#woman with a husband that keeps her well and makes her feel clever and who is lighthearted and good parties

[fred-the-dinosaur]

The biphobes: whyy is Devon Severance dating such an awful guy, thank god she's bisexual she should just leave him for a womannnnh

The 'irredeemable' man:

well off

writes shitty self help books

doesn't stand up to lumon

kind-intentioned, but ultimately a selfcentred prick

pretentious

The woman she textually wants:

straight up rich. Like, attending galas rich

Evil senators wife

working with lumon to spread severance and erode human rights

created an innie just to force that person to exist only to go through childbirth and then ripped that child from them. Three times

literally met her at the uber-pretentious birthing retreat

Face it, Devon has a type, and that type is financially-stable assholes with all the moral backbone of a dead snail

[sleepincrow]

someone hear me out on whipped emperor!geto and concubine!reader who was offered by her family.

the thing is youre a little clever one!

emperor suguru isnt one to usually copulate with his concubines. its really only something he 'keeps' if plans change. now, normally the man would refuse the offer but you were quite the present.

cursing out your family, you werent trying to seduce him. suguru admires your dedication to making your relatives look as bad as possible in front of the high-class.

of course, to the public's surprise, he accepted you into his palace—something you yourself werent exactly fond of.

at first, you didnt try to defy him, in fear of being beheaded by the court. you were quiet and curious, your eyes often drifting to the greenery in his garden. he treated you well, too. he laid out many books for you to read and fed you.

you'd narrow your eyes at him. it's only normal since all you can think about is how cunning and filthy this man might be. youre defensive and well-equipped with a smart mouth.

slowly, much to his dismay, you grew more defiant, often cursing out his guards and locking yourself in your room like a troubled teen. suguru would frown and knock at your door, hoping you'd come out to have dinner again, maybe even talk amongst the various flowers in his field.

its not like you hate him. maybe a little. you hate why youre here in the first place, pissed off that youre actually developing feelings for the emperor. the thought alone makes you want to throw the fat book on your desk out the window.

your behaviour only worries him more. his face expressing deep concern for his concubine, something many of the servants envied. they didnt dare to try and test you, though. they know because the first one who did was immediately harassed by your strong, hurtful words, which suguru overheard and beheaded the man.

but suguru isnt fazed by your antics. he understands, after all. all he can do is coo out 'baby' and 'princess' because he just wants to take care of you! is that so bad?

"come and eat with me, princess, please? you havent touched your food." he pleads softly like a woman weeping for her husband who's forced to go to war. he wants you to feel safe with him.

its cute really, how much you try to push him away, yelling out frantic and angry statements which he only raises a hand and waves away while trying to get you to rest against his arms.

the first time he hugs you, there was a war between the side that wanted to push him off, maybe even bite him in resistance, and the side that smelled his sweet vanilla and lavender essence, padded on his black cloth. the warmth he offered kept you against his chest as he tells you just how much he loves you.

so come stay in his arms, yeah?

[lauramkaye]

Hot take on a 200-year-old book

At the start of Pride and Prejudice, Darcy liked Caroline Bingley, and Caroline isn't completely irrational to think that she might get him to propose eventually.

Oh, he WON'T, not with her connections in TRADE, but it isn't so very wrong of her to have hopes of him. He doesn't like meeting new people and he's used to her because she's his friend's sister, he's had her to stay at Pemberley at least once and is now staying with her family so he must not have hated it! Plus, she has fashionable manners and appearance, she's generally fairly savvy and clever, and they have a great time being bitchy to each other about people they don't like. She's funny in a mean way and SO IS HE - "She a beauty? I'd as soon call her mother a wit." For Darcy, Caroline makes a fairly amusing person to trade zingers with, roast vulgar people, and probably to use as a shield against other husband hunters that he knows less well. I suspect that Caroline's plan when they come to Netherfield is to just keep being in his orbit, showing off her society hostess and witty one-liner skills, and eventually he'll realize he has to get on with producing an heir and will decide that as far as eligible known quantities go, better Caroline than Anne De Bourgh. (Which, I mean, at least Caroline brings more pleasant in-laws and you could actually have a conversation with her.) It's not a terrible strategy for somone as antisocial as Darcy, honestly, though I think that pre-book Darcy is okay with being FRIENDS with the Bingleys but wouldn't be polluting the shades of Pemberley with them, so to speak - that's a bridge too far for his sense of what is due to his family.

(In fact when you think about it, the way that Elizabeth and Wickham enjoy dishing dirt about Darcy is kind of a mirror of the way Darcy and Caroline start out!)

I think part of why Caroline gets so very desperate and blatant is that Darcy stops playing along with their usual games as he starts to fall for Elizabeth. It's not so funny when it's about his crush, and instead of giving back another quip about how inferior these country bumpkins are, he not only shuts her down but does it in a way that is complimentary to another woman. I think the first time he does this is at Lucas Lodge with the infamous "fine eyes" comment. You can SEE Caroline getting more and more frantic to re-establish their prior rapport and Darcy just doubling down on taking every one of her attempts and turning it into a way to say something nice about Elizabeth, to the point where by the end of the Netherfield trip he is deliberately fucking with Caroline and I think is kind of enjoying it in a "hah hah, you can dish it out but you can't take it" sort of way.

If Caroline was a little smarter and more devious - a bit more like Wickham - she would have eased off and focused her comments not on Elizabeth but on her family, especially Mrs. Bennet and Lydia, who DO behave in a way counter to propriety and good manners and are genuinely embarrassing to their better-mannered sisters. That way, she could have reinforced his feelings against the match. Continuing to push him and doubling down every time he pushed back activated his Lady Catherine-Tuned Stubbornness Circuits (aka "I am the master of Pemberley and you don't get to tell me who I can or cannot marry").

Caroline and Elizabeth are both witty and fun to talk to, but Elizabeth is witty in a playful and sweet way that doesn't offend people (even when she might WANT to, see pretty much every conversation they have at Rosings). And most important, in the long run, Caroline encourages Mr. Darcy to indulge in his worst self (much like Fanny Dashwood does to John Dashwood in Sense and Sensibility) while Elizabeth challenges and inspires him to become his best self, and that's the most important difference between them.

[xavissky]

The meaning of peace

Master of Fate AU | Zayne and his wife discuss their 3 year old daughter

1k, fluff

cw: none, while the child is present no mentions of pregnancy are discussed

Zayne knows he's blessed. He feels it in the fluttering of his heart when his wife walks in the room; when he hears the giggle of their toddler; when he feels the rustle of the sheets against his toes at the crack of dawn while their little girl tugs with all her might at the covers. He knows he's blessed. Yet, there were times he made the mistake of wishing for a little more quiet.

----

Their girl was about the developmental age of a three year old mortal. Deceptively small for a being so clever. For as shy and gentle as she was, especially with creatures like the Hua and Bai, she had exceptionally loud demands. Her fathers bamboo scrolls, his jade pendants, her mother's sashes, Bai's eyebrows. Many things fascinated her. Few things soothed her cries.

Both parents were hopeful when the first stages of her life were peaceful. She slept well, ate well, was quiet and curious. When they thought they'd made it relatively painlessly through that earliest stage of new life, this present stage had proven a challenge - even for a god.

Zayne rubbed his temple while his wife tended to another discipline. Ink splattered all over her face. A simple accident, just moments after a soft moment of family bonding - all practicing calligraphy at once. Even as they attempted to soothe her, she remained unhappy and moody for a while.

"I didn't know toddlers her age knew how to hold grudges." He commented as soon as she'd quieted down. It did pain him to see her go through it, knowing she didn't know better, knowing she didn't mean harm, knowing she didn't know how to handle those emotions she was feeling, knowing it was their job to teach her how. And yet, the only time he'd ever felt this helpless was when he was deciding how to manage his romantic feelings for his wife before they were together.

The woman laughed an exasperated laugh and kissed the girl who was blissfully ignorant now, coloring with handmade chalk.

"She's already forgotten. She'll grow out of it." Another laugh. "I give it five minutes before her next one. She has to get this from you."

Now she reached out to poke her husbands cheek, a cheeky expression on her face.

"Me?"

"Something tells me you were fussy as a child."

"I don't know where you get these delusions."

He sighed and continued to clean up the spill, saving a bit of the paper that she'd so brilliantly decorated with her ink spill. Something about it felt endearing after the frustration wore off.

"Why are you saving that?" his wife interrupted, curious.

Zayne gave her a smirk. "Toddlers aren't the only ones who can hold a grudge. I intend to show her this masterpiece when she's older, then maybe she'll be skilled enough to replace it. Restitution."

"You can't be serious. We have dozens of her actual drawings already."

"Exactly. This one's personal."

In response to his dry humor she only shook her head with a scoff and took out a fresh scroll to attempt to restart the work she'd been writing out before.

For a quiet moment, things were peaceful again.

"I'll try harder to keep her quiet," his wife started again, voice soft and soothing on his ears.

"My life hasn't been quiet ever since you stepped into my life. Tell me, you intend to keep your offspring quieter than you? Do tell."

She crumpled a bit of scrap and tossed it at him in retaliation before setting her calligraphy pen down and opening her mouth to speak again.

"I was thinking of a trip down the mountain. I could take her and show her where I used to live in the woods, we could collect things. You'll have a few days of peace."

Zayne stopped what he was doing. An unexpected pang struck his heart, making his brows furrow together. Had he complained too much? While he'd been mostly playful, mostly, and while it was true that he did wish -for his daughters sake, not just his- for things to be a little more peaceful, the last thing he wanted or needed was a plethora of it. The thought of them both alone traveling away from him made his heart ache, as if already longing for them when they hadn't even left.

Reaching out, he covered one of her hands with his own. Ever since the first time his bare hand had touched the skin on hers, he'd become addicted to her touch. This kind of small intimacy was his favorite no matter how much time had passed. A gentle hand on hand to guide the emotions, secure the heart, and steady the mind.

"You are my peace."

She rose her eyebrows as if in disbelief. He squeezed her hand tighter. "You and her together. Don't take it away from me."

Seeming to understand, she smiled and patted over his hand with her other.

"If you really want to go," He said quietly, thumb stroking over hers, "we'll make it a family trip."

At this her face lit up and she nodded a few times quickly in response. "There's some pretty flowers blooming at this time of year. I think it'll be entertaining to her. We can make a scrap book."

The tone of his bone softened in reply, "If you want to know what pressed flowers look like, we can attempt tonight. There's a beautiful one I'm more interested in lately."

At first there was confusion in her gaze, and then a baffled one accompanying a beautiful shade of red.

"If you mean I still have some training left for today, show me everything, shifu."

Now the red in his complexion made him look away. Perhaps he was too bold. This only drew a laugh from her that also made his heart flutter more, as if the song and sound of it was new each time.

Their girl was already beginning to be fussy again, but he didn't mind pulling her into his arms once more.

"Your mother has quite the imagination," he said, tapping her nose. The daughter sneezed in response drawing laughs from both of them.

He knew he was blessed. His life was louder than ever, but he wouldn't have changed a thing.

[urautismdiagnosis-wistie]

Maddie 🗣

So this is kwaziis gran'momma 🥰 she doin that cat thing where they bring u a dea douse to show how much they love youuu

Tiny reward if u make it to the end

Her name is Maddie (Madeline/Maha) and she's also known as Missus Murker 🥰. She's an Iberian lynx and her family has been part of the Split Tail pirate clan for generations 💅

she is VERY LOYAL :> and she LOVES TO INSPIRE HER CREW WITH RALLYING SPEACHES AND DISPLAYS OF POWER 🗣

Very gifted at combat 💅

She met calico jack when she was 16 and found an INVADER (14 year old kitten stowaway) IN THE CARGO HOLD. Of course she IMMEDITALY POUNCED at him and shook him while DECLARING HER WILL TO DEFEND HER CREW FROM ANY FOOLISH FOOLS WHO DARE ATTEMPT TO INFILTRA-

"am I a fool then 🥺"

"Huh... ....yer not a fool... yer an idiot, arentye?"

" CanIBeYourIdiot"

"Come now?"

