#made a risky choice to escape worse fates

[antichrists-plus-one]

I would like to put it out there that all the posts of “what about x refugees dying in x” is not, in fact, what aboutism. it’s a genuine critic of the amount of attention this case is getting over other, objectively more tragic losses of life

[fangsforhire]

Hell wasn’t like the movies at all. 

Lucien understood that the perpetual loops of torment made it far worse than any film could portray. He stood on the edge of a rooftop, the chill of the evening wind brushing against his skin, as he contemplated the depths of his own existence. Could a person ever truly grasp that their greatest enemy lay within themselves? Ha, he doubted it as he braced himself, a storm of conflicting emotions raging inside him, trying to summon the courage to step into the one place he had vowed never to enter. Desperate times, however, called for desperate measures, and this wasn’t the first promise he had broken to himself.

The wind howled; a rebellious force that seemed determined to shove him off his precarious perch. He glanced down at the empty pack of cigarettes littered at his feet, remnants of his nerves, and the several bottles empty in his wake, each gulp a futile attempt to calm his nerves. He was no stranger to movement; his life had been a whirlwind of racing heartbeats—running like a wild stallion, driving recklessly, or teleporting with a flicker of will. But to teleport into Hell? That was a conundrum that gnawed at his mind, taunting him with its impossibility. 

He had no choice; he’d have to embrace flight. He needed to cast aside every shred of hesitation and confront his fears directly. The anxiety of unfurling his wings felt absurd, yet it clung to him like a second skin. They had always been there, intertwined with his very essence. While he grappled with his identity, he felt no shame in existence itself. He hadn’t asked to be created, much like no human requested to be born. Yet the world was relentless, and if anyone could resonate with that harsh truth, it was apparently- well… Lucifer.

Satan—his suspected father—was labelled inherently evil by society’s standards. The phrase "the Devil made me do it" served as a feeble excuse, a cowardly attempt to shift blame for vile actions. Lucien loathed that sentiment. He might not personify perfection, but he owned his mistakes, never allowing others to claim credit for his deeds. It wasn’t just fervor that instilled that conviction in him; it was an unyielding sense of integrity.

With their tangled webs of emotions and flaws, humans gave him an itch beneath his skin. Lately, they had surrounded him more than he would have liked. His frequent visits to Lux had morphed into a trial of patience. Initially, he had brushed off the unexpected absence as a mere business trip. But as the days slipped into weeks, relentless frustration morphed into an annoying unease. Where could Lucifer Morningstar be?  It had taken him a few more inquiries and subtle investigations to uncover the truth; the man he was searching for wasn’t on Earth anymore. Ironically, he had even entertained the ill-advised idea of summoning a demon for information, the allure of that risky option swiftly evaporating as memories of their chaotic nature surfaced. So, the only viable alternative remained—he must go there himself.

One final sigh escaped his lips, a deep, shaky breath as he finally accepted his fate. Madness coursed through him as he exhaled and let go of the rooftop’s solid surface. His wings unfurled, stiff and unkempt—a testament to neglect—and with a few urgent ruffles, he spread them wide, embracing the exhilarating sensation of the air beneath them. Though he was out of practice, the mechanics came rushing forth, and soon he was soaring into the night sky. 

With each powerful flap, he drew closer to his destination. His senses sharpened, adrenaline coursing through his veins as he focused on the task ahead. Yet, in his relief, he miscalculated. The eagerness of his approach sent him spiralling downwards, plummeting—a cannonball of chaos—like a meteor destined to collide. He careened into a pillar, the impact sending a cloud of ash into the air as he tumbled face down, the bitter taste of soot filling his mouth.

‘Ah hell ---’

Quite literally. 

[mr-nauseam]

Practice 4

Tw: shots

.

Mysterious shadows. Stealthy footsteps. The hiss of sandpaper clashing against metal.

 As midnight passed, some of the bars that hid the moon’s glow disappeared from the small window. Sejanus was the first to notice, as insomnia and anguish devoured his tiredness.

For a moment he felt relief, he naively thought they would live another day. All was not lost, he thought with some enthusiasm, but the harsh reality brought back to his idealistic and dreamy mind the realization that neither he, nor his cellmate Luke, who was there for stealing a slice of bread, would be able to get through that tiny hole.

Only the sickly, almost skull-like Lil could do it. Which meant that only she could be saved, and even if it hurt a little to accept that his own fate was definitely sealed by the Capitol, he knew it was still worth it to lift that poor girl out of her fevered slumber and help her out.

And he did it gently.

Taking her hand and then placing the girl on his shoulders, until strange hands helped her completely out of that hell hole. His other cellmate began until that moment to regain consciousness. Sejanus gave him a sad look when Luke asked about Lil, and before he could answer someone opened the door.

The chaos began.

.

They ended up scattered.

Sejanus knew he had to get off the damn base and head for the fence, to the rendezvous with his freedom, yet he wasn’t putting all his effort into escaping. Not yet. Knowing it was risky and totally reckless he was approaching the dormitories.

The days he spent in that cell, resigned and frustrated with his inevitable fate, there were a couple of things he regretted not doing, the first was saying goodbye to his mother. How selfish it had been of him not to dedicate an entire letter full of love, to his incredible Ma, how had he been so naive to believe that he might have a chance to do so once he fled?

The second was to never confess his feelings to Coryo. With one foot before the gallows, the guaranteed rejection of his best friend seemed the least of the evils to face in this world. He knew Coryo loved Lucy grey, but he had to tell him, not because he would expect his love, but because his heart could not breathe easy, suffocated by the weight of secrecy.

Now, he could not write that letter, but maybe, just maybe, he could carve on his eyelids the face of Coriolanus and tell him in a whisper from afar, behind glass that he loved him.

In the end, it didn’t matter, he would walk out of there a corpse, no matter what he did. The peacekeepers would not last to shoot him in cold blood and if he managed to flee, Sejanus Plinth’s life would be over forever.

.

Coriolanus thought it was ironic. Even somewhat hilarious that Sejanus’ fate was the same as Marcus’.

 And yet it seemed a fitting end for him. It made sense that the poor fool, the poor little guy who never got to go home, would meet his death while trying to flee the inevitable.

The commotion at the base was noticeable, his comrades muttering intangible things, but amidst the sounds that didn’t reach him came one word: “traitor.” He remembered that conversation he had with Sejanus, in which Sejanus asked him with his eternal regret if he thought he was a traitor.

Now there was only one answer to that question. Which was a consolation, because then he understood that he really had had no choice. There was only one worthy punishment for such a crime. And yet he knew that Sejanus had fought, with all the stubbornness and rebelliousness that dominated his spirit.

 Sejanus must have known this too, and he would be comforted in his last moments by this fact. Coriolanus sincerely hoped so.

 He was told that they would hang the corpses on the hanging tree for a couple of hours to give a message, he knew because they tried to send him to stand guard but fortunately or unfortunately, it seemed that his own sentence had arrived.

His already shaky hands got worse when he noticed he was being taken to the commander. He closed his eyes before he was forced inside. And he thought briefly that it would be a shame to be shot to dead.

.

Yeah well I already rewrote this idea for a fic completely and I haven't finished it because I wanted to do the omegaverse fic before but damn it at the time this cost me to do so im posting it here on tumblr lol

[tenthgrove]

More yandere Tiziano can't squalo plz

Squalo and Tiziano- The Escape

Yandere Squalo and Tiziano x Reader (GN)

Content Warnings: Coerced Relationships, dub-con kissing, manipulation

(A/N: Since this request was quite open-ended I decided to take my own approach and write a short fic about what happens when you try to escape from them. This scenario is set in the same canon as the previous post on yandere Squalo and Tiziano, about a month after Reader is forced to move in.)

This house is uncanny in its shallow attractiveness. A wonderful meditteranean retreat, spacious bedrooms and sprawling gardens, two beautiful men who fawn and wait on you constantly.

It would be the stuff of dreams, had you not been forced to be here.

You awake to Squalo and Tiziano's voices calling you from the hall. You should have figured that your insistence on sleeping in the spare room last night would leave them extra clingy all morning. Every time you manage to get away from them for a bit, they always bring their affections back 10-fold the next time you're forced to wallow in their presence. Maybe it was a mistake, in retrospect, to insist on such a thing when all it ever achieves is putting off the innevitable, but on the other hand if you had agreed to one more night pressed between them like some wrangled stuffed toy you think you might have screamed.

Taking a deep breath, you remind yourself that this will all be behind you in a few hours.

Your first port of call is to throw some clothes on and check the bags hidden away down the side of the wardrobe. You've been carefully shifting all your more important belongings into them for the best part of the week. God knows if they find them, no excuse in the world will conceal what your plan was.

::::::::::::

Breakfast is as you expect. Tiziano cooks for the three of you while Squalo whines about how much he missed holding you last night. You force yourself not to lash out at him since you know your plan depends on keeping them happy for the next hour or so. You smile, and nod, and indulge their petty conversation while you eat, before heading back to the spare room to finish getting dressed.

You see, the best part of your plan is that they know you're leaving today. You have their permission to go shopping and, with some convincing, to go alone. The 'escape' part is simply that you have no intention to come back.

You wheel your suitcase quietly down to the front room, clutching your handbag tightly. Inside is 300 euros that Tiziano willingly gave you, after you mentioned that a shopping trip might lift your spirits.

How kind of him to fund your breakout.

Your heart rises with hope as you fiddle the key into the lock, only to sink down again as you hear a voice behind you.

"You're not leaving without saying goodbye, are you Tesoro?" Squalo calls. Shit, he heard you. You quickly shove your suitcase behind a plant pot and put your hands behind your back before the pair join you in the front room. They smile, and you fight the urge to scowl.

"Are you sure we can't come with you, love?" Tiziano pleads.

"No. It's nice of you to offer but I'd really like to do this by myself," you insist, adding a curt smile.

"Alright beautiful, we understand," Tiziano sighs, tracing his fingertips up your arm in a way that makes your skin twitch. "Now, how about a kiss goodbye?" he requests. Your insides curl. This is the part you were hoping to avoid. Still, no point in dragging it out or you might never leave.

You take a sharp breath and lean forward, eyes closed. Tiziano's kiss is bearable enough, tender and gentle so that it's easy enough to ignore the sensation. That comes to a screeching halt when Squalo yanks you from his arms, smashing his mouth against yours like his life depends on it. You push him off in revulsion, but it seems he's satisfied enough.

"Alright beautiful, off you go," Squalo chuckles.

"Yes, thank you," you say. There's an awkward pause as they smile at you, waiting for you to leave. You'd hoped they would bugger off so you could get your suitcase back but that doesn't seem to be the case.

"Well, aren't you going to go?" Tiziano prompts you. You exhale.

"Yes, goodbye," you concede, walking out the door sans-suitcase. Damn, you really wanted to take your stuff with you but you guess you'll have to manage. As long as you've got your money and documents, you'll be fine.

You look back blankly at Squalo and Tiziano as they wave you off from the window. You won't miss those two.

::::::::::::

Your feet feel like stone. Walking for an hour was fine, two was uncomfortable, three was tiring and nine is getting downright unbearable. Barring your quick stop for lunch you've been walking non-stop and you're really starting to think you won't be able to make it.

Your original plan was to walk to your friend's house and plead for shelter, hence avoiding a risky phone call that might be traced by the mysterious syndicate Squalo and Tizianio claim to work for. You have high-confidence in the viability of this idea- your friend is hardly the sort to refuse to rescue you from a situation like this and they weren't on the list of relatives the pair used to threaten you when they first made themselves known to you. That means they don't know where this person lives.

But, all that's for nought if you can't actually get to the place.

In Squalo and Tiziano's house, control was always achieved through the fear of the power they might possess. Never once did they threaten to hit, starve, isolate or deprive you. And yet, every time they would passingly mention how their syndicate had eyes in every town and village, you felt yourself shiver.

You don't want to stop at a hotel. You don't want to stop anywhere run by people you don't know, just go straight from A to B. But this doesn't look anything like the area your friend lives in, and your feet are ready to give out on you.

Worse, the sun is starting to set.

Damn it all, you think. You make a B-line for the nearest hotel and force your fears to the back of your mind.

You know it's stupid, but you half expected a squadron of armed mobsters to burst out of the staffroom the second you approached the receptionist. Of course, Squalo and Tiziano have probably only just realised you aren't coming back and even then, there's no way they'd have found you this quickly. You remain calm as you ask for a room, even as the receptionist makes clear you aren't getting it without showing your i.d. No matter, you think. You'll only be here for one night.

::::::::::::

Dawn brings with it a new sense of optimism when you awake to find your hotel room as you last saw it. You're not in the trunk of the car, bound or threatened at gun-point, and there certainly isn't anyone clinging onto you in the bed. It would seem that you've made it through the night undetected.

In other words, you've made it through the hardest part.

You dress quickly and gather your things. You don't think you'll stay around for breakfast; it would be better to just pick something up from the shops and eat as you go. You found a hotel leaflet with a map of the local area, and it seems you're less far from your friend's house than you thought you were yesterday. With any luck, you'll have reached it by the next day.

And thus, your freedom begins.

You check out at the reception without issue and begin the final stretch of your journey. That's when you get the distinct feeling you're being watched.

You're not even at the end of the street when a car pulls up beside you, the voice within stopping you dead in your tracks.

"You know darling, it isn't usually typical to go shopping for 22 hours straight, but we're glad you enjoyed yourself," Tiziano cajoles. You snap around to meet eyes with him, sitting in his car with Squalo at his side, both smiling gleefully. They're enjoying this.

You look around, your ankles shaking as though you aren't sure what direction to take. The locals clearly take no notice to the sight of someone being hollered at on the street, and given how deep syndicate control supposedly runs in this area, you doubt they'd care much more if you were to be dragged in.

You could run, you could always run, but they've got a car and you're willing to bet quite a few weapons. Even if you gave them the slip, you're now close enough to your final destination that tracking you down would be a piece of cake.

Shit, shit, shit. You guess you don't have much of a choice.

Fists clenched, you avoid eye contact as you approach the car, climbing into the back with your head bowed in defeat. Squalo chuckles lightly.

"You're really too cruel, love. Forcing me to spend two nights without your embrace in a row," he chides you.

"Not to worry, we kept ourselves busy. Registering at a hotel in your own name? Really darling, how amateur!" Tiziano remarks. You growl lowly. That's it. Consequences be damned.

"How about you two just fuck right off to hell!?" you explode. "Damn the both of you! I was doing just fine until you waltzed on over and decided you fancied having me for yourselves! Fuck you! Fuck you both!"

Tiziano laughs.

"Oh darling, do you really expect us to believe you hate us so strongly when you were so quick to get into this car?"

"What?! That doesn't- You would have chased after me if I didn't!" you protest.

"Oh, definitely," Tiziano concurs. "But don't you think you would have at least tried to flee if being with us was such a horrible fate?"

"You threatened my family! You threatened me!"

"We did no such thing. All we did was politely remind you we're aware of your addresses," Tiziano reiterates.

"Like I don't know what that's meant to imply!" you fume.

"Alright, we'll play along. Maybe we were a bit pushy in making you ours," Squalo admits teasingly. "But I honestly can't remember the last time I saw you look afraid. Angry, yes. So attractively angry..."

"...But the fear your words would imply you feel for us simply isn't there, Amore," Tiziano agrees with him. He finds a suitable spot and pulls the car to a halt, turning to you fully. He takes your chin in his hand as Squalo brings a hand to your shoulder.

"Can you truly, honestly claim to despise being with us as much as you'd assert?" Tiziano presses you. You go quiet.

"Just as we thought," Squalo scoffs. "Now, I'd say we've both earned another kiss."

[albino-whumpee]

Demon Angel AU: Ritual sacrifice

Will I ever actually work on my WIPS or follow an schedule? Sigh.

Anyhow, a bit more of the AU with the boys for a late @whumptober2020! Sann discovers what did the gods capture a demon for! He´s not very happy about it and the fate of his friend.

CW// blood, ritual sacrifice, deity whump, captivity, pet whump (of sorts), forced to watch, torture, defiant whumpee, manhandling, creepy whumper and noncon touching (non sexual), wing whump, threats of murder, escape attempt and betrayal. Ask to tag!

Taglist: @as-a-matter-of-whump @grizzlie70 @orchidscript @giggle-evil-puppy @rosesareviolentlyread @haro-whumps

He was molded by his god to be perfect. Or their definition of perfect. Six pairs of wings that would allow him to soar through the sky as ordered. Perfectly white and soft for his God´s fingers to run through as he sang along to an ancient song the angel had never listened to but knew word by word.

Kneeling at his God´s feet, and singing to them like the perfect bird toy the demon had told him he was when he had gotten close enough to get a “hey, Angel, are you gonna tell me your name today?” instead of warning snarls. The angel had gotten defensive at first. Offended by the captive´s words when he was so much more to his God. So thankful to have been given the important job to stay by their side to serve them.

“You love flying don´t you?” the demon had told him shifting on his cell with his limbs going black from the friction of chains that cursed his touch.

He had a piece of cloth tied around the edges so it would pacify the pain for a little while, it was too risky to leave it, so the angel had to take it away when he went back to bed to his lord.

The angel bit his lower lip. Remembering his night strolls through the clouds, when he could simply put the three pairs of wings to work for him and him only.

“I do, but-”

“Then if your creator loved you so much they wouldn´t force you to stop. They would love to see you flying in the sky instead of forcing you to stay with them on the ground to show your devotion or whatever”

“It´s to bring honor to them! Besides, It´s my choice to do it or not!” the angel had yelled at him. The demon stood up and stomped his way to the bars of his cell. Until the chain yanked him back and he let out an exasperated groan before turning to watch the puffed out angel.

“Yeah? Is it really a choice when you´re terrified of saying no?” The demon refuted. “Do you even…Do you even know how they will fuck up your wings?”

The angel had frowned at the softening of his voice. He shook his head as the demon sighed.

“Come here, Angel” he said and the angel doubted moving, but ultimately walked towards the demon, curiosity itching to be satisifed. He jumped in horror as the demon pinched his hand with his own claws and black blood pooled on it.

“What are you-!?”

“Shh, I´m ok” he said crouching to take into his hands one of the feathers that had fallen off on one of the angel´s earliest visits. The three feathers hidden in a crack on the wall was his little treasure, but nobody, and most certainly not the Angel needed to know that “I´m not here just to be a party entertainer, Angel” he said dipping the feather in the blood as a sizzling sound crossed the air. The Angel´s heart stopped for a second.

The feather dissolved in less than a few seconds.

“I´m the main ingredient for your ritual. Once they dry me, you will coat your wings bloody black. But after suffering for a few hours, your god will give you wax wings. If you pretty please ask for them, they will give it to you. Just as perfect but absolutely useless”

“H-H-How do you know all this?” The freckled Angel heaved staring at the demon´s grim face.

“Demons disappear all the time you know? Who, besides your god´s soldiers, would take them? The humans? They wish! The Elder told me to avoid capture at all costs but I…” he sighed “I didn´t see them coming from above”

The Angel had never felt so betrayed. He couldn´t even say goodbye to the demon that night. He had wanted to sit next to his god at night, as the demon danced in his injured feet and enjoy along…but he couldn´t. He felt disgusted, afraid, of being forced to be the cause of pain inflicted on the demon. Of his friend. He could try to look away for as long as his god didn´t take his chin and make him watch.

It took guts to make a decision, and it had a cost to save the demon.

At night, his god called for him and he prostrated before them to be informed the ritual would be at dawn.

The Angel should have stayed quiet. Should have shown his excitement just like when they told him he was chosen among all the other angels to become theirs.

But nothing but questions and the need to cry came out.

