#inklings challenge related

[queenlucythevaliant]

make your choice

Digory didn’t think much on making choices. The whole world would be over when his mother died anyhow.

Of course, this didn’t keep him from being curious or adventurous. It was exciting to meet new people, exciting to go exploring and to speculate about whatever mischief his Uncle Andrew was up to. Being a lively young boy was perhaps the best distraction from being a boy about to lose his mother.

Going after Polly was so obviously right that it might as well not have been a choice at all. What else could he do? It was easy to be righteous in the face of an evil old magician who said things like "Ours is a high and lonely destiny."

Yet once they were there in that rich, in-between place, with all the worlds there were splayed out before them— ((Make your choice, adventurous stranger)) Well. What sort of lively young boy would he be if he turned back now?

Digory could feel the bell’s magic ((strike the bell and bide the danger)) beginning to work on him. There was no use in resisting. He felt tendrils of magic sinking deep beneath his skin, laying claim to any free will he’d ever had. He said as much to Polly, but she wasn’t listening.

Polly said ((or wonder till it drives you mad)) that he looked exactly like his uncle when he said that.

Jadis’s whole world had ended. Everyone had died, and she’d just gone to sleep. She might have stayed sleeping forever if he hadn’t woken her. Sitting outside his mother’s sickroom, Digory wondered ((what would have followed if you had)) if that was really so shocking. Hadn’t he been preparing for just such an end? Were Charn and Mabel Kirke so different?

Narnia was not an end. It was a beginning.

And face to face with the Lion, Digory was forced to admit that the bell had not been magic. Nothing had caused him to strike it. Make your choice, the writing had said. Digory had chosen. 

I’ve spoiled everything. There’s no chance of getting anything for mother now.

The enormous Lion asked him, "Son of Adam, are you ready to undo the wrong that you have done?" and Digory sputtered his maybes.

"I asked, are you ready?" the Lion said again.

At that very moment, an ultimatum flashed through Digory’s mind. If I salvage your beginning, will you prevent my end? If make amends, will you save my mother? He thought of refusing, of holding his choice hostage until his future was secure. Could the Lion be bargained with? Could Digory twist his arm, as he'd twisted Polly's?

But what Digory said was, "Yes."

Jadis conjured such lovely visions of the future. His mother's face would lose its gray sheen and she would say, Why, I'm beginning to feel stronger. There would be no more morphia, no more of the terrible drawn look about her when she slept. She would rise from her sickbed, vibrant and whole ((Come in by the gold gates or not at all)) rise and walk to the door and fling it open and then Digory would go running into her arms. 

He gasped as though he'd been mortally wounded. Perhaps he had been in a way. After all, had the gate not said ((take my fruit for others or forbear))? 

Jadis ((for those who steal and those who climb my wall)) called Digory the Lion's slave. Years later, he would think back over all that those words implied. The Witch seemed to think that Digory had no will, if he was willing to subordinate himself to Aslan.

But was it not Aslan who made Digory realize his own culpability ((shall find their heart's desire and find despair)), and in the same breath gave him a way to repair it? Had not Aslan given his will back to him?

And at the foot of the tree, Aslan gave Digory his future back as well. 

He was old, but now he is young again, watching as the stars fall headlong across the black of the world-that-was. The world is ending at last, but Digory does not fear such things any longer.

[atlantic-riona]

Exile of the Sons of Uisliu

A (long! very long!) retelling of the tale, Longes mac nUislenn (“Exile of the Sons of Uisliu”), an Irish tale from the Ulster Cycle of medieval Irish literature. Written for the Four Loves Fairy Tale event by @inklings-challenge.

Notes: I’ve published part of this before, though right now I can’t find the post. I finished it for the challenge, as it fit well with the themes. It was originally intended to be a retelling that made it easier to approach medieval Irish literature for those who felt intimidated by the often more archaic translations. As such, it sticks very closely to the two sources I was working from, though events from both get blended together in a way that weren’t, strictly speaking, present in both tales. See the end of the story for sources (with links!) and further notes about the adaptation process.

Pronunciation: “Derdriu” = “Deer-druh,” Noisiu = “Nee-shuh,” “Cathbad” = “Kah-vuh,” “Conchobar” = “Kon-cho-var” (with the “ch” as in “loch”, though I’ve heard various other pronunciations as well, Leborcham = “Leh-vor-cham, Cúchulainn = “Koo-chull-in”, “Uisliu” = ish-loo, “Eogan” = “Oh-wen”, and “Medb” = “May-uhv”. The other names should be less tricky, but let me know if you have problems with them.

This is the story of Derdriu.

Of beauty in death.

Some say the story begins before she was even born, at her scream from her mother’s womb. This is somewhat true; it was indeed this scream that caused the men of Ulster to rise from their beds and demand to know its origin. And it was this scream that caused her mother to press her hands to her face and deny any knowledge of its origin, despite the fact it came from her own womb. Indeed, it was this scream that caused Cathbad, the great and wise druid, to set the question of its origin at rest.

He said, “It is your daughter, woman. Her loveliness will surpass all others; her green eyes and tall form will cause envy among queens and desire among kings. Men will slaughter for her and over her, and heroes will do great deeds in her name.”

He said, “She will bring great evil to our land.” Then he fell silent and no more was said on the subject.

And some say the story begins when Deirdre entered the world for the first time, innocent of her great power and tragic fate. Again, the druid Cathbad prophesied of the evil that would follow in the girl’s wake, of jealousy and war and exile. And of death, of beloved children and heroes alike.

“Her tale will be famous,” he said, “as famous as the graves of the men who fought for her and the men who come after her.”

Hearing this, the men of Ulster cried aloud, “Kill the child! Kill her!” For they did not wish to see Ulster and its people suffer such a fate.

“Wait!” came one voice from the crowd. It was Conchobar, king of Ulster. “This girl won’t be killed; I want her for myself. I’ll make sure that no man sees her before we are wed, so there will be no fighting. And so that there will be no jealousy either, no woman will see her.”

No man present defied him.

And so Derdriu was taken away and raised by foster-parents. True to his word, Conchobar let no one else see her-except for Leborcham, who was Conchobar’s messenger and a satirist. It was she who acted as nurse and teacher to Derdriu. Besides them, Derdriu had no contact with anyone or anything from the outside world.

A lonely life for anyone, to be sure.

Years passed, and Derdriu, as predicted, grew into the most beautiful woman in all of Éire. Her hair was yellow as a warrior’s cloak, and her eyes were green as the land she walked on day after day; her lips Parthian-red and her teeth pure white. She saw no one but her foster parents and Leborcham, who had grown very fond of the girl.

One winter day, Leborcham and Derdriu sat outside watching her foster-father slaughter a calf for their supper. The blood from the calf stained the snow, and a raven swooped down to drink it.

Derdriu was struck by this, and said to Leborcham, “I'd like a man such as that: hair as black as a raven, cheeks as red as blood, and body as white as snow.”

A familiar story, is it not?

Without thinking, Leborcham replied, “Then may you have success, for there is one close by. Noisiu son of Uisliu is the man you’re seeking.” Then she fell silent, for she had remembered that Derdriu was bound for Conchobar’s bed.

“I want to see him,” Derdriu said.

“You musn’t,” Leborcham said reluctantly.

“If I don’t, I’ll be sick.”

This went on for some time, until Leborcham agreed to lead Derdriu to where Noisiu was. However, she refused to do anything more than that, for although she was fond of the girl, she could see nothing but harm in encouraging anything further.

Noisiu’s habit was to wander the ramparts of Emain Macha, the place where Conchobar and the other Ulaid gathered, chanting to himself. The chanting of Noisiu and his brothers was said to increase the milk of any cow that heard it, it was that pleasing to listen to. And for any man or woman who heard their chanting, they at once felt peace and happiness.

Do not think that the sons of Uisliu were skilled only in chanting or other such arts. Their skill in battle was renowned; they were swift and strong, and if the three brothers had to fight all of Ulster at once they would be so skilled with their blades and so able at defending one another that it would be a long time before their defeat.

And they were honorable, too; it was their honor that would be their downfall in the end.

Having gotten Leborcham to tell her of this tradition of Noisiu’s, Derdriu made a plan.

Noisiu was walking along the ramparts alone, chanting, when Derdriu came up to him. As though she intended to pay him no attention or recognition, she strolled past him, his fine voice making her heart beat faster.

Noisiu stopped his chanting and watched her go by. When she made to pass him entirely, he said, “That is a fine heifer going by.”

“As well it might,” she said, and turned to face him. At seeing her beauty, he recognized her for Derdriu, King Conchobar’s future wife. “The heifers grow big where there are no bulls, you know.”

“You have the bull of this province all to yourself,” he said, not taking his eyes off her. “For you are to be wed to Conchobar himself.”

She tossed her head. “Of the two, I’d pick a game young bull like yourself.”

“Cathbad’s prophecy,” he said. “Have you forgotten it?” When she made no reply, he reminded her: “He said you will bring death and destruction to the men of Ulster. Your marriage to Conchobar is the solution to that.”

“I don’t want the men of Ulster or Conchobar,” she said and looked at him. “I want you.”

He shook his head and made to leave, although he did not wish to.

“Are you rejecting me?” she cried.

“I am.” 

She darted around in front of him and gripped him by the ears. “If you don’t take me with you, may shame and mockery fall upon you!”

“Leave me alone!”

“You’ll do it!”

“Woman, I will not!”

“My name is Derdriu,” she cried, “and I love you, Noisiu son of Uisliu! I loved you before I knew your face or form or voice, and now that I have seen them I love you even more! I will love you until the day I die!”

He reached up and pulled her hands from his ears. “Hush, or you’ll wake the whole of Ulster! Already the warriors inside exclaim and reach for their swords.” But he did not let go of her hands.

“It seems to be their recurring reaction to me,” she said, and they looked at each other without saying anything.

Perhaps Derdriu’s story begins here, where she and Noisiu made plans to slip away later that night when the sons of Uisliu and their company departed Emain, with Derdriu planning to hide amongst the women. Of course Noisiu’s brothers, Ardán and Annle, came with the two, and it was they who suggested seeking refuge with another king of Ireland. 

Whatever the start of the story was, this point was certainly the beginning of the end for all four of them.

They traveled from king to king, from one place to another, hunted by an angry Conchobar and all his warriors. Finally, in order to be free, they left Éire and escaped to the land of Alba.

They had no friends there, and so settled in the wilderness. Despite the fact that she was once again living with only three other people for company, Derdriu was happier than she had ever been. The brothers hunted for game, and when that ran out, they raided for cattle.

It was to be expected that the people of Alba rose up against them. As has been said before, the sons of Uisliu were skilled in many things, and cattle-stealing was certainly one of those things they excelled at. The people of Alba, however, excelled at disliking those who stole all of their livestock and food, and were certainly willing to do something about it. Both sides were well-matched, despite the brothers being greatly outnumbered. But the brothers were sick of fighting, and they searched for an alternative.

So they made an offer to the king of Alba: they would stop stealing cattle and in return, he would hire them as his soldiers. It was a good offer, and the king accepted it.

Noisiu and his brothers built their houses among the other warriors, but were careful to build them so that Derdriu could not be seen from the outside. For they did not wish for her beauty to bring them the same kind of trouble they had tried to escape in Éire. And for a time this worked.

But then, one day, the king’s steward came by early in the morning when everybody was asleep. He saw Derdriu and Noisiu sleeping peacefully, and even in sleep, Derdriu’s beauty struck him silent.

The steward went to the king, who was sleeping. The steward said, “My king, my king, I have found the perfect woman for you. She lies with Noisiu son of Uisliu even now, and she is a woman worthy of any king in the world. If you kill Noisiu now, you can have her to wife.”

The king declined to have Noisiu killed, saying, “Go instead and ask her every day in secret if she will leave Noisiu and wed me.”

And so every day the steward came to visit Derdriu while the brothers were away. And every day, she turned him down. At night, when the brothers returned, she told Noisiu of the steward’s visits.

“This is a bad business,” said Noisiu, “but I can’t see what there is to be done about it yet.” For if they offended the king, they could not return to Éire, and where else could they go? So the visits continued.

As Derdriu refused the king’s advances day after day, the king tried a different tactic. He ordered the brothers into fierce battles and set dangerous traps for them in the hopes that they would be slaughtered. But the sons of Uisliu were so skilled in battle and so clever that they always ended up unharmed.

Finally, the king grew weary of all this. “Try her one last time,” he told the steward. “Then we’ll kill the sons of Uisliu and take her anyway.”

The steward did as the king commanded. He said to Derdriu, “Listen. If you don’t do as the king wishes, he will gather up all the men of Alba and slaughter your beloved Noisiu and his brothers. Is that what you desire? Rather, by going to the king you may save their lives.”

It is not known what exactly Derdriu said to him after that, but it is certain that it was yet another refusal. The steward went away angry, and told the king that Derdriu had rejected him yet again. The men of Alba were called. Derdriu saw that they were many in number, too many for the sons of Uisliu to defeat without terrible cost.

Noisiu, Ardán, and Annle came home and Derdriu told them what the steward had said.

“You must leave,” she said. “If you don’t leave tonight, you won’t live to see tomorrow.”

Ardán, the youngest brother, said, “Will you not be coming with us, then?”

Annle, the middle brother, said, “It would certainly be a waste of all our efforts so far if she did not.”

And Noisiu, the eldest brother, said, “Do you not think we can protect you?”

So Derdriu went with them. They left that very night and traveled over the sea until they reached an island that was between Alba and Éire. The king of Alba pursued them with many men, but the sons of Uisliu fended them off in a series of battles deserving of their own heroic legend.