Anyways calico jack, then simply "Kareem" before he got his pirate nickname and identity, ended up essentially joining her crew 🥰

She realized he was kinda tiny and soft and MADE IT HER MISSION TO TEACH THE TINT IDIOT THE WAYS OF TRUE PIRACY 🗣🗣🗣

They did get to know eachother alot more during that 🥰 and calico jack actually did end up being rather clever(pirate trickery and schemes n whatnot) if a bit too soft hearted 😭

Cj very much believed in " giving mercy to whoever you can" since that was the only reason he was alive (ill tell about his backstory on another post) and maddie was >:] ???

Cuz of course you shouldn't be unnecessarily cruel and attack those who aren't part of a fight 🙏 BUT IF HENRY JUST TRIED TO CUT OF YOUR NECK YOU SHOULDNT BE TRYING TO HELP HIM GET A FRESH START.

<out of character>

Cj: "Awh but what if he didn't choose this life 🥺"

Maddie: ">:/ he literally did though, he screamed about abandoning his home for riches"

Cj: "Ok but what if he wants to live a better life and turn things around??!"

Maddie: " he literally just said he loves the feeling of bloodlust and that its worth more to him than treasure?"

Cj: ">:( WELL DONT JUST KILL HIM?! Couldn't we have him,I unno, wash the dishes??"

Maddie: "So he can try to kill us in our sleep in revenge?? No I'm killing him!!"

Cj: "THATS SO MEAN HES NOT EVEN TRYING TO KILL US ANYMORE"

Maddie: "MAYBE BECAUSE I TIED HIM TO THE SIDE OF THE SHIP?!"

Cj: ">:'[ ur really hurting me wee feelings🥺🥺🥺"

Maddie, sighing : "fine ill... throw him overboard or something 🙄 anything for u my love"

Cj: " HE'LL STILL DIE?"

Maddie: "FINE ILL GIVE HIM SOME DAMN FLOATIES!"

Anyways they love eachothwr very much and she does adore her tiny softie husband who needed to get used to violence 🙄 he may have or may have not helped her hide bodies on seperate occasions though... ALLEGEDLY

Some other tidbits about maddie was that she was very gentle with the people she cared about, practically spoiled her loved ones, whether it was her little sister, tiny husband, or Itty bitty kittens.

A very blunt and direct woman as well. Also the type to bring u the head of ur enemy, apologize about the smell, and then expect a kiss in reward 🥰

extremely fierce and brutal in battle and spirit! Very much the heart of the crew with how she could inspire them <3

...

I'll get into the how and why another time, but she unfortunately died before kwazii was born... it wasn't a sudden death and there was time, but the illness was... hard on everyone.

Maddie does haunt cj and visit him in his dreams every Tuesday to gossip with him and bully him into self care tho

Also for someone as loud and brash as she was she had a very steady head that could build very detailed miniature ships and enjoyed embroidery

If you noticed her metal claws,she was just born that way but she likes to say she lost it to a gorgeous selkie that had fallen in love with her. And that the selkie loved maddie so much that she tried to drag her down to keep her, but that maddie had to fight her (despite the selkies beauty) to return to her crew 😔

Anyways she's fantastic and I love her if yall got any questions lmk lol

Proud mama and her tiny family

[comicgeekery]

Sherlock and Shoscombe

So, after the deep dive I did with Sherlock & Co and the issues with the Case of Identity storyline, I thought it was only fair that I talk about their take on The Adventure at Shoscombe Old Place.

*Ahem*.....This was a lot of fun! I just looked up a summary of the original story because I didn't remember it well, and no wonder! It was the very last Sherlock Holmes story Doyle published, later collected into The Casebook, and thus...one of the boring ones. I'm sorry. I really don't like The Casebook stories. It's also the last batch of stories that the Doyle estate was clutching onto before Sherlock went fully into the public domain, which makes the story feel doubly tedious to me.

But! These episodes were a blast! Practically a survey of all the best parts of Sherlock & Co! There's fun banter! Heaps of character background! A really clever update to the original set-up! BRILLIANT acting and foley work! A cheeky cameo! And a truly exciting, satisfying end! I think this is the most direct information we've gotten about John's past since, well ever, but certainly since we learned about his memories of his dad. Now we know that he grew up in a very class-divided town that once felt so much bigger. And he was deeply in love once, with a woman he lost partially because of classism. (Which is such a great mirror for Beatrice and her husband's situation!) He also lost his friends because they had privileges he didn't. (Did John join the military partly as a way to get away from his roots? Out of a desperate need to be praised as a hero?)

No wonder John has so much resentment for the wealthy when it's so deeply personal. I think it's going to be comically awkward and VERY interesting when he finds out that Sherlock is mega super rich. Holmes is often theorized to be the son of a lord in canon. I figure he's at least from a wealthy family that was able to pay for him to go to tons of fancy schools. And then personal tutors. And a full-time staff that always took care of cleaning and stocking up the groceries. (For all his observation skills, I do think Sherlock grew up never considering who made his household run.) I think part of why Sherlock has been so touchy about John's anger at rich people is because Sherlock is SUPER nervous it would ruin their friendship. I am also so pumped to see what the podcast does with Mycroft! I wonder if his autism might be more limiting than Sherlock's. Like he's got the genius skills, he's got the deceptively powerful government job, but he can't handle going out into the world. Going to Baker Street would be an ordeal. Might have a full meltdown if he's not at home, work, or whatever the Diogenes Club is updated to. But.....It's hard to tell how much Sherlock & Co wants us to suspend our disbelief about some things. John and Sherlock have very clearly committed a LOT of crimes on their publicly available podcast. Maybe that will never be addressed or MAYBE Sherlock, Mycroft, or other Holmes allies have been bribing and intervening to keep them from getting arrested. Imagine the drama! "You hate the rich, but you owe all your success to MY money and power, 'Dr.' John Watson!" *Blinks rapidly*

Where was I? Oh yeah, Shoscombe. That. God. Damn. Chase. Scene! So bold for a podcast to have a climax with a car chase at the center. The foley work was top-notch for the driving and the terrain and then the crash and sinking in the lake. Whoever plays John Watson, you did an incredible job! The reckless car chase where, OF COURSE, he still narrates everything, the diving for Robert (and the clever layer of the recorder fritzing), and that CPR! It was all so engaging and believable! I love when John does doctor stuff generally, but this was my favorite example since the gunshot wound at the wedding with The Solitary Cyclist. Not sure I buy Robert's at-home crematorium as being 100% good, but I can believe John thinks so. Might help that John's a bit more desensitized to cutting into corpses than most folks. Finally, I'm sure folks are quite excited that a certain James made a cameo. (Maybe he's interested in why Sherlock and John keep getting away with all their crimes.) I knew he was going to show up at some point, and making Moriarty a listener shout-out is delightful. I just hope it's a while longer before he's ON the show. It always frustrates me when Moriarty winds up becoming basically Lex Luthor. Then again, we've already had similar cameos for Irene Adler and Baskerville Hall (and probably some I've missed) without them showing up yet. We'll see how it goes!

Good job, Sherlock & Co! I'm excited to see what you do next!

[lillandyrshadowglade]

Burlesque

Lillandyr did NOT tell him that this was her first date in her entire life. Besides, he thought she was married so it would make little sense if she had. It would bring forth a torrent of uncomfortable questions. Instead, she filled the nervous space with idle chatter, making her voice as vapid as her outward appearance, twirling honey-scorched colored hair around a finger with chipped red lacquer. She knew how she looked, to him, to everyone else. Just some empty-headed socialite with nothing rolling around in her pretty skull. 

She didn’t need to cheat and peer behind the ivory veneer of HIS skull to know he bought the deception and was amused by her antics. She’d even seen a few piteous looks as if he felt so very sorry for her. Felt sorry that she was just so dumb, like a charming little dog noble ladies carried in handbags. She’d be his little purse dog for the night, though, that was more than fine. It got her closer to where she wanted to be besides. 

Keeping her kohl lined gaze half lidded, sooty lashes casting shadows on her pale cheeks, Lillandyr hid her shrewdness in many ways. Her outward guise was the nectar in the pitcher plant and she hoped he’d be her hapless fly. He was a man after all. He thought himself her friend? Funny, but she didn’t have any of those. 

He was a clever man, though, and while she found the rougher sex dumb as a box of hammers with the same subtlety and nuance, one couldn’t over generalize! Sometimes, she threw him little breadcrumbs like he was a wayward pigeon. Let him feel like a big, smart fellow! She would slip by leaving out a book on philosophy…only to have the pages stuffed with flowers just in case he got the awful idea she’d read it. Or she would make some catty remark so clever and sharp, he’d press a long-fingered hand to his chest, right under that smart cravat,  as if to check for his heart’s blood there. Just enough to redeem her and make him a little suspicious that all or part of her was an act. 

As she leaned against the side of the interior of his carriage, she let her gaze slide to the smear of the landscape as it passed by. It was sobering to not have to fake eye contact and to not have to lie for a few breaths. He’d almost caught her without realizing it when he’d proposed this little outing. 

No one had ever asked her out, so she forgave herself that the shock and novelty of it had utterly shattered the facade for a moment and left her sputtering and flushed. He’d even been so considerate to pen the husband that did not exist a note promising to ‘take good care of her’. And just because it wasn’t a romantic entanglement didn’t mean…

She wrinkled her nose in distaste. That line of thinking was so repugnant that it made those delightful little pink cakes she liked so much sit heavy. No thank you. 

It did mean, however, that they were closer friends. Just the bestest friends! That was the lie. He had secrets he was careless with. Just little tantalyzing nibbles. Well, she wanted a full course supper and a bitch was hungry. She was nothing if not patient. He didn’t know it yet because she was oh so careful, but she’d get those secrets and then? He would be sorry that he met her and had ever shown her any charity at all. 

Good, she thought meanly. Monsters didn’t deserve charity or soft feelings. 

Lillandyr wasn’t Lillandyr when Heathcliff asked if she wanted to go to some low class affair in Shattrath. She was, briefly, Anya again. Anya who boys never looked at because she was skinny and dirty and starving and mean as sin. She’d been more rat than girl besides. And now, she was more monster than woman. 

“What are you asking me for?” She’d blurted, so furious heat had flooded her face. It had been ages since she’d lost her temper visibly. “If it’s a joke, it’s not fucking funny.” She’d slipped and been crass. Ladies weren’t crass.  

But Heathcliff had thought she was teasing. Or worse, he’d thought he’d charmed her to the point that he’d tempted her into some illicit affair…which was the real joke. Neither of them wanted that and if either of them did she would DIE before she entertained that utter load of rubbish. 

And when she’d realized it wasn’t a joke, her eyes went wide and her heart stuttered a little. Someone…regardless of reasons, wanted her on their arm. 

Now, she was sat in a carriage missing her books and her solitude. And her drugs. And her liquor. Gods and Monsters, she just wanted to be messy and now she had to behave and to play act a noblewoman without a single thought in her head while HER head was bursting at the seams. She was tired and Heathcliff was dozing, the bastard. 

The event itself had been…fine. Had she been normal she certainly would have had great fun! It hadn’t been salacious enough to make her blush or tarnish her fake reputation. Goodness knows she’d conjured enough illusions of tawdry, filthy things in the heads of her victims that this was simply pleasant entertainment. Who didn’t like to see tight bodies writhing around after all? 

Because that’s all she’d ever have. Shows and illusions, veils and teases. She’d never touch anyone. And no one would ever touch her. That…yeah that was a boot on the neck. She wasn’t celibate and virginal because she lacked desire. She was a creature of lusts and passions so bright they blinded her sometimes. But she was just smarter than her libido wanted her to be. 

She flicked her poisonous green gaze over to her slumbering ‘friend’. And she hated him. She hated him so fucking much she wanted to wrap her trembling little fingers around his stupid, thick neck and squeeze until he died. All for the audacity of…trying to be her friend. 

Her lip twitched up in one corner, more a show of teeth than a real smile. He’d been so adorably worried about her husband reacting poorly to this friendly outing that he’d been nothing short of a gentlemanly monk in his behavior that evening. And while she’d felt mean about the whole thing, she’d not even teased him. 

