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#i am so in love with dawn court it is ridiculous
candied-boys · 5 months
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Another - Rio x F! Reader Part 3
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When Emma chooses another, Rio has to go home without her... But there's more awaiting him than just forgotten memories...
Themes: hurt and healing, facing the past, learning to love again, aka angst with a happy ending!
Warnings: angst, Rio route spoilers, eventual smut, written from Rio's POV
Part 2
Not only did you not love her, you treated her so unkindly that she’s visibly nervous around you, and you dragged her into your most heinous act. She should despise you as much or more than you despise yourself, and yet all you can sense from her is a heartbroken desire to be accepted.
In your self-centred ways, you've neglected the one question you ought to have asked from the start.
“Did you… ever… love me?”
You can't bring yourself to meet her gaze, choosing to linger instead on the golden petals before you.
“I still do… very much…”
The crack in her tender voice tells you what awaits should you dare to seek her eyes. Coward that you are, you don't.
“Why? I'm a terrible person. I'm distrustful, hateful, vengeful, rude, scheming, and selfish. I'm basically a murderer. What ever did I do to attract you?”
A sniffly giggle chimes in the breeze, one more refined and elegant than that of her daughter, but unmistakably the same.
“What's so funny?” you ask, finally turning your gaze back to her.
“You've become much more self-aware over the last three years. You never would have admitted such things before — though they're all true.”
“So, you agree then? I'm awful. There's nothing about me worth loving.”
“On the contrary, what you mentioned has never been anything but reasons for me to love you more.”
“What are you talking about? Have you hit your head as badly as I have?” you find yourself asking seriously as you reach for her shoulders and turn her to face you.
A little startled she blinks nervously at you before glancing at your grip on either side.
“Uh, my apologies. Do continue… if you please,” you mutter and drop your arms, returning to fiddling with the daffodil.
“Well… I suppose it sounds ridiculous the way I phrased it, but… I believe the only reason you ever lashed out or let such dark feelings taint your heart was to mask the pain… When everything you've ever cherished has been taken from you, there's nothing left to lose… Truly, I believe you've never been anything but kind and caring deep down.”
Thoughts you're certain you've never told a soul. Memories branded on your heart in places you try to hide even from yourself. Fears and motivations you didn't understand until you were forced to face them when Silvio abruptly appeared a month ago.
Answering the shocked query of your brows, she declares with scorn, “I am your wife, Your Highness. How could I not know? Do you think I’ve been spending my days at court simply watching the sea roll in and out? What do you think Her Majesty and I spoke of all these years I've been Her attendant? To whom do you imagine I have been paying attention if not my betrothed?”
The pain that lapped at her eyes mere seconds ago has turned into surging waves of indignation, yet you can't resist the smile that washes over your features in response. At the same moment, your daughter comes running back, no flowers to be found, only insistent demands for ‘up’.
Bringing her into your arms you tell the little girl, “You know, bambina, your mother is a very perceptive woman. I don't think you or I will get away with much of anything as long as she has her eye on us.”
A bashfully averted gaze is all you catch before you rise and suggest continuing the walk through the rest of the gardens.
Little did you know that afternoon would be the first and last chance you would have to play freely with your daughter for quite some time. Royal duties, politics, visits, and excursions quickly submerged you from dawn ‘til dark thereafter. Though you may be able to get three times as much work done in a day as anyone else, you cannot - despite your best efforts - make meetings with others end thrice as quick.
The first few days after that you had tried to visit Valerie, but found she had already been tucked in for the night. Afraid of waking her with candlelight you didn't ask to see her in spite of the unfamiliar longing that nagged at you. By the second week you had come to accept that the life you'd forgotten had always been soaked with futility.
The only one usually still awake by the time you finish is your mother. Grateful for whatever time you can spend by her side, you visit every night. Weeks pass talking about your childhood memories, her life after you disappeared, the woman and child you left behind, your experience abroad, and eventually the heartache you brought home.