The news of the exiles’ flight from Alba reached Éire. Everybody said to Conchobar that it would be a great shame if the sons of Uisliu fell to an enemy king in an enemy land by the fault of a bad woman. “Forgive and protect them instead, Conchobar, and let the sons of Uisliu come home,” they said. “It is better to do this then to let them be harmed by enemies.”

“Very well then,” Conchobar said. “Let them come home. I will guarantee their safety. Send for them.”

“Who will take the message?” they asked.

“It is well known that Noisiu son of Uisliu will only come in peace to Éire again if he is brought by one of three people: Cúchulainn son of Sualdam, Conall Cernach son of Amergin, and Fergus mac Roich,” Conchobar said. “I will choose one of them.”

He took Conall aside and asked him, “What would you do, Conall, if I sent you to bring the sons of Uisliu back to Éire and through some cunning and betrayal-not my own, of course-they were slaughtered despite your promises of safety?”

Conall answered, “Any Ulsterman, no matter who he was, would fall at my hand. No man would escape my wrath.”

“That is a good answer, Conall,” Conchobar said. “But I see you will not be my choice.”

Next he asked his nephew Cúchulainn the same question. 

Cúchulainn was more perceptive and answered thus: “I swear that if you were to ask me to do such a thing, and to bring them home to be slain by you, I would take no bribe from you, great though it might be, in favor of taking your own head for such a deed.”

“I see that you do not love me either, Cúchulainn,” Conchobar said, and sent him away.

He called Fergus over to him and asked him the same question.

And Fergus said, “I swear not to attack you yourself, but if any Ulsterman should attempt harm on them, death and destruction will meet that man by my hands.”

“You will be messenger, Fergus,” Conchobar said. “It was you who had the best answer.”

So Fergus mac Roich was chosen as messenger. He sailed to their island, accompanied only by his son Fiacha, but could find no traces of the exiles. He made a loud call for them. Derdriu and Noisiu were playing fidchell, and both heard Fergus’ shout. 

“That is a man of Éire shouting,”said Noisiu, looking up from the board.

Derdriu recognized it as Fergus’ voice, but said, “No, you are mistaken. That is a man of Alba.”

Again Fergus shouted, and again Noisiu looked up from the board. “There it is again, and this time I am sure it came from a man of Éire.”

“You are mistaken,” Derdriu said, “and now it is your turn. Play on.”

Fergus shouted a third time, and this time Noisiu knew for certain his voice was that of a man from Éire. He rose from his seat and told Ardán to go and meet the speaker, to see who it was. For it would make them poor hosts if they neglected their guest any longer.

“I know who it is,” said Derdriu. “It is Fergus mac Roich. I recognized his voice from the start.”

Angry, Noisiu demanded to know why she had concealed this from him.

“I dreamed last night,” she said. “I dreamed that three birds flew to us from Emain Macha, and that in their beaks were three sips of honey. They left the honey with us, but took three sips of our blood in return.”

Noisiu sat down. “What do you think your dream meant?” Dreams might foretell the future or provide insight into the present, and so were not to be ignored.

“Fergus comes from our beloved home bearing a message of peace, but the message he bears is false, for a false message of peace is sweeter than honey. That is the meaning of the honey.”

“And the blood?” said Ardán, for he hadn’t left yet.

“The three sips of blood the bird took from us,” said Derdriu, “are the three of you, who will leave with him and be tricked.”

“I wish you hadn’t said that,” said Ardán. The others agreed.

Then Noisiu said, “Never mind that for now. We’ve left Fergus waiting at the harbor for far too long. Ardán, go and fetch him.”

Ardán, grumbling, went down to fetch Fergus. But he was much heartened to see him and his son, and kept asking tidings of Éire, and of Ulster especially.

“It’s glad we are to see you,” Fergus and Fiacha said, “and we’ll tell you everything when everyone’s there to hear it.”

And when Noisiu and Annle and Derdriu saw the travelers, their hearts were gladdened also; and they also asked for tidings of the land they missed so dearly.

“We bring the best tidings,” Fergus said. “I have been sent to bring you back to Éire. Conchobar guarantees your safety, and I swear to you I’ll see you safe to him on the very day we set foot back in Éire.”

“Don’t go,” said Derdriu to Noisiu. “It will end badly, I’m sure of it.” 

But the brothers dearly missed their homeland, and great was their desire to return.

“We will go,” they said. And even though they longed to return, they were also practical and knew they must put in safeguards. “But only if you yourself, Fergus, accompany us, as well as Dubthach and Conchobar’s eldest son Cormac, and if all three of you swear as to our safety.”

Fergus agreed to this, as it was a prudent request, given what had happened the last time the four had set foot in Éire. 

But Derdriu argued against it; she said that going to Éire would be their doom and that she felt sure their deaths awaited them there. And although the brothers pleaded and cajoled, argued and promised, she would not be swayed.

Finally Fergus said to her, “You need not fear, lady: should all the men of Éire betray you, I will fight and defeat them no matter how great their number. Their shields will be poor protection against the wrath of my sword. Of that you may be certain.”

“Friend Fergus,” she said, “I’ll hold you to that.”

They boarded the ship and set sail for Éire. As they passed Alba’s shores, Derdriu looked behind her at them and cried, “Farewell to you, O land that I loved! O land that was my home, I will miss your shores and hills, and the happy days we spent among them. O land, I will not see you again in this lifetime.”

Then she sang a lament, mourning all the places she had loved and lost. “If it were not for Noisiu,” she said, “I would not have left them.”

Dubthach and Cormac met them when they landed. The sons of Uisliu were so glad to be home that they swore they would not rest or eat until they had eaten Conchobar’s food. So the group started their journey at once.

Alas, Conchobar’s treachery knew no bounds. For he had sent Borrach mac Annte to draw Fergus away from them, and this was how he did it.

There was a geas upon Fergus, and it was this: he could not refuse an invitation to a feast. A geas was a powerful thing, and the breaking of it would lead to one’s doom.

Borrach met up with the group on the road and invited Fergus to several feasts. Fergus grew red with anger and cursed Borrach, saying it was ill-done of him to pick today of all days to invite him to a feast. Borrach would not rescind his invitations and so Fergus was caught between his promise to see the sons of Uisliu safely to Conchobar and his old geas.

“What should I do?” Fergus asked Noisiu.

Derdriu said, “Do what you want, friend Fergus. If you prefer to forsake us for a feast, then by all means do so. Leaving us is surely a good price to pay for a feast.”

“I won’t forsake you,” he said. “I’ll send my son Fiacha on with you and my own word of honor as well. And there will be Dubthach and Cormac as well.”

But Dubthach and Cormac chose to remain with Fergus, leaving only Fergus’ son Fiacha to accompany the sons of Uisliu and Derdriu.

“We give you thanks,” said Noisiu to Fiacha, “since none but our own hands have ever defended us in combat.” They were angry with Borrach, and left quickly. 

Fergus was gloomy about that but trusted that the whole of Éire could not defeat Fiacha.

“Noisiu,” Derdriu said, “I will give you some advice, although you will not listen to it.”

Noisiu drew her closer. “What is this advice of yours, O Derdriu?”

“Tonight we should go back to our island and remain there until Fergus has finished with his feast. Thus his word will be fulfilled and we may continue onward with him as safeguard.”

“That is evil advice,” Fiacha said. “My father has sworn to see you safe home today, and I am duty-bound to carry out his oath. Do you doubt his honor? If you turn back now it will be an insult.”

Derdriu was silent for a long time. At last she spoke: “Great is the evil fallen upon us today because of Fergus, since he abandoned us for a feast.” She was greatly sorrowed, for she had only agreed to come back to Éire because of Fergus’ oath to protect them. And then she chanted:

“Great is my grief that I have come 

at Fergus’ word, that reckless son of Roich.

I will lament and mourn forevermore—

and my heart is bitter because of it.

O sons of Uisliu—

your last days have come.”

Noisiu chanted in response:

“Say not such things,

O woman as radiant as the sun!

Fergus would not have fetched us

if destruction were in his heart.”

Derdriu chanted:

“Alas, I grieve for you,

O delightful son of Uisliu!

To have left our home in strange lands—

nothing good will come of it.”

They came to the White Cairn of the Watching, on Sliab Fuad. There was a pleasant glen there. Derdriu stayed behind and fell asleep. At first they did not notice she was not with them, but Noisiu, turning to say something to her, let out a cry of startlement. 

“What is it?” Annle asked.

“Derdriu is not with us; she must have fallen behind.”

They hurried back and arrived there just as she was waking up. Noisiu knelt beside her. “Why did you stay behind, Derdriu?”

“I fell asleep,” said she, “and as I slept I dreamed.”

“What did you dream of?” he said.

“I saw each of you without a head,” she said. “I grew frightened and woke up.”

“It was only a dream,” he said.

“A sad dream,” she said.

Then they traveled onward to a place known as “the Height of the Willows.” Then Derdriu said to Noisiu, “I see a cloud of blood about your head, and I would give all of you advice!”

“What is your advice, Derdriu?” Noisiu asked.

“To go tonight to Cúchulainn’s place of dwelling and stay there until Fergus comes; or to have Cúchulainn escort us with promises of safety to Conchobar.”

“I am not afraid,” said Noisiu, “so we will not do that. And we have sworn to stop for nothing until we reach Conchobar anyway.”

Derdriu sang a song, then, about the great cloud of blood she saw hanging over Noisiu’s head, but Noisiu ignored this. 

They went onwards through the familiar lands, accompanied by Fergus’ son Fiacha, until they came to the green at Emain Macha.

While they had been traveling to Emain, Conchobar had made peace with his old enemy, Eogan mac Durthacht, the king of Fernmag. Eogan was to kill Noisiu and his brothers, and any who opposed this.

So when Derdriu, the sons of Uisliu, and Fiacha came to the green at Emain, Eogan was waiting for them in the middle of it with Conchobar. Hired soldiers surrounded Conchobar so that the sons of Uisliu could not reach him. Behind them, women sat on the ramparts of Emain to watch the fighting.

Eogan and his men came to where the sons of Uisliu stood. Fiacha was standing at Noisiu’s side. Eogan delivered Conchobar’s welcome to Noisiu with a spear thrust so fierce it broke his back. Fiacha grabbed Noisiu and flung himself over him, bringing them both down to the ground. The second spear thrust through Fiacha’s body ended Noisiu. Then the green came alive with battle.

Ardán and Annle defended Derdriu fiercely. They linked their shields together and put her between them, and such was their skill that they slaughtered all those who came against them.

Seeing so many fall, Conchobar turned to Cathbad the druid. “O Cathbad, work some enchantment upon the sons of Uisliu. See their skill and how many they have slain. If they should escape now, Ulster will never be safe from them. I swear if you do this, I will not harm Uisliu’s sons.”

Conchobar’s words were persuasive in the face of all the dead strewn about the green, and Cathbad believed him. He lifted a hand and suddenly a sea, with great waves that crashed like thunder, lay ahead of the sons of Uisliu and Deirdre. Behind them, not two feet away, were the men of Ulster, waiting for the chance to strike. The sea surged ever closer, threatening to engulf them, and the brothers placed Derdriu on their shoulders so that she would be safe from drowning.

With the sons of Uisliu thus trapped, Conchobar ordered someone to kill the brothers. But no man of Ulster moved, for everyone there had borne Noisiu and his brothers great love.

But Eogan mac Durthacht spoke up, saying that he was ready to behead them both.

“Since that is so,” Ardán said, “kill me first, as I am the youngest.”

“No,” Annle said. “Kill me first instead.”

Then Eogan struck a blow that severed the heads of both on the spot, and all the Ulstermen cried out in grief.

Fergus had been told of the treachery of Conchobar, and came now with Dubthach and Cormac to Emain. They entered the green, and saw Noisiu, lying dead under Fiacha’s body, and Ardán and Annle, beheaded by Eogan.

Furious at how his oath had been broken and his son slain, Fergus gave battle to the men of Ulster. Dubthach and Cormac joined him. All three fought fiercely, and many fell by their hand that day, including Cormac’s younger brother Maine.

During the fighting, Deirdre slipped away to the far side of the green, and it was there she happened to meet Cúchulainn, returning to Emain Macha. 

“Are you here to betray us too?” she said to him. “The sons of Uisliu lie dead on the green of Emain; you may as well kill the daughter of Fedlimid and lay her with them.”

“Dead? Betrayed?” Cúchulainn asked, and Derdriu told him the whole sorry tale. At this a glint came into his eye and he said, “That is sad news indeed. Who killed them?”

“Eogan mac Durthacht,” she said. “But it was at Conchobar’s demand.”

“Let us go and find them,” Cúchulainn said, “and make sure they have a proper burial.” He had not yet realized that his foster-father Fergus was the one leading the fight against Conchobar and Eogan’s men, and so he did not join the fight himself—though if he had, it would not have gone well for his enemies.

They came to the place where the bodies lay, and Derdriu flung herself down on top of Noisiu and kissed him, her lips red with his blood. “Without the three sons of Uisliu, I am not alive,” she said. “A day spent with them was full of mirth; a day without them a day of mourning. A curse on Conchobar, a curse on Cathbad, a curse on me—I wish I had died, that trickery and floods on my behalf had not killed them!”

And she sang a song of lamentation, refusing to part from the fallen brothers, though Cúchulainn tried to persuade her to flee to safety.

There was much weeping in Emain that day; and not just for the many brave Ulstermen who had fallen at the hands of Fergus, Dubthach, and Cormac. Dubthach slew the women of Ulster, and Fergus burned Emain. Three thousand men joined them when they went to Connacht. Ailill and Medb, the rulers of Connacht, welcomed them—not out of any great love, but because of the enmity between them and Ulster. With Aillil and Medb they found protection, but the exiles’ vengeance did not stop there. There was not a single night that passed from that day without the exiles wreaking more destruction and sorrow upon Ulster.