“What´s wrong, Sann?” they asked him gently wiping the tears off his face. A name was given to him to respond to, but only the giver knew what to call. Only his god could call him Sann.

“My lord, I have a wish for you to answer”

“Ask and I may consider”

“What will happen to the white demon on the dungeons after dawn?” Sann asked with a knot forming on his stomach as the god took their hand away.

“Worried about your own enemy. What a pure little one I made. But don´t fret, it´s only natural for living things, no matter how cursed their existance, to cease. You should know that, Sann” suddenly the finger tracing his jaw didn´t feel like a gentle touch, but a warning. Sann´s wings shivered as his god planted a kiss on his forehead “You´re far more important to me than that funny creature of the underworld, Sann. I expect nothing less but perfection from you and you have relentlessly proved your worth to me. Do it one more time and get ready, my perfect little bird”

Sann knelt in one knee as they walked away to the gardens “Yes, my lord”

The Angel couldn´t focus on the gorgeous scent of the flowers that bathed their body and the brush that groomed their wings, neither on the voices that praised him for getting such a promotion and telling him how beautiful he looked on his ritual gawns. They all had been angels like him, promoted, without any lower angel seeing. He had always wondered about why such secrecy…

“Sister?” She asked the black skinned angel mussing his hair and hummed in reply. Her wings were always shiny and immobil behind her. Always dragging on the ground as she walked behind her own Lady “What are your wings made of?”

At the question he felt a sudden pull back. He let out a pained yelp through gritted teeth.

“Oh my! I´m sorry! I…what kind of question is that, sweetheart?” She said and didn´t speak again until she was finished and pushed him to the next room.

He didn´t miss how she didn´t answer his question.

They never did.

—

It was past midnight when the Angel started with his meditation. He was supposed to last until dawn, but no matter how hard the effect of the tea they had given him, he couldn´t force himself back into that state. Slightly dizzy, he stumbled his way to the window. Just to check how much time he had to get his last flying before the ceremony.

He saw the sky turning that pinkish tone he had soared through in his first flight. Racing the sun to see who could come higher faster. He remembered how the wind felt on his wings, how the currents carried him higher, how the clouds melted without touching, they had never been fluffy cutton, but scurried through his fingers like water.

More than once he had asked despite himself, what were they made of. What was everything even himself made of. Despite been forbidden from questioning the greatest god´s creations, he kept wondering. He wanted to know and appreciate it, not deminish it.

Why was it so wrong to ask?

At the thought a tear spilled off his cheek.

Because the answers may not be as innocent as he thought, he now understood.

It pained him to admit it. It hurt so much to make a coocoon of his wings and touch them in longing. The demon was right. He didn´t want to dissapoint his god, but he also didn´t wanna lose his flight.

He would prefer to fall.

The demon should still be on the dungeon. He could…he could save him. He could take him and.. He needed to…

He suddenly was yanked up by the arm by his sisters and brothers. A procession trapped him until they arrived to the plaza, just a few minutes before dawn.

In explicit detail he was instructed about the ritual´s procedures. Such was his shock that, before he knew it, he was on his knees in front of his god and…

“Control that beast!” the blonde, winged soldier cracked his whip at the demon. Hitting him plain in the face, blood splattered on the floor but the demon kept squirming and growling under the ropes holding him down. His tail tightly bound to one of his legs. He was kneeling with a muzzle over his face and a rope tightening more and more around his exposed, vulnerable neck. The more he moved the more it digged on his skin, black blood ran down in rivulets through the rope and to his wrists. Struggling just made it worse, but his eyes didn´t lose the fight in them. Like a red twilight, his eyes were filled with the omen of blood.

The demon was finally seized with the help of two other soldiers. Holding him in place to stare directly at Sann. His eyes widened as he found the sword on the angel´s hands and Sann understood immediately he bared his fangs in fury, in betrayal and then closed his eyes and stopped struggling.

The soldiers let him go and the demon jerked forward. His forehead barely brushing the Seraphim´s feet in defeat. He saw his eyes and there was no need for words to understand what they meant.

“I trusted you”

The demon lowered his head as Sann began with the first step of the ritual: singing an hymn in honor of the highest god. The creator of all. Even the demon´s elder.

It should be carried on with a dance with the sword on his hand. Gentle steps that got framed with the movements of his wings. The gods and Sann´s god watched his performance delighted.

The ritual dance stopped with Sann bowing at the demon with the sword on his back.

He whispered to the white haired demon then.

“I want to know your name”

The demon´s snort was muffled by the muzzle.

Golden bowls on the sides, so in his sweaty state he had to take them and put them right below the demon. He carefully moved slower, trying to make as much of a curtain as his wings would let him cover in a place filled with gods and soldiers.

“I´m not gonna hurt you” Sann whispered, moving gracefully behind the demon, sword on one hand and grabbing a fist of white hair to uncover the neck. He glared back with a venemous look.

It wasn´t part of the ritual to cut the muzzle off his face with the sword, yet it fell to a sudden silence of the public. To the demon´s amusement.

“I promise” he mouthed to the demon. Eyes were nailed on them in all directions, but the tension seemed to ease and quicken as he set the sword right over the tender skin of his throat.

The demon squinted but his lips twisted up, sensing the honesty of the winged creature.

“Tell me yours, and I will tell you mine”

The angel looked above and took a deep breath where he extended his wings and lifted his sword. Using the sudden roar of cheering to mouth his name at the demon. The sword pointed in a direction without guards.

The joy at the barbarie vanished just as quickly as Sann´s sword cut through the ropes, switching it for horror as the demon ran free. He was not an strong demon, he himself had told him so, yet he pushed the angel off his way and ran with little equilibrium with his tail still bind to one of his legs.

The soldiers were torn between going for the demon or for Sann, which he used to extend his wings and flap the three pairs of wings down, giving him enough power to impulse him up.

He was a fallen.

Sann had fallen and he could sense his god´s ire high up above the clouds.

But, if they had given him a chance to choose, they should´ve been prepared to hear a no.

He turned in the air and plummeted down towards the demon running to one of the borders. Saw him stopping cold and fighting inercia to avoid falling over. Sann extended his arms and curled on his wings to go faster and catch him right when the soldiers were about to reach him. Flying off with a twist and going down and down.

The demon screamed.

“DON´T LET ME FALL DON´T LET ME FALL DON´T LET ME FALL!!!” He panicked as he gripped to the angel´s chest.

“Hold tight!” Sann screamed back, as the muscles on his back protested the strain. They would have to hold on. Until they could lose the fifteen soldiers after them and their arrows.

The cold air pierced his lungs and the demon´s screams were starting to make his ears ring.

He turned through soldiers popping out, but if his calculations were correct, they could get through the barrier into the human world in just a few more meters.

Just a little bit and there would be freedom.

As soon as Sann flew away, his god trembled in fury but quickly collected themself to bark left and right to bring them their bow and a frask of poisoned demon blood.

If Sann refused to be theirs, if Sann had the guts to defy them and decide they wished to fall trying to protect a filthy demon, then Sann had been a failure needed of extermination.

The god prepared themselves. Picked up one of the arrows and submerged it on the frask. Then pulled back and waited. They knew their creation was fond of his wings and his flight, they had taken pride of a creature so devoted they would take what was most precious to him, himself.

“What a pity. But it´s alright, with your flesh, we will create a better version. Just like you surpassed the one before you” they let the arrow go “My sweet little bird”

Sann didn´t sense the arrow, but the demon did.

“Watch out!” He screamed turning Sann by pulling one of his wings. Right out of the arrow´s direction but in turn, it blew up one of his horns making him lose his grip around the angel.

He wasn´t a strong demon, he was not a shape shifter or had herculean strength. He was just a low class demon that was perfect for an angel without any battle training, to handle.

It was strange.

So, so strange to know he was gonna splat on the floor and he couldn´t avoid it, but had an angel rushing to meet him. Hand extended and screaming something he didn´t understand.

He was falling too fast and too hard, he was loosing consciousness, the last he saw were trees getting bigger and closer.

Ah, the human world.

The demon saw the black blood spill above him and made the effort to cover it.

He didn´t want the angel to get burnt with his blood.

In such dire situation his mind wondered back to those gray eyes telling him his name.

Sann…

He hadn´t been able to tell him his name.

He closed his eyes when he saw the angel´s wings expand and frenetically rush down. The last he felt was the angel´s…Sann´s arms wrapping around him. His wings covering them to protect them both as they fell into the woods.

[fymagnificentwomcn]

Do you think that if Hatice hadn't ended up marrying Ibrahim she maybe could have been a little happier? Or at least lived longer? I always felt that her "love" for him was much more a kind of obsession than actual love and in the end being granted permission from Suleyman to be with him ended up being bad for her mental health since before their wedding she wasn't as anxious, paranoid, arrogant and jealous as she later became. Maybe if she married someone else she may not have fallen in love with them, but maybe she would have been a better mother to her children?

I honestly don’t think so. Of course a marriage of two traumatised people IS always a risky thing because obviously double dose of trauma and emotional problems is worse than when we have only one person with issues in a marriage, but loveless marriage would have destroyed Hatice much sooner, and actually it wasn’t the marriage that was the destruction of Hatice. Yes, it brought her a lot of pain with his betrayal, but ultimately it was one aspect of pain in her life that ultimately did get resolved, unlike others, which intensified.

Hatice is a clearly damaged person already at the beginning of the story. She’s a very sensitive soul that would always be troubled in this system. In her young age, she already had to witness the reign of her bloody father and was forced to marry an elderly man that died soon after the marriage. Even Süleyman is traumatised after dealings with his father and when he witnessed Selim’s brutal rise to power that involved eradicating all males in the family except Süleyman himself. Hatice feels trapped in the palace and feels suffocated in it.

While Ibrahim is made of sterner stuff, as we may say, and also does enjoy rising in the ranks in Ottoman palace, we know he also feels trapped and suffocated here, and that never truly adapted to Ottoman reality. While not so much sensitive person who abhors power games, he nevertheless also feels out of place here, also because he always feels more connected with Western culture. They are both outsiders actually. And this is what ultimately binds them together .Hatice, unlike say an ambitious princess like Sah, does not want power – she only wants to live peacefully with her children and man she loves. In this system of constant struggle, sometimes almost Darwinian (the whole open succession hello) to be on top, she might feel an outsider for that. Hatice in S1 IS also a naïve, sheltered idealist. She has her dreams of ideal future.

After (amost miraculous) acceptance of her marriage to Ibrahim, she seems to have it all, especially when she gets pregnant. But then everything is shattered when she miscarries and this is the event that begins her emotional descent arc.

However, she did have mental issues before that. She tried to kill herself when she was supposed to marry the man of Hafsa’s choosing. She didn’t want to feel trapped even more by again people deciding her fate thanks to all soulless, pragmatic, harsh rules.

Hatice was a depressed, anxious person from the very start of the series ,and she could also be short-tempered and impatient from very beginning.

And her being forced to marry someone else or not marry anyone would have likely made her to what Gevherhan did in MYK- decide to take her fate into her own hands FOR ONCE.

Maybe Ibrahim wasn’t a perfect choice due to his own emotional baggage that later made him commit stupid things, but he was still a good choice because she loved him, he loved her and he did understand her and also tried to be a source of support even though all their issues also caused him to be similarly a source of pain to her.

However, not matter how much Hatice and Ibrahim tried, the power struggle in the palace affected them because neither of them - she as member of dynasty and him as important official -  could ever be free from it. Ibrahim and Hürrem’s rivalry that intensified from S2 onwards affected it – we might say that neither Hürrem nor Ibrahim wanted to purposefully hurt Hatice, but she got caught in crossfire nevertheless. Obviously, marriage to Hatice meant a lot for Ibrahim’s career in the palace and making it fall apart was the easiest way for Hürrem to remove Ibrahim. We discussed it a bit here.

Similarly, fate also threw difficult things on them – first the miscarriage, then the death of the baby the cause of which was never determined (whether the poison or simple Sudden Infant Death Syndrome), but Hatice blames herself and thinks herself to be a killer of her child. Even once Ibrahim begins suspecting Hürrem because he figures out there was poison on his notebook that later could be carried to a child, who didn’t have such a strong organism as his father, he never shares this with Hatice not to re-open old wounds. Then Suleyman’s heart attack and her mother’s illness, all the intensification of power struggles that re-merged with Hatice trusting Hürrem again and then being disappointed again when Hürrem used sick Valide to frame Mahi while at the same sitting with Hatice and wishing her mum a speedy recovery (and Hatice did scold Mahi at first believing it was her), also some of earlier Mahi’s behaviour too… the turn of S2/S3 is very traumatising for Hatice. Death of her mother, followed by Ibrahim’s infidelity revelation together with manner of Hürrem revealing it that left Hatice in no doubt it was done to remove Ibrahim and that Hürrem was thus glad about his cheating (and again knowing that it is what Hürrem has dreamt of for long), so the final nail to their friendship’s coffin, it all caused a huge blow.Ultimately, the problem that does get solved in the end is the marital problem. Ibrahim ultimately does wake up even before he learns Nigar is pregnant (what Nigar anticipated actually) because in the end he DOES love his wife. He knows how much he hurt Hatice and is ready to face the consequences.. When Matrakçi said Hatice loves him a lot and would eventually forgive him, while Hürrem would surely use her opportunity and tell Süleyman: Ibrahim said: “What does it matter if I lose everything or not? I’ve once renounced ranks for Hatice. Nothing is worthy next to her. The only thing that worries me is Hatice, her broken heart. When she looked at me, I wanted the ground to swallow me whole”.

Again it’s Hatice’s choice to forgive him and neither Hürrem nor anyone should mock her for it. And unlike Süleyman, who constantly promises Hürrem to be faithful, and then goes enjoying making her jealous, Ibrahim does not intend to hurt Hatice ever again and I believe he wouldn’t  have even if he had lived much longer.

And then we see them at their best, most mature, most healthy relationship now they’ve dealt with their issues and decided to start anew no matter what. I think part of Hatice’s anxiety was being centered around her ideal, dream life and once cracks appeared (first crack was again the miscarriage), the issues began popping up, and she felt like world was slipping from her fingers. It is a psychological phenomenon, when sometimes big storm cleanses you because you give up on perfection, while a small crack can drive you crazy and be a nagging trigger.

Same with Ibrahim, who as Hatice’s husband and more and more successful vizier, began seeing that no matter his talents and achievements he’s still considered inferior to members of dynasty (including Süleyman ranting at beginning of S2 to Hürrem how nobody, including Ibrahim, is equal to him in Ibrahim’s earview). Hatice’s remark about him being servant (she obviously does not see him as that) would be perhaps part of normal marital quarrel otherwise, something thrown in anger, but for him it was a trigger. His relationship with Nigar was an escape from it all – unlike his relationships with Hatice and Süleymann, the dynastic aspect was gone, he was actually with someone inferior and doing something foribidden for damads. He himself believed in that fantasy world he created with Nigar and even remarked to his brother he would like to run away with the woman he loved (aka Nigar) back to Parga, but it was all an illusion. He did TRULY LOVE Hatice, NOT Nigar, but he could not get over at that moment with how much she stood for and was part of the system he abhorred (same with Süleyman). He loves both Hatice and Suly a lot, but at the same time he hates the system they stand for and this conflict drives him a lot in S2 . When he says why Esmanur is his favourite child he remarks that while he loves his children with Hatice, Esmanur is so precious to him because she’s not part of any dynasty he’s subservient to. At the same time he has his crisis with Hatice, he goes through several crises in this aspect with Süleyman too (and again, both conflcts are played at roughly the same time).  All things that would later doom him happened in S2 (things that he was guilty of, not simply blamed for something he didn’t do), he’s far more relaxed and certain of himself and his place in S3 before his death.

And after all problems were dealt with, Hatice’s paranoia concerning Ibrahim’s potential infidelity was healed once and for all. Even when Hürrem tries to scheme again and arranges Ibrahim to meet Nigar by accident in the Marble Pavillon, Hatice does not even intend to check because she trusts him 100% now. They were truly a happy family before Ibrahim’s death.

What destroyed once and for all was Ibrahim’s death and afterwards because it wasn’t just death of a spouse – following this event she effectively lost also another person very close to her – her brother. Of course after such horrible death when her husband’s body was dumped in unnamed grave in the forest and she can’t even go there (I suppose Matrakçi didn’t want to take her there because he was afraid seeing this could only make her despair more) as a result of brutal power games in the palace after which nobody was safe, a sensitive person lost it. Especially since she lost three people to whom she was closest most of out of her family in very close succession – her mother, her husband and her brother. And she had to live under one roof with people responsible for her husband’s death. Mahidevran and Mustafa also were gone to Manisa. She had Sah, who despite all loved her and wanted to help her, but it was of course a difficult relationship, also with some unresolved things. And instead of truly being there for his sister, Süleyman repeatedly made her even harder to heal by removing all traces of Ibrahim and trying to erase him, allowing Hürrem to hold a party in harem during mourning period, marrying her off against her will, ordering her to leave her palace, dismissing her as crazy and not trusting her at all (or again perhaps that’s what he wanted to believe) when Hürrem beat her up, etc. He never tried to understand her or truly talk to her, all he did was a series of actions that claimed were to make her heal, but were in fact cold orders that often were to made him feel better than actually help Hatice (but he could fool himself he is trying to help of course).

Then of course all injustices that befell Mustafa and his and Mahidevran’s despair, feeling that indeed Mustafa would be next and he would face Ibrahim’s fate made her decide for last desperate step.

And it’s again telling when Hatice comes to Süleyman following Hürrem’s disappearance – she says she finally has her brother again because now they experience the same and he finally understands her. For a short while, she looked happier because she finally had her brother back.Then again when she had her suicide speech he was again all about WHERE’S HURREM instead of even trying to listen to his sister’s words.

I think she was okay mother before Ibrahim’s death and later she was non-functional due to depression and since she could never consult a therapist or even leave this place forever (then she would be alone forever anyway), it could only lead to tragedy.

Hatice is precisely a tragic character, a sensitive soul which the palace life totally destroyed and all she wanted was to be happy with her family. She was a princess yet she could never be free or feel safe. Marrying for love was the only time she truly got what she wanted out of life and without it she would not only have even that. I think that even if she married someone she doesn’t love, so she would not be scared of losing them/would not suffer that much because of their loss would not make her be happier. She could even look at her sister, Beyhan, who didn’t marry for love and whose husband was executed for serious stuff, but yet she lost her brother forever and underwent serious trauma. Gevherhan in MYK also didn’t marry Topal out of love, but she nevertheless decided to create a happy family with him and tried to cherish what she had, but still she was humiliated by her brother, who again executed her (traitor)husband for a show after finally having paid attention to his neglected sister a day before, and her son was left without a father, their whole life uprooted. No matter who she married, Hatice could never be free of betrayal, death and power schemes, so at least she got some true love.

I think that it’s better to have something in your life even if loss than is more painful than if we don’t care about it than live more “secure”, especially since in Hatice’s case she could never have a peaceful life by the mere fact she belonged to the Ottoman dynasty and all its upheavals and conflicts had to somewhat always affect her.

And when it comes to betrayal, it was Süleyman’s, not Ibrahim’s, betrayal that Hatice could never recover and heal from.