“Mother, I can't help but wonder… why am I the only one who married? Isn't it improper for a younger sibling to marry before the eldest? What happened? Why would father marry me off first when there's no clear political advantage?”
“Valerio… you were the one who wanted to be married. You fought with me, pleaded with me to let you wed…”
Memories billow with a sudden gust of old fears. You had always been afraid the next attempt on her life could be the last, so you had asked your mother to set you up with someone she liked. You had wanted to give her peace of mind that you would be taken care of. Most of all, the thought of not having her blessing on your wedding day had been unbearable.
“I tried to convince you to marry for love; begged you not to put yourself in the same position as your father — a wife unloved and a mistress cherished. You balked at the idea of ever repeating his mistakes and promised me that you would stay loyal to whomever I selected.”
How naive a heart that has yet to know love can be. Never had you imagined yourself capable of the powerful emotions now buried within. You had genuinely believed that, simply because you did not disdain the maiden she recommended, you liked her.
From there you had assumed a thing called love would blossom. However, you belatedly understand that because you had simply believed tolerance to be the limit of your affections, you made no further effort to deepen the connection.
Part four
🧡🫣🧡Tag list: @drachonia @outtayourmouth @maries-gallery @lamiefromage @tele86 @queengiuliettafirstlady
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quotergirl19 · 1 year
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Another Polin Proposal Story🐝💕
Colin: I’ve been thinking about the men you have to choose a husband from this season and the women who I would have to chose from were I so inclined and I have come to the conclusion that you and I should marry. We’re better suited for each other than we are for anyone else. What do you think about that Pen?
Penelope: Don’t be ridiculous Colin, you cannot marry me just because I am your friend and you are comfortable with me.
Colin: I wish to marry you because the idea of you belonging to another man makes me sick. And I know I will never find anyone else like you and that even if I did, they wouldn’t matter to me because she could never be you, Penelope. You are the one woman I cannot live without. I could not bear losing you to another.
Penelope: You only feel that way because I am your oldest friend. And you cannot imagine your life without me because we’ve been in each other’s lives for so long. It’s not as if…
Colin: I feel this way because I am in love with you. It dawned on me when you stopped replying to my letters. How I rely on your presence in my life. How you understand me and how good you have always been to me. How happy my life would be with a wife as sweet and lovely as you Penelope. If you could find it in your heart to spend the rest of your life with me, I would very much like to be yours. I promise to make you happy. I want to be with you always. Will you have me Pen, will you be my wife?
Penelope: But I heard you… you said you would never dream of courting me. You said it. I heard it from your lips with my own ears. You do not want me. You cannot love me.
Colin: The purpose of courtship is to get to know someone, to figure out if they are the sort of person who you could share your life with… I don’t have to court you to know that you are the best person I’ve ever met. I already know that being with you makes me happy. No amount of travel, or money or popularity will ever compare to the happiness I feel when I am with you. I want you to be mine. Forever.
Penelope: Colin you are a Bridgerton, and you are a man. There is no rush. You can wait to find the perfect, mysterious beauty you have always dreamed of. I am not her.
Colin: You are Whistledown and my sister and I are the only people in London who know, that’s mystery enough don’t you think. Do you think you have to be perfect in the eyes of society for me to want you, is that it? Well, I don’t give a damn what anyone says or what they see when they look at us. You are perfect for me. We belong together and that’s all that matters. I choose my heart’s desire, I choose my friend. I choose you, my love. So for god’s sake are you going to marry me or not? Because if I cannot kiss you soon I’m certain I will go mad.
Penelope: Well I suppose if it’s my hand or the nut house the least I can do is spare your family the scanda— oh!
Penelope did not get to finish her sentence because she was in his arms and his lips were on hers and frankly, she couldn’t recall what she was going to say and she didn’t care. She clung to Colin, pressing herself shamelessly against him as he wrapped her in a tight embrace. He never wanted to let go of her. He’d found his purpose in loving Penelope, and he was eager to start their life together.