Because her fucking feelings were hurt. It was a joke. She was a joke. Not a friend. Not a potential anything else. Why would she be? And why should she care?

Because she WAS messy and fuck him besides. 

Fine. 

Fine, she thought. He wanted to tease her? He’d learn his fucking lesson.

It was so easy to slide into his slumbering liquor soaked thoughts. She changed the boring carriage ride home (not to her home, mind you…as she didn’t have one), to something he would regret and be nervous about. 

So, she did what she’d done hundreds of times before. She filled his head full of an illusion of what didn’t happen on the way home. He hadn’t hitched up her skirts and he certainly hadn’t tangled his hands in her honey-gold hair and made her moan. It was a relatively small illusion and a tame one at that. Just some tongue kissing and groping. Just fogging up the windows of the carriage like some romantic, forbidden encounter they both reigned in because oh, think of the non existent husband who would surely cut off his testicles to make into a handbag or some such thing some criminal overlord would do to someone who touched his wife’s tits. 

Finally…she was having a good time on this date. She’d made her own show. Lillandyr looked forward to the ensuing awkwardness their next encounter would bring. And maybe he’d think twice about being handsome and asking her to do things he wasn’t serious about. Her black little heart didn’t take well to being teased that way. Now, he was the joke. 

[fe-fictions]

ok ok so you know how Frederick has a support about how he's got a phobia of beasts? what if he has an encounter that makes him freeze up, and it's Robin to the rescue?

(Oh my god I was working on this one for ages...I've got 99 fics of Frederick and Robin now...and I've got the perfect plan for the 100th!)

The Shepherds were trekking through the dense forests of Ylisse. Perhaps it was because the two of you had only been together for a short while, but you noticed that your husband’s behavior seemed a little…different.

He didn’t seem to be as attentive to his lord and lady; he was also not riding up as far ahead as usual. He seemed to be slower to clear the path, and if you weren’t mistaken, he wasn’t clearing all the twigs and pebbles like he normally did.

It was peculiar indeed. You were on the path through the Ylissean mountains, heading towards Ferox with the intent to speak with the Khans, but your husband was behaving in a rather distracting way. Rather than being his usual, so-handsome-you-can’t-look-away distracting.

No, his gaze traveled beyond the dirt path, seeming to go deep into the trees and brush around you. It was almost as if he were looking for some sort of threat. Despite the abject peacefulness of the Ylissean territory, he was particularly on edge.

“Does Frederick seem a little off to you two?” You leaned over to the royals, drawing them out of  their typical sibling banter.

Chrom quirked an eyebrow, glancing at the knight, “Hmm…he doesn’t seem to be distressed. Maybe a little distracted?”

“He keeps looking around. Is there something we should be worried about here?”

“Mmm, aside from the odd beast here and there, I don’t think so?” Lissa tapped her chin, “The woods are always pretty safe.”

“I may just be imagining things.” You thought to yourself, determining it wouldn’t be a bad idea to check in with him. You moved to close the distance, but Frederick suddenly stopped, motioning for the troupe to stop. 

“Milord, milady– there is a clearing here. Shall we set up camp for the night?” He gestured outwards into the trees, waiting for the rest of the army to join them. 

Chrom surveyed the space, “Perhaps you’re right. It’s a little early to set up, but I suppose it’s better to set up now than try piecing camp together in the dark.”

So the lot of you got to work setting up camp. The sun going down by the time the tents were pitched, and dinner was well under way. 

It was yours and Frederick’s turn to prepare the meal. Frederick was in charge of stirring the massive pot of stew while you were delegated to chopping vegetables beside him.

You couldn’t help humming to yourself, earning a curious, warm smile from your husband.

“You seem to be in a good mood. What are you thinking about?"

“This just feels very domestic.” You remarked, letting the vegetables fall into the pot. “We’ve only been married during the campaign, so…it feels nice to do something simple together.”

“I see. Well…perhaps we can consider it practice.” His stirring of the thickening soup slowing. “Once the war is over, we will be able to have moments like this far more often.”

“Hmm…and without having to prepare food for a hundred people.” You giggled, “Just the two of us will do.”

“Indeed.” He smiled softly, gently nudging you with his shoulder. “Although, once we have children, I am sure we will be grateful for our practice feeding an army.”

“You’re already thinking of children? Goodness, Frederick! It’s only been a few months!” Your cheeks were illuminated pink despite the dim light of the mess tent. Despite your best efforts, your embarrassment was impossible to hide.

“My sweet, I wished to start a family with you the moment I realized my feelings for you. Who else to be the mother of our children than the most clever  woman I know?”

“Is that all you thought about? A properly intelligent mate to infuse some brains into your bloodline?”

Frederick scoffed, nudging you more firmly. “Nonsense. I would never consider it.”

“Oh no?”

“Of course not; there are many other reasons why I wished to start a family with you.”

“Wait-”

“-Your beauty, your adaptability, your sense of humor, and of course your innate ability to eat anything put in front of you-”

“-Now you’re just teasing me.” You nudged back, enough to shift him off balance just so. Frederick chuckled, holding the ladle up in surrender.

“Forgive me, dearest…but it is not exactly difficult to do.” 

“Oh, you.” 

The two of you were practically grinning ear to ear, your teasing squabble interrupted by Donnel hurrying into the prep space. He was waving a tablet in his hand, parchment rustling with great urgency.

“Uh, Captain, we got a problem!” 

Immediately Frederick’s expression hardened, his cool, serious demeanor returning as though you hadn’t been flirting terribly just moments before. 

“What is it, Donnel?”

“I was checkin’ the food stores, and we’re real short on meat! It’s not gonna be anywhere near enough to meet the nutrition quota ya set for the campaign, let alone to give everyone a portion tonight. Any chance we can hunt somethin’ before dinner’s done?”

“Surely you jest; we have kept a close eye on our food rations since day one! How could this be?”

“If I had to take a gander, sir, it’s prob’ly the healers.” He explained as Frederick walked up to him, “There were a number of requests for bigger portions of meat for recoverin’ soldiers.” 

“Who approved this?”

“Looks like Lord Chrom’s signature– though I cain’t read that well. Figured it had to be him since it’s all swirly an’ whatnot.”

“Indeed, he did…” Frederick sighed sharply, looking to you. “I doubt we have enough time to prepare anything we caught, tonight. Let alone the fact that everyone else is busy with their own duties...it would fall on us to hunt, but given the time frame I doubt it will be possible.”

“Really? It’s close to sundown, but it’s not even dark yet. Surely we could catch a deer between the two of us before then! We’re in the middle of the woods– it’s full of wildlife!”

“That may be true, but any deer would have left the camp perimeter hours ago; it’s far too dangerous for them to linger close by.” Frederick pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to find a solution. “Perhaps if we increase the portions of potatoes and mushrooms…?”

“I really think we can do it. If not a deer, perhaps a flock of birds, or smaller game that hasn’t gotten as far away with their little legs.” You insisted, placing an encouraging hand on his arm.

Donnel piped up, “That’s not a bad idea, y’know! And I’ve spent plenty o’ days huntin’ back home, so I can tag along!”

“There you go! We’ve got our farmer extraordinaire on my side– what do you say?”

“...If it weren’t these woods, then…” Frederick’s voice was suddenly quiet. You tilted your head, squeezing his arm gently.

“What’s that?”

He shook his head, returning the docket to the young soldier. “I appreciate the offer, Donnel, but we will need someone to stay behind to continue with food preparation if we don’t want to run into delays. Can you keep things running smoothly while we’re gone?”

“I’m not the best cook, but if you just need me to stir a little, I s’pose I can manage.”

“If you want, Donnel and I can go while you hold down the fort here,” You offered, knowing how he hated to relinquish control of his assigned tasks. Frederick immediately disagreed. 

“Absolutely not. It’s too dangerous for you to go out there unguarded. If you insist on doing this, then we shall do it  together.”

“Very well– I do insist.” You grinned, and the decision was made. The pair of you hurried to put on some light armor and prep your weapons, aiming to catch plenty within the span of two hours. 

If you were lucky, perhaps a bear would cross your path. But your husband seemed even more reluctant at such a thought.

—----------------------

The two of you were deep into the thick brush far from the forest path, nearly twenty minutes since you left camp. Frederick had seemed fine, at first; but when the campsite was no longer visible, his demeanor shifted once again.

It was as though you were back on the road; he seemed stiff, and more wary than usual. He led the two of you, his quiet footfalls barely raising a sound as he searched for a promising set of tracks. While you listened for the beating of wings or perhaps a portly bird’s song, your gaze was trained on him.

He was becoming more tense with every step. The javelin was tight in his hand, knuckles white. You had seen him hunt before; it was nothing like this.

“...Frederick.” Your whisper was near inaudible, but he heard you loud and clear.

“Did you hear something?”

“No. I wanted to ask if you’re all right.”

“What?” He glanced back at you, puzzled. You gestured loosely to him,

“You’ve been on edge since we left camp. You look like you’re sneaking into battle, not hunting for food.”

“I’m fine.” He answered shortly, “We must be silent. If we’re not careful we may attract a predator, not prey.”

“A predator would be ideal; a big bear would cover our meat stores for at least a week.”

Frederick did not answer. His shoulders raised higher, as though your words had only distressed him further. It was a bit unnerving.

At least, until you heard the soft shift in the branches above. Your eyes turned skyward, and the rustling canopy revealed not one, but two handsome fowl just above you!

“Frederick–” You motioned towards him again, but he seemed lost in thought. Had he found some promising tracks, too? What luck– you could snag the fowl while he tracked down the mammal.

Wasting a moment no longer, you shifted away from your husband to pursue the two birds. They were still hopping along, cooing back and forth as they continued their journey fifteen feet above you.

You wouldn’t want to alarm any nearby game. Getting as close to being directly beneath them as possible, you whispered your spell. A concentrated bolt of Elthunder burst from your fingertips.

Stunned from the electricity, the plump birds fell to the earth without a single squawk. Victorious, you took your quarry.

It would hardly be enough for three soldiers, let alone a hundred; but it was a good start. You turned on your heel to sneak your way back to Frederick’s side.

To your surprise, he wasn’t in sight.

“My…did I really stray that far?” You wondered aloud, shifting the satchel to your back and retracing your steps. 

You had ended up about twenty meters from where you started, finding Frederick’s footprints in the disturbed brush had moved quite far ahead. 

And not far from them were deer tracks. You bit your lip to keep from giggling with glee; what fortune the two of you had found! If he was as swift as you were, he’d have that beast downed in no time, and you’d have enough meat for two whole dinners.

With great care to remain silent as a mouse, you followed the trail diligently. It seemed to carry far deeper into the woods than you expected; and the sun had already set halfway past the horizon. The sky was obscured by the thickening forest, but the shift of light from red to purpling gray was becoming more concerning.

If he didn’t hurry, you would definitely miss the dinner call and there’d be no time to prepare anything.

That’s where your mind was focused, until you noticed a sudden shift in the tracks; a third set of prints had appeared.

The unmistakable outline of a wolf’s paw had mixed in with your husband’s. Immediately, you picked up the pace. It looked like the hunter was being actively hunted.

And you were starting to understand why Frederick was probably on edge; bears were one thing– easy to locate, loud and lumbering.

Wolves were quiet. Large, but quick, and could fell a hunter if it were hungry enough. It wasn’t clear if Frederick knew he was being followed or not, but judging by the silence that still hung in the air, and the absence of the sounds of struggle, you assumed the latter.

Grasping the bag tight to your body, you picked up the pace. Your steps were no longer calculated, pushing into a sprint to close the distance.

The distance between the wolf’s prints were spreading out; it had also begun to run in pursuit of your husband. Stealth was now the least of your concerns.

“Frederick!!” You called out for him in the haziness, preparing the spell in your palm. You blasted through the brush, rushing to clear any obstacles that were slowing your chase. 

The sounds of lost hunting opportunities chirping and scurrying away were a distant echo in your ears. 

“Frederick, where are you?!” 

He did not answer, still. Surely he could not be so far away. You vaulted over a fallen tree, following the spreading tracks with your eyes to a steep drop in the forest floor.