- Joanna (also thanks to my friend and biggest Hatice fan & expert @queen-deter , who discussed this question with me 🥰)

[merthurglompfest]

Merthur Glompfest 2020 Masterlist

Thank you to everyone who participated in Merthur Glompfest 2020! It’s been a bit of a ride, with all of us having to deal with extremely unexpected circumstances compared to when the fest launched, but we hope that everyone is safe and well, and that all our Glompee’s enjoy their gifts!  Please check out the masterlist below for all our fantastic entries and we look forward to seeing you all next year!

fifty_fifty & schweet_heart

Gift for mega_mathi | Better with You | by Leandra [ Explicit | 15344 ] Summary:  Arthur is having a terrible day full of bad news, misfortune and a mouthy and irritating manservant. Strangely enough, it’s a rather surprising altercation with said irritating manservant that turns the day around and soon, Arthur is convinced that having Merlin in his bed is the remedy to cure all his horrible days… Gift for broken_fannibal | Breaking Points | by elirwen [ Teen & Up | 2595 ] Summary: His magic bound, their captors ruthless in their torture, Merlin needs to find a way to get both Arthur and himself to freedom. Gift for KimliPan | Broken Days, A Guide and How To Manual | by arsenicandsunshine [ Teen & Up | 20652 ] Summary: In which if Merlin has to see the cracked gray of his bedroom ceiling one more time, he’s gonna scream. Or punch someone. Maybe the wall. Definitely Arthur, who can’t seem to find the words to say what he wants to, but after the morning Merlin’s had, whatever it was can’t possible help. Gift for silklace | The Coming of the Golden Age | by fifty_fifty [ Explicit | 49526 ] Summary:  With King Uther dead, the moment Merlin has been waiting for is finally here: Arthur is king. But his and Arthur's relationship isn't the only thing that's heating up, and with the threat of war on one side and social unrest on the other, some big changes are in store for Camelot – whether they like it or not. Gift for nekoii | The confident king and his nervous mage. | by digthewriter [ Gen | Art ] Summary: Arthur and Merlin on their wedding day. Gift for mega_mathi | A convenient marriage | by Lyss2011 [ Teen & Up | 13786 ] Summary: Love, Merlin thought, caressing the word and signature with his thumb. Arthur was courting someone whom he loved. And who he loved was Mithian. What else could the M stand for? In which Merlin and Arthur have a marriage of convenience, Merlin falls in love with Arthur, and Arthur courts someone who couldn't possibly be Merlin. Gift for actuallyitscaptain | A Crown of Smoke | by CandiceWright [ Explicit | 5421 ] Summary: The execution of a sorceress leaves Camelot on edge and triggers a magical threat that Merlin can only fight by revealing himself. Then Arthur is presented with a choice: to follow his father's footsteps or to let Merlin live, all while battling his feelings for the servant. In the end, it wasn't much of a choice, was it? Gift for jasminum_draconis | Daughters and Fathers and Sons, oh my! | by archaeologist_d [ Mature | 3608 ] Summary:  Morgana was just trying to help keep Arthur and Merlin’s liaison a secret. Little did she know that there was more than one secret in the castle. Gift for afreezingnote | Deadly Games | by keeperofstories [ Teen & Up | 31281 ] Summary: Merlin, Arthur, and the knights of the Round Table get caught in a trap. The trap wasn't meant for them but they have to suffer through the consequences anyway. Secrets are revealed and relationships are threatened. Gift for Cupidity11 | The Diamond Sea | by Excaliburstark [ Gen | 11123 ] Summary: Merlin comes to court, driven by curiosity and desire after he saved a golden haired man during a storm. A Mer!Prince Merlin and Royal Arthur au Gift for Aranei | Don't Let it Be Forgot, That Once There Was a Spot, for One Brief Shining Moment, That Was Known As Camelot | by Emrys MK (mk_malfoy) [ Teen & Up | 8617 ] Summary: An emotionally constipated Prince Arthur thinks he’s being clever in his endeavour to push his new manservant, Merlin, away, but his plan has a major flaw and unexpected consequences. How far will he go to get what he’s lost back? Gift for Merlioske | down the rabbit hole | by TheDragon [ Mature | 4899 ] Summary:  In which Arthur discovers Merlin is sleeping with Gwaine and promptly flies into a jealous rage. Gift for actuallyitscaptain | The Eternal Silence of These Infinite Spaces | by aoigensou [ Teen & Up | 26069 ] Summary: After a spat with Arthur, Merlin retreats for some quiet in the Darkling Woods. What happens there takes away his voice, and forces Merlin to figure out how to exist in a world where communication doesn't come easily. Gift for blueskysunnyday | Feint | by Camelittle [ Explicit | 14440 ] Summary: Three insufferable brothers visit Camelot, making life intolerable for Arthur. Luckily, he has a cunning plan for escaping into the forest with Merlin. A totally solid, sound and foolproof plan, which he certainly is not making up as he goes along. Gift for Jayfire | The Hat is Never Wrong | by MapleBreeze [ Gen | 2504 ] Summary:  When Arthur gets sorted into Hufflepuff upon arriving to Hogwarts, he is shocked and devastated, fearing his father's reaction. But the hat is never wrong and Arthur becomes determined to show just how great Hufflepuff can be.   Gift for KimliPan | Heart of the Woods | by Nympha_Alba [ Gen | 4801 ] Summary:  When one of Merlin's spells misfires, Arthur is left without a memory of who he is and why he's there. Thinking Arthur will have no recollection of any of this when his memory returns, Merlin makes the risky decision to show him how beautiful magic can be. Gift for actuallyitscaptain | Hold On To Your Heart (Hold It High Above Flood Waters) | by tehfanglyfish [ Teen & Up | 10437 ] Summary: After accidentally causing Uther's death, Morgana entered self-imposed exile. The loneliness took a heavy toll until the Great Dragon swooped into her life to recruit her for babysitting duty. Now Morgana spends her days caring for Aithusa, while using her magic to spy on Camelot. As she discovers the secrets that Arthur and Merlin have been keeping from each other, what choice does she have but to give them a much-needed shove? Gift for KasumiAFKGod |  It's the Distance We Don't Need | by tabbytabbytabby [ Teen & Up | 6245 ] Summary:  Merlin can't stand Arthur, and he's more than sure Arthur feels the same way. It's been that way for as long as Merlin can remember. There's no reason for that to change. He's fine with the way things are. It's not as if he likes him or anything. No, the person he likes is Al, one of his best friends that he talks to about everything. The only problem is they met online and despite knowing they go to the same school, Merlin has no idea who Al really is. Things grow more complicated when Merlin and Arthur are forced to work together on a project and Merlin starts to realize that maybe Arthur isn't as bad as he thought. Gift for Merlioske AND pukajen | Light the way Home | by actuallyitscaptain [ Gen | 1097 ] Summary: Freya lives, and Merlin runs off with her, sure that his feelings for Arthur will never be reciprocated. Arthur is stuck at the castle trying not to panic because Merlin LEFT HIM! To top it off, his connection with his soulmate is flaring up. Since soulmates are worse than magic in his father's eyes, he and Gaius are left trying to dodge bullets. Gift for Aranei | Lucky Charm | by Aeris444 [ Gen | 1087 ] Summary: The Knights think Merlin bring them luck. But who will be lucky in the end? Gift for Merlioske | Meddling and Other Sins. | by Michaelssw0rd [ Teen & Up | 5541 ] Summary: Gwaine is just about Done™ watching Arthur and Merlin dance around each other. It's been going on for too long. Any more of it will give Gwaine brain disease-- if he hasn't already contracted one from the two idiots. So really, doing something to get those two together is almost as much for his own sanity, as it is for them. Gift for SeverusBarbosa | Merlin, Morgana, and the Merry Men | by Elizabeth [ Mature | 13645 ] Summary: Merlin and Gwaine return from the Crusades to find Prince Agravaine and the Sheriff of Nottingham terrorizing the local peasants. Arthur and Gwen never wanted to be a part of a corrupt ruling class, but it's the card fate has dealt them. Merlin, though, isn't one to sit back and let it happen, so he and Morgana make a plan: steal from the rich and give to the poor. Together with their merry men, they're the stuff of legends.But being Robin Hood becomes more complicated when one falls for Arthur and the other falls for Gwen. Gift for Kais767 | Not so Silent a Night | by archaeologist_d [ Explicit | 7134 ] Summary: Merlin and Arthur are returning from their final quest for the year when a blizzard blocks the road back to Camelot. The closest village just happens to be Ealdor. But with Arthur an insensitive prat, and Merlin resenting having to be a servant in his own home and at Christmas time no less, things get a little heated. Gift for deathcomeswithakiss | only honest when it rains | by somethingaboutwriting [ Teen & Up | 11081 ] Summary: Merlin is sneaking off to see a girl. Arthur's handling it very well. That is, apart from these weird flowers he keeps coughing up. Gift for Krysania | The Portrait | by arthurandhisswordbros [ Teen & Up | 20917 ] Summary: Arthur must have his portrait made. It is customary that the man servant is depicted as well with his master. Arthur makes the most of the occasion by secretly ordering the painter to produce a small portrait of Merlin smiling. He keeps it preciously in a locket around his neck. Merlin is going crazy with curiosity. Gift for Jayfire | Of Clotpoles and Idiots | by sdewan6 [ Teen & Up | 1592 ] Summary: “You know, Merlin,” Arthur says, once it’s done, “For such an idiot, you’re not that bad.”Merlin beams back at him, unconsciously reaching to tug at his neckerchief. “For such a prat,” he replies, “you don’t always completely suck.” Four times Arthur called Merlin an idiot and the one time Merlin called him a clotpole. Gift for El_tuco | Operation: Picnic Basket | by DevonShea [ Gen | 3562 ] Summary:  Arthur wants to get Gwen and Lancelot together. He needs Merlin's help, of course. Could it lead to something more? Gift for nekoii | Rain Over Me with the Colours of Love | by sdewan6 [ Teen & Up | 2494 ] Summary: Arthur tries to return his focus back to the speech, but Merlin is the only thing on his mind, for some reason. Not that he likes him or anything, obviously. Nothing about his idiotic smile or his dumb gorgeous blue eyes or stupid neckerchief that suits him so much makes Arthur want to kiss him. Absolutely not. He’s the prince! He’s not going to fall in love with his manservant. Except he already kind of has. In which Arthur really loves Merlin and Merlin really loves Arthur Gift for BlazingPenicls | Tripping in the Flowers | by actuallyitscaptain [ Gen | 1378 ] Summary:  Arthur tries (and mostly succeeds) at being romantic. Really, what more can you expect from two idiots in love? Gift for broken_fannibal | Trying to Hide | by fictionalinfinity [ Gen | 1761 ] Summary: When Merlin fails to show up to work, Arthur is furious, but that all changed when he finds Merlin in tears. Gift for afreezingnote | Whatever You Want to Be | by Impala_Chick [ Teen & Up | 5329 ] Summary: Arthur, and those that were hiding out with him in the caves, are captured by scouts and dragged back to Camelot. Morgana sets Arthur's public execution into motion to solidify her rule. But her plans are thwarted when Merlin reveals his magic. After the dust settles, Arthur can't deny that his feelings about magic, and about Merlin, have changed. Gift for deathcomeswithakiss |  You've Got Your Reasons | by FervidAsAFlame (with art by CandiceWright) [ Teen & Up | 11678 & art ] Summary:  Arthur is the perfect flatmate — he pays his rent on time, works so much that he’s not even home half the time, and is totally okay with Merlin’s magic. Best of all, Merlin is pretty sure that Arthur has a crush on him — that is, until he stumbles across a list of things that Arthur hates about him. Merlin is upset of course, but he pushes aside his feelings to focus on being a better roommate so that Arthur will renew their lease for another year. Most of the things on the list aren’t that hard to correct … so how come Arthur seems to get more and more annoyed as Merlin improves his behaviour?

[awed-frog]

I’ve seen a couple of explanations about why GoT changed so much and why the finale disappointed so many people, and I think they’re good ones. It’s true, for instance, that while GRR Martin worked forwards, building convincing characters and then letting them do whatever (which is going to be a problem for him, btw), the showrunners worked backwards (and did it very badly). But something that’s bothered me a lot and haven’t seen anyone mention so far is the narrative dissonance of The Iron Throne. 

Basically, what this finale attempted was circular storytelling, which can be a beautiful thing when done right; what it ended up doing, however, was making it clear to us that in the end, you can’t escape your upbringing; who you were 100% determines who you’ll be. 

(That’s hugely different from well-made circular storytelling.)

That’s why the characters who escape (narratively) unscathed are people like Sansa, who grew up adored in a loving household and becomes a version of what she’s been taught to be her entire childhood: the lady of the mansion. 

Meanwhile, Jon never fully got over his ‘bastard’ upbringing: military success, camaraderie, the love of two remarkable women and the respect of entire armies – none of that could fundamentally change who Jon was on the inside: the bastard, the brushed aside orphan always on the margins of things. Arguably, that’s why he kept taking so many risks, and that’s why he always felt it was on him to fix whatever was fixable: because his life didn’t, in the end, truly matter to anyone. As a bastard, he had no true family, no name and no inheritance; and as a member of the Night Watch, of course, he had no future, in the sense that he could take no wife and father no children. Thus, Jon rejoining the Watch (what Watch, by the way? unclear) and disappearing beyond the Wall places him back where he was at the beginning: among the unseen, the unwanted and the unknown. 

The same goes for Daenerys, who, despite atrocious sufferings and an iron-will determination, saw her entire character arc collapse back into the person she was apparently destined to be: the daughter of a madman, the fire and blood princess, the destroyer, the abused child who claws back and hurts everyone else because ‘they don’t love me, so they might as well fear me’. Because that’s what you learn from a life of abuse, isnt’ it? That it’s either love or fear that will keep you safe. And all along, GoT teased an end to that destructive cycle so many people are trapped into IRL – through her kindness, empathy, profound sense of self-worth (problematic in some ways, but also a miracle in itself for someone who was raised to be sacrificial cattle) and her courage, it seemed that Daenerys would learn that you can trust yourself to love others and be loved in return, even if you’re not sure what the feeling is; that you can choose to do the right thing even if it’s risky; that you can survive without turning into your abusers. But - lol, jk. All of that was undone, as it was undone for so many other characters: Sandor, who died in that fire he feared so much to kill a brother that should have meant nothing to him; Jaime, who was so close to letting himself become a better person; Bran, whose profoundly spiritual path was apparently preparation for the very mundane game of politics; Missandei, who died in chains; and Westeros itself, which is returned to its Baratheon state (a king who’s got no real right to the throne, a council that represents almost nobody, lords chosen for their loyalty to powerful friends, and all those brothels in King’s Landing which will soon reopen - and quickly be filled, no doubt, with poor, vulnerable women who’ve got no other choice). 

Now, I mentioned narrative dissonance because – in themselves – the collapse of a character’s arc exactly back to the beginning and a complete inability to escape destiny are not bad writing. 

What they are, though, is the very definition of tragedy. 

(Laius is told his son will kill him – casts the baby aside, and still dies. Priam dreams his youngest son will doom Troy – casts the baby aside, and the city still burns. In the TV version, Arthur chooses to spare Mordred out of kindness - Mordred still kills him.)

Entire societies are or were shaped by the idea that you can’t, in the end, defeat fate and defy your heritage. It may be a gloomy worldview, but it’s a fascinating one, especially on a stage. We’ve all cried for Romeo and Juliet; we’ve all cried for Achilles. Sometimes, people fail; sometimes there’s no way out, and that’s the terrible beauty and fascination of the story. 

The thing is, though: GoT is not a tragedy. It’s got a very clear happy ending: the two main villains of the season (the Night King and Cersei) get their comeuppance, and that is a direct message to the back of our brains - a very loud siren - signaling that all is now well. The quietly hopeful music and the cheerful group portrait of a bunch of rational and beloved characters working on further fixing the kingdom cement that subconscious feeling. 

But this is where the narrative dissonance comes in. Characters like Daenerys, Jon and Jaime were a central part of the main cast: we rooted for them to make it, to survive, to succeed. In order to deny them a happy ending while not turning the entire thing into a tragedy, the show needed to change their status mid-story, and this is what it did. Jaime chooses to die for his horrible sister; Jon kills the woman he loves in the most treacherous, underhanded way possible; and Daenerys, of course (and most visibly, because women) becomes this unredeemable butcher of children.

So here is the distortion, and here is the dissonance. It’s cheap, and it’s worse than cheap: it’s badly made. 

(There is not even shock value here - we’ve all seen this coming for a while now.) 

No, this is just a story that can’t decide what it is, and unfortunately knowing what story you’re writing is the main rule for producing (good) fiction. GoT ends well, but it ends well by turning half its main characters into villains and thus implying they deserved what they got. This is why - on top of everything else, like the more and more overt racism - many of us are so frustrated and let down by the ending of a story they loved for years and years and years. Seriously, what a waste. Let’s hope someone up high learns from this, and decides to spend some of that lavish CGI funding they’re so generous with on a decent screenwriter instead.

[fillorian-pocketwatch]

The Makings and Fate of Quentin Coldwater: What Were the Writers Thinking?

Trigger warnings: Quentin Coldwater, seasons 4 and (briefly) 5, mentions of suicide/suicidal ideation, outdated ideas about the purity of women.

General warnings: Spoilers for the show and the books.

Buckle up, darlings, and my apologies in advance: this is a rough ride, and I don’t recommend reading it if you aren’t in the right headspace for it right now.

I hope that those who do read it might drop some LGBTQIA+ positive book/tv recommendations in the comments as a pick-me-up for others. I will add some myself if I can think of some good ones.

So as it turns out, I ran into something entirely by accident: the inspiration behind the character of Quentin Coldwater.

I knew that Eliot and his "will-they-or-won't-they" dynamic with Quentin in the Magicians books were both borrowed from Evelyn Waugh's Brideshead Revisited (Grossman has said so himself)--

but I didn't realize there was an actual preexisting character Grossman borrowed from for Q:

Quentin Compson, from The Sound and the Fury.

This explains so much for me. So much.

I ran across information about the character the other day while doing something completely unrelated (looking up some other book if I recall correctly), and when I saw the similarity of the two names and then learned about the first Quentin’s fate, I thought, could this be LG’s inspiration?

Further research revealed that yes, Lev has said as much in articles. And even if he hadn’t, the fact that he has written extensively *about* TSatF online makes it a relatively easy conclusion to draw.

While the two Quentins aren't actually much alike (at least on the surface; I haven't read TSatF yet, just in-depth summaries/analyses of it)--other than the fact that they are both mentally ill over-achiever college students, are preoccupied with the idea of another world (the world as they each wish it was), and constantly associated with symbolic clocks and watches--Quentin Compson's fate explains everything for me in terms of how to understand Quentin Coldwater's series-four fate.

Quentin Compson ultimately kills himself in the famous classic novel; he does so by drowning after jumping off the Anderson Memorial Bridge in Boston, Massachusetts. Today there is a plaque there to commemorate the character:

In the Faulkner novel, Quentin associates the smell of honeysuckle with his obsessions over his sister’s purity--an ideal he comes to feel let down by after she loses her virginity and then seems to lose herself further in the company of men he feels are unsuitable.

I can’t help but make a parallel with the “drowned garden” of season 4, episode 12.

Quentin makes the following speech in the drowned garden, and as far as I’m concerned, it’s the closest thing we get to a suicide note:

You know the worst part of getting exactly what you want? When it's not good enough. Then what do you do? If this can't make me happy, then what would? Fillory was supposed to mean something. I was supposed to mean something here. But it's all... it's just... it's random. It's so random that the only way to save my friends is to yell at a fucking plant! Honestly, fuck Fillory for being so disappointing. You know what, maybe I was better off just believing that it was fiction. The idea of Fillory is what saved my life! [laughs.] This promise... that... people like me... [weeping] People like me... Can somehow... Find an escape. There has gotta be some power in that. Shouldn't loving the idea of Fillory be enough?

But the idea of Fillory is not enough, in the end, because the idea of happiness is also not enough. And by the end of his time on the show, that’s all Quentin has: the trappings of happiness (or at least the ones available to him, the ones he thinks might get him there), without the actual emotion.