After ages passed and neither of them had a clue how long they’d been locked in their passionate embrace, Colin pulled back and looked into Penelope’s eyes. Only this time when Penelope looked at him she saw something there. Over the years she’d noticed a tiny twinkle in the eye of gentlemen who were in conversation or dancing with a lady they were serious about. She’d come to think of it as the definitive sign of a love match. And it was there, in Colin Bridgerton’s eyes as he was looking at her.
Colin: Well, do you have an answer for me or do I need to kiss you some more to convince you?
Penelope: I’m afraid you’re going to have to kiss me more regardless but… yes, Colin. My love. My answer is yes.
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lizzie-is-here · 1 year
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like the dawn
part xiii- healing
“a monster is not such a terrible thing to be” - ocean vuong
summary: the trials come to a close, but you’re still struggling with what’s left behind.
wordcount: 3.4k
warnings: cussing, tooth-rotting fluff, angst and comfort, mentions of violence, trauma, allusions to homophobia
taglist: @whelvedfeelingsstuff @sebsgirl71479 @rebloggingmyrecs @babyblublossom @local-mr-frog @thenyxsky @capsiclesdoll @moonlightreader649 @saranghaey @almosttoopizza @itsivymusic
a/n: ok i’m slowly getting a bit less busy so hopefully i can post a little more often now! but also a heads-up that i’ll be putting this series on hold soon to do a 12 days of christmas thing! i might try to finish this first, we’ll just see how it goes. sorry for the long wait, and like always, hope u enjoy! love u 🤍🤍🤍
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The better half of the next two weeks were spent in court, ignoring the press, and sneaking away with Steve and Bucky wherever possible.
Years of unsaid words flowed between you three, and you could feel your walls being broken down day by day. You no longer apologize for the extra space your wings take up, or feel the need to soften your voice.
You’re sitting on the couch one day, entranced in an ocean documentary when Clint, Nat, and Wanda walk in, sweaty and straight from training. The latter two join you, while the archer goes to the kitchen and starts making sandwiches.
“So… Anything interesting going on lately?” the redhead asks. You shake your head.
“Not really. Been trying to catch up on everything, so-” You gesture to the TV. “Figured this was a good place to start.”
Wanda tilts her head. “Where are Steve and Bucky?”
“Yeah, I’ve rarely seen you three apart,” Nat agrees.
She wasn’t wrong. You three have been less-than-subtle these past days, even risking kisses in the living room a few times.
“They’re on a run with Sam,” you explain with a smile. “Needed to burn some energy.”
Unbeknownst to you, the three Avengers knew that. In fact, they’d made sure Sam had joined the super-soldiers on their run. They’ve noticed how strange you’ve been acting, and Nat got a bit too invested in finding out.
There’s no malicious intent, but her curiosity overpowers any guilt she’d feel for her mastermind plan. That is, to annoy the three of you until someone tells her what she already knows. She likes the confirmation.
Clint flops onto the couch next to the assassin, stacking two sandwiches and biting into both at once. The way his jaw pushes back to accommodate the ridiculous amount of food reminds you of a snake you’d seen in the previous episode.
“So, has Barnes always been that buff?” Nat hums. She quickly glances over at you to watch your reaction.
Wanda senses a twinge of jealousy that you stamp down surprisingly well. But you don’t give away any physical clues.
“Uhh, yeah,” you begin. “Used to do push-ups in our apartment while Steve and I ate breakfast.”
The redhead grins a devil’s grin, sly and only noticed by Wanda and Clint. “Bet you got a nice view of that ass.”
That makes you cough. Spluttering and bright red, the nearby lamp flickers in time with your heart. She wasn’t wrong, technically, not that you’d admit it.
“I- I never looked,” you excuse, discreetly fanning your face. She hums, but doesn’t press further.