There, several feet away and more still below you– 

Frederick stood, staring down a monstrous wolf.

Breath flew from your lungs; it was nearly up to his chest in height. Its growl was deep and ferocious, reaching your ears when it reverberated up from the drop. Its fur was mangled, its skin betraying its health and revealing visible ribs. 

It was big, and it was hungry.

But more frightening still, was that Frederick had not moved. He was almost frozen, looking directly into the eyes of a ravenous beast. 

Fear slurred together with confusion, calling out to your husband going unacknowledged. He was actually completely unmoving. The javelin in his hands seemed to keep it from immediately lunging at him, but— he wasn’t throwing it. Why wasn’t he throwing it?

The wolf stepped closer. 

Its body was tightening; preparing to take its chance, weapon be damned.

“Frederick!!”

You leapt from the top of the ridge, shifting between sliding and stumbling down the slope, ripping the Elthunder from your belt and bellowing the spell.

Launching from your feet, you flew to the frozen knight, shoving him down to throw the bolt of lightning. 

The wolf lunged.

It happened in a gasp.

Coarse fur brushed the palm of your hand before a clap of thunder blasted through its body. 

Sharp fangs had buried into your shoulder, flesh ripped to shreds and damning pain shot through every nerve. A scream ripped from your mouth, drowning out the wolf’s own yelp.

The beast careened backwards, wrenching its jaws from your bone and nearly pulling you along with it.

A second breath left your body; and the forest was silent once again.

The spell book dropped from your hand, fingers wet with the warm red liquid now pouring down your arm. Its body crashed to the ground, a hind leg spasming before it stopped moving at all.

It was dead. 

You breathed heavily, needles of pain thrust into your flesh with each inhale. Shakily you looked back to your husband, who had stumbled to the brush in the chaos. His expression was a frozen mixture of shock and horror, pale and taut with confusion.

“R-Robin…?”

“Are you okay? A-are you– are you hurt?” managed to ask before the needles turned into arrows. You groaned, reaching for the bloody wound on your shoulder. The flesh had nearly been torn from the bone.

Frederick gasped, seeing the wound shining with blood, a massive hole in your coat where the fabric was ripped away.

His whole body was shaking, his eyes wide with confusion and concern as he tried to make sense of what happened.

You moved to join him on the ground, to assess him for any possible injuries as well. The mistake was in trying to take a step; the world suddenly spun out from under you, and the next thing you knew the ground caught you face first.

“Robin!!” Frederick seemed to come to his senses when you collapsed, stumbling forward on unstable legs. “Y-you need help…your wound, it’s-!”

“Flare…pocket.” You explained through grit teeth, desperately trying to keep your wits about you. Quickly Frederick removed the spell book, stammering through the incantation and sending the red spark flying into the air.

“It’s up. They’re coming. It’s– it won’t be long.” He spoke, but his reassurances almost felt like he was talking to himself over anyone else. “Just hold on!” 

You stared up at him, watching him tear the chest plate off and rip away the fabric of his tunic. 

“How long…?” You hissed in pain when the cloth pressed against the bleeding wounds. His expression flashed with guilt, settling you against his chest, propping you up. 

“It won’t take long. Just focus on staying awake.” He estimated breathlessly,  squeezing you closer. His fingers trembled. Part of you wanted to ask what happened to him.

Why had he been rooted to the spot like that? But it was hard to form words beyond the waves of pain that wouldn’t stop.

It was difficult to focus on anything when your consciousness was slipping.

“I don’t know if I…if I can.” The breathless observation made Frederick’s , glancing at the fabric drenched in your life essence. “Are we…can we do another…?”

“They have surely seen the flare by now, surely– we can only wait. Forgive me, my love– please hold on. You must stay awake–”

You knew he was right, certainly, but darkness was starting to creep around your field of vision.

The weight of your head fell against his chest, feeling how rapidly his heart was beating. The adrenaline was pumping full force for him, but yours had faded swiftly. 

Frederick shifted between berating himself, swearing into the skies and trying to keep your attention, tapping on your cheek and shaking you gingerly, desperate to maintain your consciousness.

The minutes blurred together; it was getting impossible to keep your focus on him. His expression had shifted from confusion to pure fear; you could see he was calling you.

It almost seemed like he was shouting at you, but it was so far away.

In your final moments awake, a flash of feathers crossed your vision. There was a gust of wind, and frantic voices muffled in your ears.

Drifting into a dreamless sleep, you wondered to yourself if you might wake up again.

Frederick’s tightening grip slipped away, the last of your senses dulled in darkness.

—----------------------

The camp had blown into an all out fury of chaos and confusion when that flare went up. Donnel was the one who raised the alarm when questions were asked.

Everyone in camp was accounted for. All except the tactician and the captain, who had left to hunt for the night’s meal.

For a flare to go up just as people were heading for the mess hall only served to worry the Shepherds more.

Sumia and Cordelia mounted their steeds the instant Donnel said you were both gone. Maribelle rode with the knights, stave at the ready; if something happened to two of the strongest members of the army, it had to be serious.

What they found was the pair, three miles from camp and at the bottom of a steep ledge. The captain was frantically trying to keep his wife conscious, searching the skies for help just as it came.

They were able to piece things together quickly, between the wolf carcass nearby and the blood soaked rags in Frederick’s hands.

Maribelle was able to administer emergency first aid without delay– but the blood loss meant you would be unconscious for a while. All there was left to do was waiting.

Lissa was the first to reach them when the pegasus riders returned, the knight clutching your limp body to his chest, clothes bloodied and covered in grime.

She was white as a ghost, ushering them towards the medical tent while the Shepherds fell into an uproar.

The tactician had been gravely injured, and their lieutenant looked as though he barely survived a battle. Confusion and panic filled the camp.

To your husband, however…it was all white noise; the trauma of what he just experienced was making it impossible to focus on anything. The sound of your breath, slow and labored…shallow..it was all he could do to keep put one foot in front of the other.

Everything was fine. Everything was fine– how could he let this happen?

—----------------------

It was not a peaceful haze that you woke to, but rather a very muggy, and hazy gray. Mist was rising quietly from the grass, and blurred wisps of sunlight filtered in through the tent flaps.

Tent.

You weren’t in the woods. 

…How did you get out of the woods?

You blinked a few times, and the blurry light slowly focused into thin, sharp rays. It was well past dawn, but there was no telling what time it really was. 

It was surprising to think that wasn’t the last thing you’d ever see or feel. 

“I am glad to see you have finally returned to the waking world.” A familiar, calming voice sounded from the bedside. Long blonde hair fell into your periphery, and Libra’s patient smile came into focus. “How do you feel?”

“Um…hurts.”

“Let me fetch the salve…” When he returned to your side after slipping away, When he returned, he was much more in-focus, and was carrying some promising-looking gel.

Practiced hands slipped the bandages away from your wound, pressing the cool substance to your raw skin. 

“It was a hard fought battle to keep you with us, you know. The bite had gotten infected during the healing process; which is a common risk when dealing with such a massive wound.”

“Ah…”

“Yes, that and your nerves being frayed from the initial attack are likely what’s contributing to your lingering pain.” He sounded nonchalant, but there was a tiredness in his eyes. Perhaps it was a closer call than he wanted to admit.

You shifted slightly to give him access to your bandages.

“Shall I send for your husband once we’ve taken care of your wound?” Libra asked coolly, “He has been beside himself since the event. I think it would be a great comfort to see you awake and sound.”

“If you could…please.”

It did not take much longer to replace your bandages, cleaning the wound that was healed, but undoubtedly would leave a rather garish scar.

You were careful to drape your coat over your shoulders more tightly; Frederick would be devastated to see such a thing.

Scars earned during war was one thing…scars that he would undoubtedly perceive as his fault, well…that would be devastating.

The soft footfalls of the gentle monk faded quickly; but were replaced by far more driven, much heavier steps about ten minutes later.

‘You must have been waiting anxiously for word I was well, silly bear.’ You thought to yourself, sitting back against the thin pillow waiting for the tent to open.

After a few moments, the entrance tentatively slipped open. And Frederick walked in, pensive and uncertain.

A beat passed when he looked to your cot, and found you with open eyes and a cautious smile. His skin was pale, almost gray. Deep lines were driven into his forehead. Without his armor, he looked almost frail; far more alarming than having a bite taken out of you, in your opinion.

But to Frederick, it was clear that the state of you was far, far worse. Silently, he stepped fully into the space, closing the distance between you within seconds.

“Robin…” Your name was a whisper, stopping beside you and standing awkwardly, as though unsure of what to do. 

You cleared your throat, working to find your voice; it was clear he needed to Your uninjured arm rose to take hold of his hand, squeezing it tightly. “Good morning, my love.”

His breath hitched. He squeezed your hand back. 

“I…I-” Frederick swallowed, his grip tightened. “I’m so sorry.”

You shook your head, gently pulling his hand to draw him onto the thin mattress with you. He sat rigidly beside you, unable to take his eyes from yours, as though incapable of looking anywhere else. Afraid to.

His hand was drawn into your lap, stroking his knuckles gently. “Please…don’t apologize, Frederick.”

Your husband’s face fell; as though the grim expression he wore seconds earlier was his attempt at maintaining some sort of facade. As though he were fighting to hide the fear that now stood clear in his frame.

“Did…did something happen?” You asked him gently, but with each question, he seemed to curl into himself further. “I’m all right. The wound’s treated, it’ll heal soon, so…don’t blame yourself.”

He shook his head, his brow furrowing deeper.

“No, Robin, it was my fault.” His tone was insistent, you waited for him to explain. His hand had begun to tremble in yours. “There…there was no trap. I froze.”

You tilted your head; that wasn’t the response you expected. Frederick took a deep breath, his gaze falling to the ground as though ashamed.

“When I was a boy,” He began slowly, his voice much smaller. “There was an…incident. It was in these very woods. My mother tasked me with gathering wild berries. I had done it hundreds of times before. Then…well…there was one day, where I had wandered too far into the forest.”

His hand all but clenched around yours. Watching him relive the nightmare in real time had a pit twist in your stomach. He shook his head, forcing himself to finish.

“I hadn’t even heard the beast. One moment, everything was calm, but the next-” He swallowed, his mind a thousand miles away. “I was on the ground, teeth sunk into my back.”

“Oh, Frederick.” Your stomach plummeted; the very thought of an innocent young Frederick being hunted by such a beast was horrifying.

He only shook his head, determined to choke through the rest of his tale. 

“I remember…very little after that. There was a lot of screaming. The wolf was desperate, just like that one…it wouldn’t let go for anything. I was covered in bite marks and scratches…blood everywhere. My mother tried to pull it away from me and got hurt as well, but…my father was the one who stopped it. He happened to be on his way home when he heard all the noise, and was able to kill it before it killed both of us.”

“My love, I’m so sorry.” You whispered, squeezing his hand. “I can’t imagine how painful that was to go through.”

He nodded, looking down once more. “It left many deep scars…physical and mental.”

“Why didn’t you tell me before? If I knew, I wouldn’t have suggested going out there.”

“I did not wish for you to ever discover such a weakness.” Frederick admitted, his other hand clenched tightly. “I had foolishly hoped it would never resurface. But it was only a matter of time before you learned that I was a broken man.”

“...You are not broken.” It was a quiet truth, but Frederick did not seem convinced.

“Robin, you were hurt because I froze. I couldn’t defend myself, and you were hurt because of my shortcomings.” 

“My love…trauma is not a shortcoming.” You insisted as firmly as you could, releasing his hand to cup his cheek, turning his eyes back to yours. “I am sorry that you lived through such a terrible thing. And I am so glad you felt safe enough to tell me.”

“I..only felt that I owed you an explanation as to why you were on death’s door.” He admitted quietly, “That you would marry someone so inadequate…I pray you will forgive me for being so selfish.”

“You are the most selfless man I know. And I would never look down on you for something like this. What matters is that we are still in this together.”