Maybe he realizes, in the drowned garden, that he is at the end of his rope. Maybe that is where he decides to give up.

That, in my opinion, is why he begins to seem so shut down: it isn’t uncommon for people to distance themselves emotionally as a precursor to suicide (hence Jason being accused of “refusing to act” toward the end of S4).

I think it’s also why he doesn’t stop to wait and see how Eliot is after Margo strikes the Monster with the axes: he has given up on the idea that the things he thinks will make him happy actually will, or that happiness is actually attainable for him in the first place.

Quentin Coldwater drowns not in the fading of honeysuckle; for him it’s peaches and plums. In any case, he is definitely in over his head, and the water that spills out of the mirrors after his death feels like an homage to that literal drowning of his predecessor.

The TM writers found ways, as the show progressed, to tie the books back in to the show; the way they did it, however, was often roundabout to say the least. Their takes on how different plot points should occur, or be interpreted from book to screen, were usually close to abstract. They did do it, in many ways, but theirs was far from a faithful adaptation.

It fits, therefore, that they would tie The Sound and the Fury into S4 the way that it appears they did.

It also tells me something about how blame for their decision can be distributed, because either the showrunners:

a.) really did their research re: Compson and put together that this was the character that inspired Lev

or, as is much more likely, they:

b.) discussed it all with Lev himself--or LG was the one to broach the subject to see what sort of take they could spin.

Whatever the lead-in to the decision, I think three things combined to give them the idea for Q’s fate:

1. Quentin Compson;

2. Alice’s description, in the third book, of watching an old god kill herself to make way for a new world (which was when Umber and Ember emerged);

3. The following lines from The Magician’s Land: “The truly sad thing was that Ember actually wanted to do it. Quentin saw that too: He had come here intending to drown Himself, the way the god before Him had, but He couldn’t quite manage it. He was brave enough to want to, but not brave enough to do it. He was trying to find the courage, longing for the courage to come to Him, but it wouldn’t, and while He waited for it, ashamed and alone and terrified, the whole cosmos was coming crashing down around Him.

Quentin wondered if he would have been brave enough. He would never know. But if Ember couldn’t sacrifice himself, Quentin would have to do it for Him.”

So, it appears, the group of writers (LG included, however actively) apparently decided to take Quentin’s thought from book three and put him in exactly that position: make the choice, or fail to make the choice.

But the need for him to make that choice was never horribly convincing. They were very mistaken if they thought it was. And no matter what, it was ultimately a horrible, damaging idea. It hurt the audience, and it killed the show. The only sacrifice that was made was made in the name of ego and “clever writing” that the writers thought was edgy and risky in some desirable way.

[Quote from vulture.com]

It's not so deep.

What they did, ultimately, was borrow from more than one outdated work, and use those as excuses to do the wrong things re: mental illness and LGBTQIA+ representation:

Evelyn Waugh’s characters fail, once again, to live their lives and desires freely and openly (What a waste to rehash the long-denied dynamic from Brideshead Revisited only to deny it again);

Quentin Compson’s legacy of suicide and hopelessness lives on (and this is made all the more offensive when you learn that Compson’s suicide was based largely on ideas of spoiled purity which were solely the burden of women to uphold).

They took what could have been made right and beautiful and instead used their story to perpetuate the same sad old traditions of queerbaiting and Burying the Gays.

Tragedy is not more profound than happiness (just ask Quentin Coldwater). I'd argue that to make something really beautiful, you need to mend what's broken.

The world is a broken place. It's easy to break things here.

The worst thing they did to Q, by far, was to use the beautiful concept of minor mending against him like it was the fuse on a stick of dynamite: the thing he’d spent his whole life seeking--his specific field, his special skill in the actual real world of magic--was what he used to kill himself. He killed himself by *fixing something.* We need no further evidence that Q had given up hope.

What a terrible message, and what a slap in the face to viewers who put their trust in this atrocious writing.

And they did nothing to redeem themselves after the fact, either. If anything, they made it even worse, somehow:

Eliot, by the end of the show, has even less than he started with.

Eliot, apparently, is us: left without Q, stripped of the comfort of a world we thought we knew. Utterly let down by the writers who had the power to make things different.

I hate to end this on such a terrible note. So let me just say that if you were let down by the show, and you miss Q, you’re far from alone! I see you, and I hear you, and I share your pain.

TM got it all wrong. But I have faith that others will get it right.

And no matter what, in the last book, Quentin lives, and has nothing but a whole world of possibility open up before him.

[keeroo92]

Be My Nightmare Ch16

Fight and Flight

Warnings for gore, in depth description of invasive surgical procedures and murder.

Word count - 4,290

~~~Previous Chapter~~~

---------

Your hand trembled around the slim handle of the knife. This was a choice you could not reverse, an action that had no path back. You had to be certain there was no other way, that this was what you really wanted.

What do I want?

“Where’d you find that loser, anyway?”

Your kin scratched his ass and wandered back to the living area, plopping onto your couch and reaching for the remote. As if he lived here, as if he weren’t an invader. As if he was welcome in your life. What you wouldn’t give to have him disappear... 

...I could make that happen.

You caught your breath. It would be so easy, to just sink the blade deep into his gut and twist. Tear his body open and watch the light fade from his eyes. Even thinking about it gave you goosebumps.

But you weren’t a murderer. What was wrong with you, having such dark thoughts? Not to mention enjoying the visuals. No, killing your father wasn’t the answer. There had to be another way. 

Maybe I can incapacitate him somehow?

“Whasamatter, cat got your tongue?”

You pursed your lips and forced your hand to relax, releasing the blade from your iron grip. There was one alternative, though it was extremely risky. It might even end up killing him anyway, but there was a chance he’d survive. Manslaughter, not murder.

You couldn’t think of anything else and you didn’t have time to waste. Every second that passed was one more that V could’ve been caught, could’ve started spilling all your secrets. The knife wouldn’t do. A more precise tool was required. 

“Something like that,” you replied at last, opening a nearby drawer that held your prize. Voices on the television faded in the wake of the dull roar resounding in your ears. 

No more hiding. 

A grunt of acknowledgement was your only response. Your fingertips closed on cool metal and you shuddered, knowing the dark history of the procedure you had to perform. So much could go wrong, but what else could you do? 

Sliding the drawer closed, you took a moment to prepare. The rage and pain of V’s sudden departure, the fury and resentment you held for your father, the itching desire to break free… All your distorted emotions spread out like a buffet of misery. They would only distract you. Unacceptable - focus was imperative. 

One by one, you visualized them in your grasp. Tufts of pain and threads of mirth, strings of shame and rebellion all went inside an imaginary steel box, the lid too heavy for the pesky things to break free. The storm inside calmed with each addition to the box, and as you mentally clicked a padlock in place, a sense of calm descended upon you.

It’s time.

Steady feet carried you to stand behind your father. The patch of baldness on the crown of his reclined head was barely disguised by greasy strands of brown and the light of the screen added a blueish pallor to his skin, as if he were a corpse. 

In a few moments, he very well might be.

“Breaking news - an escaped killer believed to be responsible for the recent killings downtown has been spotted near the financial district. The police are in pursuit and shots have been fired. Law enforcement is advising residents to stay indoors and call immediately if you see the suspect.”

Your stomach sank as an image of V popped up on the screen, green eyes sparkling over a twisted smirk. Shots fired. Police in pursuit. Could this possibly get any worse?

“Holy shit… holy shit, your boyfriend’s a murderer?!”

You just had to ask.

The incredulous eyes of your father met yours, his lips spreading into a sly grin. No doubt the bastard was already imagining ways to use this to his advantage, force you to do whatever he wanted. Harness your mind for nothing more than gambling, all the while treating you like a pile of dog shit he had to scrape from his shoes. It almost made you laugh.

Not this time, dad.

“Yes, he is,” you replied.

And then you slammed the handle of your tool into his temple as hard as you could. 

His expression went slack, a thin trickle of blood trailing from where you split the skin. A quick check of his pulse revealed a thready but stable heartbeat. Perfect.

You angled his head and lined up the slim metal stick. Last chance to change your mind. It was a longshot that you could pull this off properly; you’d never done it before and research only helped so much. The slightest mistake may lead to patricide. Not to mention the risk of infection; your apartment wasn’t exactly a sterile operating room. The best case scenario meant the obliteration of his personality. 

Courts could only charge me with manslaughter, not murder. I’m not a murderer.

You took a deep breath and steadied your hands. There was no time, he could wake at any moment and the longer V had to run, the more likely he’d be captured. The moral ramifications could wait. Consequences be damned.

The metal chopstick slid past your father’s right eye with ease to tap at the frontal bone hiding behind it. Tiny blood vessels surrounding his eye socket burst from the pressure, lines of red that would turn black by the end. With the heel of your unoccupied palm, you struck the chopstick, over and over until the bone gave way with a sickening crack. It didn’t take much - the bone was thin. 

You felt the slightest resistance before his brain tissue gave way. It was softer than you would’ve expected, easy to tear through. Like a tender piece of steak, the meat falling off the bone. The chopstick slid forward as if it had always been there, embedded in your father’s eye socket.

“Here goes nothing…” you whispered.

With a gentle twist, you rotated the utensil forty degrees and wiggled it, severing neurons with every motion as you approached the midline. Trickling blood leaked from the entry point, but not much. It truly was an extraordinary technique, somehow both invasive and not. Simple, yet effective. Grotesque, yet elegant.

The perfect punishment for the misdeeds of your blood.

You spent several minutes ripping away the connections between the frontal lobe and the thalamus. It didn’t have to be perfect, nor did you expect it to be. All you could hope for was that it was enough to prevent him from reporting you to the cops. 

But you wouldn’t know for sure until he woke up.

Which could happen at any time. I’d better hurry.

The left eye went much more quickly, your wrist already learning the motions needed to do the job. You paused to check his pulse, finding it racing but steady. About what you would’ve expected for someone undergoing brain surgery.

One last wiggle of the metal instrument and you sighed. Surely that would be enough? How long was this supposed to take? How did you know when you were done?

Doesn’t matter. I have to get moving.

You withdrew the chopstick at the same angle as the initial entry, cringing at the quiet slurp when it came loose. Blood coated the metal, and a few greyish particles you’d rather not think about. A scent similar to egg whites and copper tinted the air. How long should you wait before leaving him to his fate? Whatever the result of your procedure, there wasn’t much you could do for him now.

Five minutes, then I go. Just to see if he stops bleeding from his eyes.

You set a timer on your watch and spent the scant seconds gathering the essentials, papers and clothing, food and water. The items you were sure to need if you followed through with the barely cognizant plan still forming in your mind. How had it come to this?

It didn’t matter. The reality was that your old life was gone, and there was no turning back now. You were past the point of no return, had been for days. The second you decided to help the murderous artist at the museum instead of turn him in, you had made your choice. 

Your watch chimed; time to go. You had everything you truly needed, the essentials snugly arranged in your old university backpack. The worn out straps slid home across your shoulders as you approached your father for what was most likely the last time. 

“Dad? Can you hear me?”

His eyes were still closed, drying lines of blood lining his cheeks. Purple bruises marked where you’d done your work, dark shadows not unlike a black eye. The rhythmic rise and fall of his chest seemed almost normal. At the very least, you hadn’t killed him outright.

You pursed your lips and shook his shoulder. It would be best if you knew how coherent he was before leaving. 

“Hnnn… what happened…?” he murmured. 

Language center intact; a good sign. Hopefully.

“You okay, dad? You passed out,” you replied. 

He blinked owlishly, the bruises a stark contrast against the whites of his eyes. His gaze was clear, but something was gone from his expression. “I think so, just got a headache.”

“What’s the last thing you remember?”

A wrinkled hand rose to pinch his nose, smearing the blood still wetting his face. He paused and stared at the red streaks, perplexed but not alarmed. “You were behind me, and the news was on… saying something about that guy of yours?”

Memory and basic motor function intact; that could be good or bad. You took a seat beside him and feigned nonchalance, forcing yourself to portray calmness. If he still planned to take advantage of the situation, what were you going to do? If a damned lobotomy didn’t do the trick, how far were you ready to go?

“He’s in trouble, yeah? Huh… did he hurt someone? But he seemed nice enough...”

The confusion would fade in time. If you’d done the procedure right, the inability to make decisions would not. Only time would tell, and you’d wasted enough. He was alive and able to speak, you’d have to take your chances on the rest.

“Yeah, something like that. Listen, I gotta go for a while but make yourself at home.”

The words were bitter on your tongue, but if he left… no doubt he’d cause trouble. The man had a knack for it. Even just a few minutes of his oddly calm demeanor was a shocking contrast to his normal attitude. Had he ever gone this long without insulting you or implying your lack of worth? You didn’t think so. That had to be a good sign, right? That his emotions were no longer able to influence his decisions?

Whatever. Good enough. 

“Okay, hon. See ya later,” he replied. “Love you.”

You forgot how to breathe for a moment. Words you’d never heard him speak until now, uttered so casually as if they meant nothing. You should have lobotomized him years ago. Maybe then you wouldn’t be so broken, wouldn’t have ended up chasing after a serial killer. 

Doesn’t matter. Time to go.

With a final nod at the man you called father, you stood and headed for the door, swiping V’s beanie from the coffee table almost as an afterthought. What came next, you weren’t entirely sure. All you knew was that your career was dead and your friendships (if you could even call them that) were built on lies, and the only person who spoke truth to you was out there, running for his life and being shot at.  

~~~V~~~

The soles of his shoes slapped against pavement as V ran, pumping his legs as fast as possible. Both Griffon and Vergil howled at him to turn around, go back to where he was safe and hidden, but he ignored them. Besides, the police wouldn’t catch him unless he allowed it. They were fools and he, a genius.

He didn’t bother trying to hide as he darted past the vehicle, instead focusing on speed. His options were limited, damn he should've held onto that knife, but he could manage. 

Mere seconds passed before the blaring siren erupted behind him. He didn’t look back; it would only slow him down. With his eyes trained forward he’d be better able to spot a way to elude the idiots in blue.

“This is the police! Stop and put your hands up!”

Not likely.

He vaulted over a picket fence, landing on his feet and dashing off again. How foolish he’d been to hide in the first place, playing house with you as if he could ignore his calling. Idiocy, he should’ve known better than to believe there might be someone who could share his dreams. A companion would be nice, but it wasn’t necessary. He didn’t need you.

He simply wanted you.

Faster, Van Gogh! We gotta book it!

The artist didn’t respond, too busy panting as he slid under a decorative banner. Apparently, the fishing festival was coming to town. 

“I said stop!”

He almost rolled his eyes. If the fools didn't wield guns, he’d already have them by the throat. However, without a weapon of his own a direct confrontation was suicide. Running was his best option, until he could arm himself. Even a length of pipe would do, he didn’t have the luxury of being picky.

A soft grunt slipped from his lips as he shoved aside a passing civilian, trying to throw the confused imbecile into the police officers’ path as he fled. Perhaps he ought to shatter a window and use the glass to rip them apart? No, it would take too long.

If only he’d had more time, spent his energy on learning the area and all its hidden secrets instead of on luring you to his side. A city this size always had shortcuts and navigational oddities, things he could’ve exploited to hasten his escape. Instead, he had to improvise. Street traffic wouldn’t be enough to lose his pursuers.

Can’t risk taking an alley; I don’t know which are dead ends. The roofs, perhaps? No, nowhere to hide…

He palmed a sign pole, spinning to change direction and sprinting off once again, his breath a staccato rhythm matching his steps. The police siren blared behind him, blue and red lighting the brickwork to his left as the vehicle’s tires squealed through the sharp turn, straight through a red light. Ordinary folk stared at the spectacle, wide eyed and sheeplike in their foolishness. Soon enough, they would learn the truth. 

“Stop or we will open fire!”

The artist dared to glance over his shoulder, gauging the likelihood of the threat coming to pass. The police cruiser was less than two car lengths behind him, and the officer in the passenger seat had his weapon drawn, muzzle pointed to the sky but clearly at the ready. He’d have less than an instant to dodge. Far from ideal…

He growled and wove his way between passerby, doing what he could to shelter in their wake. If this was to be his technique, he needed to find a more populated area. The wrong choice spelled his doom. Which way, which way?

A crack of thunder split the sky, yelps of alarm echoing a beat behind. The idiotic onlookers crouched and covered their heads, fear twisting their features as they tried not to get in the way. A harsh chill danced up V’s spine.

He’d seen faces like this before. 

Don’t think about it, this isn’t the time. Just keep moving.

Sweat prickled his brow, goosebumps breaking out across his bare forearms. Images of blood and terror filled his mind. The past was not so easily ignored. 

“V, what the hell?! Get down!”

He gritted his teeth and ran on. Dwelling on Nero was the opposite of helpful now, he needed to focus. Every step he took could be his last taste of freedom, if he wasn’t careful. Isolating the officers would be the first step, but how?

Jade eyes continuously scanned the street as the artist ran on, forcing himself not to stop despite the growing fatigue tugging at his limbs. A dead sprint was not easy to maintain, but he had no choice. Just a little longer, an opportunity would present itself soon. It had to.

“Take care of her…”

He shook off the memory. Someone screamed as another crack of thunder echoed through the air. V forced his legs to keep going, keep running until he found a way to fight, but he couldn’t go much longer. Soon, he would have no choice. The human body had its limits, he knew that better than most.

Salvation took the form of a subway entrance, graffitied and smelling of human piss and sweat. He didn’t hesitate, taking the stairs three at a time and vaulting over the turnstile without looking back. Every second counted. 

The telltale rumble of an approaching train fanned the flames of hope in his heart. Almost free, just a few heartbeats more and he could pause, catch his breath. The only disappointment would be the lack of blood left in the wake of his flight, but perhaps it wasn’t too late for that. Being stuck in a metal tube full of idiotic commuters might be just what he needed to forget the sting of leaving you behind.

He followed a group of nearby civilians, letting them lead him to the tracks as shouts echoed down the stairwell. A young woman smiled at him as he passed, her hair a pale reflection of your auburn and slate locks. He should slit her throat for daring to look him in the eye, but there was no time. 

There - a voice, announcing the impending arrival of his freedom.

“710 to North Riverside, now arriving on track A.”

He paused and scanned the signs above, clever eyes finding his target quickly. Left, then right and down. Almost there. The subway would carry him to safety, set him free to pursue his work once more. It may even serve as a backdrop, get his mind back where it needed to be.

Focused on his masterpiece.

The horde of lambs surrounding him thickened as he neared the platform, the cries of his pursuers fading away in the chatter of the masses. They discussed meaningless drivel, the actions of famous fools and the latest news about fashion. As if there were nothing of higher importance; the artist curled his lip in disgust. Hopefully, a few of them would board his train and be his latest canvases. Their bleached hair and perfectly made up faces held such potential, how delightful they would be twisted into agony. Their painted lips frozen in grimaces, their eyes forever wide with fear… 

Focus! We are not yet safe.

V grunted and shoved past men in suits carrying briefcases and slipped between distracted students, their textbooks heavy on their backs. He wove his way closer until at last, his feet moved from the stone platform to the metal tube that would save him. Still, even aboard the subway he didn’t dare relax. There may yet be those nearby who could capture him, or those who would do him harm. No, not until his work was complete could he afford to be lax. 

As the subway screeched into motion, he made his way forward to the next cabin. Few of his fellow travelers paid him any mind, but all it took was one. His eyes swept across every face as he moved, ever watchful for his next canvas or a sign of recognition. Another cabin, then two, until he could go no further and only eight souls shared his air. Still too many for his liking, but he grasped a pole and held tight for balance anyway.

“Next stop, 21st Avenue Station.”