As for Derdriu, she was with Conchobar a year. During that year she did not smile. She barely ate, she rarely slept. She rested her head on her knee and would not lift it, though Conchobar brought musicians to try and raise her spirits.

When the musicians came, she would chant:

“You say the men of Emain coming home 

triumphant is a brilliant sight to see;

I say that more brilliant was the sight

of the sons of Uisliu returning home.

Noisiu bearing mead, 

Ardán and Anle bearing meat—

a sweeter supper by far

than any at the table of Conchobar.

The airs you play today lack the music

of Noisiu, who sang like the sea,

of Ardán, who sang bright as sunlight,

of Anle, who sang like the wind in the trees.

I loved Noisiu, the great hero—

loved him to his death.

I don’t sleep, I can’t sleep—

the son of Uisliu will never return.”

If Conchobar tried to calm her, she would say, “What are you thinking, you who heaped sorrow upon me? I might live a hundred years or more, and yet even then I wouldn’t have any love for you. You took the thing I loved most in the world, and I will not see him until I die. I weary of you—I see nothing but the dark stones of the grave covering Noisiu, once so bright and beautiful.”

And if he persisted, she would say to him, “Fergus wronged us, taking us over the sea to you. He sold his honor for a drink. If all the warriors of Ulster gathered before us today, without hesitation I would trade them all for Noisiu. Do not break my heart further today; I am not long for the grave. My sorrows are higher and heavier than the waves of the sea. If you were wise, you would know this.”

One day, Conchobar tired of this and asked, “Who do you hate most?”

“You and Eogan mac Durthecht!” she said.

“Then go live with Eogan for a year,” he said.

He gave her to Eogan, and the next day the three set out for the gathering at Macha. Derdriu was behind Eogan in the chariot. She looked down, so that she would not have to see the two men she hated most. She had sworn that neither of them would have her.

Conchobar had been watching her and Eogan, and when he saw her look down, he said, “Your glance is that of a ewe between two rams, Derdriu, sitting here between me and Eogan.”

Up ahead, there was a big boulder. When she heard him, she leapt up and struck her head upon it, smashing her skull to bits, and she was dead.

Even then, Conchobar was jealous that Noisiu and Derdriu dwellt in death together, and he ordered that their graves be far apart from one another. Yet every morning, the graves were found open, with the lovers inside one of them. To keep them apart, Conchobor had stakes of yew driven through their bodies, and the graves remained closed.

This was the story of Derdriu. Of beauty in death. Beauty brought Derdriu death: the death of the sons of Uisliu, the death of many in Ulster, and lastly her own death.

It was not death itself that was beautiful. The beauty was how Derdriu lived. Destined for a tragic fate even in the womb, was there ever any escape for her? And yet she chose, again and again, to turn away from the path laid out for her. Again and again, she chose the son of Uisliu.

Perhaps that had always been her fate. Or perhaps not. Prophecies are fickle things.

Years passed. Ulster and Connacht went to war. Cúchulainn stood alone against Medb’s invading army, and was later betrayed; death, winged raven, perched on his shoulder. Conchobar heard of the death of Christ and became so angry at the injustice that blood sprang from his head and he died. His eldest son Cormac was invited out of exile to be king of Ulster, and swearing friendship with Aillil and Medb, returned—only to meet death at the hands of men of Connacht. Fergus met death at the hands of Ailill, who met death through the plotting of Medb, who met death by the patient vengeance of one of Conchobar’s sons. Emain Macha was abandoned for Ard Macha close by, which became Armagh, where Saint Patrick built his church.

Two yew trees grew from the stakes in the graves. They grew and grew, until they became so tall that they could entwine with each other at last, centuries later, over the cathedral at Armagh.

Sources: “The Tragical Death of the Sons of Usnach,” The Cuchullin saga in Irish literature, Eleanor Hull (p. 22-53) and “Exile of the Sons of Uisliu,” The Táin, translated by Thomas Kinsella (p. 8-20).

Additional Notes: Because this was meant to make the medieval tales more approachable, in parts of my retelling there may be dialogue and such that read like simplified/altered versions of the original sources. I highly recommend reading the originals, linked below, for a fuller appreciation of the tale, especially Kinsella’s, as in my opinion his translations are the most readable and beautiful of any I’ve read. I’m happy to provide more detail about the adaptation process, the history behind the literature, and the wider context of the Ulster Cycle if anybody has questions. 

[cinnamorollcrybaby]

Werewolf // Cinna’s Monstertober Writing Challenge

Tags: Werewolf!Geto x Fem!Reader, Alpha!Geto x Omega!Reader, A/B/O mechanics, marking, scenting, nesting, fated mates, description of violence including murder, NSFW, MDNI

Synopsis: Suguru knew you were his before you even presented as an omega, but the pack elders did not take too kindly to him marking you at such a young age. He kills anyone who gets in his way to you.

An: If you don’t like a/b/o or omegaverse, skip this one :3. If you’re a freak like me, enjoy! Also, this was my first time making my own banner in Canva.. what are we thinking?? I am also so sorry that this one is so late.

“Satoru… I’m going to kill them. I’m going to murder them all. I can’t do this anymore. She needs me.”

Let’s rewind, shall we?

Living in a small pack has its perks. Everyone is protective over one another and will always offer to help no matter what. Pack relations are strongest when the pack is smaller, and the pack is more likely to survive.

There are, of course, some cons as well. Everyone knows your business, and everyone wants a say in how you live your life.

For the longest you can remember, Suguru has been by your side. You two would spend a lot of time down at the creek together as kids. You two practically learned everything together: how to hunt, fish, trap, and forage.

He was your insistent shadow, and the pack elders thought it was adorable when you two were younger. He would without fail abandon the other small children to always go hang out with you. The two of you were like little partners in crime together.

Though their adoration turned to concern when Suguru never quite left your side. In fact, it was getting worse as he grew older. By the time he turned 13, He was abandoning hunting trips early to come home to you. He’d sneak out of his tent to go to yours late at night. Your parents would have to kick him out every morning, chastising both of you.

Though, the straw that broke the camel’s back wasn’t simple sleepovers and abandoned hunting trips. It was when he presented as an alpha. Everyone knew he would with how physically gifted he was as a young teen. He was also too damn protective for his own good, going as far as to breaking another kid’s nose for simply grabbing your wrist.

You were only a few months younger than Suguru, but you hadn’t presented yet. When he presented first, your parents forbade him from sleeping over. They were just trying their best to protect you. You two were “too old” and “not old enough” at the same time to be sleeping together.

Suguru, given that he now had the talk from his parents, knew what your parents were suggesting, but he hated it. He didn’t understand how your parents could think so lowly of him overnight just from presenting.

He lasted three nights. Three whole nights of not snuggling against you, not smelling your hair while you two drifted off to sleep, not hearing your soft snores in the dead of night. It was three sleepless nights.

Suguru always had an inkling that you were his. It was a rather strange feeling of possession, like he shouldn’t have to listen to your parents’ rules because you weren’t theirs. You were his.

His frustration only heightened when the pack started to impose longer hunting trips on him. Shorter hunting trips were reserved for those who hadn’t presented and mated alphas. Since they were mated, they couldn’t be away from their mate for too long; thus, getting the smaller trips.

All these things led him to the conclusion: you’re his mate, and he needed to mark you to prove it.

After a particularly taxing hunting trip, Suguru’s eyes filtered through the camp. Everyone was as painfully jovial as usual: sitting around doing absolutely fuck all. His eyes landed on you, and he could feel the tension melting away from him almost instantaneously. You were in charge of looking after the small children, even though you yourself were still a child.

His feet stomped over toward you without a second thought, and his hand wrapped around your arm tightly, pulling you along behind him.

“Ah- Sugu. Where are we going? I’m working-!” You shout as he continues to drag you along silently. “Sugu- The kids…” You murmur as the two of you head further into the forest.

“They’ll be fine for a few minutes.” He responded calmly before he glanced behind him. The camp was far enough away now. No one would be able to see the two of you unless they were specifically looking for you.

“What are we doing, Sugu?” You asked with a small nervous smile. You had started to have to look up at him these days. It was as if he was growing taller overnight. No longer just a boy.

He also started to stink — well, it wasn’t like a smelly smell, but it was unfamiliar. Your parents had explained pheromones. You didn’t particularly like them since you hadn’t presented yet.

“I need you to sit still, and don’t scream.” He instructed before he dipped his head between your shoulder and jaw. He experimentally sniffed at your neck — completely scentless. The only smell coming from you was your strawberry shampoo that he had grown accustomed to.

“Why would I-“ His large hand covered your mouth before you could get out another word, and he opened his mouth before clamping down on your neck. His K9’s punctured your skin, allowing for blood to trickle down your skin.

A pained cry fled your mouth, but it was muffled by his hand. Suguru felt his heart begin to race. It was happening. You were finally officially his. No one could tell him otherwise — not even your silly parents.

He calmly reassured you that you were okay while you softly wept. Your hand covered the bloody mark on your neck. He was just marking you. You know, like it was no big deal.

After sweetly kissing your tears away, he proudly walked you back to camp once you had calmed down from crying, satisfied with himself. Your hands were laced together like true mates.

The first to immediately notice was Satoru, another alpha who was barely a year older than Suguru. His eyes widened as he caught a glimpse of your marked neck.

“Suguru, what did you do?” He asks like a mother scolding her son. Usually, this was the other way around. Satoru would’ve never expected Suguru to do something as reckless as this.

“Don’t be so dramatic, Satoru. I just marked her.” He shrugs nonchalantly, still so proud of himself.

“You don’t understand. She hasn’t presented. This isn’t good. We need to-“

Your face was flushed a bright red, and Satoru could see your breath becoming more and more labored with each passing second. He frantically looked around, trying to think of what to do. Suguru probably didn’t even know that he just inadvertently forced your body to present. Having been marked, your body was now plummeting itself into a heat.

Suguru could feel you gently tugging on his hand, trying to get his attention. When he looked back at you, his eyes widened. He could tell what your body was going through, but he was just a boy. He didn’t know how to handle it.

“What are you three up to? Why aren’t the children being tended to-“ A clan elder asked after seeing the small children running around without you to watch them. His eyes landed on you, and he immediately tensed up at the scene. “What- How… Geto.”

*** *** ***

“He’s just a boy!” Suguru’s mom pleaded with tears in her eyes. Her hands clasped the young boy’s shoulders. “He has a whole life ahead of him! Don’t do this to him.”

“You’re right. He is just a boy, so it was your responsibility to teach him about these things.” A pack elder spoke.

“He’s an alpha. Even if they taught him those things, he would’ve acted on his own volition anyways.” Another spoke.

“Who even allowed him to be around her? He was suppose to be on a hunting trip, no?”

“We got back early. It was my responsibility, but we were carrying back a large buck. My mind was preoccupied. I accept full responsibility for his actions.”

“You can’t take on the full burden of responsibility. Geto is old enough to know right from wrong, and he chose the wrong path. He took that girl in the woods and marked her before she even presented as an omega.” The pack leader spoke.

Suguru stood completely motionless in front of his parents. He stayed looking down at the ground. While they argued over his future in the pack, his mind was stuck on you. They had ripped you away from him the second that the pack elder had realized that your body was in heat. He wondered if you were being taken care of okay. He wondered if you missed him as much as he missed you already. He wondered if he’d get to see you again.

“He’s done so much for this pack at such a young age. Please.. Don’t do this to him. He has his whole life ahead of him.” His mother pleaded once again. “We’ll keep a closer eye on him. We’ll do whatever it takes.”

“What about my daughter’s life?” Your dad finally spoke up after being silent for far too long. “That bastard tainted her. She could’ve presented as anything: alpha, beta, or omega, but no, he forced biology upon her with a godforsaken mark. He should be shunned from the pack.”

“He can’t be allowed to be in the same space as her. He’s already proven that he can’t be trusted. The last thing we need is for a young omega to fall pregnant because an alpha doesn’t know restraint.”

“Don’t you two have family anywhere she can stay with… just until she’s a bit older? The mark might fade after they’ve been separated for a while.” Another pack elder spoke up to your parents.

“You’re seriously removing our daughter instead of the problem child? That’s fucking rich. So, what will happen when he marks another omega far too early, huh?” Your dad argued, clenching his jaw.

“I wouldn’t do that.” Suguru finally spoke up, looking your dad in the eye. A stare off between the two ensued.

“If this is how this pack operates, fine. I don’t want her in here if we protect alphas simply due to their gender instead of the innocent.” Your dad finally grit out before stomping away from the meeting.

It took three full grown alphas and Satoru to hold Suguru back while you were leaving. They wouldn’t even allow him to say goodbye to you, not even when you cried out his name. Not even when you begged, pleaded, asked why.

*** *** ***

Suguru was never quite the same after you and your family left. It had been years. He was just a boy when they took you. Now, he’s a twenty year old brooding alpha. He was aloof towards everyone, and he only confided in Satoru. His friend seemed to he the only one who understood that he wasn’t trying to hurt you. He didn’t know that his mark would cause a great deal of stress on your body, and had he known, he wouldn’t have done it.

The rest of the pack looked at him with reserved disdain. He was a stain upon their community. Your parents were well liked in the pack, and he was the reason they weren’t there anymore.

Words kept getting tossed around, and the pack members who weren’t there for the meeting were terribly misinformed. As the rumors spread, the story became more and more horrid. They painted him out to be a monster who held you down while you begged him not to and bit your neck forcibly.

Suguru never tried to correct the stories. He had nothing to prove to these people, the people that sent you away from him. They could all think of him as a monster, especially if it meant they stayed the hell away from him.

The only thing that kept Geto from expulsion from the pack was his innate ability to hunt. His beast from was truly that of an apex predator. He went on extravagant hunting trips often, and he kept the pack fed on wonderful meats.

