure her sadism and need to cause trouble as much as her rare, softer sides

You love her creativity, her love for the crafts

You love her weapons, and love that she builds and collects them

What you love less, however, is that she has a habit of leaving them out

And not only in the armory, out of their assigned spots

Not even only in her room, which is more like a battlefield with sickles and swords, axes and daggers scattered across the ground and the desks

No, your girlfriend instead leaves her weapons all around the castle for everyone to stumble into

Such as today

Admittedly, you were a little careless today, a little spaced out, not very conscious of your actions…admittedly, she told you not to be that at the castle

But, your little hypocrite of a girlfriend is just that, too!

Only has she never had an accident like this…

If she did, you’d regret not having it on camera

You open the closet, half humming to yourself, half zoned out

That is, until one of the weapons she stupidly forgot in there falls

She’s likely shut the closet with the weapon leaning against its door, careless as usual, or perhaps waiting for a maid to open her little death trap next

Instead, it’s you

You hiss and flinch away, yelling in all; surprise, anger, shock, fear and pain as your arm is sliced open

Blood drips from it and you immediately slap your palm across the cut, gritting your teeth at the searing pain

Not lethal, but likely to leave a scar

And still, your scream and the scent of your blood immediately attracts attention

When Cassandra swarms inside, you briefly allow yourself to think of grabbing the damn sickle and whacking it across her head, before grasping her shoulders and shaking her until your little troublemaker of a girlfriend begins to clean up her things

Countless times have you told her to be more careful!

To stop leaving her sharp tools everywhere!

By the look in your eye, the open closet and the sickle on the ground she immediately figures out what must have happened

In her eyes, you find worry, mixed with guilt and embarrassment

She knows, she’s about to get an earful and you aren’t likely to let her off the hook for that one anytime soon

She attempts to shoot you a smile, and while normally you’d return it, the pain has you only scowl at her in a mix of annoyance, love, and anger

You decide, she caused this

And she will fix it

Naturally

“Down”, you groan, clutching the bleeding cut on your arm

With surprising submission, she falls to her knees, her eyes wide and a surprised gasp falling from her lips when you press your arm to her face

It doesn’t even take a second for her to latch on

Gently, she pries your skin away to lick at the blood, her tongue slow and steady, her movements careful rather than bloodthirsty and wild

She knows, she isn’t really allowed to feed from you now

She’s meant to fix her mistake, so long as she doesn’t want to sleep on the cold side of the bed, something she detests, when her favorite spot is on top of you

Nonetheless, your girlfriend is moaning at your taste immediately, rolling her eyes subtly when you ramble on and scold her

You roll your eyes back at her playfully

You can’t truly be angry at her, not when her tongue and teeth are already working wonders at numbing the throbbing pain in your arm

You allow her to work on the wound for what feels like half an hour, sending flies onto the skin here and there

You aren’t entirely willing to think about their spit on you, but appreciate it when you feel your skin first tingle, then pull together slightly again

At the very least, your loving sadist knows how to treat wounds

Daniela

Some might call you clumsy

“Some” including your girlfriend and her sisters, and perhaps even yourself, if you swallow down your pride

And really, it doesn’t take all that much for you to get into trouble

Especially with your girlfriend, trouble is pretty much on the menu each day

What clumsiness you have, your girlfriend often adds to with her carelessness

As such, there have been countless incidents of running through the castle and slipping on some of the blood she carelessly spilled in the halls

Or the times she left her weapons out

Now that, is disaster waiting to happen

Often, more often than you’d like to admit, you end up injuring yourself with them somehow

Such as today

You’re racing past the halls again, eager to find your girlfriend

You know just where, too

The library, her favorite spot on a cool day like this

You giggle at the thought of her curled up by the fire, cuddled up among countless pillows and such

As you daydream, you begin to pay less and less attention to where you’re going

Or rather, what’s in your way

As such, you don’t see the sharp blade of her favourite sword sticking out of the vase in your way until the last second

And as such, your happiness is quickly interrupted when you catch a glimpse of it and quickly try to dodge it

Only does “dodging it” mean stumbling over your legs, failing to catch yourself on the railing of the stairs and tumbling down

The worst?

This isn’t the first time you accidentally fell down the stairs to the main hall

As you clutch your hip in pain, you can’t help but think:

You can’t let Cassandra and Bela know of this. Their teasing would never end!