A pair of youthful faces on his left shifted, their bodies not far behind as they prepared to disembark. Two down, how many to go? Six? Depending on their temperament he may be able to slaughter them all.

The artist bent his knees as the momentum shifted, the cabin slowing to a stop. A soft chime sounded from the overhead speakers a moment before the doors opened, releasing passengers and inviting new ones aboard. 

“Nobody move! This is the police!”

Oh, no…

Adrenaline once again flooded his blood as V watched two figures in blue board, holding out badges as they scanned the cabin. Of course they’d followed him; it can’t have been hard to determine which line he took. There were only so many, after all. 

“What’s happening?” asked a spectacled passenger in a fancy business suit. “You’re going to make me late for my board meeting!”

The officers barely glanced at him. V lowered his face and feigned disinterest, yet his entire body was coiled and ready to spring. If they came close enough, there would be no escape. All he had to do was wait; his prey would do the hard part for him, then he could make his escape. 

“We have reason to believe a fugitive is on board. Has anyone seen this man?”

Just a little closer…

Freshly polished black shoes entered his field of view, their every step echoing like war drums in the artist’s skull. His fingers tingled in anticipation, visions of crimson dancing behind his half-closed lids. Goosebumps erupted across his body and he drew in a shaky breath, his need almost too powerful to bear. Only the knowledge of impending satisfaction kept him from losing his composure and striking too soon. 

“Are you people serious? Clearly I’m not a fugitive, why can’t I leave?” the irate businessman crowed.

A thin smirk twisted the artist’s lips. If the man continued, he may become a useful distraction. 

“Sir, please calm down. We’ll have you out of here as soon as we can,” replied one of the officers, a young man by the sound of his voice. 

“But ‘soon’ isn’t now. You see the issue?”

The shiny black shoes turned; the officer now faced the foolish man. Perfect.

Ebony hair fluttered as V bolted forward, snarling as he slammed the closer officer’s skull against the pole he’d moments ago held for balance. A sickening crunch rewarded his efforts and the blue-clad man crumpled to the ground bonelessly as blood leaked from the fresh indent in his head.

The passengers cursed and screamed, horrified expressions only serving to feed V’s bloodlust. He spun, making a circle in the growing bloodstain with his toes as he faced his next adversary, a blond officer not much older than himself. A fool, seeking justice in a world that granted none. If only he knew the truth.

No matter - soon enough, they would all see. 

The officer’s shaking hands struggled to release his firearm, panic clear in the dilation of his widened grey eyes. Still, the weapon cracked as the lad squeezed the trigger, spewing death to any who were unfortunate enough to be in its haphazard path.

The artist ducked, moving faster than he should've been able to as he avoided lethal hits. A single bullet pierced his thigh but he ignored it - he’d seen worse and the victims had kept fighting. It would dishonor their memory if he faltered now.

Instead, he bolted closer to his assailant, wrapping his long fingers around the poor young man’s neck to slam his delicate skull against the thick glass behind him. A smear of red marked the point of impact, the only remnant of his final breath. 

With the immediate threat resolved, V smirked at the crowd and waited, content to revel in their horror. It mattered not whether his remaining foes chased him down or wandered into his path unaware, the end result would be the same. Crimson, a massive swatch of life blood decorating the walls and floors of the subway. Reminding those who used it that the transport was built on the spines of slaves. Nothing to be proud of. 

“Run,” he growled.

The terrified group gaped at him, eight souls too shocked to realize they were free. Eight new voices to spread his message, to tell the tale of an unarmed man taking down two police officers bare handed. The thought brought a wicked grin to his face and he licked his lips, catching the taste of scarlet on his tongue. Delicious.

He raised an eyebrow at the nearest passenger, a young woman on a seat whose pants featured a wet stain between her legs. Terrified tears streaked her perfectly applied blush, dark with her runny mascara. “Now, little lamb.”

She trembled but managed to rise, her shaky legs carrying her to the platform and to the relative safety it offered. The other seven witnesses weren’t far behind her, all of them staring at him as they fled the scene. Alone at last, V surveyed his handiwork. Two dead police officers, not much of a mess but enough to whet his appetite. 

If only he had the time to properly utilize their corpses. He’d yet to create a public display, and it excited him to imagine the far-flung reach such a bold act would elicit. They would whisper his name to their children, tell tales of his deeds and fear the dark as they always should have, these people. These sheep.

But he couldn't afford to linger, and there would be other chances. It was beyond time to refocus on his goal, his masterpiece. Enough tomfoolery. 