He looked for you, his mate, on every hunting trip. He tried to remember the faint smell that started to emit from you when your body went into heat. He looked for every sign of you.

He knew the mate bond was still strong because he could feel everything through it. He hated when you felt sad. He knew you experienced some sort of nightmares without him there to care for you while you slept. Your happiness made him feel bittersweet. He wanted you to be happy, but the thought of you being happy without him made him sick.

Your heats were the worst. Suguru would sulk in his tent in a state of horny depression. He should be taking care of you, tending to your body and every desire you had. He should be helping you nest and kissing every spot on your body while cooing praises to you.

Instead, he’s laying in his own sweat and cum, too much of a sad sack of shit to make himself go get cleaned up. His tent stunk of potent pheromones. Your heats, even while being so far away, managed to throw him into a rut each time.

He could feel your dissatisfaction. You were pining for him to come help you. It was as if you were screaming down the mate bond for him to come save you. He missed you so damn bad that he started to hate the smell of strawberries. They smelled too much of you and reminded him of what he couldn’t have

He knew that the elders still kept in touch with your parents. They were high ranking leaders in the community after all. They knew where you were, and they still opted to keep you away from him.

You and him were suffering because of the fucking elders. They caused all of this. If they would’ve kept their fucking noses out of y’all’s business, none of this would be happening.

“Satoru… I’m going to kill them. I’m going to murder them all. I can’t do this anymore. She needs me.” Suguru was practically crying for help. He was sat in his tent, holding his head in shame. His arms and legs were practically trembling.

The homicidal thoughts started when you left. It was sneaky at first, but they only got worse over time. His friend was the only one who knew about them. He knew how badly Geto craved to end their lives.

“Let me talk to them. They might listen to me.” Satoru spoke calmly as he gazed as his heartbroken best friend. The tent was heavy with the scent of alpha rut and distress. He could tell Suguru was really going through it right now.

*** *** ***

Suguru’s beast form was nothing short of a monster. He was the strongest, right next to Satoru.

His black fur was matted with blood as he pawed at the remains of the pack leader. Satoru had tried to talk to them, but they instantly shut him down. Then, to make matters worse, they sent him away on a hunting trip that same day.

Without Satoru there to keep the thoughts at bay, Suguru literally couldn’t help himself. The beast shifted before he could even do anything about it, and he was instantly blood hungry.

Tears coated his face as he shifted back to his human form. Killing the elders didn’t even help soothe him. He just wanted his fucking mate for christ’s sake. He sat on the floor in a scatter of papers from where the two beasts had fought valiantly.

Nothing could replicate the feeling of emptiness that filled him in that moment. His best friend wasn't there. His mate had been gone for oh so long. The pack leaders were now all deceased. When tomorrow morning rolled around, he'd likely be ostracized from his pack for the murders.

He laid his head back against the wall with his hands covering his face. He just wanted to see Satoru one last time before he was expelled and shunned. He wanted to apologize and thank Gojo for sticking by him for all these years.

At some point, the sleep deprivation got to Geto, causing for him to fall asleep naked in the massacre that was the pack leader's tent. Nightmares of slaughter plagued his dreams. Your face haunted him. He wondered what could've been had he known better than to mark you at an early age.

It felt so real, that he swore he heard your voice, though it was different in his dream. Your voice wasn't as squeaky as it use to be. It was smooth with age and experience yet still soft spoken. Maybe he was forgetting the way you sounded? The thought terrified him. His memory was all he had left of you.

You were... laughing? No, it couldn't be you. The voice sounded more like Gojo's-

The tent unzipping. A gasp. "Shit. Don't-" Gojo's voice.

Geto fluttered his eyes open to see Gojo standing in the small doorway of the makeshift shelter. He had... a woman's eyes covered. Her bottom lip was trembling.

"Suguru, what did you do?" Satoru asked like he did all those years back, and suddenly, Suguru felt like a small child who had no impulse control. He quickly scrambled up to his feet, using a random sheet of paper to cover his manhood.

"You were gone, and I just... I just really fucking..." His words trailed as his eyes looked over towards the woman. His heart started to pound in his chest. She looked... so much like you. It was as if he was being confronted with the ghost of his past once again.

"I went to go get her, Suguru." Satoru calmly explained with a hint of bite in his tone. "You really think I'd listen to what those old geezers said about not going to look for her? I grilled every last one of them until they slipped up and gave me enough information to find her."

Geto's eyes were as wide as saucers, and his pupils were dilated as he stared at the woman who was quietly trembling next to Satoru. His hand covered most of her face. "Is that...?"

"In the flesh." Satoru said as his hand slowly dropped from your eyes. Chills shot through Geto's body as he saw his mate's face again.

"Sugu..." Your little nickname for him. His breath went labored as he took in the sight of you for just one moment. His eyes involuntarily filled with tears before he dropped the sheet of paper and lunged for you.

His large muscular arms wrapped around your frame, pulling you into a tight embrace against him. "I'm so sorry.." He whispered in your ear like a mantra. His hands roamed across your back as if he was double checking that this was real.

“Fuck. I’m so sorry.” He whispered again in a pained voice. This was not how he wanted you to see him. He was at his lowest. “I’ve missed you so much. It feels like I’ve been underwater this entire time.”

You gently nuzzled your face into his chest, and you took a deep breath, savoring his scent. A content hum fled your lips. He smelled like home. “I’ve missed you too, Sugu.”

Suguru had grown so much since you last saw him. His body was now muscular and toned. His hair was even longer. It was tied up in a half knot while the rest of it messily splayed down his back. He wasn’t just a boy anymore — a man now.

“I hate to be the one to ruin this reunion, but there’s dead pack elders that we have to deal with.” Satoru spoke up as he crossed his arms over his chest.

Suguru reluctantly pulled back from you, not ready to let go of his missing mate. “I have no intention of staying here.” He said, eyes glancing over to the corpse on the ground. “This pack is a shit show.”

“So, what do we do?” Satoru asked, cocking an eyebrow at his friend. It was never a question in his mind. Satoru was going to go wherever Geto went.

“We start our own pack.” Geto casually threw out the idea with a small shrug. “It’s not impossible. If those incompetent creatures could do it, so can we.”

*** *** ***

You were happy and content to follow Geto and Gojo wherever the two went. It had been so long since you’ve seen the two males. You had almost forgotten how much mischief they could get up to.

Every day was filled with hiking, trying to find a new place to settle down. Every night was spent around a small fire, listening to the stories of the two while you were sent away.

When you and Geto would finally lay together next to the fire, he’d lazily play with your hair and whisper sweet nothings in your ear. He’d tell you how beautiful you were and how there was never a day that went by when he didn’t think of you.

“Have I mentioned how terrible it was without you?” He murmured in your ear while his large hand was gently caressing your hip. He would carefully slip it underneath your shirt. The pad of his thumb caressing your soft skin.

“Only a million times.” You giggled in response, looking up at him to meet his gaze.

“Make it a million and one then. It was terrible.” He quietly laughed, not wanting to wake up Satoru who was snuggled on the ground on the other side of the fire.

“I missed you too.” You replied. Your hand carefully reached up and cupped his cheek. Your head was resting on his bicep while your legs were intertwined. “I tried calling out to you often through the mate bond.”

“I felt it each time.” He admitted as his hand slowly snaked higher up your torso. “I felt each time you went into heat and needed me.”

The fire calmly crackling masked the small whimper that fled from your lips. “I’m sorry. I know that probably drove you crazy.”

“You have no idea.” He muttered as he leaned in and pressed a small kiss to the mark on your neck. It hadn’t faded in the slightest. Your body knew you were his before you presented as well. “I dreamt of going out to find you.”

“Yeah? What would you do had you found me while I was in heat?”

“Mmm..” He hummed in a low tone as he gazed at you with a small smirk on his face. “I would sneak into whatever tent you were in like I use to when we were kids.” He spoke softly as his hand continued to trail up your side slowly.

“I’d find you lying there, already such a mess for me.” He went on, painting the picture vividly for you. Your eyes slipped shut as you imagined it for yourself. “Then, I’d pin you down to your nest, stopping you from taking care of yourself.” He went on, and he rolled on top of you, pinning your arms down with his free hand.

The sickly sweet scent of your arousal building lingered in the air, making Suguru’s heart pound in his chest. You smelled even more yummy than he imagined you to.

“What next?” You ask softly in a breathless voice.

“I’d kiss your lips until they were bruised.” He mumbled, and he leaned down to you before pressing his lips harshly against yours. He groaned softly as soon as he could feel you kissing back. He poured all of his love and hunger into his affections. He needed you like he needed air. You were his sole salvation - his reason for living

He carefully pushed your shirt up over your chest, and he skillfully reached behind you, unclasping your bra within a few seconds. You worked with him, pulling it away from your body before you wrapped your legs around his waist.

His hand came up and carefully cupped your breast. Hs kneaded on the soft pillowy flesh with another groan. He gently bit your swollen lip, asking for entry before proceeding to deepen the kiss. He swallowed up your small moans and gasps.

"Then," he softly pant out after parting from the kiss, "I'd mark up your neck again and again. I never want you to forget who you belong to." His head dipped into your neck, and his lips latched on to the soft skin.

He sucked, nibbled, and bit his way up and down your neck, making good on his promise to mark you up. Your hips raised up to meet his, needily searching for friction to ease the ache between your thighs.

"My poor omega.." He mumbled softly against your skin before allowing his hand to trail down and to grope you at your core.

"Fuck- Sugu.." Your voice was a soft whine, forgetting all about Gojo who was asleep not even 10 feet away.

"Shhh, princess. Don't wake him." Suguru shushed you softly with a impish grin. His hands now worked to take your pants and panties off. "Want me to keep going?"

"Please..." Your face is illuminated by the warm glow of the fire before you two. A soft blush spread across your cheeks.

"Mmm, then you have to be quiet." Suguru teased before he allowed himself the pleasure of gazing at your glistening cunt. "Oh, so pretty." He mused before leaning in to press a soft kiss to your folds.

Suguru's mind was running haywire as he generously lapped at your wet heat. He had imagined this happening so many times while he fucked his own fist. It's all finally worked out. He's finally gotten to taste you, to hear you moan his name.

Your fingers entangled in his hair, holding onto him for support while he devoured you thoroughly.

"Mmn.. Sugu~ S'close... please." You quietly whimpered out, warning him of your impending release while he slurped at your cunt, drinking down your slick as if you were a fountain of youth.

"Can you hold it, baby?" His voice was muffled as he didn't dare part from you.

"N-no, I-" You softly whine, starting to rock your hips back and forth across his tongue. You were desperate for release, nearly riding his face to get there.

Suguru tugged back away from you. "That just won't do, darling." He mumbles as he unbuttons his pants and pulls his pants and boxers down just enough. "I need your first time finishing with me to be on my cock. Think you can do that for me?"

You're quick to nod in agreement with his wish, desperately needing the approval of your alpha. You had already caught a glimpse of his size when you and Satoru first arrived. Even when soft, Suguru still isn't small. Now that he's fully hard, it's almost intimidating.

"Mmm~ such a good girl." He quietly praised as he carefully guided his cock between your slick covered folds. He held your gaze as he rubbed his tip up and down, creating a wet "schlick" noise with each movement. His poor neglected cock leaked sticky pre-cum along your core, making everything so messy.

"Bite on my hand." He instructed as he placed his hand over your mouth. "Don't want you makin' too much noise." With a small huff, you bite down onto his hand.

Humping you a few more times, Geto finally decided to push himself into you. Your body immediately went rigid as you tried to cope with the new pressure between your legs. It felt as if he was trying to split you in two, completely impaling you with his thick cock.

"Ohh~ fuuu... That's it.." Geto's voice was deeper and extremely breathy. His eyes were half-lidded as he continued to watch your facial reactions. The small tears crowding the corners of your eyes made him throb. "You're so fucking tight."

"it's not gonna fit-" You quietly whined behind the palm of his hand. Meanwhile, your fingernails were embedded into his back, decorating him with scratch marks.

"It's gonna fit, baby." He quietly reassured you as he pulled back a bit and sunk back in. Your slick coated his length, making it easier for him to push in more. "Gotta let me stretch you."

"Ngh~ ah.." Your voice cracked as your leaned your head back against the ground. Suguru's hips rolled, just barely fucking into your tight cunt. He'd add another inch with each thrust, allowing you time to gradually get use to him.

The air was filled with shushed panting and breathy whines. The sound of your sopping cunt squeezing around him was like a holy song to him. You were the only slice of heaven Geto would ever see.

He had been so caring; you hadn't even realized he was all the way in until you felt a thump towards your stomach. "Ohmygod-" The gasp fell from your mouth before you could even think to stop it. "Fuuuck... feel you right here.." You meekly murmured as you pointed towards your tummy.

"Yeah baby? Feel me all the way in there?" He humors your intoxicated speech as he's lovingly thrusting into you. "You feel so fucking good." He praised as he peppered your face in sweet kisses.

Your spongy walls cling to his dick with each soft thwack of his balls clapping against the flesh of your ass. You're completely soaked around him, allowing him to glide in and out with ease.

His fat tip was damp with sweltering pre-cum gathering at his slit. With each thrust, his tip was kissing at your womb, making you feel all dumb in the head. He occupied his mouth with kissing and sucking more love bites into your shoulders. "So good, baby... ah~ so fuckin' good." He continued to mumble praises in a pussy drunk tone.

Both of your bodies were glistening in a mix of sweat and slick. The fire raged beside you two keeping you very warm while he pumped in and out. "Can't get enough. Need more.. ngh~ M-missed you so much." He growled lowly in your ear as his tender thrusts grew sloppier - fueled by an intense need.

"Suguu~ fuck me." That little needy whine was all he needed to start forcefully pounding into you. Noise level be damned; he needed his omega on a biblical level that Satoru would never be able to understand.