His expression wavered just slightly, as though he had trouble believing you. Was it truly so simple? You could forgive him for such a gruesome injury? Surely not…

“Once I have healed, we will carry on as always. And perhaps if you feel ready enough, I am sure there are counselors in Ylisstol that would be glad to help you work through this trauma. If only because I may not be there to protect you again if you happen to run into another crazed beast.”

“I pray you never have to put yourself in such a position again.” He grimaced, his gaze falling on the bandages peeking from beneath your coat.

Gingerly he pulled the fabric away, letting it fall from your shoulder to reveal the linens. It was wrapped tightly, covering your chest, and the visible skin surrounding the wound was a deep, angry red. It would be a while yet before you healed, and it was without a doubt going to leave a scar.

It was as you predicted; the way his face fell told you everything you needed to know about his thoughts. He was devastated.

“I am all right, my love.” You whispered,stroking his cheek tenderly. “I am alive and well; that is all that matters.”

Frederick’s expression remained set, as though convinced you couldn’t be more wrong. Nothing about it was “all right”. But when you gazed up at him with such adoring eyes…to be staring in the face of unconditional love, he found it difficult to disagree.

“Good wife…I will never understand what I did to deserve you.” He sighed shakily, taking hold of your hand and kissing your fingertips in deep reverence. His other arm wrapped around you, gingerly, drawing you into his chest for a much needed embrace.

You sighed into him, relishing the warmth of your husband, alive and strong, as he buried his face in your hair. His breaths were deep, taking in every bit of you. 

“Simply being you is all I have ever needed…with all the highs and the lows. I will always be by your side, just as I know you will be with me.” 

“Always.” He swore, pulling away just so, and pressing his lips to yours in a deep, tender kiss.

It would be a few more days of back and forth healing treatments before you were finally cleared, the muscles mended and infection staved off.

Frederick would consult with Chrom about seeking the needed treatment for his traumatic past, and would enlist the help of Panne in the meantime to curb his fear of large beasts until he could process everything as he needed.

The scar was quite large, and did not fully fade away. But it became a point of pride for you; proof that you would remain true to your vow, protecting and loving your dearest Freddybear no matter what came.

And naturally Frederick would find himself decorated in a similar way as time passed; these scars becoming a point of great pride and affection for both of you.

[docholligay]

The Lies of Locke Lamora by Scott Lynch

Nonspoilery: This is a super fun read that is very much in keeping with how I like my fantasy. I wish it were slightly more on the con man side, but I recognize that those are very difficult to write because one needs to actually be clever enough to come up with the insanely clever plan that unfolds, and, you know what, I'm not there either. But it absolutely is a fun crimey fantasy novel, well written that expects you can actually follow a line of description and maybe even look up a big word, that tries very hard not to bore you with needing to refer to a glossary or map.

I will say, and I'll talk about this more below: There are basically no women in this novel. it's a little disappointing. I still overall think it's worth it if you like this sort of thing though.

SPOILERS BELOW:

THIS is the kind of thing pitchless draw was made for. You could not have talked me into reading this book. Unless you possess an incredible skill--I'm not sure *I* could have talked me into reading this book, and supposedly no one knows me better.

But I did really enjoy myself. This is a flat out FUN novel, that doesn't mind being long but never feels long. I LOVED the long bits of description in this book, I BEG for flavor in some many modern novels that strip away anything that isn't an immediate moving of the ball. Actually, one of the things I would say that's not a criticism so much as a preference, is that I feel like this book, and probably this writer, remembering his short story from Rogues, is more plot-driven than character driven. I am a girl who loves a really interior novel, and this isn't that, but it did not stop me from having a GREAT time. It's a romp.

I like Locke, and his whole backstory. I wish he were a woman. Specifically, I would love to see a femme con artist, second coming of Minako Aino, Becky Sharp ass bitch. THAT would be my dream for Locke Lamora. And I know my friends who have read this book all want butch Locke and I love that for you, and I know y'all have known me long enough to know I love a butch, but I deserve a treat as well, and I LOVE con artists, and goddamnit, if I could change one thing about this novel, Locke Lamora would be a femme lesbian and I would change NOTHING else. You wouldn't even have to. One fo the great things about Lynch not being a real interior writer is literally any of the mains could be a woman and it would change nothing.

This does segue into the big problem here--there's no women in this novel. It's a 700 page book and I could condense the lines said by women into like two or three pages. I actually DO get it. I think we're reaping a little bit of what we've sown, as a community, with the requirement for perfection in our representation that leads to very boring and safe choices. Everyone is a man. We're only swarthy at best. Can't be criticized for bad identity writing if you don't write them at all! ANd this isn't me being salty, I get how that happens, I have also sometimes fallen into making any character of identity boring as fuck or not writing them at all to avoid any criticism. And no one cares about ME, I'm not a best seller. I do think, maybe, people will get better about this. Pendulums and all. I miss the awkward, good faith 90s where you had the United Colors of Benetton and one character who randomly celebrated Hanukkah. We'll see.

ANYHOW NOT RELEVANT. But I do find it irritating that because of this, we don't see women in this huge story at all. None of the gang, even though it would have been easy as fuck to make, say, Bug a girl. Even doing something like making Nazca Barsavi the actual heir apparent, and to have her marrying Locke because she knows he won't try to be Capa, and she'll let him do whatever the fuck he wants, can play the henpecked husband while being the Thorn of Camorr, could be really fun and would do more for Nazca and also play up their friendship. It could make her death mean a lot more, if they were running their own little Barsavi con.

Anyhow, the really fantastic behind the scenes worldbuilding was how I wish more fantasy novels did it. It didn't often try to explain things to me, it spoke as if I mostly understood them, or had cahracters say them in ways that made sense to the story (In this capacity, Lukas Fehrwright is fucking BRILLIANT as Someone That Must Have Camorr Explained). So I didn't feel like I was being sat down and told the history of a place I barely know, while having stupid fucking vocabulary words thrown at me. We never define any physik or magic beyond what needs be done because fuck you that's why. I love it. Thank you for not telling me what alchemical botany can or can't do. Thank you for dropping literally only what I need to kjnow about wraithstone into the plot. You have a crown in heaven.

Or I know I said I wish it would have been more con-ny and less "kill the new mob boss" at the end there, but oh my fuck, how much did I love the whole job at the counting house. I SCREAMED. It was so good, I had no clue where it was going the whole time and I would never have gotten there, but I LOVED it. What a great time.

One...weakness, for me, I guess I'll say, is that lack of interiority makes it hard to really feel the weight of some things. We don't get enough about Galdo, Calo, or Bug to feel anything for them, and I knew Bug was dead from the time he showed up. Actually, I thought we were going to kill jean Tannen, because that was the only relationship REALLY laden with emotional weight in the book. Didn't bother me enough to not recommend the book, as I'm mostly recommending it on fun, but I did notice.

ANYWAY, uh...any specific questions I'm happy to take!

Unfortunately, this means that @verbforverb nabbed me again. So, I had a great time reading the book but at what cost

[invisibleicewands]

'A Very Royal Scandal' Review: Michael Sheen Gives A Masterclass Performance

[...]

If you’re not sure what you’re about to watch, A Very Royal Scandal is based on the real-life 2019 interview between Emily Maitlis and Prince Andrew over the scandalous accusations he faced regarding his involvement with Jeffrey Epstein and Virginia Giuffre. Some scenes have been fictionalised and adapted for entertainment purposes - superbly.

The story is simple and offers more about what went on behind the scenes in the lead-up to the interview, rather than just re-enacting the event. The three episodes are roughly one hour each, and all have a strong, intense pace. Episode one is focused on the build up, preparation, and conflict about the interview. Episode two is the interview, and episode three is the aftermath - reflection and the future.

Michael Sheen does the character justice, as he plays the wayward prince with dignity and a strong level of arrogance and awkwardness we saw in the original interview. The way he is able to embody his characters is a masterclass in acting.

Ruth Wilson as interviewer Emily Maitlis gives a compelling performance. We see Maitlis as a human, a mother, co-worker, and an interviewer - the persona she also puts on in front of the camera. This insight into who she is and her life helps establish why this interview was so important for her. Maitlis refers to her ‘stalker’ in the series - helping provide a strong focus to victims of assault. With a very honest and poignant scene from Emily, this takes away the focus from Prince Andrew, (and the interview) and puts it back onto the victims.

The character of Princess Beatrice has a strong part in the series, as they prepare for her wedding. Frequently the Duke of York’s character exclaims he doesn’t want the interview to affect the wedding, yet he still went ahead with it. This shows his complete arrogance, and once again, how his thoughtless actions hurt people.

Sarah Fergurson is shown as a kind, family woman, trying to keep everything together and supporting her ex-husband. A small, but effective character is someone being on The Duke of York’s side without an agenda.

The series does well in giving a balanced account. Prince Andrew, frequently known as ‘Randy Andy’, has been a playboy in the British media, as well as a criminal and jester. In this series we’re able to see his side of the story, how he was feeling and his opinions around Epstien and the photograph. We’re shown the Royal as a family man, preparing for his daughter's wedding, calling his mother, ‘mummy’ and even racing in his garden with his staff.

Some scenes are comical, maybe without intention, and they do come across as hard to believe, but do provide the otherwise serious series with some comic relief. “I'd offer you tea but we’ve had to let the staff go” is my favourite line from the series, spoken by the character Sarah. It shows the plight the Prince’s family are going through, losing all the money, and then adds to the arrogance, that without staff they cannot make a cup of tea. It can also be seen as a clever way of not making someone welcome in your home.

Even though the series is about the famous interview, being shown the characters as ‘real people’ is what gives this show its strength. We’re able to get a glimpse into what could have happened behind the scenes before and after the interview. The celebrations from the Newsnight team, the horror from the Royal Family, the opinions worldwide and the next steps going forward. Audiences are able to speculate about the Prince and Epstiens friendship before and after the interview. What Maitlis felt after the interview, by taking down a member of the Royal family and essentially helping expose and humiliate him worldwide.

The series ends with both characters having to live with the consequences of their actions. Emily, leaving the BCC and Prince Andrew, alone and an unsalvageable reputation. There are final quotes, letting audiences know what happened, including that they settled out of court and paid a sum in the region of 12 million GBP.

[takaraphoenix]

Here Pines Hephaestus

Tags: m/m, pining, fluff

Main Pairing: Hephaestus/Percy

@polympians-eventPolympians Prompt: yearning/pining

This story on FFNet | This story on AO3

Summary: Hephaestus was in love with Olympus' newest god. The most beautiful of the gods, because Percy Jackson was not just beautiful on the outside, he was beautiful on the inside too. Hephaestus just didn't entirely understand why Percy was spending so much time with him.

--

Here Pines Hephaestus

Percy Jackson was the most beautiful god on Olympus. And Hephaestus did not care if Hera, Aphrodite or Athena could hear him say it, since it was true. Because beauty was not just about physical appearance, beauty was about someone's character, their heart.

And them? Hera, the goddess of family, who so easily abandoned Hephaestus, her own son, because she saw him as imperfect? Aphrodite, the goddess of love who couldn't even love her husband, who continuously cheated on Hephaestus with his own brother, even in the very place that he had built her as a symbol of their love? Athena, so petty she would rather curse a woman than acknowledge her talents, would rather abandon her own wonderful and clever daughter than feel slighted?

No. None of them beautiful, not where it truly mattered. There was no kindness in them.

Percy Jackson was kind. Kind, generous, selfless. He was the most beautiful god Hephaestus had ever met. He had become a god, because of his kindness and selflessness. Because he wanted to be in a position to help other demigods, to get a say in what happened on Olympus, to hold the gods accountable. In Hephaestus' opinion, they could all use some accountability. Him, too.

After the Giant War, Percy accepted godhood. And now there was a beautiful Rain God on Olympus. A realm well-chosen; water and storms, his father's domain, but the sea would take him away from Olympus and his goal was to keep tabs on the Olympians, take influence on the king too, so he chose a realm that worked closely with Zeus. Clever boy.

The problem, for Hephaestus, only reared its head when he saw Percy be kind to someone Hephaestus cared about. Percy caring for his demigodly friends and for his family were a sign of his good character, but it didn't make him particularly interesting to Hephaestus. The smith assumed that most people who weren't gods actually cared about friends, family and lovers.