V smirked as he stepped to the still open door, pausing to pick up a discarded or forgotten cell phone. No doubt it would prove useful in his exploits. He couldn’t wait to get started.

~~~~Next Chapter~~~~

[holidayblindspot]

V-Day

This is a fic by rAnsomedrOgue on FanFiction.net, who doesn’t have a Tumblr but wanted to participate. I’ll be linking her to this post, though, so if you liked the fic, please leave her a comment here! :)

***

A/N: This is all totally implausible but then again so is the entire show… Tried to write something fluffy, this is what happened.

<3 <3 <3

It was supposed to be the perfect day. He’d been thinking about it for ages. Valentine’s on a weekend, a day just for them. Time to reconnect with his wife after everything they’d been through.

Weller had filtered past a million ideas before coming up with two couple’s activities that he thought Jane would really appreciate. Things that said Jane to him, that made him push outside his own comfort zone. He didn’t want to just take her on a regular date, something boring and predictable. He loved his wife and had hurt their relationship badly. He needed to make a good showing of it.

What had boosted his confidence was the fact that she’d unexpectedly come to him the previous week, told him that she had something planned for Valentine’s Day. He’s usually the one that dealt with holidays, due to her having no memories and being raised by a terrorist.

They had ended up deciding to split the day; he got to plan the morning and afternoon, she got the evening and night.

But that all goes to shit when Weller wakes with a cloudy mind, tied to a chair.

<3 <3 <3

It had taken her forever to come up with anything good. All the traditions of holidays were baffling to her, especially blatantly commercial ones like Valentine’s Day. But she wanted to do something for Kurt, to show him how much she still loves him. They had both lied but that was behind them now. Now she just has to make sure he knows it, that he understands how much he means to her.

So Jane had google searched like mad, hadn’t even consulted with Patterson. It had to be all her effort, finding some appropriate romantic event just for Kurt.

A wormhole of key terms eventually led her to two viable options and she decided they needed to do both. When she told him that she had a date planned for Valentine’s Day he’d been completely surprised but clearly pleased. In the end it had worked out perfectly with Kurt planning daytime activities to complete the schedule. He had even looked adorably apprehensive about whatever he’d arranged, which had brought a grin to her face despite not knowing what it was.

Whatever Kurt had planned though, Jane is sure it isn’t this. Because she wakes with drug residue still in her head, their hands tied together.

<3 <3 <3

He knows it’s her by her scent, the texture of her breath. He senses the moment she stirs and rubs the side of her thumb, tells her it’s him.

They’re tied together but not gagged, which seems odd until a disembodied voice comes booming into the room.

“Welcome, Agents Weller and Doe,” the familiar snivelly voice says. “Today you face a test. The same test my own wife faced exactly seven years ago.”

Kurt groans, the source of the voice suddenly becoming clear. Edwin Scheer, a career criminal whose wife had died covering for his getaway. Weller had been the lead agent on the case, had tracked Scheer through his wife, then seen her sacrifice herself for him on Valentine’s day.

“It’s really quite simple. Whoever volunteers first will get the opportunity to die for the other. If no one volunteers, you both die by the end of the day.”

“What’s the point, you’ll just kill us both anyways,” Jane says defiantly from behind him.

“The point is, living on while suffering the guilt of bearing the sacrifice. A fate much worse than death, I’ll let you know. So no, I would certainly prefer one of you to live with the curse of eternal guilt.”

Weller knows a lot about eternal guilt, thinks how Scheer really nailed this scenario. He would definitely rather die than let Jane give her life for him. He couldn’t bear the weight of losing her, having to carry on.

She’s a runner, he knows that all too well. Also prone to being self-sacrificial, always willing to take it for the team. He can’t let her do it for him, even if it means Scheer wins.

Overprotectiveness is stamped in his DNA. He needs to save her, despite the cost. Before she takes the plunge herself.

Weller is about to open his mouth, let out panicked impulsive words when Jane grabs his hand, squeezes hard.

<3 <3 <3

He’s about to do it, fall straight into the Kurt Weller trap.

Jane reaches for him, clamps down on his fingers fiercely.

No, her hands say. You are not making this decision alone. We are in this together.

At the same time she bites back her own voice, the one that wants to yell ‘me, pick me, kill me, save him.’ Of course she would die to save Kurt, that’s the whole point.

Whoever this guy is, he’s been watching, obviously knows both their weaknesses. But right now, in a completely pitch black room, he’s probably only listening. They need a plan that doesn’t require either of them sacrificing themselves. And some method of communicating it without being heard.

She makes a pattern in his palm, uses her touch to tell him to calm down, think. When his breathing evens out she starts to fiddle with the knots on their hands, feels him use his fingers to expand the ropes, create more slack.

“This isn’t going to work,” Jane says, trying to distract their captor. “We’re not going to give in to your mind games.”

“Oh that’s what you think. There’s hours to go yet, plenty of time to think about the pointlessness of you both dying. Then there’s the part where you both get suspicious that the other is going to betray the pact, I almost can’t wait. Will there be arguing? Silence right up until one of you can’t hold back anymore? This is when you find out what someone is really made of. I know I’ll never be worthy of my wife. Now what will you find out about each other today?”

That we are stronger than this bullshit, Jane thinks to herself.

“We’ve got this, Kurt. We’re in this together,” she says. “I trust you with your life.”

<3 <3 <3

He snaps out of it just in time, the words about to slip off his tongue. Her fingers remind him that she’s there, that they’re not making decisions alone anymore. Then it’s her confident tone that slices through his fear, tells him she’s not going to run this time.

“I trust you too,” he replies. “No more secrets.”

Scheer laughs, snorts in response.

“It’s only been ten minutes,” he says. “Let’s see how long that lasts.”

Weller has to admit the psychopath is right, that the relative calm he currently feels will decrease steadily as time passes. But it helps that Jane has nearly freed their hands, just needs him to stretch out the ropes a bit more to get through the knots.

When their hands are untied they both quietly undo their leg restraints, then reach for each other once completely free of the ropes. The next step would be to stand and search the room that they’re in but first they need to cover the noises they’re going to make.

He’s trying to come up with some sort of conversation that doesn’t feed into the current problem when Jane starts talking, a bit louder than necessary and throwing her voice off the wall.

“So, what am I missing out on, Kurt?” she asks, while standing up slowly.

“What do you mean?” he replies, genuinely confused about her question but understanding her intent. He stands up as well, makes sure to hide any noise with his words.

“Your part of our Valentine’s date,” she says. “What were we going to do?”

Kurt groans internally, not entirely confident on the choices he had made. He had wanted to do something different, uniquely Jane. But of course then it had to be somewhat risky, because she certainly wasn’t a ‘normal’ girl.

He definitely did not want to talk about this in front of anyone other than Jane, but it was a relevant conversation to have while they silently stepped around the room, looking for an escape route. So he reaches for her hand, pulls her to him and blindly plants a kiss on her knuckles.

“Well, to start, there was this couple’s bikram yoga session,” he says, using his free hand to guide her by the hip as they slip across the floor.

“You? Yoga?” she asks, clearly surprised.

“I stretch,” he grumbles, feeling for the wall.

“But you don’t like it,” Jane replies.

“Yeah well, you do,” he says. “And it sounded kind of hot.”

She tugs hard at his hand in response, slips closer.

“It would have been very hot,” she whispers, just for him. “You’re full of surprises.”

“I would have liked that,” she says louder, as they continue around the room. “But I know that’s not all you had planned.”

Weller feels the walls, finds one locked door with what sounds like a guard behind it and nothing else of significance. He sighs to himself as he realizes they’ve almost completed a whole lap with no results.

“There was an art show too,” he admits. “A contemporary exhibit called Falling Love. At a pop up gallery that features different mediums.”

He says the words like he’s reading them off a pamphlet, has little sense of what most of them really mean. But he’d memorized it to tell her, just feels incredibly awkward doing so.

Jane relieves all of his worry with a laugh, wraps her arms around him from behind as they finish checking the walls.

“It sounds perfect,” she says, muffled into his back. “I love it.”

<3 <3 <3

Her husband is adorable. She sometimes forgets this in their danger filled day to day lives. But couple’s yoga and an art show? Those were not Kurt Weller activities. The fact that he was so willing to push his boundaries and explore her interests was beyond her expectations, made her feel flush with warmth.

She hugs him tight for as long as she dares, then puts her hands on his shoulders, trying to tell him what they should do next. Kurt picks up on her idea right away and squats down so she can climb on. Then, once she’s securely sitting on his shoulders, they start around the room again, searching for any vents or windows they could use to escape.

“So, what were we going to do after the art show?” Kurt asks, with real curiosity in his tone.

Jane grins to herself, hopes he appreciates her plans as much as she loved his.

“Well, first there was a true crime whisky tasting tour,” she says as she feels along the walls and the ceiling. “It’s prohibition themed and on an old trolley through Brooklyn. With specialty whisky flights and underground tours.”

“Whiskey and gangsters?” Kurt says with a grin she can hear. “Sounds perfectly sinful.”

He wraps his arms around her legs even tighter and she reaches down to run her fingers through his hair for a moment.

“Not as sinful as a chocolate buffet,” she replies.

“What?” he exclaims, all gleefully surprised. “You’re not serious.”

Jane laughs, leans down to kiss him on top of his head.

“Yes, there’s an entire buffet of chocolate at the Ritz and we had reservations. Plus, a room for the night, to recover from the whisky and sugar hangover.”

“Nooooooo,” Kurt moans. “How have I never heard of this chocolate buffet before?”

Jane shakes her head in amusement just before it almost smacks straight into a vent. Luckily she manages to see it in time and taps on Kurt to stop walking.

“What do they have at this buffet?” he asks as she takes out her hairpin and starts to unscrew the cover of the vent.

“Everything you can imagine,” she replies. “Pastries, cakes, fondue, crepes. Samples from all the best chocolatiers. Oh, fudge and ice cream too, of course.”

She’s got the grate off, passes it down to Kurt. Is about to crawl into the vent but he clutches onto her legs, refuses to let her go.

<3 <3 <3

Jane’s about to go into the vent they found when he realizes the problem. If they stop talking, they’re going to get figured out quickly.

Weller grabs onto her legs so she can’t get off his shoulders, knows he has to think fast or else she’s going to get impatient and just go anyways.

“That sounds too good to be true,” he says. “I can’t believe we’re stuck here because of me when we should be on the perfect date instead.”

“It’s not your fault, Kurt,” Jane replies, after a barely noticeable pause. “We’ll get through this together.”

“No, Jane. It is all my fault, you weren’t even around when this Scheer case happened,” he states. “You got dragged into this because of me. I can’t let you die here.”

“What, we just talked about this, Kurt!” she fires back. “You don’t get to make that decision.”

“I didn’t say I’d made a decision,” he argues. “Don’t put words in my mouth, I just said I can’t let you die here.”

“Which is the same thing as saying you’re going to give up on us, give up on what we decided together. So what’s the point of me even saying anything if you’re not going to respect my opinion?”

Her voice is steaming but she’s kissing the top of his head, holding him tightly from above.

“So what, you’re going to give me the silent treatment until we die here? What the hell is that going to solve?”

He squeezes her leg a specific number of times. Then does it again to confirm.

“It’ll stop me from yelling at you instead.”

She responds by reaching for his hand, gives him the same message back. Twice, like he had done.

“Fine, if that’s how you feel about this then don’t talk to me.”

He brings her thumb to his lips, plants a lingering kiss.

“Done.”

He pushes her into the vent with the last of their words and offers a silent prayer to keep her safe. Because their argument may have been fake but Weller wasn’t lying when he said he couldn’t let her die there, no matter the cost.

<3 <3 <3

Jane climbs the vent straight up for a few floors before finding an exit into an unoccupied storage room. The building appears to be an abandoned warehouse and she sees no one around as she sneaks back down towards the basement.

She wonders where Scheer is, whether he’s in the warehouse, wants to do his own dirty work. It seems unlikely though, based on the state of the place. There’s nothing in it except dust and a few stray auto parts.

Jane slinks through the structure, finds a piece of broken rebar to use as a weapon. Eventually she finds a set of stairs that runs straight down towards the basement where Kurt is. For a moment she stands listening for any movement and lets herself think about the day that should have been, how fitting it was that this was what they got instead. All she can do is sigh at the circumstances, return her head to the task at hand. Kurt was still waiting for her to get him out, she needs to come through for him.

As she nears the bottom of the stairs Jane starts to move in stealthy ninja steps, peaks around the corner to see the door to their prison, the guard sitting directly in front of it. Of course the approach down the stairs is long and comes right at him, impossible to make without dying long before she gets to the door.

So Jane forces herself to be patient and wait for Kurt’s move. She had made it there in time; trusts him to play his part in their silent plan.

<3 <3 <3

When the time comes, Weller makes a racket; yells that he’s done with the game. Hollers at an imaginary Jane that he’s giving up so she can have a better life without him, because it’s obviously what she wants.

It hurts even just to say it but he has to make it realistic. Then he waits behind the door for whatever is going to happen.

Almost immediately he hears the sound of the lock turning, the door scraping ajar. So there had been a guard right there, ready to come in and kill the on command, Kurt thinks.

Weller readies himself for action, waits for the guard to recognize the situation. But then the light flicks on suddenly before the door is thrown open, momentarily blinding him. He’s a sitting duck, trying to decide whether to just launch himself at his opponent without being able to see anything when he hears Jane tackle the guy just in time.

By the time Kurt’s pupils have adjusted to the light, she’s already got the guy pinned, is giving him one more punch to the head for good measure. Then they tie the guard up with the ropes they’d escaped from before taking his gun and using his fingerprint to start his cell phone.

It’s easy to identify the number the guard’s been contacting Scheer on and Weller gets Patterson on tracing it immediately. Within seconds she’s got an address and less than half an hour later she reports back that Scheer’s been killed in a shootout.

Weller double checks the perp is tied up securely and grabs his wife, leads her out into the light.

<3 <3 <3

Kurt wraps his arms around her, pushes her through the door and up the stairs. He feels so real and comforting behind her, her scruffy human security blanket.

Of course they made it out, she thinks. It couldn’t be any other way.

Not long ago she thought it was gone. The trust between them.

He had lied, she had lied. Big ones too, hurtful ones.

But in a dark room with only each other she had trusted him with all of her heart. The one still beating in her chest, that belongs only to him.

They had believed in each other, communicated perfectly.

It wasn’t the ideal date, the possible death part a bit too much. But it had been pretty hot, she thinks. Stealthily wrapped around Kurt, talking by touch.

Outside they wait for backup, forensics. Kurt still surrounds her, swallowing her up in his warmth.

“I’m sorry we missed our day,” he grumbles in her ear.

“It would have been perfect,” she agrees, smiling at the mental images of yoga with Weller. “You picked the most thoughtful things.”

Kurt squeezes tight, spins her around so she’s facing him. He’s wearing his familiar crooked smile, adoring and self-satisfied all at once.

“I just wanted you to know how much I appreciate you,” he says, so sincerely it hurts.

“Oh Kurt, I know,” she replies, reaching up to kiss him.

He pulls her in fiercely, hungrily. Relinquishes her lips only when sirens surround them, pull up close.

Still she’s encased in his arms, he refuses to release her even as agents start to hover close by.

“You’re going to have to let me go,” she says, her tone tinted in bemusement.

“Never,” he replies seriously. “You’re my valentine, Jane.”

She beams at him, a million lumens bright.

“But if we give our statements right away we can still make the chocolate buffet,” she says.

The boyish gleam in his eyes makes her giggle, snatch another kiss.

“I love the way your mind works,” he mumbles into her throat. “I love everything about you, Jane.”

“Happy Valentine’s Day Kurt. I love that we did this, together,” she mutters in return. “It wasn’t what we planned. But I think it turned out perfect.”

Kurt grins, squeezes her so tight she forgets to breathe for a second. Then she sneaks in one more kiss as they stand there entwined, ready to take on the world together.

[rumbelleshowdown]

Late Nights and Early Mornings

Author: Cobalt Prompt: coffee and empty stomach Group: H

Her breath came in short, sharp bursts as Lacey listened to her pursuers pass her improvised hiding spot. At least this time, it wasn’t a literal dumpster.

After the last set of footsteps had disappeared into the distance, she waited for a moment longer with bated breath before she emerged from the space between two parked cars and looked around. The moment these assholes realized that they'd lost her, they would double back. Her best bet was to find a place with more people. Of course, at 4 AM, her choices were a bit limited, but she had seen a diner at the last street corner that still looked to be open. Or open already, depending.

Cold, glaring neon lights illuminated the space inside the diner and Lacey self-consciously straightened a lock of her hair before going up to the counter. "One coffee," she told the bored cashier, "black." After a moment where the cashier entirely failed to even look up from his phone, she added, "Please," which earned her a huff as the man went to fill her order. The smell of the place—old frying oil and a memory of ready-made pasta—was anything but appetizing, but Lacey's stomach still growled. Still, she barely had the money and definitely not the time for a real meal. Caffeine would have to do.

Lacey looked around. The diner was surprisingly well-frequented for this time of night, even if most patrons looked tired and all of them looked pissed off to be awake. Her gaze fell on a man in denim near the back who looked ready to either fall over or punch someone in the face. Possibly both. She grabbed her coffee and headed directly for the maybe-murderous guy's table. The assholes after her were bound to come back, and she wasn't above hiding behind someone with a good right hook if it evened the odds a little.

"There are plenty of other seats," the man said, without looking up from his reading material; it looked like something official. "Far away from this one," he added.

"Oh, come on." Lacey leaned forward, letting her coat fall open just a that little bit. "Is it so bad if I sit here? Just for ten minutes?"

Now the man did look at her and Lacey all but had to stop herself from licking her lips. He wasn't what most people would call typically attractive, but the intensity in his eyes was enough all by itself to turn her mouth dry and send a shiver through her whole body. Not only that, he looked oddly... familiar, though Lacey was sure that she'd never met him before.

If he had any reaction in turn to looking at her, he was certainly good at hiding it. "You have ten seconds," he told her, sounding almost bored.

Lacey's eyes flickered to the door. Her pursuers hadn't turned up, but she still wasn't keen on going outside. Time for a different strategy. "You can have my coffee," she said.

That clearly threw him. "What?"

"My coffee," Lacey enunciated. "You can have it. Yours looks empty." She gestured towards his cup.

For a blink-and-you'll-miss-it instant, the corner of his mouth quirked upwards. "All right," he said, and put his papers to one side. "You've got until I'm done with that."

What a charmer. But Lacey was willing to sacrifice one coffee for the prospect of some safety and the company was a better screen than just sitting by herself in the diner. With some luck, the coast would be clear when she had to leave.

The man took a sip of her—well, his—coffee and pulled a face, before dumping about half the sugar caster into it.

Lacey suppressed a snort. "THat bad?"

"Worse." He took another sip.

"But you still come here?"

"Not exactly spoiled for choice at this time of night." He glanced at her over the edge of his cup and for a moment their eyes locked. Lacey had to revise her earlier assessment. He was quite handsome, especially this close up. "So, do you often bribe strangers with coffee into having conversations with you?"

Lacey gave him one of her best smiles. "Not exactly spoiled for choice at this time of night, am I?"

His eyes crinkled in a way that she was pretty sure hid another smile, but at that moment, the door opened and four men entered, one burlier than the last, and made a beeline for their table. Lacey swore. So much for disappearing into the crowd.

"Friends of yours?" her table-mate asked in a tone that made clear he knew they weren't.

Lacey didn't reply, too busy planning an escape route.

"Thought you'd disappeared on us, Lacey," one of the goons said as they took positions around her table.

"Sorry, I was under the impression that I was having breakfast with this woman." Her table-mate had put down his coffee and was glaring at the newcomers. "D'you mind."

"Stay out of this, Weaver," the guy that spoke first said. "It's none of your business."

"And yet," Weaver said, exasperated, "you bring it to my table."

While her pursuer's attention was focused on Weaver, Lacey carefully reached into her bag, fingers closing around a small cylinder inside.

"Nothing personal," a second goon said, "but we really need to talk to the lady." With that, he made a move towards Lacey.

Without hesitation, Lacey pulled her hand out of her bag and sprayed the mace right into the guy's eyes. He swore violently and stumbled back, while one of his friends made a grab for her. Lacey squirmed back, caught between the table and the bench, but she needn't have worried. Weaver's elbow caught the guy square in the chest and he, too, went down, wheezing and coughing for air.

From somewhere, Lacey could hear the cashier complaining, but she couldn't make out any words. She was too busy ducking away from the third goon, who apparently hadn't learned much from his friends' fate and grabbed her by the wrist that held the mace. Without thinking, Lacey took what was left of Weaver's coffee and threw it in the man's face. He howled and wiped at his face, but didn't let go of her. That is, until Weaver punched him in the nose.

Lacey was pretty sure she could hear bones breaking as the vice-like grip around her wrist disappeared and the third of her pursuers moved away. The fourth and last stared first at them, then at his injured comrades, and Lacey could see the gears in his head turning.

"Leave it," Weaver said. "It's not worth it."

That seemed to decide it. The man turned and all but ran out the diner, followed by his friends at varying speeds. None of them as much as looked back.

"You didn't say someone was after you," Weaver said, shaking his fist with a slight grimace.

"Didn't come up." Carefully, Lacey replaced the mace in her bag. "How did they know you?"

"Professionally," Weaver replied. He must have noticed her wariness, because he added, "I'm with the police." Which was hardly reassuring, either, at least until he said, very pointedly, "Off duty."

He looked her over, breath slightly accelerated and pupils blown, and this look, at least, Lacey recognised immediately. Not that she minded, of course. She'd always had a weakness for men who could handle themselves in a fight. And Weaver had handled himself very well, indeed.

After several more moments, Lacey broke eye contact and looked down at the now-empty cup on the table. "Guess that's my cue to go."

"Where?" Weaver asked, still not looking away from her.

"Don't know yet," Lacey admitted. "Guess I'll find out."

"Too risky," Weaver said, "you're coming with me." He waved the cashier over. Lacey had the impression that the man rarely got out from behind the counter, but he still followed Weaver's motion. "Two more coffees to go," Weaver said.

"About time." The cashier didn't look happy. "You can't bring this stuff in here. Scares away the customers."

Lacey pointedly looked around to where the other customers had barely stirred throughout the whole scuffle. "Yeah, they look terrified."

The cashier glared at her, but left without further comment. They waited in silence until he brought over their coffees in wobbly paper to-go cups.

"I really hope by 'coming with me' you don't mean the station," Lacey said. "Because I'll need something to eat before I put up with any cops."

Weaver shrugged. "There's food at my place."

Which was about as direct an invitation as a woman could hope to get. "Sounds good," Lacey said and picked up her paper cup with one hand. The other, she linked through Weaver's arm, revelling in the sight of his eyes widening slightly. "Lead the way."

*amended to include fic title

[theauthorstreehouse]

Note: These are the 9 Main Characters you will be able to choose once Verdant launches. Each MC will have their own storyline which you can direct through your choices in-game. More information, as well as artwork, will appear on our Patreon as it is developed.

The Neophyte

Tagline: “I want to earn my place among my people. I wasn't under the impression that would be easy.”  

Race: Human

Gender: Trans Woman  

Sexuality: Bisexual

Starting Location: Red Wastes

Brief Bio: Your family has always loved you, there has never been any doubt of that. But they didn't really understand. They tried, you can't begrudge them that. Yet there was a subtle distance, an awareness that they felt something must be incorrect. Worse still, they gave the impression that there was something about you which could be “fixed”. Still, you aren't doing this for them. You do it for yourself. The Trials in the Red Wastes are an ancient tradition, something the girls of Verdant have undertaken to prove themselves as worthy of Citizenship, and as women. With a year of hardship standing before you and six other girls to contend with, you risk more than most out here. Your story opens in the close quarters of the trial hut, and it comes as some small comfort that you are not the only one here struggling to find your place. 

The Exile

Tagline: “Everything has a cost. Which means everyone pays, sooner or later.”

Race: Human

Gender: Female

Sexuality: Straight

Starting Location: Red Wastes

Brief Bio: They say some people are born under a lucky star, with everything in life handed to them. If that is true, then for every lucky star, there are billions of unlucky ones, petering out in the inky blackness of space. One of those unfortunate stars must belong to you. You made deals for a living, most of them less than upstanding and some of them quite illegal. Still, one wrong move and there you were, staring down the local Magister and forced to choose between fifteen years of thralldom...or exile. It was barely a choice at all. Your story opens with the burn of the branding iron still throbbing on your shoulder, doing it's best to compete with the blistering sun. 