Plap! Plap! Plap!

Your poor cunt was practically sobbing for him - making a complete mess between your thighs as his cock rudely drilled into you. Your back arched up off of the ground, and you could feel your eyes rolling back. It felt like you were ascending to a higher being.

Suguru caught your lips in a sloppy kiss. Strings of saliva connected your mouths like strings of fate as you muffled each others moans. "Need to knot you - f-fuck, please, let me knot you."

Your legs wrap completely around Suguru's waist. "Knot me, Sugu.. hngh~ I'm s'close.."

Suguru's legs began to shake as he could feel his balls growing heavy. Instincts completely drove him to keep fucking himself into your drooling cunt. His eyes stayed on you as he felt himself growing closer and closer to the edge.

"Sh-shit!" You hissed as your gummy walls suddenly tightened around him. The squelching noises slowed as he felt his knot starting to swell. His hands gripped onto your hips as he had to force his way deep inside your wet heat. The knot locking you two in place before he completely spilled inside you.

"Fuuucking hell..." Suguru breathed out as he stayed planted on top of you. His breath was labored as his hand brushed a few stray hairs from your face. "No one will ever take you away from me again. You're mine."

Bonus Scene!

Upon waking up the next morning on Suguru's bare chest, you sighed contently. Your body ached in the best way. Though, you knew it would only make this trek even harder.

You slowly sat up with a quiet groan. Your face was slightly sticky from sweat and drool. He had really wore you out last night.

"Morning, sleepy head." Suguru mumbled as his eyes rested upon your tired face.

"Mmm.. morning." You quietly hummed as your hands instinctively smoothed out your hair, trying to make yourself look presentable.

"Good morning, Satoru." The white-haired alpha spoke to himself in a grumpy, sarcastic tone as he stared at the two of you.

"It's too early for your attitude, Satoru." Suguru quietly laughed as he looked at his friend.

"You can deal with my attitude given what I had to deal with last night." He huffed as his lips curled into a slight pout.

"You didn't-"

"Oh, I did." He confirmed. "Oooohhh, please knot me, Sugu. Oh so big and strong!" He mocked your voice in a high pitched tone.

"Oh god, please stop." You whine as you covered your ears. A nervous laugh involuntarily bubbled up from your throat.

"Mmm, fuck. Gonna knot this tight cun-"

"That's enough, Satoru." Suguru playfully warned as he shook his head with a calm smile. It didn't bother him one bit that he heard the two of you last night because he knew that Satoru was going to hear you two again tonight as well.

Read the rest of my monstertober here !

[kanerallels]

HIGHLY RELATABLE until I got into fan fic I was INCAPABLE of short stories. But don't worry, the rules can't control you!! Write a long story! Live your best life!!

Help I don't think I understand the concept of a "short story". Apparently most people make them only like, 4,000 words or less? Idk but that seems impossible

[inklings-sprint]

Inklings Challenge Ask Game

Some pre-Inklings Challenge questions that I’ve thought about before and would be interested in seeing how others would answer these.

🖋️Which team are you hoping for?

💻Which team do you least want to end up on?

🖨️Which genre/s excites you the most?

📃Which genre/s do you feel least confident about?

📜Which genre/s do you feel most confident about?

📓Which of this year’s theme/s are you most drawn to?

🖍️Which of this year's theme/s do you find most challenging/least likely to try and incorporate?

📝 If you’ve previously participated, which team (or teams) have you ended up on?

🖊️ If you’ve previously participated, has your preferred team changed? Or would you rather always end up on the same team?

📖 If you’ve previously participated, have you ever been disappointed by which team you’ve ended up on?

📚 If you’ve previously participated, have you ever been excited by which team you’ve ended up on?

📕 Have you participated in any of the other Inklings Challenges? (Like the Christmas and/or Four Loves)

📗 If you’ve previously participated, do you have story ideas that have gone unused or waiting for the chance to use them again.

📘 If you’ve written multiple stories (finished or not) for the challenges, which is your favourite?

📙 If you’ve written multiple stories (finished or not) for the challenges, which is your least favourite?

💾 Have you read any of the challenge stories that have really stuck with you? (Any stories you still think about/go back and read)

⏳ Are there any stories that you wish the author would finish writing?

💛 Have you made any friends through reading someone’s story? (In/related through the challenge)

💐💐💐💐💐

🌻🌻🌻🌻

🌼🌼🌼🌼

🌸🌸🌸🌸

I also feel like there could be more questions that fit along these lines. So if you think of them, feel free to add them in your reblogs.

🌹🌹🌹🌹

🌷🌷🌷🌷

🌺🌺🌺🌺

🪻🪻🪻🪻

@inklings-challenge

[inklings-challenge]

Since we're less than a month away from sign-ups for this year's Inklings Challenge, it's time to address what I call:

The Team Chesterton Problem

The Inklings Challenge divides writers into three different teams, which are each assigned a type of fantasy and a type of science fiction, and writers can choose which one they want to write. The fantasy categories are easy: Team Lewis is portal fantasy, and Team Tolkien is secondary world fantasy, which leaves intrusive fantasy for Team Chesterton. Intrusive fantasy gets by far the least stories written for it, probably because people are intimidated by fantasy with a real-world setting, but that would be okay if the science fiction category drew in people.

In three years, we have had two stories in the Team Chesterton sci-fi category. Both last year.

With Team Lewis having space travel and Team Tolkien having time travel, the first two years, Team Chesterton had a technology category. Since that covers everything from steampunk to mad scientists to robots to cloning technology to cyberpunk, you'd think there'd be a lot of story potential for any type of writer. Not one. The third year's category, Adventure, tried to make this wider story potential clearer, so people didn't think they had to be technological experts to write in this category. We got only a couple of stories.

I'm beginning to wonder if it's too broad of a category. Space travel suggests a specific genre. Time travel provides a specific inciting incident. Technology and Adventure have a kind of "everything else" vibe, which could make it difficult to come up with a specific story in a short time frame.

So I'm considering other options:

Mystery

Pro: Chesterton-related, specific genre that can be applied to a fantasy or sci-fi setting

Con: Not inherently a sci-fi genre; requires a lot of thinking to apply it to a speculative fiction setting

Dystopia

Pro: Specific genre with specific vibes. Chesterton-related

Con: Vibes are depressing and people may not be drawn to it

Utopia

Pro: Less depressing than dystopia. Could even be combined with dystopia

Con: Who's willing to admit that they think they've invented a perfect society? Outdated genre.

Travel

Pro: Fits with time and space travel. Would suggest planet-bound adventures--finding hidden lands, journey-to-the-center-of-the-earth, underwater cities, you name it--while providing a specific event to base the story around, so it's less broad than adventure.

Con: Would take a lot of explanation to get to that definition. Has a lot of the same "too-broad" problems that Adventure has

Cyberpunk or steampunk

Pro: Specific genre with specific vibes

Con: If people don't like those vibes, they're out of luck. People could think they need to know a lot about technology or history to write in this category.

Superhero

Pro: Fun genre! Specific genre trappings and tropes to easily base stories around. Can feel very Chestertonian. Nothing that would make people think they need to stick to real-world science

Con: People might be burnt out on superheroes. Might turn to fanfic instead of original fic. Not a great companion genre to time and space travel

I had been hoping to end this with a poll, but there are too many options and variables here, so instead I'll just ask for general feedback and ideas on what genre would be most appealing and the best fit for this challenge.

[marveloustimestwo]

love your hcs!! can i request more game of thrones, preferably the starks? platonic or romantic!

Thank you so much! I'm glad you like them! I went for Robb because he's one of my favorites in Game of Thrones.

Warnings: Yandere themes, a couple mentions of death, but not at all graphic.

Across the board, platonic or romantic, Robb is overprotective, clingy, and possessive.

He's a very loyal and naturally protective person. When he loves someone, he's going to do all that he can to make sure that they're safe and cared for.

In a platonic sense, he's going to view you as a little sibling, whether you're blood-related or not. He almost immediately demands you be taken in if you're not. He leaves no room for argument, and considering how stubborn he can be, his parents give in pretty easily.

I can easily also see him calling you his best friend as well as a sibling, which means that he'll want to spend a lot of time with you.

Robb will demand you have the room next to him so that you're closer and more easily accessible. He'll also make sure everything is up to his pretty high standards so that you're comfortable and well cared for.

And if anyone dares say you're not actually his sibling or best friend, he's not afraid to challenge them to a fight. He'll rough them up a bit more than necessary, too, just to let the message sink in.

In a romantic sense, once Robb gets an inkling of affection for you, he'll fall pretty fast and hard.

Robb grew up seeing his parents have this fairytale-like love and he strives to have that sort of thing with you.

He'll go about courting you in a very romantic manner. He brings you your favorite flowers, asks you to go on walks or on a horse ride alone with him, compliments you all the time, and tries his hardest to win all of the sparring matches he has with Theon and Jon when you're around.

(And not that you'll ever know this, but he goes out of his way to scare off any other potential suitors you have. Sometimes he might threaten them himself, but other times he'll pay a guard or two to do the dirty work.)

Robb wants you to see him as honorable, strong, and brave. He never wants you to fear him.

And he can be pretty good about being normal. If his father is still around, he'll be pretty persistent in convincing him to arrange a marriage with you, even if you're a commoner or a bastard.

Once Robb becomes King of the North, he won't really care what anyone else thinks. He's going to marry you, end of story.

He's pretty convincing when it comes to you. Any doubts or protests you have about the idea will be reasoned away because Robb will hammer in the idea that he is hopelessly in love with you.

Robb could not care less if you were born a bastard or anything else. Once he's as obsessed as he is with you, he'd go to hell and back to protect and love you.

And Grey Wind would be just as protective. The giant dire wolf would follow you anywhere, especially when Robb isn't able to be near you.

The two are psychically connected, so you'll have a giant wolf who will see any new and not directly trusted person as a threat. After all, Grey Wind is basically just Robb if he didn't hold himself back all the time.

Given the level of Robb's obsession, no one can get within fifteen feet of you without getting snapped at.

Still, Robb isn't all that bad. When it comes to you, he's very loving, kind, and loyal. He will never give you any reason to doubt his devotion to you.

If you ignore the number of people you know he would and has killed for you, it's actually a pretty nice time.

[fictionadventurer]

Had an idea for a writing challenge, wasn't going to to do it, but in the interests of not making this another Chesterton Challenge Absolute Last Minute thing, I thought I'd mention the possibility.

Aside from the main Inklings Challenge, we've now had challenges specifically referencing Lewis (Four Loves) and Chesterton (Chesterton Challenge), which means we need Tolkien to finish the set.

The idea of a summer-themed challenge came to me as: Camp Tolkien, a short writing event (no more than a week or two) during July.

There are a few possible directions for this:

Focus on the "camp" theme: Have a Mon-Fri set of posts each offering different writing challenges themed as summer camp activities. Like, word sprints for "swimming races" or making story-related artwork for arts and crafts. Participants would choose whichever challenges they wanted and apply them to whatever they're already working on.

Focus on the "Tolkien" theme: Make it a worldbuilding-focused challenge. Two possible directions for this

A group worldbuilding project: Everyone who participates suggests ideas to build a world and we Goncharov our way to creating a new secondary world within a week or so. Optional extra week to create characters/stories within this world once it's built. Not sure how to coordinate this so it doesn't become a mess, though.

Individual worldbuilding project: A Mon-Fri set of posts providing prompts for people to build their own secondary worlds. Could allow people to flesh out already existing world, but could be more fun to convince people to make up a new world on the fly, especially because this would be no-stress Tolkien-esque worldbuilding for worldbuilding's sake, with no requirement to write stories within it.

Not sure if this makes any sense, but maybe you can see what I'm saying here? Any interest in one particular option/ideas for making it work. Is a summertime writing event a bad idea given people's schedules? Please chime in and let me know.

[city-of-ladies]

"If there is one fact about the amazons that is indisputable, it is their consistently outstanding performance in combat. Not unexpectedly, practically the only author to cast doubt on this was Burton, for whom the idea that black females (not to speak of males) might excel on the battlefield was hard to accept: “The ‘Amazons’ boast themselves invulnerable, but readily retreat: an equal number of British charwomen, armed with the British broomstick, would - I lay, to speak Yorkishly— clear them off in very few hours.”Elsewhere he damns them with faint praise:‘The women are as brave as, if not braver than, their brethren in arms, who certainly do not shine in that department of manliness.”

The first inkling that the women soldiers of Dahomey might be first-class fighters comes from Labarthe’s informant who, in 1776, watched them perform shooting drills at Abomey and found them “very resolute”. By 1830, as Conneau learned at Whydah, their “bravery [was] a noted fact and [was] proverbial with the natives.” By the next decade the amazons’ reputation was established among Europeans too. At Cana in 1843 Freeman saw a “brigade” of them fire their guns. Not only did they shoot well, he says, but they “appeared totally void of fear”. The next year de Monléon remarked that the women had “often given striking proof of courage and audacity”. In 1845 Duncan saw amazon officers being rewarded for their “valour”.

Regarding the terror the women aroused among neighboring peoples, Chautard relates an anecdote from the 1880s. A group of amazons traveled from Whydah to Agoué, a port town beyond the kingdom near what is now Togo, perhaps as an escort for traders. The whole population crowded the town square to see the legendary ladies up close. The female “general” confronted the local male warriors and challenged the very best of them to a duel with swords to determine which sex was stronger. “In less than two minutes”, she boasted, “his head will adorn the tip of my sword!” To the shame of his sex, says Chautard, not one warrior volunteered.