"Oh, you are the cutest, aren't you? Okay, okay, fine, one more. But only one. Stop looking at me like that, I will not overfeed you, I think Hephaestus might smite me for that. No whining."

Hephaestus' brow twitched and he reluctantly put his tools down to instead see who Percy was talking to, and why the boy was at his forge. He rarely got visitors and usually they just meant more work for him. Once he rounded the corner, out into the hall, he found Percy… sprawled out on the floor, with a mid-sized, bronze-scaled dragon curled together on his chest, happily chewing a steak (hopefully a steak; if his pet dragon took a bite out of Percy, Poseidon was going to drown him).

"Aereus, get off the boy," Hephaestus glared sternly at the dragon. "Bad dragon."

"Don't say that," Percy gasped and wrapped his arms around Aereus' neck. "You are not a bad dragon, you're a very good boy, yes you are, yes you are."

With confusion clouding his gaze, the smith just watched. People usually complained when Aereus got too affectionate because most people didn't like to be slobbered or squished by a giant lizard. Percy was just petting Aereus as though the dragon was some type of dog.

"What," Hephaestus cleared his throat. "What do you want, Perseus?"

"Don't call me that," Percy wiggled his noise with a glare. "I am so annoyed by all the 'Lord Perseus' nonsense. It's just Percy, you know. Uhm… so, I came here with a plate of food, but your dragon kind of ate the steak so you just get… tomato salad, I guess?"

He motioned to a plate that stood next to him on the ground. Tomato salad and a clear, large mark of marinade that indicated where the steak had been laying before Aereus got a hold of it. Hephaestus turned to glare pointedly at the dragon, earning a near-guilty chirp.

Hephaestus stared at Percy warily. "Why are you bringing me food?"

Those large, sea-green eyes stared up at him like a lost seal pup. Crossing his arms, Hephaestus tried to put some distance between them, physically and emotionally. Cute looks like that could not get to him, he could not let that get to him.

"We were having a barbecue and I noticed that you didn't attend. Persephone said you always dodge family gatherings like that. So I figured I'd bring you a plate so you can at least enjoy the food, even if you can't tear yourself away from your work like that."

The frown on Hephaestus' face deepened at that. "Why."

Percy mirrored his frown. "What do you mean 'why'. What kind of question is that. Why are you questioning barbecue. I just thought it would be nice? I am, and was, friends with a lot of your kids and I know that single-minded focus they have when they work on a project. Not my first rodeo of dropping off food at forges. I'm… still new around here, so I'm trying to make nice, you know?"

Hephaestus continued frowning, until the former demigod huffed and left. Only when Percy was out of sight did Hephaestus bend down and pick up the plate. He poked one of the bits of mozzarella with his finger before picking it up and eating it. Mh. He hadn't realized how hungry he was.

"You're sleeping in the dog house for eating my steak. Don't whine at me, Aereus."

/break\

Over the following months, this somehow became a… routine. Not the steak and salad specifically, but Percy Jackson trying to include Hephaestus in things. Movie nights, game nights, banquets. Hephaestus wasn't sure if they had always had all of these events on Olympus and he had simply never noticed due to his work-load, or if Percy was the one initiating them in an attempt to bond the gods closer together. The truth, most likely, laid somewhere in between.

Though that wasn't the part that got to Hephaestus, what made him grow attached was the way Percy was around Aereus and any other of Hephaestus' companions, both animal and mechanical alike. Hephaestus has since learned that Percy owned a pegasus, a hell-hound and a skeleton kitten, so it wasn't as much of a surprise in that context. The boy clearly liked animals, particularly untypical animals. Still, seeing him coo over Hephaestus' dragon made the smith feel warm.

"Here," Hephaestus grunted with a glare, shoving a shield at Percy.

"Wha…" Percy, sitting at Hephaestus' feet so he could cuddle Aereus, who was napping there.

"Ares broke your shield when you sparred last week," Hephaestus didn't look at Percy. "So, here."

"Oh," Percy whispered, sounding surprised. "You didn't have to do that."

"If you don't want it, then just put it in the pile over there," Hephaestus ground out.

"What, no," Percy glared and hugged the shield close. "No take-backs. I just… I just meant that I'm not spending time with you to get something from you. I've seen how often people come in here, never to ask how you're doing or anything, but to ask for new weapons, armor or jewelry. So. I want you to know that you didn't have to do this, that that's not why I'm here."

Not knowing what to do with that, Hephaestus simply grunted. Then why are you here? But he couldn't bring himself to ask the question, dreading the answer. He'd rather enjoy whatever this was for however long it would last. He looked down at the teen, who was feeding Aereus a treat.

/break\

Percy kept coming to the forges and even to Hephaestus' workshop – his sanctuary, that nobody was allowed in. And yet, Hephaestus let the boy in. Because the stubborn, kind young god had wormed his way into Hephaestus' well-guarded heart. Whenever Hephaestus wasn't at work, he found himself looking for Percy, hoping to see his bright smile. He had even started to attend some of the social events, solely because the sad baby-seal eyes made Hephaestus feel awfully guilty and made it impossible for him to deny Percy anything. Much of the jewelry Hephaestus had crafted in recent months featured blue and green jewels, anything that reminded him of Percy's eyes.

There was no denying it anymore. Hephaestus was in love with Percy Jackson. With every smile, every kind gesture, every silly pun that would force a laugh out of the smith, every time Percy cooed at one of the dragons or fed them a treat, every time Percy brought Hephaestus food. He was hopelessly in love, smitten, pining, yearning, desperate for the boy's company.

"Why," Hephaestus forced out, not looking at Percy. "Are you here."

"U—Uhm, snacks for Aerie?" Percy offered confused, holding up said snack.

"No," Hephaestus closed his eyes and sighed. "In general. Why are you here. With me. Instead of… out there, with… anybody else. They like you, I know everyone on Olympus adores you, so why do you choose to spend your time in a smelly, hot forge with a grumpy, old man…"

"Got a thing for grumpy DILFs," Percy replied so casually, it startled Hephaestus into hitting his own thumb with his hammer. "Oh shit! Are you alright? Do you, uh, need something for that?"

Hephaestus cradled his aching thumb and glared at the teen. "Why would you say that."

Sea-green eyes blinked at him near owlishly. "Well. I have been very openly and blatantly flirting with you for like months now. Spending time with you and your pets. Bringing you food and cool stuff I found. But you seem really content just pining for me. I'm tempted to make a commemorate plate for you that says 'Here Pines Hephaestus' because you do it super obviously but also seem as oblivious to someone flirting with you. So I decided to, you know, spell it out for you."

"Why would you…" Hephaestus faltered just a little bit. "Like me?"

Slowly, Percy got up and then walked over to him, laying his arms around Hephaestus' neck and offering him a soft, compassionate look. "Well, the superficial bit aside where you're really hot – do not scoff at me, mister, your biceps alone have fan-clubs, I tell you – you are also very caring. You take in orphaned dragons and raise them. That's. Damn, realizing that actually made me swoon. And you're good company. I tend to ramble, I fill silence and you… are comfortable to ramble to. I love seeing you work, you are so passionate and that's contagious. You're… I like you."

Aereus cooed and then head-butted Percy in the back, causing the former demigod to stumble right into Hephaestus' lap. A blush lit Percy's face up as he turned to glare at the dragon.

"Bad dragon! No treats for you," Percy muttered in embarrassment.

"No," Hephaestus wrapped his arms around Percy's waist. "Good dragon."

Curiously, Percy looked at Hephaestus. "Yeah? That mean you're ready to be done pining?"

Grumbling, Hephaestus nodded. He just wasn't used to people wanting him, in any capacity, so he was blind to it. Looking into Percy's eyes now though, he could see it. Could see the love. Hesitantly, he leaned in until their lips touched, relived when Percy eagerly kissed him back.

~*~ The End ~*~

[beast-towers]

Further in the facility, in a lonely cell housed a woman. Sitting in a corner as her legs hid her head; one of her sleeves was ripped and now partially covered in some bandages, due to being injected with the Joy Serum.

Feeling physically sick and her mind spinning into confusion, a false happiness trying to claw its way in. Yet she is very resistant to not give these people the satisfaction of seeing her joining them or cracking with a twisted smile. All she can do is try to sleep it off to let the serum pass, but there was one thought that’s keeping her mind anchored… her sons.

Tears began to form as she thought about the twins. Are my boys okay? Are they truly safe? Did these monsters also went after them?… so many thoughts flooded her mind; only to finally snap out of her thought as a soft male voice echoed.

“Are you okay?…” He asked. Causing the woman to look up to the window of her cell wall to meet a man. “They didn’t bring you to those other sections, didn’t they?”

“I’m… okay, just very exhausted. No… I think? All I do remember was when they tried to held me down in here to inject me with… whatever they had… I’m still feeling very lightheaded from it…” She responded, feeling somewhat relieved she isn’t the only one here… what ever here was. “Do you know where we are?… I was with my sons when we wanted to ride on a roller coaster, but I couldn’t get on due the ride being full…”

“We are in the Sanctuary. If I remember correctly, that’s what they called it… it’s rubbed by an organization named, The Ministry of Joy… more like the Ministry of Hell.” The man huffed out with anger. Yet he calms himself as he looked over to the woman again. “I do apologize for not introducing myself. My name is Alden Belle, I’ve been investigating the disappearances that the Ministry took part. I’ve … never imagined a theme park held a dark secret….”

“A pleasure to meet you, Alden. My name is Nicole Alonso, funny enough I’m also in that department branch…” Nicole spoke, yet Alden noticed a surprised look on her face.. “This place… they kidnapped people…? But why?…” She thought until hearing Alden’s voice again.

“Have you also received reports of people disappearing in the United Kingdom?” He asked, which made Nicole look to the side.

“Yes. I’ve tried to research before I had to take a break and I left to be.. here. I passed on the case to my colleagues back home..” She sighs with a truthful shame. She wasn’t the only one who also took on the investigation; others tried everything in their power to find them… but no one succeeded.

Now silence filled the room for the two, until Alden perked up again. “It’s… not your fault. I can tell you wanted to help… of course you do need your time to be mentally prepared. We can move on from that for now. I do remember you saying you have sons, how old are they?”

“They’re both eighteen. My twin boys… Thomas and Tobias. My Rock-N-Roll stars.” Nicole softly chuckled, as a warm motherly smile formed. “Their father taught them to play the guitar and drums when they were young, and now they use their musical passion to remember their father. What about you? Do you have children?”

Alden smiled softly upon hearing Nicole talk about her sons. “Living stars in the making. And I do! Her name is Eleanor, a very clever girl. She’s trying to learn how to be an investigator like myself, but I feel like her mother taught her very well puzzle solving skills.” He softly chuckled, but a small itch of realization hits him. Now unsure if it’s a good idea to ask her about her husband.

“Do you believe this god forsaken place is now trying to find our children? Making sure to… leave no trace behind?” Alden asked with worry, causing the woman to huff up.

“If they do I will rip this place into pieces! I… already lost someone important to me. I will fight to the bitter end to make sure my sons are safe… they’ve done everything for me… I can’t lose them…” Nicole hissed protectively, yet a sense of sorrow began to emerge as tears formed.

“We’re not. And we’re not going to let them.” Alden gave a determined look. “I have a plan. I’ve been studying their time visit to… well that. One comes in while the other wait or guard, if we pretend that we’re sick, we can team up to fight them off and make a break for it.”

“As long they’re not in a big group, I’ll do it.” Nicole lay here head on her arms, looking very tired. “Thank you, Alden… I’m honestly glad you are here to talk… I needed that.”

“Same here Nicole… please rest as you can. We will find our freedom…” Alden said, as he sat back down to watch while Nicole rests. As soon as Nicole fell asleep, Alden began to whisper softly, “Mary… please watch over us and Eleanor… I pray to god she is safe… especially Nicole’s sons… Please continue to give us strength to fight back…”

To be continued…

[call-sign-shark]

Shark!! I have questions 🦈.

If not Arthur, let's say an AU where Arthur doesn't exist, do you think Heaven could fall in love with John or Thomas? (Or Ada, why not!)