Daniela though…surely she can keep her mouth shut if you confide in her

Besides, the ugly bruise on your hip should be treated

And who better to treat it than your lover?

When you find her, she’s over the moon to see you

She immediately abandons her blankets and pillows, books and snacks to wrap her arms around you

Still, worry, then humor glistens in her eyes when you wince a little once her hand connects with your hip

It seems, it only takes her a few moments to figure out what must have happened

Or at the very least that you got yourself into trouble again

You roll your eyes as she giggles, allowing her to lead you to her spot among the books

Below you is a thick, fluffy blanket, surrounding you and supporting your head are perfect pillows

You feel yourself starting to relax already, slowly lifting your shirt to expose the forming bruise at your hip

She coos a little at it

Then, a kiss is placed to it, and you can’t help but smile again

You will always take your girlfriend kissing your wounds better

Stroking her hair and relaxing against the pillows, you feel her teeth gently sink into the skin around the bruise

Never too much, nor too deep

Just right

Just enough for your skin to tingle and throb a little

You whisper a little, speaking of what happened

And she listens, only occasionally hums against your skin or presses kisses to it

Soon, you feel your hip calm again, instead she moves on top of you

“Want me to kiss it better some more?”, she asks, a sly grin forming at her lips

How could you refuse?

[dadsbongos]

I love the way you write kabru, could you write some of the general headcanons for him?

super all over the place. i got maybe a bit too into the nsfw headcanons cuz i need to destroy him ~~~ general headcanons:

The type to imagine oc battle amvs in his head to their medieval music but pretends he’s just smoldering chill cool guy

Outside of general note-taking or journaling, I fully believe he’s had dreams of being a novelist as a kid

Probably avoids interacting one-on-one with Falin without Marcille or Laios as buffers because of her stubbornly remaining monster traits, as well as like… “hey girl you killed me!!”

But as time goes on n he gets used to her, he probably ends up just seeing her as a cutie pie like everyone else does

Would thrive coming up with criminal punishments, maybe not watching some of them because excessive gore icks him out but theorizing is always fun to him

Would similarly thrive in a court setting, and would jump at the opportunity to be the angel and devil on laios’ shoulders through the whole thing

I think he’s the type of man to bare a heavy conscious about things he considers immoral or rude, like having a hard time forgiving himself for mistakes or even just generally “bad” things in his past

Likes the idea of being a family man but gets scared shitless at the actual effort it would take to raise children and maintain a marriage

Would be a total reality TV junkie and anime lameoid in modern era - he loves the melodrama

if/when Mickbell ever gave him permission to refer to him by “mick” (or just any half-foots say he can call them by first name alone) he’d squeal and kick his feet for dayssss knowing what it means in a cultural context for half-foots

Tries not to be That Guy, but feels a little complimented when people tease at what a smooth talker he is. Loves getting to have his redditor “heh… just my natural charisma…” moment

Strikes me specifically as bisexual btw i dunno why but its just jumping at me

Not in love with Rin, but likes her? But doesn’t? But doesn’t NOT like her? He’s trying to maintain distance because sometimes he feels a spark, but then goes back to thinking of her as just a childhood friend. Feels very guilty and selfish if he thinks about her feelings for him for too long, especially since he’s kind of a known charmer. Earnestly hopes she moves on from him no matter the state of his feelings though

Nsfw headcanons:

Likes foreplay wayyyy more than sex because he gets off seeing how crazy he can drive his partners before they just start begging with zero shame

Would enjoy group sex or two-party affairs, his only iffy stance is being watched by someone else. Unless he knows the voyeur VERY well it just feels uncomfortable to be the one getting observed. Down to be the voyeur though hehe

Has a stupid lil whispy laugh he does when he’s getting teased im gonna get feral

Could never play a brat, you tell him shut up and he salutes you with sweaty hands

Could do hate sex! If he realllllllly doesn’t fuck with your vibe, but he’d have to know you personally. Hate sex feels weirdly more intimate to him because he has to expose real feelings he has, so in a way his ass doesn’t even hate you he’s just annoyed you keep bickering with him

If he’s supposed to be submissive, I think he’d like to get a couple light slaps. Maybe choke him a wee bit.