The adjectives applied to the amazons over the decades were brave, courageous, valorous, valiant, fearless, intrepid, cruel, pitiless, merciless, implacable, relentless, bloodthirsty, fierce, ferocious, furious, audacious, impetuous, ardent, fanatic, disciplined, devoted (to the king), indomitable, redoubtable, formidable, vigorous, resolute, tenacious, determined, persevering. Often they were said to surpass their male colleagues — in valor, in intrepidity, in courage, in bravery, in cruelty, in discipline. “In this singular country”, Vallon reported, “the women’s army is accounted much more warlike than the men’s.” According to Bouët, there was no memory of any of the amazons fleeing combat whereas men had often been punished for doing it."

Amazons of Black Sparta: The Women Warriors of Dahomey, Stanley B. Alpern

[kepler-station]

౨ৎ.𖥔˚ stormbringer cookie — crush and relationship hcs

— 𝜗𝜚 incredibly self indulgent, theres too little content for my sky god wife huhu

• ໑ৎ ׁ  ׅ♡ tw !! — gn reader. unspecified characteristics.

• i don't think you'll be able to get her attention if you were any ordinary cookie, you'd definitely have to be someone unique enough to get her attention or bold, strong, and powerful enough to challenge her to get her attention

• either way, you got her attention and it was clear, alright...

• let's just say lots of storms and lightning in your area, to the point that the other deities had to stop her at some point from flooding your area completely and triggering an evacuation due to the storms

• your prayers would always be answered and eventually it was odd because it seemed like no one else's were being answered compared to how often yours were

• to stormbringer, it was just admiration and fell into denial once she was informed by one of her three deities that maybe she was in love but soon grew content with it as her heart raced more when she saw you or spied on you from the heavens

• i honestly have no idea how she would confess exactly but it would be extravaggant and you'd certainly know she's fallen for you by then, i have a inkling that her pride would get in the way ("the sky god, falling in love? excuse me?"), but she was so easy to read to the deities

• when you two got into a relationship, all the sudden you were both feared and revered?, after all you were the lover of the sky god — an insult or bad look directed to you is a death wish to the sky god herself!

• things would be a little rough at first, and it's certain she may have hurt you here and there without realizing it

• her deities would either have to push her to apologize (respectfully, of course!) or she'd realize how badly she messed up by how you didn't show up when she wanted (demanded) for your presence with her

• after this, she stops flaunting her power and fights and victories every time you're with her, but there's an underlying tone that she's still flaunting her power and she enjoys putting it over your head that she's more powerful

• she enjoys teasing and that she's the only one who gets to see you get all red and shy hehe

• her petnames for you are all related to lightning and storms so things like "(her) thunder)", "(her) storm watcher", "(her) stormcloud", and would be delighted if she got petnames in return as well — petnames that enunciate her might and power as the sky god but also are lovey to show your love for her

• she isn't always able to be with you because of her duties as the sky god ofc, but dates can be anything from chilling with her eating candied clouds on a storm cloud to visiting your home while a storm is happening (preferably appearing as lightning strikes just outside your home/balcony if you have one!)

• very flirty and is not the type to shy away when showing her love for you — anyone who disrespects you disrespects her too, and just a bad look directed at you is enough for a vengeful storm to start stirring up in the area!

• quick to jealousy but in a good way — she just wants to have her storm and will throw a tantrum up in the heavens if she is unable to interfere due to her duties (resulting in a storm naturally appearing, directed at whoever made her jealous), but will tease you if you got jealous over her

• she takes it as a sign that you love her so much to the point you want her to be yours, and she's flattered! rest assured, she's yours anyway!

• discreetly grants you a wish every once in a while, big or small, you'll get !

• make sure to say hi to her when a thunderstorm appears !! 👋🏻

[isfjmel-phleg]

@inklings-challenge forgive me for being a day behind, but for yesterday's Chesterton Challenge prompt of "Mystery," here is an excerpt from a mystery story from the world of The Blackberry Bushes, a Morrick Hopeley story by L. D. Melbray, with annotations by Elystan Liddick. This is from the book that he annotated in the Christmas Chapter with the intention of presenting it to Levico as a gift.

(If you're unfamiliar with this, this is my fictional world's equivalent of Sherlock Holmes! So I am writing mimicking that style.)

In all my acquaintance with my friend Mr. Morrick Hopeley, I had never known him to seek out the company of a lady for any cause beyond his professional services.[1] Even his dealings with my Maira, despite the role that she played in the case of the Batsford Murders,[2] dripped with the distant courtesy of a gentleman toward a lady shopkeeper. If he ever had a mother or a sister or an aunt, he has never confided in me,[3] but I doubt not that if he did, he would regard them with his own peculiar mixture of aloofness and polite disdain. Exactly what was his reason for regarding the fair sex in this manner I cannot say with certainty;[4] it was among the unfortunate defects of my friend’s otherwise admirable character,[5] and a fault for which I have dared to rebuke him multiple times.[6] Once, when Hopeley and I shared rooms in Fisher Road, I went so far as to suggest that his aversion stemmed from a secret fear, and was rewarded with utter solitude for the rest of the evening.[7] Yet in the strange case of Miss Celeas Arkwright, which I am about to relate, Hopeley made an exception to his inexplicable rule, for indeed Miss Arkwright was an exceptional woman,[8] and it is by that designation that Hopeley has come to regard her—The Exception.

If I recall correctly, it began in the autumn of 1898.[9] Despite the moderate success of my literary career, the call of the stage once again had compelled me,[10] and I had joined the cast of a respectable, if not grand, production of The Misfortune of Mr. Naym.[11] My role was but a supporting one,[12] yet it provided enough comedic interest to keep me as diverted as our audiences for the next month. I had not seen Hopeley in weeks. If he had heeded my telegram pleading with him to attend my first night if he could, I had missed his unmistakable features among the crowd—no surprise, for my friend is a master of disguise.[13] I expected him to turn up anywhere during our run in some outlandish persona or another,[14] but on this particular night he chose, as ever, to defy my expectations and turned up in my dressing room in his own character after the end of the performance.

The expression on his face, as he leaned against my dressing table, arms crossed over his chest and long legs stretched out before him like a frog’s, plainly indicated that he relished the prospect of startling me.[15] I confess that I took some umbrage at his neglect of my first night,[16] and determined that I would not give him the satisfaction of my genuine reaction to his abrupt manifestation in my private quarters. I flatter myself that I am a creditable enough actor to maintain such a ruse.[17] Without a glance at him, I strode into the dressing room, shed the outermost layers of my costume, donned the dressing gown Maira gave me for Christmas (a quiet brown with a subtle self-stripe),[18] and seated myself at the dressing table to begin the rituals of cold cream, quite as if there were not an absurdly tall and silently perturbed man practically at my elbow.[19]

Halfway through divesting myself of greasepaint,[20] I allowed my eyes to drift in his direction and acknowledged him with a nod.

“Ah,” said I, “Hopeley. There you are, old chap. I see you have been dining with the ambassador of Faysmond—that is, when you have not been taking a lengthy stroll through the countryside near Fifield or acquiring the hobby of brass-rubbing. Between your days at the Coregean Library researching for that case with the bishop’s nephew’s dog, of course.”[21]

A proud beam brightened Hopeley’s thin face. “My dear Wystan,” said he, “you have at least learned to apply my methods. Do tell me, my boy, how you have deduced these things.”

“The answer is simplicity itself,” I remarked. “I read the newspapers.”[22]

[1] Because he has better things to do!

[2] I can’t blame Hopeley. That was the most tiresome part of that book.

[3] Based on his remarks in “The Adventure of the Baboon’s Umbrella,” I theorize that Hopeley’s mother is dead and has been dead for a long time. And if he had a sister, he would have mentioned her by now. I cannot imagine his growing up alongside anyone except Seoras. They wouldn’t hate each other so much otherwise.

[4] He—has—better—things—to—do! This isn’t a mystery.

[5] Oh, your friend has unfortunate defects, Wystan? Need I remind you of what you did when Hopeley needed you most in “The Secret of the Cursed Candlestick”?

[6] I want to read this conversation very very very very very badly. How soon can you write it, Mr. Melbray?

[7] This one too! And he’s wrong. Hopeley isn’t afraid of ladies. He isn’t afraid of anything.

[8] I rather like Miss Arkwright too. She isn’t soppy like Maira.

[9] He does not recall correctly, because in The Batsford Murders, he married Maira in December 1898, and he’s obviously already married to her in this story, which cannot take place any earlier than spring 1899. Perhaps Wystan should try keeping a diary so that he could remember dates correctly once in a while.

[10] So much for “I shall never tread the boards again. I vow it to you, Maira, my own!”

[11] I approve. That is the most amusing play I have ever seen.

[12] Why didn’t you tell us whom he played? Was it Alcidon? It has to have been Alcidon. He’s the funniest character in the whole play, and it would be a shame to waste Wystan on anyone else.

[13] No surprise, for Hopeley wouldn’t bother to disguise himself to go and see Wystan, because he knows that Wystan knows all the costuming tricks and would see straight through him.

[14] As he did in “The Mystery of the Fish-Fry Brotherhood.”

[15] I would have startled him first, but Wystan isn’t quick enough for that.

[16] For shame, Wystan, he has a perfectly good reason! He always does. Nobody cares about your first nights when there’s a case to be solved.

[17] More than creditable. I wish Wystan wouldn’t talk about himself like that; he’s brilliant. Remember “The Businessman and His Cat,” when he convinced everyone that he was the Prime Minister’s secretary?

[18] How could she have given it to him for Christmas if this took place in autumn? This is further evidence that the dating is incorrect. Also, she has hideous taste in dressing gowns.

[19] This is one of my favorite scenes. I laugh so hard that it nearly sends me into coughing fits whenever I reread it.

[20] It is even funnier when you realize that Wystan goes through this whole conversation with his face covered in cold cream.

[21] FOUR cases that you haven’t given to us! I am dying of suspense! Write more! Write faster! I can give you ideas if you want.

[22] But we all know that he could have deduced these things if he wanted to. He just wanted to annoy Hopeley.

[clannfearrunt]

A slightly edited writeup stitched together from discord ramblings, about Rill vs his adoptive families. Lol. It’s long

Fathom and Mariana are an international and interracial couple, and they’re the same morph*. There are actual layers of bigotry they’ve faced while trying to get married. However, they are also very much pampered kids from generationally wealthy families. They do consider themselves very socially progressive, but this is true only relative to their immediate social circles. They have this Image of themselves as Good People and don’t have the self-awareness to recognize and unlearn the bigotry they do very much still hold, mainly towards other species. This has been a constant source of headache for Rill, who has to live with them and interact with their families.

(*Fish have a system of distinct “morphs” in addition to sex that informs the gender politics of their various cultures. The two morphs are referred to as drakes and hens in this language. I swear I will get into details on a different post. The particular ways the intersection of sex and morph is handled varies a lot by culture, but across most of them people are expected to be attracted to the opposite sex and morph. Relationships between the same morph can face more scrutiny than same sex ones in many places, as morphs are much easier to determine than sex at a glance.)

The big concession the couple made in order to gain their family’s approval was that they wouldn’t have biological children. So of course they went to adopt. But. The reaction of the extended family towards Fathom and Mariana's adoption of Rill, an Inkling, was mostly confusion. Like, most of them didn't exactly disapprove, but were definitely like, "? what the fuck?? why".

Rill himself consistently gets the impression that they chose to adopt him to reinforce their image of being Good Progressive People. When he was younger he definitely got paraded around at social events and occasionally ended up on gossip publications, and he only recently managed to weasel out of ending up on his parents’ social media posts all of the time. He’s a goddamn publicity stunt. It’s sickening. Unlike what Rill believes, it’s not an intentional Thing on his parents’ minds though. It’s definitely there, but it’s subconscious. Anyways.

The Nykur family initially reacted to Rill with an air of condescending curiosity; their view of Inklings is very colored by longstanding stereotypes of them being simple, frivolous, and lazy, and they had met very few Inklings in person to remotely challenge this view. They've warmed up quite a bit to Rill as he quickly adapted and showed himself to be a bright, well-spoken young man. They mildly pity him for not being able to speak their mother tongue (it is physiologically very difficult for Inklings), but he can respond in either an extremely restrictive selection of words he can manage to pronounce, Peixe (a more globally common Fish Language), or in writing, which is just absolutely phenomenal from an Inkling wowww way to go boy! Even now that they’ve grown to mostly like him, though, Rill consistently gets the vibe of being treated more like a talking animal than a family member, let alone a person.

Mariana's family, the Poecilias, were a little bit more familiar with Inklings, as her country’s warm and humid climate allowed a thriving minority population of Inkfish to establish itself there in the past century or so. They were expecting a boisterous, flamboyantly outgoing boy as per local stereotypes but have been pleasantly surprised by Rill's more reserved and shy demeanor. Some of them might like him a little more than they do Mariana lol, she's definitely the problem child of the family. They don't visit this side of the family as much due to the slightly strained relation Mariana has with them, but they do tell her to bring Rill when she does. Rill... doesn’t dislike them as vehemently as he does the Nykurs, but he finds them very draining to deal with regardless. He’s mostly kind of wearily disinterested in them for now.

The extended Nykur family has been more overtly shit towards Rill. Wether it’s because they’re “more” bigoted towards Inklings or if it’s just that they’ve had more opportunities to show themselves he doesn’t know, but it doesn’t really matter. They seem to be under the mistaken impression that the reason Inklings have a hard time with a bulk of their language is because it falls outside of their range of hearing, and they’ve said some heinous shit in earshot. Rill doesn’t... really know what the best course of action is for him here, so he’s been just been quietly seething. When he visits them he mostly just tries his best to stick close to his parents or Nobils, the butler, and not end up alone with the rest of the family. In all fairness I don’t think most of them would intentionally hurt him, but Rill doesn’t really want to find out.