Meanwhile, the super-soldiers are receiving the same treatment from Sam.
“Oh, come on. You two need to get back into dating eventually,” the man sighs, watching as they prickle and stumble a bit.
“I’m alright with where I am,” Steve says, careful in choosing his words. “I don’t really feel like dealing with all of the modern dating traditions.”
Bucky huffs. “Yeah, that time you made me sign into Tinder might have been the worst ten minutes of my life. Made me wish I was still getting brainwashed.”
“Buck!” Steve protests, glaring at his- Well, what was the right title? “Partner” seemed off, “boyfriend”, maybe? Nah, too childish.
“I saw too much, Steve,” the brunet laments. “Some dude had a tattoo of Stark on his-”
“Alright, I get it!”
Sam takes the opening. “Well, is (Y/N) thinking about dating?” It’s impossible to miss how they exchange a nervous glance. “I mean, she’s pretty, she’s been adjusting well. I’m sure she wouldn’t have any trouble-”
Bucky snaps first. “Ok! Ok, ok, Sam, listen.”
Steve sighs. “Buck-”
“Listen,” he continues. “You can’t tell anyone about this.”
Bingo. The Falcon feigns shock. “Oh? What’s ‘this’?”
———————————————————————
By the end of the week, Sam knows all about you three, and Nat is 98.2% sure she say you making out in the kitchen one night. The 1.8% is because she was also extremely over-caffeinated, so hallucinations were always a possibility.
Wanda’s been complaining to Clint about how “emotionally suppressed” you all are, but they think it’s sweet nonetheless.
In all honesty, you don’t really mind if the team knows. The hard part is keeping your budding relationship away from the public.
If they find out, it’ll just pile on more stress to the neverending trials. Your relationship will be grounds for more invasive questions, and you aren’t ready for that. At least, not until the trials come to a close and you either end up free or in prison.
Speaking of prison, Tony’s lawyers had finally confronted Thaddeus Ross about your treatment on the Raft.
“There was no permanent damage done to Ms. (L/N),” Ross’s lawyer argues, enunciating his words. “We knew that, due to her enhancements, she would survive the dosage.”
You say nothing but frown slightly. It had been hours of pain and nausea. Your memory from that week is foggy and jumbled. There was definitely some permanent damage.
“During her interrogations, Ms. (L/N) confessed to having blinded soldiers and burnt them with her powers. It was only reasonable to be concerned and want to minimize damages.”
“And for Mr. Barnes, we used a special set of cuffs that sent an electromagnetic pulse through his metal arm, which was enough to contain him without the assistance of sedatives.”
You bristle at the way they speak about you. Like an experiment. Like HYDRA. It turns your stomach and plants a deep unease. The way Bucky shifts on the other side of Steve reveals that he feels the same way.
The blond captain doesn’t dare to hold your hands. Not now. Not with all of the cameras and eyes. His hand twitches anyway.
You manage through the first half of the trial, but the judge’s next words make your heart drop. They’re calling a witness forward. A last name that echoes in the back of your mind.
“What is your relationship to the defendants?”
You can’t make eye contact with the man.
“They killed my dad,” he says. The courtroom goes silent.
You swallow. He continues to describe how he found the governor dead in his office, a hole burnt through his chest and a ghastly bruise on his neck.
By the time he’s done, you’re so far gone that you don’t notice your hands shaking, or how everyone’s getting up to leave.
“Hey, hey, come back to us,” Steve whispers. You blink, tears welling up as you spot the man shaking hands with Ross.
Bucky follows your gaze, only to rip it away when he realizes. He glances at his metal arm.
He hates excluding Steve, but the words slip from his tongue before he can stop them.
“Заслуживаем ли мы этого [Do we deserve this]?” This. The possibility of getting out of this mess. Of legally washing your hands of the blood, even if the stains would stick around.