Can’t take humiliation unless its in a sandwich where the degradation is hidden between 2+ praises

Idk if its because its me or if this is real, but I can see him blurting out a “mommy” if he’s super delirious with pleasure

Circling back to the voyeur thing, I think his other hardcore no is somnophilia. Either way, he just can’t get into it. But he’s not the type to shame people for their goons

[feyascorner]

suggestion for a funny but fluff fic or miniseries: Modern day Baldurs gate /faerun, were Ascended Astarion and GN Consort reader have lived a couple of centuries together and are still acting like newlyweds / deeply in love and just obsessed with each other. (but also dress gothic/victorian or like they don't belong in the current timeline.)

Would be funny if its written from the perspective of a new servant or a party guest- Maybe they mess up using medieval words when trying to describe modern things and the POV person is not aware they are vampires.

idk Dracula investigator reporter style- Thoughts?

anon you're such a genius for this1!!! THIS WAS SO FUN TO WRITE UGH I TWEAKED IT A BIT THOUGH W THE PERSPECTIVE PART I HOPE YOU DON'T MIND <33 (also this is not proofread)

A ball in this day and age is uncommon.

At first, Alfira was skeptical. Especially considering the party's hosts were famous for being---a rather eccentric couple. Inviting but strange at times. Dressing in garbs similar to the pictures Alfira has of her great great great grandmother, it was natural that they'd stick out like sore thumbs in high society. But with the pay proposed to her, Alfira could dare not decline playing her instrument at the party. Even more so when she realized how exclusive the party really was.

She'd been invited to stay at their obnoxiously large mansion alongside the other servants for the week preceding the event, and while the sensible decision would be to practice her piece, her naturally curious nature got the better of her. And now, she hides an entire notebook under her pillow regarding all the peculiar things about the couple.

'No. 1: They rarely show their face during the daytime. Perhaps they simply don't want to expose their skin without a concerning amount of sunscreen? Everyone online raves about how bad the sun is for your skin nowadays.

No. 2: The kitchen is completely off-limits to everyone but the head chef. It reeks anytime I go near it, so I don't mind.

No. 3: He calls them their consort. Weird. Is that considered affectionate with rich people?

No. 4: We're not allowed to take our mirrors outside of our rooms. This one I really don't understand.'

The list goes on for ages.

Alfira's observations are ones done from across rows of other recruits or servants, given how rare of an occasion it is to see either of them. Though, she's noted that where one is, the other isn't far away. They're practically attached at the hip, and even if she's a complete outsider, it's easy to tell how smitten they are for one another.

And with how well she was being treated (the food and rooms alike) under their care, Alfira began to feel a sort of guilt for suspecting so much. They surely didn't deserve such obsessive note-taking when all she could see was the way Astarion pecked your forehead before lending you his arm, only gentle laughter ringing in the air.

Perhaps the two of you were truly just a happy couple. A strange one, sure, but happy.

The day of the event comes in no time. Despite the lack of preparation, Alfira manages to play her main musical piece with minimal slip-ups, and continues to leisurely play as she watches all the wealthy guests. The ballroom bustles with people, and because she knows that she isn't acquainted with anyone here, her eyes are naturally drawn to a crowd in the center of the room where you and Astarion are greeting the guests. As usual, your arm is locked tightly with his.

In a room full of dresses and suits, the two of you still somehow manage to stick out. The intricate designs on your attire aren't all to blame, because Alfira swears she sees a sort of aura around the two of you.

It must be a trick of the light, though, surely.

When Alfira and the other musical hires begin to play a slow dance song, you eagerly pull your partner to the dance floor. The dance comes to easily to the two of you, eyes so loving as they're set on one another that Alfira nearly feels jealous. The other single guests seem to feel the same way as Astarion leans into your ear and grins with a whisper.

Alfira squints.

'No. 32,' she notes in her head. 'He has sharp teeth.'

Once the dance is over, she thinks her hand may very nearly fall off. But when she sees you and your partner approaching in her direction, the pain is immediately forgotten as she straightens her back, eyes wide when you offer her a smile.

"Alfira, right?"

"Y-yes! That's me."

"I apologize I couldn't greet you sooner," you place your free hand on Astarion's arm. "We were so swept up in the preparations we didn't get to welcome the truly important guests."

Alfira blinks. A guest? She's not a guest.

You huff. "You really do look just as I remembered you to be! Right, Astarion?"