The Fallen Warrior

Tagline: “What is a man without his duty? Like a ship without a rudder, he wanders aimlessly in the sea.”  

Race: Human

Gender: Male

Sexuality: Straight

Starting Location: Verdant proper

Brief Bio: Everyone has their place in life. You thought you knew yours. You started as a soldier, proved your mettle on the field and became an officer. You married well, your position rose, and you had children. You were everything you were raised to be. Which makes your decent all the more soul crushing. A poorly planned attack resulted in defeat, and now you stand among the throng to be inspected and enthralled in service to these strange women. Your story opens in the House of Thralls, your life is written on scrolls, and your fate yet to be decided.   

The Princess

Tagline: “People always see the trapping of royalty. They pay no heed to the responsibility we must bear to be worthy of it.”

Race: Human

Gender: Female

Sexuality: Pansexual

Starting Location: Verdant proper

Brief Bio: You were meant for the throne. You were neither the first-born nor the last, but the one who rose above her sisters and proved herself. It is an honor, a privilege, and a burden. The field of battle calls to you, singing its cry in your heart, but you have been informed that you are to ensure your people's security through another means. Marriage. You know your duty comes first, but your fingers ache for the hilt of the blade. Your story opens as the orcish ambassadors arrive to propose an alliance, and offer the son of their lord to you as a husband. 

The Acolyte

Tagline: “Life is full of choices. Here in the temple, all those choices are made for us. I suppose that means we don't have to worry about living.”

Race: Vadel

Gender: Gender-fluid (Androgynous)  

Sexuality: Demisexual

Starting Location: Speckled Oasis

Brief Bio: The first memory you have is of screaming and fire. Then of the gentle hands that plucked you from your mother's body and brought you here. The Sisters of Tiamati took you in, raised you in the temple to serve. You were taught how to express physical love, to share your body freely in reverent worship. Yet you wonder what it may be to love in the soul and care deeply for another. You owe these women your life, but should you spend it all behind the gilded walls of a sacred temple? Your story opens on the feast day, where people come to worship, to be fed, and entertained.

The Entertainer

Tagline: “I'm not ashamed. Why should I be? Others out there starve or, gods forbid, have to work for a living!”  

Race: Half-orc

Gender: Male

Sexuality: Pansexual

Starting Location: Speckled Oasis

Brief Bio: Life isn't easy. It is a simple, but profound lesson, and one which you learned relatively early. It isn't that you are unwelcome, but the humans here are 'aware' of you in a way that says they would rather not be. It is difficult to say if that had anything to do with your current predicament, but you would not doubt the influence your bloodline had on the magistrate. Your talent for music has kept you out of hard labor, but with three years of a twelve-year sentence behind you, there are only two things you want in this world. To see your mother again, and to earn enough money to get you both out of Verdant. Your story opens during a festival, the clank of coins in heavy purses offering 'inspiration' for you to dance and sing in the hopes of earning some of that gold for yourself. 

The Scout

Tagline: “I like the wilderness. It's content. You can see the stars, and nobody is there to ask you annoying questions.”

Race: Human

Gender: Female

Sexuality: Lesbian

Starting Location: The Cliffhomes

Brief Bio: People have a way of setting you on edge. You are always expected to perform for them in some way or another, and the pressure of putting on that facade makes your face ache. You were always a wild child, running away from the cool tiles of your families estate to roughhouse with the other girls. Joining the military was the best way to escape the crowded and overstimulating streets of the capital. There is always a need for scouts who are willing to work along the outskirts of civilization. Your story opens as you visit your commanding officer for a new assignment, one that promises to take you beyond the borders of everything you've ever known.

The Alchemist

Tagline: “One more short joke and I swear I'll drug your tea so your hair falls out.”  

Race: Gabelin

Gender: Gender-Fluid (Male presenting)

Sexuality: Queer  

Starting Location: The Cliffhomes

Brief Bio: A bookworm at heart, you've always been given to hours of reclusive study with old tomes about the risky practice of alchemy. This in and of itself is a talent, for it is said that in a Gabelin family, you can find anything you wish for, save privacy. The nomadic lifestyle is not without peril, but it seems these days you find more fresh corpses than you used to. A disturbing number of them are of your own kind. Gabelin's are no more comfortable with humans than vice versa, but a little bit of clever bargaining has opened up an opportunity for you. Your story opens as you look out towards the Greenback Mountain range, your yellow eyes glittering at the thought of what lies beyond. 

The Healer

Tagline: “Healing is in most cases a fancy way of saying that I paid attention to what hurts, and what helps, and decided to do more of one than the other.”  

Race: Orc

Gender: Intersex

Sexuality: Asexual

Starting Location: Dense Jungles

Brief Bio: Many find they are dissatisfied with their life, hungering for adventure. But not you. Strange as it may seem, you have everything you could wish for. You are respected by your tribe and revered by your people. You have adopted a child to train as your apprentice, and there is nothing you are denied should you ask. So why then does the jungle call to you as it never has before? Why do you feel a pull to go forth from the comfort of your home? If the spirit calls, you have little choice but to answer. Your story opens as you walk along the thick roots, gnarled as your hands, curious as to where this strange wanderlust is leading.

PATREON / WEBSITE / WRITER / ARTIST / TUMBLR

[violentnonretirement]

About Bastet: Jack

I’m doing multiple posts to kind of separate out things. This one will be about Jack, there will be one about Ana, and then one about the general Lore.

So keep in mind this is just about Jack, since the short story was equally about both and I literally have way too much to talk about with Ana to fit them both here while still being at all readable.

I’m just going to go through chronologically. Also under the cut because it’s... It’s a lot. Ana’s might end up longer, though.

“ As she took a closer look, she could see that the jacket and his flesh had been ripped apart by a shotgun blast. From that range, it should have killed him, but Jack had certain advantages. His wounds could heal themselves—a legacy of his past as a test subject and an enhanced soldier...“

First of all, we can finally do away with the ‘Gabe wasn’t trying to kill Jack’ theories because he absolutely was. Also, referring to Jack (and by extension Gabe) as test subjects says a lot about the nature of the SEP. Not an exact process, not a 100% smoothed out deal. Jack and Gabe were test subjects.

Jack’s got a crazy good healing factor. Like. We learn later the bullets from Reaper have a necrotic agent of some sort that’s trying to keep him from healing and his body is still pushing through to heal the wound literally minutes after the attack, also aided by Ana’s dart.

“ His genetic enhancements should have helped him acclimatize to different conditions, the same way they should have stopped the blood that was seeping through the shirt he’d tied across his midsection as a bandage. “

First of all, “genetic enhancements”. Second, Jack is able to acclimate to different weather very easily.

ALSO

How many times has Ana bailed his dumbass out of danger???

“ ...He made a face at the bitterness. “Any sugar?” “ “ ....“You’re a kitten, Jack,” Ana laughed. “

THIS IS FUCKING CUTE COME AT ME. I got that hc wrong Jack apparently likes sweet things if tea is too bitter for him. Fucking adorable you big punkass  funky boy.

Tangent here to talk about their banter? Like it’s so... honest? Like it’s just “these are two extremely close people who still have the fun sarcasm and are easily filling back into the role of close friends despite everything that’s happened”. It’s genuinely entertaining and I had a lot of fun reading the back and forth because it’s just fun and snarky and both have so much life to their replies. And it shows they know each other to the point that Ana knows Jack well enough that she literally drugs him because she knows he’s about to be a dumbass the minute he wakes up.

Also, proof that no one but the three of them and by extension Talon know Jack and Ana and Gabe are alive.

Jack took a trip to New York with his mother and loved the Egyptian museum as ‘his favorite part’, so that’s rly cute.

“ “We tried to find you,” Jack said somberly. “I used every resource at my disposal. Gabe even put McCree on it personally. Not a trace. Everyone else tried to convince me you were gone and that I was being irrational. But deep down I knew that you couldn’t be dead.” “

“...It turns out we couldn’t do it without you,”

“.... Don’t let this go. Don’t be like the others. They dismantled everything we spent our lives building, and then they made us into villains.”

“ “... You never were good at letting go,” Ana chided him. “Too stubborn for your own good.” “

Fucking. One of my big headcanons confirmed. That Jack and Gabe did everything in in their power to find Ana, and that Jack did not give up. If there’s something to be learned about his character from this it’s that Jack is a deeply emotional and very unforgiving character. He remembers, and he holds grudges like a motherfucker.

Even after the years, Jack was in Cairo because he believed Ana was alive and he wanted to find her.

Jack says he’s moving on and his quest is moving on but I don’t think Jack can let things go. Period. He couldn’t let go of Ana, Overwatch- his in-game lines “I’ve got a long memory”. Jack does not forget, and again, he holds grudges like a motherfucker. 

She was thought to be dead for years and yet Jack held out hope the entire time, all the way up to chasing her down in Egypt after hearing there was a vigilante there and hoping it was her. If we’re looking at canon Jack, canon Jack loves Ana deeply. She is an important person to him. Just like he loved Gabriel.

Which brings me to a big point. Jack is an angry, frustrated figure but he feels deeply. He feels so deeply for the people he’s with. Ana, Gabe, those people are so fucking important to him that the issue of Ana’s unknown fate, plus the (still only theorized) ‘betrayal’ from Gabriel, two people who were so important to him, turning to anger and vengeance would feel like the only option for him.

“ Ana read the desperation on Jack’s face. “Getting revenge for what happened won’t accomplish anything other than getting you killed.” “Maybe, but I still have to fight. Everyone else gave up, but not me.” “

This is the core of my style of characterization. If Jack lets this fight go- against Talon and Hakim and Los Muertos- he has nothing left. Jack was a soldier for the majority of his life. We know he enlisted around 18 and fought in the crisis, and led Overwatch, all adding up to about 30 years of “fighting the good fight” and something like 6 of fighting it from the shadows. At this point, giving up that fight would force him into an identity crisis, and I don’t think Jack wants to face that, so he just puts up walls against forming new bonds, and considers that, yes, he may die, but he wants to do what’s right. (it’s not healthy. There are so many times when Jack is wrong, etc, and he’ll fight you tooth and nail because he’s a stubborn jackass but he’s not a mentally healthy person)

This also supports my hc that Jack kind of blamed everyone. In that anger, Jack considered everyone at fault, and then sat on that anger and pain for years as he tried to find out what happened. He saw people either get to return to normal life, be forced into mercenary situations, or worse, and he couldn’t do anything to stop it- just try to find out what caused it and expose the people who ruined his life.

“ “Cairo and the world will suffer until we bring them all down! You have to see the bigger picture,” Jack said heatedly. “Are you even hearing yourself? You would never have made this argument before,” Ana said disapprovingly. “The way we do things matters.” “

Jack was the man who believed in saving everyone and Gabe was the bigger picture person, I think. I think Gabe did the dirty work no one else wanted because he saw what needed to be done and got it done for the greater good, even if that meant sometimes morally wrong choices in the moment. Now, Jack sees Hakim and Cairo, he sees the wrongness there and he doesn’t want to get involved because he knows Talon is Hakim’s benefactor and taking out Talon is the only true way to get rid of Hakim.

And we see that as much as he loves Ana, he is still angry and lashes out. He sees the world through a selfish view. He sees it as ‘this needs to get done and I don’t know why you don’t see it my way’ but Ana sees Cairo as she has for the time she’s been gone. Egypt is her home, she can’t see it rot under Hakim. This is her mission.

It was the sort of problem that was never Jack’s strong suit. He preferred two sides, concrete facts, and one clear, unequivocal decision.

In messy situations, Jack finds an answer, and he goes with it. And in a time when almost all his decisions are ‘messy’, Jack often has the moments between Los Muertos escaping and the grenade at Alejandra’s feet. There is what’s important now, and what’s important for the future. Deciding that Alejandra was the most important then, and then agreeing to help with Hakim, Jack is being forced to do what’s right again, and it causes him to fight against the personas of Soldier: 76 and of Strike-Commander. We hear SO much that Jack is stubborn, stubborn, stubborn, but he relents to Ana. He comes back after storming off and helps Ana take down Hakim. Hakim is the grenade at Alejandra’s feet- he cannot ignore his conscience, and here, he also knows he cannot do this without Ana.

“ He had gotten one good night’s sleep since he arrived in Cairo, and it was the first in as long as he could remember “ ...He was uneasy now. Staying in one place for too long was risky, especially now that Gabe would be looking for him. He had to move on.

Also going along with the “Jack just doesn’t stop” vein of characterization. Jack can’t stop. Especially now that Talon is very aware of his presence and that he’s coming after them.

“That’s why it’s a great photo!” laughed Jack.

cute.

So let’s get into Vincent.

Jack is gay, as confirmed by Chu. I have my issues with this reveal like I did with the Christmas comic and Tracer’s reveal. The romantic partner characters are not really, full characters. They’re stand-ins, and they’re not given a whole lot before they’re buried in the story again, but they do their job. Lena is a lesbian, and Jack is gay. This in itself makes me so happy. Because here, in this whole update, we are given a Manly Man’s Man in Jack- except that we learn he’s a deeply emotional man, struggling with trauma and mental health issues, and is so far from the picture so many people might have of a gay man. Like Lena, he isn’t defined by his sexuality, it’s just a part of him. Which is what we want. Yes, again, I have my issues with the reveal, but in the end, and if I’m deeply honest with myself, I’m happy that two mainstay characters in this game are irreversibly, wholly, completely confirmed inside and out as SAGA, and I’m happy that Jack is given that identity as someone who was open about it. Ana apparently knew Vincent well enough that she recognizes him from an old photo.

But in that vein, we get the fact that they’re separated, and that once upon a time Jack “I’ll never stop fighting” Morrison wanted to settle down in the quiet life with his then-boyfriend, and openly talked about that, at least with Ana if not others. Again, we’re given the image that Jack as a younger man was a very openly emotional, connected, and caring figure. Someone who loved the people he was close to dearly and showed that.

“At least you and Gabe managed to have families.”

Another one of those hcs I’m ding-ding at, Jack did not really engage in relationships as Strike-Commander. Whether or not he tried we don’t know, but he didn’t ‘manage’ to have a family, or connections beyond platonic love for people like Ana, and Gabe, and likely others. But it also ties into that resentment and anger he’s been nursing for so long. It’s not a kind remark. Not mean or hateful, just, kind of unnecessary.

“I just thought my mask was scary.” Jack smiled.

What a fucking dork.

In all. I’m happy. I’m so happy to see Jack confirmed as gay, I’d love to know more about Vincent, I’d love to see where this all goes, and I love that we have a continuation, more lore for Ana, and more personality for both of them- seeing these softer sides of the ghosts.

That being said, I’m happy with the s76 lore we have. I love him, he’s my dude, but we need lore on literally anyone else. I would be happy if their story was either on pause for the next however long or working in the background while other characters got their stories and their time in the spotlight. I want to see Zen, Lucio, Zarya, the Junkers. They need to be fleshed out. They need to be fully realized.

[hwu-adventures-blog]

Late night visitation- Sinclaire x MC

A/N: after chapter 5 of book 2, it made me think of what could the Duke do to punish the MC (because it’s the 19th century and men did punish their wives or potential wives for that kind of behaviour) and whilst I was thinking about it (i thought up of several things) and looking through my computer and found this fic i’d written months ago and i forgot to post. so touching it up with more reference to the more chapter 5 here it is. is probably not going to happen though- it’s just what I thought could be the worst outcome for the mc. 

Description: Beatrice Morse is stuck at Edgewater following her escape to Grovershire and is in a predicament nobody would want. but when a certain someone pops by to visit, her evening seems to get immediately better will it stay that way?  

song inspiration:  Neverland- Finding Neverland Orignal cast recording

Lady Beatrice Morse of Edgewater estate was bored. Sat in her room on her bed, forbidden by her ‘fiancé’ to even walk out in the gardens a curfew was put in place by him to prevent her running off to avoid the wedding- again. In fact he’d taken so many measures that she felt like she was a prisoner in her own home. She’d grown tired of reading, and sewing and making arrangements for her ‘special day’ and as much as she liked and respected her friends- she’s grown especially tired of Miss Sutton’s gossiping- she wanted freedom. However since she had nothing else to do she was writing more invitations to the wedding she did not want. She sighed as she wrote the following sentence for the thousandth time that day

‘you are invited to the union of Tristan Richards, Duke of Karlington and Lady Beatrice Morse of Edgewater estate’  

Beatrice paused and looked at the window how she wished she could climb out again using her duvets and run to Ledford Park and into the arms of the master of the property mentioned. Her heart ached as she thought of the man she loved but would never be able to have, his blue eyes haunted her memory like a ghost as did the rare smile he reserved for her and how he’d look at her with such adoration every time they were together. But alas, it could never be- because her grandmother had engaged her to that- that- monster and to make matters much worse her true love was practically forbidden by the Duke to even set foot on Edgewater soil- let alone speak to her.  it was absolute torture. She put down her papers and climbed under the covers of her bed to sleep, knowing that Ernest would be there in her dreams to comfort her. she drifted to a dreamless sleep.

The lady of Edgewater was woken by a light tap on her window. She sat up confused thinking she was hearing something but then there was another tap- she turned her head to the window and she realised it was some pebbles being thrown at her window. whilst initially confused, she soon realised there was one person who would go out of his way to see her at this hour , so She got out of bed and ran to the window- looking out she opened it.

“throwing stones at my window? that’s not how you get my attention- good sir” 

“I do not need to get your attention Lady Beatrice for I already have it” the man on the ground said

“Ernest, you’re not supposed to be here, if the duke finds out he’ll have your head”

“I just had to see you”

“and I wished to see you”

“the gardens are quite remarkable at night- would you care to visit them with me?”

“I would love too but- I cannot- it’s too risky to climb out in the dark on my own with my condition- the slightest fall means I could die from bleeding internally”

“no matter- I’ll come to you”

“pardon?” she asked confused

“throw down the rope you made of sheets”

Beatrice did  what she was told and threw over the bedsheet rope she had made to escape her room when she was locked in by the countess, tying it to the windowsill and Ernest began to climb up. Beatrice put on her blue silk dressing gown to at least make herself decent. Ernest reached the top and climbed through the widow and into her room.  

“you are quite mad Mr Sinclaire” Beatrice stated

“and I believe you are the source of that madness Lady Beatrice” Ernest replied a little out of breath from the climb

Beatrice let out a small laugh before pulling him close and kissing him. Ernest melts instantly into the kiss, pouring all the emotions he had into it, the longing, the happiness to see her again, the anger towards the duke, the love he had for her, everything, they eventually pull away breathless and Ernest rested his forehead to hers.  

“I’ve missed you Ernest Sinclaire”

“and I you Beatrice Morse”

“I have so much I wish to say”

“in so little time”

Ernest pulled away from her

“I hate that the duke is doing this to you”

“I want nothing to do with that monster”

“he’s the devil”

“I wish we could run away together”

“if we did- where would we go?”

“I was thinking we could get married in Scotland and then move to my mother’s house in Grovershire and live there”

“I would be up to that as long as I was with you- however, if you gave that up your claim to Edgewater then it would fall to your stepmother and Mr Marlcaster”

“I don’t care- I’d be happy if I just had you”

“you already own my heart Beatrice- completely and truly”  

“what do we do?”

“we’ll think of something”

There was a pause and Ernest noticed something in his secret fiancée’s eyes, anger at the duke and worry- about her fate- being betrothed to the man who almost assaulted her was the worst outcome imaginable and he could tell she was worried about not being freed from his grasp and losing what she had with him to the duke. He decided to try and give his best attempt to cheer her up  

“I do wish we were already married to each other” he said

“why?”

“there are certain desires only a  married man can do and-”

Beatrice suddenly felt herself going red in the face and Ernest chuckled

“I do believe that is one of the only times I have managed to make you blush”

“you shouldn’t be talking like that- it’s most ungentlemanly like”

“my apologies lady Beatrice”

“apology accepted Mr Sinclaire- I’m clearly a terrible influence on you”

“I’m not going to dispute that claim”

Beatrice gave him a mock glare of disapproval

“you’re a very good influence on me Miss Morse” Ernest smiled at her softly

Beatrice let out a laugh- one that is too loud- and there was suddenly a knock causing both of their heads to snap towards the door

“Beatrice what are you doing in there? I heard noises” her grandmother’s voice sounded through the door.

“oh nothing Grandmother”

“mind if I come in?”

“can’t it wait until the morning?”

“no it cannot”

Beatrice looked at Ernest

“under there” she indicated to her bed

“really?”

“do you want to get caught?”

“no”

“Beatrice!” her grandmother called

“one moment!”

Ernest crawled under the bed and Beatrice hurried to the door- she turned the key and sat down on her bed

“come in”

Dominque, the dowger countess walked in along with Duke Richards and Briar  

“Beatrice are you alright? I heard voices” Briar said

“we all heard voices” Duke Richards said looking very suspiciously at Beatrice

“oh no it was just me- talking to myself- practising what I’m going to say” Beatrice said

“there was laughter” the duke said

“I though of something amusing that Miss Parsons had said earlier and it made me laugh again”

“now Beatrice- the duke has decided to pull the date forwards a week” the Dowager countess said

Beatrice froze- no- that can’t be right-he can’t do that

“oh. Why?”

“he thought the sooner it happens the better it would be for Edgewater and I have say I agree with that notion” the dowager countess said  

“but-“

“then you can be the countess of Edgewater sooner”

“but- the date was set for six weeks- it can’t change”

“Beatrice it’s for your best interest that this is happening” Henrietta said a wicked smile upon her face

“but-“

“we will discuss it more in the morning” the Dowager countess said

“of course, Lady grandmother” Beatrice sighed in defeat

“goodnight my wife” The Duke smiled

“I am not your wife!”

the duke and the Dowager countess leave the room nodding at each other- Briar stayed for a moment

“how could they do that?”

“we’ll find a way to get out of this- I shall speak to Mr Woods and Mr Marlcaster if you like”

“what can they do?”

“I don’t know but you have our support- you’ll marry the duke when hell freezes over

“Briar- this can’t be happening”

“try and get some sleep Beatrice- you’ll be able to think of something in the morning”

“I don’t think I will Briar”

“that’s why I said try”

“I should probably listen to my best friend even if I don’t listen to lady grandmother or the Duke”

“I’m glad you still take my advice”

“I always do Briar”

“I should go back to my night duties- good night Beatrice”

“goodnight Briar”

She turned and walks to the door and pauses before smiling

“goodnight Mr Sinclaire”

“Briar!” Beatrice exclaimed a little confused at how she knew that Ernest was there  

Beatrice’s best friend giggles and leaves the room to continue with her night duties before bed.

Ernest climbed out from under her bed

“how did she know I was there?”

“Briar has her ways of knowing”

Ernest stood up and sat down on the edge of her bed

“Beatrice- are you alright?”

“no- of course I am not”

“Briar seems to have a good plan made out”

“but that might fail! I have weeks until I’m Duchess Richards- the duke’s wife! something I do not wish to be Ernest- and I’ll never be able to see you again!”  

“nothing is set in stone”

“but it seems like it is”

“nothing is Beatrice- but I know that he won’t win”

“how do you know”

“because I can only see a future where you and I are married with three children playing in the gardens of both Edgewater and Ledford Park”

“three?”

“three- Vincent, Mary and George”

“why George? Why not after your parents?”

“named after our current regent and future king-it’s a popular choice my parents names are the second names of our first two children”

Beatrice smiled at Ernest knowing that he could see a future together was of some comfort to her.

“but how are we going to achieve it?”

“we’ll think of something- I’m certain of it”

“something that doesn’t include murder of most of my remaining family and the duke?”

“I may have to make a few adjustments to my current plan to avoid arrest and certain public execution” Ernest joked

“Ernest!”

“we’ll think of something that doesn’t involve the murder of your potential future husband and your grandmother- besides you still have the countess doing her bit and quite frankly I’m thankful she’s on our side”

“something in that short amount of time?”

“something that is done in that amount of time”

“we could run away to Scotland and get married there?”

There’s a pause from Ernest as if the suggestion she had made a few minutes ago and he had shot down for her family legacy at Edgewater’s sake had suddenly become a serious thought

“that’ll be our last resort” Ernest says to her

“at this point in time I don’t even care about Edgewater’s future- I was happy back in Grovershire without the duke”

“I know and we’ll have that happiness again”

Beatrice couldn’t wait any longer and pulled him in for another kiss breaking away she whispered

“you know I love you Ernest”

“I love you too Beatrice and yet I don’t say it enough”

“I’m certain if you could you’d say it a lot more”

“I would say it every day if I could, and one day I will be able to”