TO Fathom’s credit also I do think he has told off his family over the really overt shit. He's not malicious, he's just clueless (if occasionally dangerously so), and there is a threshold where it's obvious enough that he's gonna know it's Getting Bad. And he does, technically, actually like his son. So Fathom will intervene, but most of the time it's not like. Serious/stern enough. It's very "hey let's not talk politics at the dinner table"-core... You know that vibe of "ohh don't get so mad at your horrifically racist/queerphobic/insert bigotry here uncle it's thanksgiving dinnerrrr let's not ruin thanksgiving dinner 🥺”. Rill gets a lot of this. He hates Fathom so much. Defend him or don’t, make up your goddamn mind.

Rill is genuinely terrified that if he acts out too much he'd just be unceremoniously disowned. It's much less of a hassle for his "family" to distance themselves from him than it would have been if he was their biological child, or even at least the same species. If this happens he has literally no one else to turn to for support. This fear is a central force shaping his Behaviors. I do think it's a significant bit less likely than he's convinced himself it is? Like, his parents are probably not actually going to drop him like a hot potato the moment he even slightly talks back at them. He's not wrong that they could, and on some level it's not impossible that they would, but it is more unlikely than he's convinced himself it is. With a lot of things I have to have this preface of like. Yes Rill's fears are very much rooted in reality. But he's also very much prone to paranoia and blowing up the risk factors of some things. Important to remember both things are true.

Nobils, the butler, is definitely the main thing keeping Rill from imploding prior to meeting Thresher. When Rill was adopted, he saw The Situation and quickly stepped up as his actual main caretaker. Unlike his employers, Nobils was firmly aware of the gaps in his knowledge regarding Inklings and how to care for them, and worked very hard to fill those gaps and give Rill the best physical and emotional care possible. Rill was at one point extremely close to him, as he was the only safe adult in his life. Nobils also helped raise Fathom, so his failure to be a good father to Rill has been a source of deep sadness and frustration. Unlike an actual parent/child relationship, he's very limited in his ability to confront Fathom, since he's his employer.

Nobils cares deeply for Rill, and sees him as something fairly close to a grandchild. His biggest regret was reminding Rill that he was a well compensated employee in a bid to reassure him that he wasn't being a burden to him. This would have been fine for someone like Fathom, but Rill took it very poorly. He’s retreated into himself since then. Rill puts up an awkward pretense of professionalism between them now that Nobils can clearly see hurts him very deeply... But he recognizes he has no idea how to repair his trust, and has resigned himself to supporting Rill as best as he can while respecting this distance.

Rill does still love Nobils deeply, but he's been trying very hard not to. The realization that Nobils is a servant, doing a job came way after he had grown heavily emotionally reliant on him. It was devastating and embarrassing. Rill wasn't quite old enough or idk. Stable enough? to process that "Nobils is here because it is his job" and "Nobils genuinely loves and cares about him" can be true at the same time. Nowadays this is kind of stewing in the back of his mind but he's too stubborn/scared/mysterious set of emotions to allow himself to admit that it's true. There's a complex and deep well of bitterness and longing. He's never going to forgive Nobils for... being an employee? But if he ever quits he'll never forgive him for that either. He's starved for affection, as much as he'll never admit it, and he's infinitely bitter that any he receives from Nobils is irreversibly tainted in his eyes by their financial ties. Rill is also Not Acknowledging how old this guy is. We are not going to think about the passage of time and mortality or anything. Don't worry about it. Nobils will live forever 👍 It’s his job. He’s very good at his job. He would never leave him.

Nobils is so relieved to see Rill finally hanging out with someone his age he seems to actually like (Thresher). Even if he appears to also be imploding about it. This is an improvement. Can we get this boy a support structure! Can anyone help his boy. Please

[thefanficmonster]

One of the girls

Steve Brodt x Reader (Female)

Warnings: Vegas activities basically lol, Swearing

Genre: FLUFF, College AU (sort of), Exes to Lovers, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: A post-graduation trip to Vegas goes a little awry - and I mean a little in every single direction, causing a whirlwind of chaos.

Angie is hanging off of Y/N's arm with the right amount of exhaustion for someone who just got off a 6 AM flight. A flight they had to catch after the third night in a row of partying as a farewell to their college life. It's rather bold of her to assume Y/N is within her capability and strength to hold her up but she's trying her darndest.

Luckily, the extra weight is lifted off as soon as they get through customs and step out of the airport into the humid air. There, the blonde runs straight into the arms of her boyfriend Aiden who seems much more chipper and prepared to withstand the challenge of balancing her weak form.

Y/N is truthfully ecstatic to see her friend in a happy, healthy relationship. So what if it accentuates how single she herself is? Who cares! Angie is a force of nature, a ray of sunshine. It's impossible not to be uplifted and fulfilled by just her presence and energy. Her happiness charges Y/N. It even partially fills the hole of not having a significant other she too can run to.

"You made it!" Aiden cheers, his smile brighter than this fine Vegas morning. Too bright for the girls' liking. Their hangover anyway.

"Barely." Y/N mutters, pulling on hers and Angie's suitcases - the latter she took to be nice and regretted immediately afterwards. "This one barely dragged her ass out of bed."

Y/N's known Aiden since freshman year in college. He's the perfect opposite to Angie which is what makes their relationship so perfectly balanced. Over time, the two created a bond over their Angie-related antics. They have a certain sibling-like understanding of one another they are both so grateful for.

"Doesn't surprise me. Pretty on-brand for her." He replies, earning himself a light smack to the chest from his offended girlfriend, causing him to laugh.

Y/N feels one of the suitcase handles escaping her grasp, causing her brief panic. Turning to see what's extracting it from her grip turns that panic up several notches when she's met with a face she recognizes.

"Let me help you with those."

Of fucking course he's here

Angie didn't warn her Steve would be here, but she assumed. She had no reason to warn her, she was never filled in on the whole-ass history textbook that resides between him and Y/N. But, knowing his close friendship with Aiden, she had an inkling he'd be here. She just hoped she was wrong.

And, like the cruelest fucking joke ever, of course she had to be right when she least wanted to be.

"No need." Saying anything is futile, considering he's already picked up both the suitcases with ease. Still, it would be nothing like her to not say anything.

"I insist." He replies, also completely unnecessary.

It's become their game these past few years - saying things they don't need to nor mean to say. Saying stuff just for the sake of it - it being pissing the other off. Bystanders like Angie and Aiden would view it as flirting. Steve and Y/N see it as vengeance. A rather ineffective kind though.

"I call shotgun!" The blonde suddenly calls, already getting herself situated in the passenger seat when the two turn to look.

Math is not on their side considering it's Aiden's car, so...

"Can I drive?" Y/N throws out in a desperate attempt which earns her nothing more than a laugh.

She's gotta face the music, and she does so by flipping her best friend off through the passenger window before climbing in the backseat, her arms instantly folding over her chest like a toddler. She's practically pressed up against the car door when Steve climbs in after putting their suitcases in the trunk. He takes up all the free space she's giving him, stretching his joints into a satisfying pop. His right arm stretches over the top of the backrests, his fingers just about touching her hair. She's painfully aware of it but remains silent, not even giving into the urge to stab him with a glare.

Thirty minutes later, they're stuck in air-tight traffic.

The radio is cranked up and Aiden and Angie are fairly deep in conversation so the atmosphere in the car is still light despite the inconvenience. Well, in the front, at least.

In the backseat, the tension could be sliced with a knife.

Passing snide remarks started flying about five minutes ago when the frustration of the situation finally got to its boiling point for the two.

"You're the fucking worst."

"Talking to yourself there, sweetheart?"

"Oh yeah. Just questioning some life decisions."

"Might wanna start back in high school with that deep-dive."

"Nah, mainly how I got talked into being stuck on a weekend trip with the biggest nuisance I've ever met."

She hears him chuckle and is just about to turn and go off at him when his fingers finally make the bold choice of tangling in the strands of her hair. It renders her speechless for a moment, paralysed even.

Shockwaves course her being when, out of the corner of her eye, she can see him leaning down toward her. "Oh come on, it's just a weekend. You can handle it." His hand disentangles from her hair to lightly rest under her chin, turning her head so their eyes can meet, "I know you can."

She wants to slap him. And then herself for the brief millisecond when her gaze flickered down to his lips.

"Thank fuck! We're moving again!" Aiden shouts out of the blue, forcing them apart. Steve quickly withdraws his hand and Y/N hurries to compose herself.

It's gonna be a long fucking weekend

The coziness of the Airbnb is almost enough to make up for it. Three bedrooms, a bathroom, a kitchen and a spacious living room. It's a short drive from the strip so it's mostly isolated from the typical noises of the city.

Peeking in each of the rooms, Y/N finds the bedroom with no bags strewn about and takes up residence. Deciding that the process of unpacking can wait, she dives onto the bed, face buried in the pillows. A short nap till lunch isn't the worst idea she's had today.

If only she could sleep though.

Over the past four years, she's become rather immune to the feelings her interactions with Steve provoke. Sure, they'll bicker and throw elbows but it's all just surface level. Nothing gets under her skin. Or so she claims. But their brief moment back in the car on the way over...she can't deny the effect it had and continues to hold on her.

To say the two have, um, history, puts it mildly.

They met in high school sophomore year and the chemistry was, dare I say, instant. They didn't start dating until late junior year. It pretty soon became clear it was a wrong person, wrong time and wrong place kind of situation. Sure, they were in love in that classic high school sweethearts way and they did bicker like a married couple. But neither of them could see them crossing the bridge into adulthood and college together. Not when they brought out the most ridiculous childish tendencies out of each other.

So breaking up was the first reasonable decision they made in their relationship.

With that in mind, you can probably picture the nasty surprise they were both met with when they were introduced to each other by Aiden and Angie. They were looing at each other and the upcoming four years they'd be forced to spend together with something alike exhausted amusement. They couldn't even be mad. You gotta admit a joke is funny even when it is offensive - and damn was this one very offensive joke from the universe.

They went through with the introduction without batting an eye. Exchanged names, shook hands and silently agreed on holding up this ruse for as long as they could before it would come back to bite them in the ass.

And it sure bit Y/N in the ass when she was forced to witness the quiet and mysterious Steve she knew in high school turn into the biggest manwhore on campus. Every girl she met at college was one of his girls. Even when it wasn't obvious or confirmed, Y/N knew. She started recognizing a type amongst them, a pattern. And she'll admit she's not proud of the bitterness she felt about it all, but she's only human. And so is he. They had the right to change things up for their new college life. That was his choice and although she didn't like it, she had to respect it.

After all, their friends thought they were friends with each other.

Turns out those fights that were the trademark of their relationship extended way past their brief romantic connection. They were disagreements at a fundamental level that still connect them to this day as the earlier incident would confirm.

It's just a couple days, she tells herself, you can push through...

...I know you can.

The sound of his voice in her head startles her, his words ringing in her ears. She's fucking fed up with him. All she hopes for is that after this trip is over she won't ever have to see him again.

God let this weekend end soon

* * * * *

It's been a day and a half. Literally and figuratively.

It's late Sunday night and Y/N's walking the way back to the Airbnb with her heels in hand. She can't remember how she lost nor how she found her purse before leaving but she knows she most definitely lost some of her dignity.

Specifically when, just twenty minutes ago, she almost threw up in her mouth at the sight of Steve tucked away in the corner of the club they were at, making out with a random girl.

It flooded her with rage, jealousy and some confusion to the mix. She witnessed four years of this behavior. She met and was friends with so many of 'his girls' and she was never fazed by it. She gave the matter nothing more than an eye roll, shrugging off his behavior as downright ridiculous and desperate.

But this past day and a half, something has evidently shifted in her and Steve's dynamic.

Given that they were often left to each other's company as a result of Aiden and Angie running off on their own private side quests, they've come to develop a slightly stronger tolerance. for one another. They've had some nice conversations, especially last night's trip down memory lane they had on the porch after their friends passed out drunk.

Neither of them are big drinkers, never were. So she can't even blame what she felt in that moment back there and is still feeling now as she's making her venture on the alcohol. The whole one glass of champagne she had.

Y/N's just about off the strip by this point when she hears a voice call to her.

"Y/N! Wait! Hold on a sec!" She's not at all pleased to see it's Steve.

She doesn't even look over her shoulder at him. She can't, not when she can feel tears prickling her eyes.

Truth is, even if she can't yet admit it to herself, for a second there, she thought something might happen. Second time is the charm, no? Of course not but a fool can hope. And she did have some hope this past thirty hours. She could clearly see how much they've grown since high school. How much better they could be now if they didn't stick to their old argumentative ways.

But alas, back at that damn club, he showed her he clearly doesn't feel the same way.

"Where are you going? You don't even have the keys to the house!" He's now caught up to her, his hand reaching for her arm on instinct. He feels as though he's been burned when she whips around and yanks her arm out of his grasp.

"I'll sit on the porch." She spits venom through her words before turning back around to persist on her way.

Steve doesn't let her though, "Why are you like this? What happened?"

"What's it to you?" She hisses, knowing exactly what him caring is to her. She doesn't let her thoughts travel that way for long.

"Oh for fuck's sake, Y/N, don't pretend you don't know I care about you!" He too is now slowly reaching his limit of patience.

He never wanted this. Any of it. Not the break up, not the ruse, not the whoring around, not this argument. Or any of the ones they've had. Still, he held his head up high and smiled in understanding when she broke up with him. He just nod-and-smiled his way through losing the only girl he'd ever been in love with. And he's been kicking himself for it ever since. For not fighting for her in that moment the way he fought with her throughout their whole relationship.

He's not about to make the same mistake now. Especially not when he's certain he saw a small flame of something reignite between them.

Y/N scoffs, stopping in her tracks to pierce him with a glare, "Yeah, I could sure see and feel all the care you have for me these past four years. And tonight to top it off. You've become very expressive with your feelings. Congrats, Steve, quite the character development."