"I don't particularly remember the bard from then to be frank, my love," he responds, as if Alfira isn't standing right in front of them.

'No. 33,' she notes again. 'He's kind of a jerk to anyone else.'

But more importantly, a bard? She's a musician! Not merely a wandering bar entertainer with a bloody lute and a corset to go along with it. It's even stranger that you seem so familiar with her, even though she's only first talking to you right now. Is she finally losing it?

"Sorry, have we met before?" Alfira blurts.

"Ah," you laugh. "Apologies for my informality. We have, but I doubt you'd remember."

What does that mean?

"Although it pains me to tear you away from such a fascinating conversation, my love, we should greet the others," Astarion chips in, and Alfira inwardly sighs in relief. "Good day, bard."

That damn word again--

As Astarion leads you away back toward the crowd with you pressed close to his side, he smiles down at you while you whisper something he finds humorous up to him. Alfira realizes she's never been that close to either of you, and fears she may have missed her chance---as strange as the encounter was.

However, she does notice one thing about the couple as you walk away.

Both loving sets of eyes are the same piercing shade of bloody red.

[thorin]

fanfiction is sooo amazing bc i could read a dozen of fics abt the same media, with the same fic tropes & plot & whatnot, but every fic would still be different & the authors' other interests would shine through

like for example, for a writer that has created such extensive & interesting fanon lore, u can tell they love learning about media lore. another that writes fight scenes really well, maybe that means they know how to swordfight or do archery. another one who knows a lot about medical care & knows how to write surgery scenes, etc, maybe they're interested in medieval healing practices.

idk if this makes sense, i just wanted to celebrate fic writers bc they choose to share their passion for X or Y media & their hobbies & writing with people, all for free, just bc they want others to share in their excitement & joy. fic writers my beloved!!!!!!

[wizzard890]

is your objection to mists of avalon because marion zimmer bradley was a monster, or is it just the book itself? (i haven't read it since i was a teenager, and for whatever reason the warlord chronicles made more of an impression on me when it came to modern arthurian retellings-- idk if that's better or worse)

Oh, I hated the book well before Marion Zimmer Bradley was revealed to be a detestable sex criminal, for reasons entirely unrelated to her real-world crimes.

However, some Mists of Avalon specific crimes include:

Writing a book that is not so much a story as a tedious polemic about how yonic egalitarian ~Celtic~ paganism was destroyed by the brutal militant power of Christianity and the penis, an idea that was both stupid and deeply academically dated by the time of Mists of Avalon's publication.

Her characterization of Guinevere, which is to this day the most misogynistic portrayal I have ever seen, including 14th century and Victorian depictions.

I use "characterization" lightly, since most of the people in this book are dull mouthpieces for ideologies, or a meager assembly of one to two personality traits, especially the men. (Morgaine is the most special princess of all, so she sometimes gets up to three personality traits!)

The male characters are paper dolls, which is an issue when you're re-telling the Arthurian saga. When you're doing a feminist retelling of the Arthurian saga it's actually an even worse issue, because:

She isn't a creative enough writer to take liberties with plot (something this book has in very short supply), so she's stuck with the framework of the legends, which usually involve women attempting to trick or compete for the male characters. Unfortunately, as perviously stated, the male characters are not good, so you're left with a bunch of women backbiting and fighting and risking it all for some interchangeable dipshit, which doesn't reflect well on them. For a book that's all about how women belong to some sacred and beautiful vagina sisterhood, the female characters in this book sure spend a lot of time hating one another for being prettier than them.

It's too long. It's two hundred and thirty six pages longer than Hilary Mantel's Wolf Hall, widely praised as one of the best books of the 21st century. We simply do not require all that, Marion.

Saint Patrick catches the stray of all time here; he's ported over to England for some reason, becomes Arthur's personal confessor, and boy he just hates women! The worst, those women!

Needless changing of people's names. Lancelet? Come on.

The reduction of early Christianity (and medieval Christianity) to basically whatever your personal childhood priest/pastor said that bothered you is an absolute epidemic in genre writing, and it's all over this book. The poster child for "he would not say that" but "he" is a bunch of monks on Lindisfarne.

This isn't a cardinal sin, but if a story is all about the tides of Goddess-blessed pagan freedom and ~sexuality~, then the sex scenes should be good, right? Like, these are thematically load-bearing, they need to hit. In a turn of events that everyone saw coming if they've read this far, Mists of Avalon is a "big, meaty phallus" sort of book.