I love the chemistry between Heaven and John, but I feel they're like siblings . Although John is a flirty, sassy man and he's hot af 😂.

On the other hand, Thomas... Their rivalry. Enemies (fierce enemies) to lovers? Tommy knows how to seduce a woman. And he's really smart.

And Ada... Well. Queen Ada 👑. Nothing to add here.

Wow Flor, this is such a clever question!! Thank you so much for asking this, you really made my brain go brrrrrr 😁💚 The short answer is: She could have fallen for both of them depending on the context.

✞ If John had not been married she would have gone for him, I guess. As you said, he's flirty, sassy, hot, and caring. Heaven needs someone who's not afraid to lavish her with tenderness. Moreover, they already share a deep and unique bond in the story. Some feel ambiguity about whether John has a little crush or not -- and it's up to readers to decide if they have a sibling platonic relationship or if John does feel a little innocent something for her. But I feel like it would not have been a long-term relationship. More like an intense fling that would have ended up in a strong friendship.

✞ Regarding Tommy... You know, a lovely reader on AO3 wondered if part of Tommy's hatred towards her could come from jealousy and attraction -- once again, I prefer readers to imagine what they want. The most logical choice for the canon story with John being married would be Thomas and Heaven falling in love in a very slow burn revolving around the enemies-to-lovers trope. At first, he would have only used her for her powers and for sex before falling for her first and trying to seduce her. That being said, their relationship would be toxic: they would always fight then fuck, then threaten to murder each other, but keep coming back to each other for comfort. Also, Tommy's tendency to sleep around would really make her suffer. At one point in the story, Heaven would have slept with Jack Nelson to hurt her husband, which could have resulted in a twisted love corner.

Isn't it hilarious to think that, in a parallel universe, there is a 100% angst series called "After You, Hell Should be Easy" featuring Thomas x Heaven in an enemies-to-lovers trope?

As for Ada, I don't think so: they are too different. The truth is, Heaven would have 100% fallen for May Carleton, and they would be the happiest and most healthy little couple of all the Peaky Blinders universe. 😂

Congratulations, Arthur is sulking now and mumbling "yeah, very fun Flor eh, but don't forget she's me fucking wife"

✞ For those wondering, Heaven is “you” in Heaven in Your Eyes, an Arthur x Reader!OC ongoing series. Check out the Masterlist

[naoa-ao3]

History Reeks

An ancient man, doomed to live forever was cursed by one of John's ancestors. Four thousand years later he meets John and becomes convinced that at last his story will have an end.

I, Piper Caith. 

I once played my flute for the people I knew but I no longer know them now. Those people are long since dead and their names and faces have been forgotten to all but me. 

I find sometimes it grows harder to recall the faces of the people who have come before. My mother's face is a blank void in my mind. I remember warmth and hair and that she was but not the color of her eyes nor the shape of her nose. My father was tall. I remember that and I remember that I had siblings and a woman I loved but they are all so long ago that now they do not come back to me when I call them. 

Only him. 

Only he comes back.

The laughing magician. The cruel fool I once called friend comes back though I try not to call him. His blue eyes and face. . . His golden hair and lies. . . I can't forget them though he has been long dead also.

When I sleep he returns to me, spinning yarns and telling stories. We once called him legend maker for he could make even the most simple of feats into a tale of adventure but they were lies and stories and nothing more. 

Now when I remember his stories I clench my fists for he made me what I am now. It is because of him that I am still here. Because of his cowardice.

Because of him I could not fulfill my role in life. Because of him I have no role in life but that which he gave to me and I hate him for it. 

Him who stole from the gods. . . Him who died an ugly death. My closest friend and most hated enemy. 

Back when we were friends the world was younger, not young but younger than it is now and we lived in huts and drank from rivers and streams. We danced and made love and I played my flute.

My friend laughed.

People still dance and fuck and listen to music though it has been years since I last put my wooden flute to my lips and he has not laughed in many more years.

My friend was vey clever, Eliud was his name and he was always better with the girls than I was. They liked his yellow hair and his smile. They liked the stories he told, his lies and his half truths. Eliud was not a man of honor. He was wild and he had respect for no one and nothing. Only later would I learn how deep that lack of respect ran. Only when it was too late would I know. 

Eliud and I were inseparable. I would have swam the ocean for him but he would not have done the same for me. I knew it then and I convinced myself that I did not care. 

I played my flute and he seduced woman after woman, his smile bright and their eyes keen. I was a good friend even when he was not and then there came Cuna who was lithe and very beautiful. She was the first woman I ever saw Eliud take seriously. Perhaps that was the first omen for it was so unlike him. 

In this modern age I find it had to reconcile with the past. There are gleaming towers of steel and glass and automobiles that travel faster than any horse I have ever known. The earth has been paved over and yet she is not conquered. Perhaps she never will be. . . I live my life now as any man. I work and toil and then drink and at night I sleep alone. Occasionally a woman will come to bed with me but my heart is in the grave. It has been for along time. . . perhaps since my first love.

Eliud had her as well, the bastard couldn't help himself. He must have seen that we were happy but she is no more and neither is he and he ruined any chance I might have had with her anyway when he did what he did to me.

What woman wants a husband who cannot grow old with her? For a few fleeting years she might enjoy it but when time comes for her and he is not along side, she will feel differently and so it was with my love. I never again tried to play husband. 

No, I keep my head down and I play what part I can, always an outsider and always alone. I have accepted that I am something other. 

When i sit and drink among the mortals I feel it the least for when has a man lived that did not enjoy the fruits of the earth? What man would weep at a glass of bitter set before him?

No, drink warms me though I have not had a true friend to share it with in many years. Because of that I sometimes miss Eliud. 

He was after all my dearest friend and I once loved him. 

I think these thoughts as I sit in the smokey pub that has taken the place of wayside inns and taverns in my life. I like this place and I have come here often.

I think of the past that is always with me and the days and people I have known and across the room I hear a laugh from far off days. 

A laugh I have heard many times before and yet not in many years. 

My heart skips and begins to hammer in my chest and I scan the crowd of drinkers for the mouth that spat it forth. 

There. . . Among a group of friends he sits. 

The laughing magician.

I stare at him and drink him in, the wretched sight of him. . . He is smiling as he always smiles and yet I frown for I can see it is not him. There are differences in his face. In his mouth and manner and he is taller than the man I knew. . . Taller than his ancestor. 

He laughs and smokes and I am taken back to outdoor fires and another laughing man. 

This one is a child compared to his years but just the same. I know this face. I know those eyes and I know his most distant father. It could be no one else. This is Eliud's line I am looking at. Nothing else. 

My blood boils and I hate him as he lifts his glass to his mouth and drinks. I hate him so very deeply and yet he is not the man who has wronged me. 

When I can bare it no longer I drain my glass and leave. My hands are shaking outside and I have to cover my mouth with them. 

I am shaken. 

A child of Eliud in this age. . . To think that he could live on in the blood of the modern world. . . It angers me. It isn't right and I am hurt. I have no offspring to be proud of. . . What good could his have been when they spring from the loins of a liar and a thief? This one that laughs as my Eliud did. . . How I despise him already. 

I know it is not fair to him. I do not know this laughing man. The one inside the tavern. . . I know his hated ancestor and I let my anger direct my feelings. I am only a man. . . Only human despite what he has made me. 

I feel small looking at him. 

Time has forgotten me and I tear my eyes from the window so that I do not have to see what remains of my dearest friend. 

I cannot look and so I run home. I hide in my flat as I once did in my hut. I pull blankets over my head like a scared child and I weep for all of the years that have happened and all that threaten to come next. 

When sleep takes me I dream of shifting waves and a small boat, too little to save me. 

It is him who pulls the prow forward. 

Him and his lies and his magic. 

I am helpless before him. 

His laugher is like thunder in my ears and his eyes are like lighting and they scare me.

Then he is struck down and some great hand scoops up my little boat and rescues me from certain death. I am dried and loved and saved and I can feel only relief.

The gods that HE forsook have spared me. I am connected to them now. We are not friends but we do not hate each other. They know I am not the one who has wronged them.

I warm myself, free from my boat only to open my eyes and see him there. . . The man from the pub. 

He looks at me with cool and merciless eyes. He does not know what he looks at and yet he looks and I hate him for it. I want to put out his eyes with my thumbs. I want to press them back into his head until he quakes and bleeds and bends under me. I want him to suffer as I have suffered. 

Hatred makes my heart hurt and the hands that saved me ferry me away once more, sheltering me from his hateful gaze.

A voice whispers to me, a voice I have heard only a few times before. 

"Kill this man and you will be free. 

It will only take one more death. 

His. 

End his wretched line and free yourself. 

We hate him."

The voice is loud and harsh and I quake as it speaks to me yet it makes sense. Something in my chest unwinds and I understand. Killing him will spare me more pain.

"You must kill him where this began."

Where Cuna died and where Eliud betrayed his makers. . . Where I was changed. 

I seize this information and wrap it around my heart. 

I will do as I have been told. 

It will be like killing Eliud.

I will find this man and I will set right what was made wrong so many years ago. 

I awake with a tune I have not played for many a year between my ears and I let it slip forth on my tongue. It sounds in the world for the first time in a millennia and with it I make my vows. 

I will kill the laughing man who so resembles my dear old friend. I will hurt him for that which his ancestor did to me.

I stalk him after this, as I would have once a deer or some prey beast. The man is no better than his ancestor. 

He smiles and lies and talks his way out of things he's talked his way into. 

I hate him.

He reminds me of Eliud and yet I am comforted by his similarity to my old friend. He is not the same but at times I see poor Eliud in him. In his eyes and the muscles of his face. . . Perhaps I miss my friend though I do not want to. 

The man's name is John Constantine. Perhaps that is fitting. The constant one. The constant problem. I have known many men, both good and bad but I have never known one like Eliud. 

This one is close and yet he is older than Eliud ever was. Back then we did not live so long and thirty was elderly and decrepit. This man is past that and so older than my friend grew to be. 

He gambles the same and lies and flirts and at times I am amused by his antics yet each time I think of it I see Eliud again and my certainty is renewed. 

This man must die.

Chapter two is up!

[ruinedandnotorious]

bitter

just me being bitter beneath the cut. i have a LOT to get out so be warned

twice in two weeks i've had difficult conversations with people who've basically told me i'm a pretty miserable person.

conversation 1 - with my psych nurse.

normally i go in there, we discuss how/if my meds are working, we laugh (she's funny!), i go home. nothing exciting. except for this last time around - she asked how i was doing with self care and my personal goals (like, working on my book and things like that). i told her that at the end of a working day, i'm usually pretty tired - mentally and physically - and i just want to get off the computer and lay down/chill for a while. so no, i haven't been great at research/book writing. but i know i'll get better at it as the days get longer and it keeps warming up (pls keep in mind i have hellacious seasonal affective disorder and can barely function in the wintertime, much less achieve amazing goals).

her (paraphrasing): when did self care/work on myself go down the drain? me: oh gosh idk, but it's all been a struggle since my mom died. her (paraphrasing): oh so you're disrespecting your mom's memory by not taking care of yourself or working toward your goals. is that who she raised? why aren't you being the amazing woman she raised? that's disrespectful to her.

well that was a slap (not literally i know but it felt like one). i am not good at defending myself or coming up with clever comebacks in the moment so i don't think to say, in the last (nearly) two years since my mom died i started writing the book and have made decent progress on it (just not LATELY) and i wrote and launched an entire tour.

i tried to explain that i have SAD but that, she said, is a "cop out."

she said i am disrespecting my mom's entire life and her accomplishments because i keep focusing on her death and the one day that she died.

she also talked about her (very alive) mom, how she was gonna go play tennis later, her husband/kids, and how she has to buy her sister's plane ticket for their upcoming vacation.

so - clearly - she's never lost someone super close to her. because if you have, you know what it's like to focus, yes, on the day they died, as well as the weeks leading up to it. could you have done something to save them? what was it like? did they know they were dying and were they ok with it? were they scared? yes. i focus and think about this shit constantly. i try not to. i try to think about the good times. i listen to songs we liked, i remember funny moments, all of that. but sometimes you cannot help but think about the day they passed. it's a day that absolutely destroyed me to my core so yeah, i think about that day. ok? that's just how it fucking works.