She's just about to turn around yet again when...

"God damn it, Y/N, I never stopped loving you, ok?!"

...he stops her, freezes her.

He sighs, his shoulders slumping, "That expressive enough for you?"

She can only pick from a set of responses and none of them seem fitting. How does one reply to that? How can she say what she actually wants without fearing it will lead to her getting her all over again. She can't even turn to face him, damn it.

Just then, as some divine intervention, she's rescued from answering by the shrill ring of her phone. She plucks it out of her purse with shaky hands and picks up the call without checking who it's from.

"WE'RE GETTING MARRIED!" It's Angie.

That manages to spin her into facing Steve just so she can give him a look of utter horror. A look he's returning, having heard Angie's extremely loud proclamation from four feet away.

Fuck what deep shit they're in, they have more important matters to tend to.

And tend they do, rushing as fast as possible to the chapel Aiden - who's a slight degree more sober than his girlfriend - pointed them to. A wedding can't commence without the maid of honor and the best man, after all. Or at least they hope that's the case as they dash down the strip. Somewhere along the way their hands linked together but neither of them have time to dwell on it and the symbolism behind it.

Y/N stops briefly to reequip her shoes a block before their destination. Suddenly they're both painfully aware how lacking their attire is for a wedding setting. How lacking this entire situation is of any sort of logic but they both know better than to expect logic from Aiden and Angie in general, let alone when they're inhebriated.

As Y/N stops to readjust her messy hair, she catches Steve's eye. The look he's giving her brings a familiar heat to her face and neck, "What?" She asks, giving him a small shrug.

He chuckles in response, "Nothing. You're just gorgeous."

The heat grows stronger but she waves it off, rolling her eyes at him, "Shut up." With that, she intertwines her fingers with his once more before pulling him down the street to the chapel.

Where they find an interesting sight.

The almost newlyweds are sitting on the stairs outside the chapel. She's nuzzled into him, fast asleep. Aiden is caressing her hair soothingly, rocking her sleeping her form peacefully.

"Did we miss it?" Steve attempts to whisper but they're both so out of breath it sounds like they're barely grasping onto life.

Aiden chuckles lightheartedly, shaking his head, "No, it didn't happen. They said if the bride and groom are too intoxicated to stand on their feet, they're probably too drunk to get married."

"Makes sense." Y/N nods, still panting, resting her hand on her hips and being reminded that her other one is a bit occupied.

Which also brings the almost groom's attention to the linking point, "What is this?" He asks, tilting his head to the side as if to inspect it better.

To his surprise, neither of them makes an attempt to let go. Steve, however, turns to Y/N, "I don't know. What is it, Y/N?"

She shrugs, the sass not at all affected by the lack of airflow to her lungs, "You tell me, Steve."

The cheshire smile he gives her makes her both nervous and excited, "Oh I'll tell you." She hums, nudging him on to continue. The suspense is killing her. Still, she takes the time to take note that the corners of his eyes droop downwards when he smiles, it's a trait she found adorable back then and it still has her swooning today.

Nodding to the grand chapel doors, he finally voices the last bit of his thought, "It may sound crazy but...let's get married. Fuck it. We're both sober. We're both in love."

The deer-in-headlights look she gives him makes him let out a hearty laugh that stirs Angie awake with a groan.

"I never said it back." Her tone is between a realization and accusation both for him and herself. She was too much of a coward to tell him how she felt back in high school and history repeated itself a good ten minutes ago. Another not so proud moment but it's the past now.

Steve gives her hand a reassuring squeeze, "You didn't have to."

* * * * *

Y/N and Steve are sitting on the porch with a bottle of champagne they've been passing between them, watching the dawn creep upon Vegas. The first rays of sunshine are reflecting off the fake cheap ring on her finger. The breaking of the light catches Steve's gaze.

"I'm getting you an actual one as soon as we get back." He says, taking her hand in his to inspect the ring more closely.

She laughs, now looking at the ring too, "Nah, I prefer this one. It's more authentic." She lets herself drift into thought for a moment, letting out a heavy sigh as she does so.

Steve's eyebrows quirk up, "What's that? Some regrets creepin' in?"

His words quickly snap her out of it as she hurries to shake her head in response, "No! Hell no...I'm just thinking..."

"About?" He prods on, still a little nervous that she may be caving under the reservations of what they did a few hours ago.

Y/N taps the ring on her hand, giving him a smirk, "I'm now one of your girls as well. I stomped all over the promise I wouldn't and became one of 'Steve's girls'. And I was fucking sober. I can't believe it." She smiles to herself, thinking back on when she swore on her life to Angie she didn't and would never have a thing for Steve fucking Brodt.

Her best friend is gonna give her so much crap for it and expect a lengthy explanation once she wakes up. She asked no questions when she was bestowed the maid of honor role, but sober Angie is gonna be a different story.

Steve cringes at the wording, familiar with the terminology that spread across campus as a result of his reputation. "No, no way, fuck that. You're not one of the girls. You're the girl. The only girl there's ever been for me."

She smacks his shoulder trying to ignore the flutter of her heart caused by his proclamation, "Quit being corny."

He captures her hand before she can withdraw it, bringing to his lips to press a kiss to her knuckles, "Whatever you say, Mrs. Brodt. Your wish is my command."

Good thing they got the marriage bickering phase out of the way a long while ago. That gives them all the time in the world to be absolute marriage goals.

[yennefer-x-tissaia]

Yennaia bits in ep 3.04

We start off the ep with Yen debasing herself in front of...the Council? Idk. Triss, Sabrina and Rita are there and they definitely weren’t on the council before. But they lost people at Sodden so it might be for all we know.

She’s talking about throwing a party organising a conclave to unite the mages of the North and she starts we-ing.

(The subtitles are wrong - some other dude asks ‘Who is ‘we’?’)

And of course we know who ‘we’ is.

The rest of them are like ‘no shit’.

Yen then goes on to apologise and beg forgiveness.

And she does a bit more quoting from self-help books, which amuses Tissaia.

The Council(?) are won over and everyone bashes their hands on the arms of their chairs and a party it is!

Sabrina and Rita are tasked with hand writing the invitations (surely mages can just magic these things up?? Seems a lot of effort. But it’s fun imagining them bitching about this low level job they’ve been given while Tissaia and Yen swan about and giggle together.

Tissaia compliments Yen on her political acumen.

Yen’s like ‘It’s just being a selfish arsehole in a different way, of course I’m good at it.’.

Tissaia sees through this overly sincere politician talk and tells Yen she can drop the act now and it’s actually delightful to see Yennefer relax into herself.

They laugh and grasp at each other and it’s genuinely lovely for them to have this moment together.

Then Yennefer notices Tissaia’s new jewellery and somehow knows ‘this is new’ despite not having seen Tissaia since a month after Sodden.

We get another close up on the bracelet of doom, so we definitely know it’s going to go off in the third act.

I wish this laughter was because they both knew he was a dick and that they were playing him. Alas, we have to conclude that Yen is thrilled that Tissaia is getting some from her new daddy.

However, it gives us this moment of herlooking at Tissaia with unadulterated affection, so I will take it.

Tissaia makes a comment that we can all relate to.

Yes, Tissaia, we all are. And we get some exposition about Philippa and Tissaia being close, despite this never having been mentioned or alluded to before.

Tissaia looks at Yen’s chest sad and wistful.

Yen is probably wondering why Tissaia has all these grudges with other mages and Yen herself gets forgiven instantly for everything. She makes a joke to lighten the mood and Tissaia is amused again.

(Then there’s a bit with Triss about the novices going missing that I’m trying to repress because unless Tissaia’s under some sort of mind control, then her flippancy about girls going missing is infuriating.)

As with the conversation about Yen coming home, Vilgefortz takes part in another scene that only emphasises how much Yennefer means to Tissaia. He challenges Yennefer’s presence at Aretuza and she’s cheeky about it.

But she changes her tune when he brings up Tissaia.

Yen is clearly sincere in her reactions to what he’s saying about her impact on Tissaia.

(Of course it’s infuriating that we know he’s the one with the agenda and is going to hurt Tissaia, but nice to see Yen get to hear this stuff.)

Yen couldn’t lie to Tissaia if she tried 🥺

“I know you to your core. Your pain my pain.” 🥺😭

When I first watched this, I wondered if we were going to get an inkling that Yen might be suspicious of Vilgefortz in return, and tell him that if he hurts Tissaia, she’ll make Sodden look like a back garden barbecue on a wet weekend. But she seems to have been taken in as badly as Tissaia.

God that one hurts.

Sigh.

Very true, Vilgefortz. We all wanted her to be an arsehole to you. It’s far more comforting.

Anyway, Yen goes to visit Tissaia’s ex Philippa to invite her to the party.

On her return, her portal goes weird and she is attacked and ends up on the floor of the Council room, where Triss and Sabrina find her.

Yen: on the floor, panting and bleeding Sabrina:

(That’s not Yennaia related at all, I just heart Sabrina so much)

Anyway, Triss implies that Yennefer should be careful who she trusts and that bringing Ciri to Aretuza isn’t a good idea.

Probably because Tissaia’s been acting like a pod person around her and also told Vilgefortz stuff last season that she wasn’t supposed to. But Yen takes it the wrong way and storms out. 

And we see them all get ready for the party, and that’s the end.

[kanerallels]

📓Which of this year’s theme/s are you most drawn to?

🖍️Which of this year's theme/s do you find most challenging/least likely to try and incorporate?

📖 If you’ve previously participated, have you ever been disappointed by which team you’ve ended up on?

📚 If you’ve previously participated, have you ever been excited by which team you’ve ended up on?

📘 If you’ve written multiple stories (finished or not) for the challenges, which is your favourite?

📙 If you’ve written multiple stories (finished or not) for the challenges, which is your least favourite?

💾 Have you read any of the challenge stories that have really stuck with you? (Any stories you still think about/go back and read)

💛 Have you made any friends through reading someone’s story? (In/related through the challenge)

��: Which of this year's theme/s are you most drawn to? Hmm I'd say counsel the doubtful is up there, but also forgive all injuries. I am a sucker for forgiveness as a theme, because it's so hecking important

🖍️: Which of this year's theme/s do you find most challenging/least likely to try and incorporate? Probably pray for the living and the dead? But also admonish the sinner. That said, I'd love to see how some people write those!

📖: If you’ve previously participated, have you ever been disappointed by which team you’ve ended up on? I've only participated one time before, and while I was initially a little sad that I didn't get Chesterton, I got excited about being on team Lewis really quickly lol!

📚: If you’ve previously participated, have you ever been excited by which team you’ve ended up on? I won't lie. The dorky side of me got very excited to see that some Tumblr people that I thought were really cool were also on team Lewis last year lol. So yes!

📘: If you’ve written multiple stories (finished or not) for the challenges, which is your favourite? Thankfully, I've only ever written one story, so I can't answer this! Because it would be really hard (but I do love The Waystation a lot)

📙: If you’ve written multiple stories (finished or not) for the challenges, which is your least favourite? See above! For now anyway lol

💾: Have you read any of the challenge stories that have really stuck with you? (Any stories you still think about/go back and read) As I said in the other ask, yes LOADS of them. "The Last Immortal of Evitra" by @taleweaver-ramblings was a super good one! It had my favorite trope of all time. Found family my BELOVED. Also, because I don't know if I'll get this ask again and I love talking about the Inklings stories, I'll throw out one more: "The Silver Stars" by @confetti-cat was just. So hecking good. Absolutely amazing story, I should reread it again

💛: Have you made any friends through reading someone’s story? (In/related through the challenge) edit: whoops got so excited about talking about the stories that I forgot this last one. Truthfully, I don't know? I feel like the answer might be yes but I always get so hecking nervous about if someone considers themself my friend or not and if I'm calling them a friend and they don't think I'm a friend, that kind of thing. So I don't really know. I do know that I had a lot of fun reading and commenting on people's stories, and got some very nice replies!

[allisonreader]

*kicks door in* Hi! I'm being nosy! Inklings Challenge questions!!!

🖨️Which genre/s excites you the most?

📓Which of this year’s theme/s are you most drawn to?

📗 If you’ve previously participated, do you have story ideas that have gone unused or waiting for the chance to use them again.

💾 Have you read any of the challenge stories that have really stuck with you? (Any stories you still think about/go back and read)

💛 Have you made any friends through reading someone’s story? (In/related through the challenge)

Can you really be considered nosy when I’m so actively interested in answering? (And create the questions in the first place out of my own nosiness, considering I intend to ask and stalk everyone who blogs the questions out of my own curiosity of everyone’s answers.) We’re just distant neighbours in the Inkling Challenge community anyway.

🖨️ Time travel. I have so many time travel ideas and time travel in general is one that I’ve always gravitated to. (My favourite Star Trek episodes are often time travel ones as are some of my favourite books… I always think that Doctor Who would be right up my alley, but I haven’t watched any yet.)

📓If I were to end up on Team Tolkien again this year, I feel like five of them fit particularly well with this one story I already am writing called The Hidden Royals; which I’ve already used twice, but the themes fit so beautifully. Particularly admonition the sinner. (For those who know it would be a scene after Roland has had his first encounter with the ever valiant, little dragon Lalawa, who leaves his hand mess. Leaving Roland needing to speak to Daniel.)

📗 I do. Particularly for Team Lewis. As I’ve been working a little bit on my original ideas each years and haven’t yet gotten the chance to bring out my space bards.

💾 There are definitely stories I still think about on occasion. My only problem is that I don’t remember who wrote them or what their titles are off hand, for some of the ones I’ve been thinking about lately.

💛I’m claiming @scarvenartist in part through her reactions on Tales Of A Frozen Sailor (I’m also claiming @lady-merian this way as well) *cue evil laugh* of friendship through writing…