That's not all, but I'm tired of thinking about this dumb story now and frankly it's a crime that Arthur, Lancelot, and Guinevere have a three-way in this book, and it neither fixes everything or makes anything worse. Mists of Avalon: a radical reimagining that never meets a novel idea it won't squander.

[multifandon-simp]

I really love any and all stories in which the prefect confuses (and potentially traumatizes) the Twst cast with knowledge from our world, maybe it's because of my obsession with cultural differences and confusing people but idk.

Anyway I wish there were more of them because it's just such a fun idea. But I never saw the fanfics discuss the topic of hunting and burning witches at stake, and I'm just like ?????

Because I would love to tell them about it and watch the horror on their faces. It's payback for all the shit I've been put through at NRC (especially by Crowley) and there's nothing you can do about it.

Oh headmage do you have any new tasks for me?

Well how would you like to hear about the cruel reality of the medieval times and peoples attitude towards witchcraft for most of history in return?

I'm begging on my knees if someone who can write sees this, please please write it I need it in my life.

[sincerelyyadere]

Predatory marriage review [no spoilers] 8/10

Royal, Lovenemies to Lovers, King x Princess, Brute x Sophisticated, Poc, Polar opposites, Beauty x The beast, Switch, nsfw, tbc, crazy sex scenes, Political, medieval, mental health, Ying Yang, Mates, Size difference, the man is built like a wardrobe while the girl is built like a kid dying of starvation, breaking gender norms

TW: CnC, suicidal themes, incest, child abuse, eating disorders, family trauma, slavery, racism

Plot: ★★★★☆

Storytelling: ★★★★☆

Characters: ★★★★☆

I actually had two takes on this manhwa, since i read the first two or something chapters around a year ago - it was all over the internet, and you know i can't say no to a good yandere shit.

Well, i gave up after two episodes, since it seemed dissapointing at first. It was using tropes i automatically hate, which is Giant ML x snowflake MC, and weird power imbalance.

OH BOI WAS I WRONG.

I lately forced myself to reread since i promised myself some time ago i'll read first 10 episodes of the comic i'm reviewing, no matter how shitty it seems in hopes it'll get better. Well, in this case it DEFINETELLY PAYED OFF.

What bothered me in the first few episodes was quickly resolved, or maybe i just got distracted because of how pretty the art was and how the plot moved on.

This manhwa is not that surprising, it doesn't have nerve-wracking plot twists, but it'll get you to kick your feet in the air just like you'd reading a book with enemies having to sleep in one bed. It's not that surprising, but - gods - it still has me squealing every time.

I just love how the characters were build. MC, who seems to be a snowflake (both physically and mentally) is a really strong person, who manages to live another day despite the hardships of her life, and the royal connotations she's been put in. Her character was not flat as i expected, and i love how she and ML fill the emptiness in one another.

ML on the other hand, who seems to be a brute, really has a softness in him he can show to MC, and actually respects her will and her decisions, even if he sometimes wants to go against them.

Although when i'm reading a manhwa with political themes i usually scroll the "boring" parts (aka let's skip to the good part) even i can see that this arc was written well, and one thing logically led to another, which i really value cause this way we didn't get many plot holes.

The writing of the villains also makes sense, and although it's visible most of their actions come purely from their character, at least i could enjoy the character writing and appreciate it.

Also: WE GOT A BEAUTIFUL DEPICTION OF POC CHARACTERS!!!!! HALF OF THE CAST ARE POC.

Some things that annoyed me in the manhwa were connected with some weird choices made between the main characters, which i feel like were not explained well enough. But that's on the storytelling, not the characters' writing i feel, so i didn't take away a star for that.

Also some "plot-twists" or arcs were so predictable or cliche it made me go "Ugh...". Another thing is characters had a weird vendetta against Gypsies? Which was weird? They did explain it later in the manhwa, but the connotations to the IRL Romanian people are a bit uncanny and lowkey racist to me but okay. Like, couldn't you just call them something else? Idk. Some arcs also have some pretencious undertones, that make the MC appear as annoyingly good, which is not really realistic, and bothered me a bit.

But all in all, I really recommend this to people who want some (a lot) of spice and hard fucking, while also get some soft and lovey-dovey moments with a plot that doesn't evolve only around the main characters.