just the way she talked, too, you could tell - this woman doesn't have to worry about money. that's great - i want that for every woman. but um, i do worry about money. i KNOW i need to leave my low paying 9-5. i have looked for jobs and have applied for jobs. i've gone on interviews. NOTHING has paid off yet and that's ok - i truly haven't found a job i'm willing to dump everything for and move on. but anyway - what i'm saying is, having money makes life easier. it just does. and when you have money it's so easy to say shit like "just go play tennis!" and not, hey, i get it, having to stay home because you don't need to waste the gas can kinda kill the soul sometimes. ya know?

then somehow she brought up my mom's favorite holiday. i was like, idk, christmas? and she said, did you decorate for it this year? i said yes. but then i said, i had really bad pneumonia though and that kinda killed the vibe. before i could even finish the sentence she said, "why does everything have to be so negative with you?"

oh so i'm constantly negative. oh ok. bitch, listen. i had that fucking pneumonia for over a month. i felt MISERABLE, straight up MISERABLE, for weeks on end. there were days i stood crying in front of my mom's ashes begging her to help me feel better, somehow. i had to miss almost every single christmas event/party i planned to attend. when i did show up for christmas (not knowing it was full-blown pneumonia - urgent care just said "upper respiratory" and sent me home with nothing) - i got two cousins sick. so of course i felt guilty as hell for that and worried about them nonstop. four months later and i'm still dealing with the fallout from the pneumonia. i'm still having breathing issues. i've seen my regular doctor FIVE times to deal with it, i've been to two specialists, have had so many chest xrays and breathing tests, gone through several inhalers... and i'm not super close to finding out if i have legit asthma or if my lungs are just "hyperactive."

so yeah. pneumonia fucked with me mentally (holy fuck can i still do my job with fucked up lungs? will this shorten my lifespan? do i need to go to the hospital?), physically (not being able to breathe is so fucking scary) and financially (roughly $1,000 spent on all the doctor visits, tests and inhalers - all during the slowest months of the year for tours so no extra paychecks or tips to rely on).

so yeah, i am fucking negative about that whole damn experience.

and if grief has taught me anything, it's that sometimes, life sucks. there are experiences that are not fun. there is no silver lining, no "positive vibes," no learning experience. it's just a shitty situation and you have to endure it. and that's FINE. because that's life. you know things will improve; they usually do. that's LIFE. there are great experiences, shitty experiences, and all experiences in between - just fucking call it what it is, good or bad or whatever, and live through it. enjoy it if it's enjoyable. endure it if it's bad.

so what's so wrong with being negative about negative experiences? i'm sorry, but the last five years have tested me and i've had several shitty times. i've also had great days and i call them out too. i am thankful for the good things - the sunny days, laughing with my friends, the good tours, the good reviews, feeling supported, feeling my mom's love even though she's no longer with me.

but some days/weeks/months just fucking suck. overanalyzing the day my mom died, missing her and not being able to comfort myself, feeling alone, not having money, not feeling supported. but i do my damndest to not STAY in that way of thinking. i try to find the positive, even if it's something simple like my cat's very existence or flowers blooming. i've always been a "but it could be worse!" kinda person, but sometimes... yeah... i just say something sucked if it sucked.

but also, ma'am - do you see what's happening in the world? i found it hard to be happy when this mf was in office last time, and i'm feeling even worse than that now. i feel like i can't be fully happy when i'm this scared and worried and i know my friends feel the same way. every day it's multiple fresh hells thrown at us and i am overwhelmed.

anyways, listen. i know i needed a kick in the pants to get some things done. we all do sometimes! but this shit - this whole, you're a disappointment to your dead mom, you have reduced her life to nothing, etc - yeah, not the way to do it for me. everything to do with my mom is very tender for me so repeatedly poking that and telling me i'm a disappointment to her just fucking hurt. i left feeling humiliated and hating myself. i don't think i'm ever going back to that office again. the idea of having to find a new psych nurse and therapist (because the last time i saw my therapist she suggested i listen to joe rogan and... wow no) is exhausting but. yeah. that place isn't for me.

conversation 2 - the friend/sort of boss

literally one week after the psych nurse conversation, a friend/sort of boss said i needed to stop being so acerbic in my tours/presentations.

this again? another conversation about how negative i am? this wasn't something just thrown out in a regular conversation - she called me to meet with her face-to-face to talk about this. that's how seriously she sees it. the FUCK?

i came very close to asking for an example of this bitter behavior but i didn't because i knew if she said something specific, i'd fucking obsess over it and never let it go.

like, what am i supposed to do? go around lying my ass off, telling everyone that i am HAPPY, i'm not sick, i'm not tired, i'm not worried, everything is fucking dandelions and cotton candy? generally i do behave that way on tours, but i also want people to laugh and sometimes yes my sense of humor is dark. but i've never - NEVER - had a complaint about that from my guests.

i don't complain during tours. i welcome people. i make them laugh. i smile and they smile. i tell them we're gonna be besties by the end of the night. i get pretty good fucking tips, i get STELLAR fucking reviews. when people leave my tours they give me the sweetest compliments and tell me how much they enjoyed it. people friend me on facebook afterward because they want to come back and take more tours with me. i JUST had someone request a private tour with me bc they enjoyed one tour they've already been on.

SO I'M SORRY BUT WHERE AM I BEING BITTER? am i just not being your preferred type of funny? do i need to make jokes about, i don't know, fluffy bunnies and not about the darker parts of life? my tours are about true crime and death and the dark side of history. i'm not going to sugarcoat that shit unless it's to leave out the goriest of gory details (out of respect for the deceased, assuming they deserve respect. i am still proud that i pissed off a dead racist).

yet another meeting where i left feeling humilated and like a total piece of shit.

idk y'all. i don't wanna be known as a fuckin debbie downer, always bitter and negative. i don't generally think i am - i think i just call things as i see it. but maybe that's a bad thing.

one time someone told my mom she was "brutally honest" and maybe that's what i am and if so, i'm ok with that.

and to wrap up...

in this friend/sorta boss conversation, the current admin came up - and she was like, eh, we'll be ok.

i keep hearing more and more people say this lately (mostly, but not entirely, from ww who have been leftist as balls in the past) and i'm like... we do not know that. you're only saying that because it hasn't hit you yet. but it will. what is with this complacency? aren't you mad as hell? don't you want to stand up for yourself, your fellow citizens and your country? no? well damn, guess we have vastly different priorities.

[flouncysinatra]

The Odyssey, trans. Emily Wilson, book 4

One thing I haven't mentioned till now is that Wilson has given the books titles? The titles for books 1-3 have left no impression on me, which is fair enough, but the title of book 4 is "What the sea god said" which surprised me because I'm expecting to hear what Menelaus said, and he's no sea-god! Apparently there's more to this book than I remember...

At Menelaus's house, Menelaus's "guard", Eteoneus (who is remarkable in no other way than this iirc) asks Menelaus if they should receive the guests or send them on elsewhere. Menelaus tells him off and it's at this point that I remember that the Telemachy is also, as well as all the other things it's doing, an exercise in how to receive guests in an honourable way, which serves as a counter-example for some stuff to come in Odysseus's story...

Telemachus tries to whisper to Peisistratus about how fancy Menelaus's home is, but Menelaus overhears him. Can Telemachus do literally nothing right, even when the stakes are that low?

I don't think we learned in book 3 from Nestor just how long Menelaus took to get home - 8 years! Apparently he's been to Cyprus, Egypt, Phoenicia etc and had a grand old time collecting wealth along the way, but he says he's super sad because of the deaths of the Argives at Troy and his brother's killing by Aegisthus. When he singles out a single person he misses the most, it's Odysseus: "his destiny was suffering, and mine the endless pain of missing him".

This all makes Telemachus cry, poor lad. Helen appears and immediately clocks that he must be Telemachus due to his resemblance to Odysseus, and Menelaus agrees. Hilariously even Peisistratus gets to chime in to complete the circle of people talking about Telemachus in the third person even though he's right there: "he is shy and feels he should not speak too boldly in your presence". Peisistratus MVP of the Telemachy tbh. "In the absence of his father, Telemachus has no-one to protect him" - except you, baby!

Menelaus says, if Odysseus had come home in a timely fashion, he'd have liked to clear out some local town and give it to Odysseus to rule, and live nearby each other as noble besties forever after, which is quite the alternative history to ponder. Everyone is sad about the people that didn't make it home, including Peisistratus mourning his older brother Antilochus who was killed at Troy too, and he gives another good speech about how mourning is only proper in moderation, which Menelaus really approves of. Telemachus, buddy, you'd better be taking notes from your boyfriend here!!

Helen drugs everyone with some kind of witchy happiness herb. Is she sort of an enchantress like Circe? She certainly has the power to make men do things for her sake. She tells a story about Odysseus disguising himself and infiltrating Troy's walls in the guise of a beggar (put a pin in that one for about 15 books!!!) and she gave him intel: "by then I wanted to go home. I wished that Aphrodite had not made me go crazy, when she [...] made me leave the bed I shared with my fine, handsome, clever husband". I'm super aware that when we first meet Odysseus, he'll be in the bed of a fine and clever woman and will need divine persuasion to leave it too...

Menelaus talks about the wooden horse and how Helen tried to trick the Greeks by pretending to be various of their wives and calling to them inside it... Odysseus prevented the men from answering. But that's so fucking tricky of Helen, she really is being portrayed as a complex and interesting character here!

Again Menelaus and Helen lie down to sleep in one part of the house, while Telemachus and Peisistratus lie in another room together, the parallel keeps being drawn and I can't not ship them

In the morning, we have the conversation Telemachus came here to have, which makes me realise he was too upset the night before to actually have it, poor baby. And we get our first HOMERIC SIMILE! Menelaus hopes that Odysseus will take revenge on the suitors like a lion would if it found two little baby deer in its lair. Gruesome!

Ah here's the sea-god. Menelaus was stuck unable to make it home, and the daughter of Proteus saw him and took pity. She tells him how to sneak up on Proteus while he's sleeping (by wearing sealskin disguises), ambush him and hold onto him as he changes form in an attempt to escape, and finally question him to learn how to get home.

Proteus tells Menelaus to go to Egypt and sacrifice 100 cows in order to appease the gods and be able to get home. He also finds out what happened to Ajax (killed on his way home by an angry Poseidon), Agamemnon (we know this story) and Odysseus (trapped on Calypso's island).

I think Telemachus actually does something right here? Menelaus wants to give him horses and a chariot to take away as a guest-gift. Telemachus asks for treasure rather than of horses, since Ithaca is a rocky island only fit for goats. So basically he negotiates a better present? Menelaus seems pleased with that anyway, and offers him a really nice piece of treasure instead.

"Meanwhile, outside Odysseus's house..." - we move back to the suitors, who find out that Telemachus has gone away secretly. They plan to get a ship together and hold some kind of naval ambush, catching Telemachus on his way home and killing him. A slave tells Penelope about this, which is also her first time learning Telemachus has gone on this journey. She collapses in grief, assuming Telemachus is as good as dead already, and Eurycleia comforts her. At Eurycleia's suggestion, she prays to Athene for Telemachus's safety, and then goes to sleep.

Interestingly we get a second HOMERIC SIMILE hot on the heels of the first, also involving lions: Penelope's mind is like a cornered lion, encircled by hunters trying to trap it. (I know the feeling, Penelope.) I think the fact that Penelope and Odysseus are both given lion similes so close together is quite sweet.

Athene visits Penelope in the form of P's sister, Iphthime, and reassures her that Athene is looking out for Telemachus. She asks whether Odysseus is dead and Athene is all "what was that? Can't hear you, you're breaking up, really bad signal on the god-dreams network today, sorry byeeeee!"

And so we finish the book with the suitors lying in wait for Telemachus in their ship, and I have no memory of how this turns out. I sense more god-interference in the near future. Also in the next book: we finally meet the dude who the story's about!