Beatrice smiled slightly at her true love, looking up into his eyes and knew everything was going to be alright. eventually, after what felt like hours but was only mere minutes, Ernest spoke again

“now, I feel I should take my leave- I do not wish to risk your reputation or safety for that matter any longer no matter of how much time I wish to spend with you”

“you must come back soon though the thought of not being with you is awful and-”

“I promise I will return whenever you wish me to”

The pair walked back to the window and Ernest pulled Beatrice into a tight embrace and Beatrice took in the familiar smell of Ernest that she’d become used too in her short time at Edgewater.

“we’ll be together- we’ll find a way, I won’t let anything bad happen to you ever”

Beatrice pulled away reluctantly and Ernest climbed back out of the window grabbing hold of the bedsheet rope but stopped before he went down- Beatrice sat down on the window seat and leaned down to kiss Ernest goodbye- it was a quick one and Ernest had to grip tighter to the robe so he wouldn’t fall- but it was worth it. pulling back from the kiss, Ernest took her hand and placed it to his lips as a goodbye and she smiled at him as he climbed back down, reaching the ground in seconds flat. He looked up at her one last time, she waved goodbye to him with a look telling him that she was his, and Ernest, climbing back onto the surprisingly quiet horse he had acquired to ride there, with a smile that made Beatrice’s heart melt and a nod to say goodbye embarked on the ride to Ledford park, both of them knowing that they’ll always have each other, no matter what will pass.  

A/N: the children’s names are a reference to the fanfic series I have on going about Ernest and Beatrice raising a family (part 1 here: A Premature Surprise). also i’m writing part five of that series but i’m stuck with writers block so it may be a while before that happens. also people in the regency era could only get married with three weeks notice given to the bishop and they were fairly quick to do so with little planning which is where the date being moved up was brought up in the conversation. anyway, thanks for reading!  

[casscutting]

2020 Most Anticipated Releases... So Far!

I know this week was supposed to be dedicated to TIP and Tricks but last week was a shit show for my family. Sometime in the early morning of the 20th, my mom’s sister passed away in her home then this past Saturday our only means of transportation stopped working and there’s nothing we can do to get it working again. So I needed something easy to post about. So here are my 2020 most anticipated releases thus far lol. I only put thus far because I don’t know EVERY book coming out in a given year so these are the ones I know about.

*NOTE if it is a sequel I won’t give a synopsis but each book is linked to Goodreads

My number 1 most anticipated may not be coming out this year but if it is it’s The Savior's Sister by Jenna Moreci

Come Tumbling Down (Wayward Children, #5) January 7th 2020 by Seanan McGuire

The Memory of Souls (A Chorus of Dragons, #3) August 25th 2020 by Jenn Lyons

The Unspoken Name (The Serpent Gates, #1) February 11th 2020 by A. K. Larkwood

What if you knew how and when you will die?

Csorwe does — she will climb the mountain, enter the Shrine of the Unspoken, and gain the most honored title: sacrifice.

But on the day of her foretold death, a powerful mage offers her a new fate. Leave with him, and live. Turn away from her destiny and her god to become a thief, a spy, an assassin—the wizard's loyal sword. Topple an empire, and help him reclaim his seat of power.

But Csorwe will soon learn – gods remember, and if you live long enough, all debts come due.

The Shadows Between Us February 25th 2020 by Tricia Levenseller

Alessandra is tired of being overlooked, but she has a plan to gain power:

1) Woo the Shadow King. 2) Marry him. 3) Kill him and take his kingdom for herself.

No one knows the extent of the freshly crowned Shadow King’s power. Some say he can command the shadows that swirl around him to do his bidding. Others say they speak to him, whispering the thoughts of his enemies. Regardless, Alessandra knows what she deserves, and she’s going to do everything within her power to get it.

But Alessandra’s not the only one trying to kill the king. As attempts on his life are made, she finds herself trying to keep him alive long enough for him to make her his queen—all while struggling not to lose her heart. After all, who better for a Shadow King than a cunning, villainous queen?

The Gilded Ones (Deathless #1) May 26th 2020 by Namina Forna

Sixteen-year-old Deka lives in fear and anticipation of the blood ceremony that will determine whether she will become a member of her village. Already different from everyone else because of her unnatural intuition, Deka prays for red blood so she can finally feel like she belongs.

But on the day of the ceremony, her blood runs gold, the color of impurity--and Deka knows she will face a consequence worse than death.

Then a mysterious woman comes to her with a choice: stay in the village and submit to her fate, or leave to fight for the emperor in an army of girls just like her. They are called alaki--near-immortals with rare gifts. And they are the only ones who can stop the empire's greatest threat.

Knowing the dangers that lie ahead yet yearning for acceptance, Deka decides to leave the only life she's ever known. But as she journeys to the capital to train for the biggest battle of her life, she will discover that the great walled city holds many surprises. Nothing and no one are quite what they seem to be--not even Deka herself.

Scavenge the Stars (Scavenge the Stars #1)  January 7th 2020 by Tara Sim

When Amaya rescues a mysterious stranger from drowning, she fears her rash actions have earned her a longer sentence on the debtor ship where she’s been held captive for years. Instead, the man she saved offers her unimaginable riches and a new identity, setting Amaya on a perilous course through the coastal city-state of Moray, where old-world opulence and desperate gamblers collide.

Amaya wants one thing: revenge against the man who ruined her family and stole the life she once had. But the more entangled she becomes in this game of deception—and as her path intertwines with the son of the man she’s plotting to bring down—the more she uncovers about the truth of her past. And the more she realizes she must trust no one…

Where Dreams Descend (Kingdom of Cards #1) June 2nd 2020 by Janella Angeles

In a city covered in ice and ruin, a group of magicians face off in a daring game of magical feats to find the next headliner of the Conquering Circus, only to find themselves under the threat of an unseen danger striking behind the scenes.

As each act becomes more and more risky and the number of missing magicians piles up, three are forced to reckon with their secrets before the darkness comes for them next.

The Star: Kallia, a powerful showgirl out to prove she’s the best no matter the cost

The Master: Jack, the enigmatic keeper of the club, and more than one lie told

The Magician: Demarco, the brooding judge with a dark past he can no longer hide

Where Dreams Descend is the startling and romantic first book in Janella Angeles’ debut Kingdom of Cards fantasy duology where magic is both celebrated and feared, and no heart is left unscathed.

The Kingdom of Back March 3rd 2020 by Marie Lu

Two siblings. Two brilliant talents. But only one Mozart.

Born with a gift for music, Nannerl Mozart has just one wish—to be remembered forever. But even as she delights audiences with her masterful playing, she has little hope she'll ever become the acclaimed composer she longs to be. She is a young woman in 18th century Europe, and that means composing is forbidden to her. She will perform only until she reaches a marriageable age—her tyrannical father has made that much clear.

And as Nannerl's hope grows dimmer with each passing year, the talents of her beloved younger brother, Wolfgang, only seem to shine brighter. His brilliance begins to eclipse her own, until one day a mysterious stranger from a magical land appears with an irresistible offer. He has the power to make her wish come true—but his help may cost her everything.

Set Fire to the Gods (Set Fire to the Gods #1) August 4th 2020 by Sara Raasch

Ash is descended from a long line of gladiators, and she knows the brutal nature of war firsthand. But after her mother dies in an arena, she vows to avenge her by overthrowing her fire god, whose temper has stripped her country of its resources.

Madoc grew up fighting on the streets to pay his family's taxes. But he hides a dangerous secret: he doesn't have the earth god’s powers like his opponents. His elemental gift is something else—something that hasn't been seen in centuries.

When an attempted revenge plot goes dangerously wrong, Ash inadvertently throws the fire and earth gods into a conflict that can only be settled by deadly, lavish gladiator games. The fights put Madoc in Ash's path, and she realizes that his powers are the weapon her rebellion needs—but Madoc won’t jeopardize his family, regardless of how intrigued he is by the beautiful warrior.

But when the gods force Madoc’s hand, he and Ash uncover an ancient war that will threaten more than one immortal—it will unravel the world.

Goddess in the Machine (Goddess in the Machine #1) June 30th 2020 by Lora Beth Johnson

When Andra wakes up, she’s drowning.

Not only that, but she’s in a hot, dirty cave, it’s the year 3102, and everyone keeps calling her Goddess. When Andra went into a cryonic sleep for a trip across the galaxy, she expected to wake up in a hundred years, not a thousand. Worst of all, the rest of the colonists–including her family and friends–are dead. They died centuries ago, and for some reason, their descendants think Andra’s a deity. She knows she’s nothing special, but she’ll play along if it means she can figure out why she was left in stasis and how to get back to Earth.

Zhade, the exiled bastard prince of Eerensed, has other plans. Four years ago, the sleeping Goddess’s glass coffin disappeared from the palace, and Zhade devoted himself to finding it. Now he’s hoping the Goddess will be the key to taking his rightful place on the throne–if he can get her to play her part, that is. Because if his people realize she doesn’t actually have the power to save their dying planet, they’ll kill her.

With a vicious monarch on the throne and a city tearing apart at the seams, Zhade and Andra might never be able to unlock the mystery of her fate, let alone find a way to unseat the king, especially since Zhade hasn’t exactly been forthcoming with Andra. And a thousand years from home, is there any way of knowing that Earth is better than the planet she’s woken to?

Incendiary (Hollow Crown #1) April 28th 2020 by Zoraida Córdova

Renata Convida was only a child when she was kidnapped by the King's Justice and brought to the luxurious palace of Andalucia. As a Robari, the rarest and most feared of the magical Moria, Renata's ability to steal memories from royal enemies enabled the King's Wrath, a siege that resulted in the deaths of thousands of her own people.

Now Renata is one of the Whispers, rebel spies working against the crown and helping the remaining Moria escape the kingdom bent on their destruction. The Whispers may have rescued Renata from the palace years ago, but she cannot escape their mistrust and hatred--or the overpowering memories of the hundreds of souls she turned "hollow" during her time in the palace.

When Dez, the commander of her unit, is taken captive by the notorious Sangrado Prince, Renata will do anything to save the boy whose love makes her place among the Whispers bearable. But a disastrous rescue attempt means Renata must return to the palace under cover and complete Dez's top secret mission. Can Renata convince her former captors that she remains loyal, even as she burns for vengeance against the brutal, enigmatic prince? Her life and the fate of the Moria depend on it.

But returning to the palace stirs childhood memories long locked away. As Renata grows more deeply embedded in the politics of the royal court, she uncovers a secret in her past that could change the entire fate of the kingdom--and end the war that has cost her everything.

Red Hood February 25th 2020 by Elana K. Arnold

You are alone in the woods, seen only by the unblinking yellow moon. Your hands are empty. You are nearly naked.

And the wolf is angry.

Since her grandmother became her caretaker when she was four years old, Bisou Martel has lived a quiet life in a little house in Seattle. She’s kept mostly to herself. She’s been good. But then comes the night of homecoming, when she finds herself running for her life over roots and between trees, a fury of claws and teeth behind her. A wolf attacks. Bisou fights back. A new moon rises. And with it, questions. About the blood in Bisou’s past and on her hands as she stumbles home. About broken boys and vicious wolves. About girls lost in the woods—frightened, but not alone.

A Song of Wraiths and Ruin (A Song of Wraiths and Ruin #1) June 2nd 2020 by Roseanne A. Brown

The first in an immersive fantasy duology inspired by West African folklore in which a grieving crown princess and a desperate refugee find themselves on a collision course to murder each other despite their growing attraction—from debut author Roseanne A. Brown. Perfect for fans of Tomi Adeyemi, Renée Ahdieh, and Sabaa Tahir.

For Malik, the Solstasia festival is a chance to escape his war-stricken home and start a new life with his sisters in the prosperous desert city of Ziran. But when a vengeful spirit abducts Malik’s younger sister, Nadia, as payment into the city, Malik strikes a fatal deal—kill Karina, Crown Princess of Ziran, for Nadia’s freedom.

But Karina has deadly aspirations of her own. Her mother, the Sultana, has been assassinated; her court threatens mutiny; and Solstasia looms like a knife over her neck. Grief-stricken, Karina decides to resurrect her mother through ancient magic . . . requiring the beating heart of a king. And she knows just how to obtain one: by offering her hand in marriage to the victor of the Solstasia competition.

When Malik rigs his way into the contest, they are set on a heart-pounding course to destroy each other. But as attraction flares between them and ancient evils stir, will they be able to see their tasks to the death?

The Queen's Assassin (Queen's Secret #1) February 4th 2020 by Melissa de la Cruz

Caledon Holt is the Kingdom of Renovia's deadliest weapon. No one alive can best him in brawn or brains, which is why he's the Guild's most dangerous member and the Queen's one and only assassin. He's also bound to the Queen by an impossible vow--to find the missing Deian Scrolls, the fount of all magical history and knowledge, stolen years ago by a nefarious sect called the Aphrasians.

Shadow has been training all her life to follow in the footsteps of her mother and aunts--to become skilled enough to join the ranks of the Guild. Though magic has been forbidden since the Aphrasian uprising, Shadow has been learning to control her powers in secret, hoping that one day she'll become an assassin as feared and revered as Caledon Holt.

When a surprise attack brings Shadow and Cal together, they're forced to team up as assassin and apprentice to hunt down a new sinister threat to Renovia. But as Cal and Shadow grow closer, they'll uncover a shocking web of lies and secrets that may destroy everything they hold dear. With war on the horizon and true love at risk, they'll stop at nothing to protect each other and their kingdom in this stunning first novel in the Queen's Secret series.

Witches of Ash and Ruin March 3rd 2020 by E. Latimer

Seventeen-year-old Dayna Walsh is struggling to cope with her somatic OCD; the aftermath of being outed as bisexual in her conservative Irish town; and the return of her long-absent mother, who barely seems like a parent. But all that really matters to her is ascending and finally, finally becoming a full witch-plans that are complicated when another coven, rumored to have a sordid history with black magic, arrives in town with premonitions of death. Dayna immediately finds herself at odds with the bewitchingly frustrating Meiner King, the granddaughter of their coven leader.

And then a witch turns up murdered at a local sacred site, along with the blood symbol of the Butcher of Manchester-an infamous serial killer whose trail has long gone cold. The killer's motives are enmeshed in a complex web of witches and gods, and Dayna and Meiner soon find themselves at the center of it all. If they don't stop the Butcher, one of them will be next.

With razor-sharp prose and achingly real characters, E. Latimer crafts a sweeping, mesmerizing story of dark magic and brutal mythology set against a backdrop of contemporary Ireland that's impossible to put down.

All These Monsters (Monsters #1) July 7th 2020 by Amy Tintera

Seventeen-year-old Clara is ready to fight back. Fight back against her abusive father, fight back against the only life she’s ever known, and most of all, fight back against scrabs, the earth-dwelling monsters that are currently ravaging the world. So when an opportunity arises for Clara to join an international monster-fighting squad, she jumps at the chance.

When Clara starts training with her teammates, however, she realizes what fighting monsters really means: sore muscles, exhaustion, and worst of all, death. Scrabs are unpredictable, violent, and terrifying. But as Clara gains confidence in her battle skills, she starts to realize scrabs might not be the biggest evil. The true monsters are the ones you least expect.

Ghost Wood Song July 21st 2020 by Erica Waters

If I could have a fiddle made of Daddy’s bones, I’d play it. I’d learn all the secrets he kept.

Shady Grove inherited her father’s ability to call ghosts from the grave with his fiddle, but she also knows the fiddle’s tunes bring nothing but trouble and darkness.

But when her brother is accused of murder, she can’t let the dead keep their secrets.

In order to clear his name, she’s going to have to make those ghosts sing.

Family secrets, a gorgeously resonant LGBTQ love triangle, and just the right amount of creepiness make this young adult debut a haunting and hopeful story about facing everything that haunts us in the dark.

Cemetery Boys June 9th 2020 by Aiden Thomas

Yadriel has summoned a ghost, and now he can’t get rid of him.

When his traditional Latinx family has problems accepting his gender, Yadriel becomes determined to prove himself a real brujo. With the help of his cousin and best friend Maritza, he performs the ritual himself, and then sets out to find the ghost of his murdered cousin and set it free.

However, the ghost he summons is actually Julian Diaz, the school’s resident bad boy, and Julian is not about to go quietly into death. He’s determined to find out what happened and tie up some loose ends before he leaves. Left with no choice, Yadriel agrees to help Julian, so that they can both get what they want. But the longer Yadriel spends with Julian, the less he wants to let him leave.

The Princess Will Save You (The Princess Will Save You #1) July 7th 2020 by Sarah Henning

A PRINCESS A STABLE BOY A QUEST

When her father dies, Princess Amarande is given an ultimatum: Marry the leader of one of the four neighboring kingdoms, or lose her crown—and possibly her life. And to force her hand, her beloved, the stable boy Luca, is kidnapped.

But Amarande was raised to be a warrior, not a sacrifice.

And nothing will stop her from saving her true love and rescuing her kingdom.

The acclaimed author of Sea Witch turns the classic damsel-in-distress tale on its head with this story of adventure, identity, and love.

House of Dragons (House of Dragons #1) May 12th 2020 by Jessica Cluess

Five royal houses will hear the call to compete in the Trial for the dragon throne. A liar, a soldier, a servant, a thief, and a murderer will answer it. Who will win? Think THREE DARK CROWNS meets THE BREAKFAST CLUB with DRAGONS.

When the Emperor dies, the five royal houses of Etrusia attend the Call, where one of their own will be selected to compete for the throne. It is always the oldest child, the one who has been preparing for years to compete in the Trial. But this year is different. This year, these five outcasts will answer the call....

THE LIAR: Emilia must hide her dark magic or be put to death.

THE SOLDIER: Lucian is a warrior who has sworn to never lift a sword again.

THE SERVANT: Vespir is a dragon trainer whose skills alone will keep her in the game.

THE THIEF: Ajax knows that nothing is free--he must take what he wants.

THE MURDERER: Hyperia was born to rule and will stop at nothing to take her throne.

Cinderella Is Dead July 7th 2020 by Kalynn Bayron

It’s 200 years after Cinderella found her prince, but the fairy tale is over. Teen girls are now required to appear at the Annual Ball, where the men of the kingdom select wives based on a girl’s display of finery. If a suitable match is not found, the girls not chosen are never heard from again.

Sixteen-year-old Sophia would much rather marry Erin, her childhood best friend, than parade in front of suitors. At the ball, Sophia makes the desperate decision to flee, and finds herself hiding in Cinderella’s mausoleum. There, she meets Constance, the last known descendant of Cinderella and her step sisters. Together they vow to bring down the king once and for all–and in the process, they learn that there’s more to Cinderella’s story than they ever knew . . .

This fresh take on a classic story will make readers question the tales they’ve been told, and root for girls to break down the constructs of the world around them.

Shielded (Shielded #1) July 21st 2020 by KayLynn Flanders

The kingdom of Hálendi is in trouble. It's losing the war at its borders, and rumors of a new, deadlier threat on the horizon have surfaced. Princess Jennesara knows her skills on the battlefield would make her an asset and wants to help, but her father has other plans.

As the second-born heir to the throne, Jenna lacks the firstborn's--her brother's--magical abilities, so the king promises her hand in marriage to the prince of neighboring Turia in exchange for resources Hálendi needs. Jenna must leave behind everything she has ever known if she is to give her people a chance at peace.

Only, on the journey to reach her betrothed and new home, the royal caravan is ambushed, and Jenna realizes the rumors were wrong--the new threat is worse than anyone imagined. Now Jenna must decide if revealing a dangerous secret is worth the cost before it's too late--for her and for her entire kingdom.

The Seventh Sun (The Age of the Seventh Sun #1) February 18th 2020 by Lani Forbes

Thrust into leadership upon the death of his emperor father, young Prince Ahkin feels completely unready for his new position. Though his royal blood controls the power of the sun, he's now responsible for the lives of all the Chicome people. And despite all Ahkin's efforts, the sun is fading--and the end of the world may be at hand.

For Mayana, the only daughter of the Chicome family whose blood controls the power of water, the old emperor's death may mean that she is next. Prince Ahkin must be married before he can ascend the throne, and Mayana is one of six noble daughters presented to him as a possible wife. Those who are not chosen will be sacrificed to the gods.

Only one girl can become Ahkin's bride. Mayana and Ahkin feel an immediate connection, but the gods themselves may be against them. Both recognize that the ancient rites of blood that keep the gods appeased may be harming the Chicome more than they help. As a bloodred comet and the fading sun bring a growing sense of dread, only two young people may hope to change their world.

Rich in imagination and romance, and based on the legends and history of the Aztec and Maya people, The Seventh Sun brings to vivid life a world on the edge of apocalyptic disaster.

Of Silver and Shadow May 26th 2020 by Jennifer Gruenke

Ren Kolins is a silver wielder—a dangerous thing to be in the kingdom of Erdis, where magic has been outlawed for a century. Ren is just trying to survive, sticking to a life of petty thievery, card games, and pit fighting to get by. But when a wealthy rebel leader discovers her secret, he offers her a fortune to join his revolution. The caveat: she won’t see a single coin until they overthrow the King.

Behind the castle walls, a brutal group of warriors known as the King’s Children is engaged in a competition: the first to find the rebel leader will be made King’s Fang, the right hand of the King of Erdis. And Adley Farre is hunting down the rebels one by one, torturing her way to Ren and the rebel leader, and the coveted King’s Fang title.

But time is running out for all of them, including the youngest Prince of Erdis, who finds himself pulled into the rebellion. Political tensions have reached a boiling point, and Ren and the rebels must take the throne before war breaks out.

Kingdom of the Wicked (Kingdom of the Wicked #1) September 15th 2020 by Kerri Maniscalco

Emilia and her twin sister Victoria are strega - witches who live secretly among humans, avoiding notice and persecution. One night, Victoria misses dinner service at the family's renowned Sicilian restaurant. Emilia soon finds the body of her beloved twin...desecrated beyond belief. Devastated, Emilia sets out to discover who did this, and to seek vengeance at any cost—even if it means using dark magic that’s been long forbidden.

Then Emilia meets Wrath, the outlier among the seven demon brethren, always choosing duty over pleasure. He’s been tasked by his master with investigating a series of women’s murders on the island. When Emilia and Wrath’s fates collide, it’s clear this disturbing mystery will take a bewitching turn...

The Frost Eater (The Magic Eaters Trilogy #1) January 28th 2020 by Carol Beth Anderson

A lonely princess. A flying teen. A kidnapped girl who only remembers what happens at night.

Seventeen-year-old Princess Nora is a frost eater who creates magical ice. Her royal life is luxurious but stifling.

Krey West has a rare magical talent: when he eats feathers, he can fly. His one goal is to find his missing girlfriend, Zeisha. He thinks someone in power abducted her.

Krey’s daring feats of magic earn him an invitation to the palace. Craving adventure and friendship, Nora offers to help him find Zeisha. He’s desperate enough to accept—though he hates the monarchy.

The truth is more terrible than they could imagine.

Every night, Zeisha wakes in a dark room full of sleeping people, unable to remember what she did in the light. Her dreams provide violent glimpses into her forgotten days.

If Krey and Nora can’t save her, Zeisha may lose herself forever.

A Wicked Magic  July 28th 2020 by Sasha Laurens

Dan and Liss are witches. The Black Book granted them that power. Harnessing that power feels good, especially when everything in their lives makes them feel powerless.

During a spell gone wrong, Liss's boyfriend is snatched away by an evil entity and presumed dead. Dan and Liss's friendship dies that night, too. How can they practice magic after the darkness that they conjured?

Months later, Liss discovers that her boyfriend is alive, trapped underground in the grips of an ancient force. She must save him, and she needs Dan and the power of The Black Book to do so. Dan is quickly sucked back into Liss's orbit and pushes away her best friend, Alexa. But Alexa has some big secrets she's hiding and her own unique magical disaster to deal with.

When another teenager disappears, the girls know it's no coincidence. What greedy magic have they awakened? And what does it want with these teens it has stolen?

Set in the atmospheric wilds of California's northern coast, Sasha Laurens's thrilling debut novel is about the complications of friendship, how to take back power, and how to embrace the darkness that lives within us all.

Ink in the Blood (Ink in The Blood #1) February 11th 2020 by Kim Smejkal

Celia Sand and her best friend, Anya Burtoni, are inklings for the esteemed religion of Profeta. Using magic, they tattoo followers with beautiful images that represent the Divine’s will and guide the actions of the recipients. It’s considered a noble calling, but ten years into their servitude Celia and Anya know the truth: Profeta is built on lies, the tattooed orders strip away freedom, and the revered temple is actually a brutal, torturous prison.

Their opportunity to escape arrives with the Rabble Mob, a traveling theater troupe. Using their inkling abilities for performance instead of propaganda, Celia and Anya are content for the first time . . . until they realize who followed them. The Divine they never believed in is very real, very angry, and determined to use Celia, Anya, and the Rabble Mob’s now-infamous stage to spread her deceitful influence even further.

To protect their new family from the wrath of a malicious deity and the zealots who work in her name, Celia and Anya must unmask the biggest lie of all—Profeta itself.