A part of you, long buried since the ‘40s, says that you do. It promises that you weren’t in control, that neither of you would have done this out of your own volition.
But it’s so much easier to take the blame. If you’ve grown so used to the heavy darkness, then who will you be when it’s lifted?
And you hate that you can’t answer.
———————————————————————
It’s late that night when you finally turn in. Locking the door, you drop your covers.
You grab pajamas and tug the curtains shut, hand grazing Steve’s as he turns on the TV. Bucky’s sitting on the bed and is definitely staring at the former’s ass. Not that you can blame him.
With a knowing smile, you run a hand through his hair. You feel a presence behind you, and a kiss planted right between your wings. You sigh, exhaling the stress of the day.
“None of that was your fault,” Steve whispers. It hurts to hear. When he’s met with silence, he patiently reiterates himself. “None of it.”
“That man from the trial, I remember the… the victim,” Bucky mumbles. “He told us he had a son. Not that it did anything for him.”
Nodding, you close your eyes as the memory washes over you.
A well-dressed man kneels on an ornate carpet. Your bow is drawn. He holds up a framed picture, pleading in strangled gasps. You loose the glowing arrow as the Winter Soldier holds him up by the throat.
“Is that what you were saying earlier?” the blond asks. The Russian. Reluctantly, you translate your worries to him.
“Do we deserve this?”
It stuns him.
“Yes, you do. You deserve to heal, to be happy,” he chokes out. Steve won’t admit how horrible it is to watch the both of you like this. So worn down and unsure. You never used to doubt yourself, always confident in your skills and wants.
But now you’re blaming yourself for murders you were forced to commit.
Bucky clenches his fist. “They took so much.” There’s no need for elaboration. “We’re not the same people we were back then, Stevie. I’m sorry.”
“You don’t have to be.” He takes the brunet’s hand. “You two are everything I want and all of the reasons I want it. None of us are the same.”
Slowly absorbing his words, the three of you lay down on the large bed, arranging for Bucky to be in the middle. Normally, that’s your spot, but you’re more than willing to abdicate for tonight.
“You’re too smart for your own good,” you chuckle, kissing Steve’s forehead before burrowing into Bucky’s side. Gently running your hand over the web of scars surrounding his shoulder, you allow your powers to flow for the first time in weeks.
A dim glow travels around the veins, casting golden light on the silver prosthetic. Even the residual power calms you as you trace small circles. When the nerves are a bit less inflamed, you stop, and he takes your hand, pressing his lips to your palm.
Steve mimics his motion on his metal hand, never batting an eye when it whirs and shifts.
“Love you both,” Bucky whispers. You parrot it back, the dim light of the TV casting a blue glow on you.
The blond speaks, muffled by his pillow. “Whatever happens, whenever it happens, we’ll face it together, okay?”
You link pinkies with both of them in succession.
“Deal.”
———————————————————————
“Whatever” ended up being the final trial, and “whenever” ended up being four days from then. Tony’s legal team had dragged in a large screen and started up HYDRA footage for the jury.
Even if they’d warned you in advance, you hated watching yourself succumb to the trigger words. It was almost as bad as watching Bucky do the same.
As your screams echoed through the room, many in the jury turned away. Not that you could blame them; it was a grisly sight. Tubes stuck out of your arms and the empty look in your eyes bored through any screen or recording.
But now it was time for the final verdict. You hung on every word, wings fluttering as a representative of the jury stepped forwards.
Her opening speech flies over your head, but then, she turns to you with a small smile.
“We, the members of the jury, find the defendants-“
Ross still has a smug grin on his face, but his confidence all drops away.
“-Not guilty.”
Your hands fly to cover your mouth, eyes watering as the trial concludes. Many reporters are clapping, and the judge offers a polite nod to the three of you before exiting.
You, Bucky, and Steve are instantly in the middle of a group hug, even as Vision awkwardly hovers around.
“We can get you two to Wakanda, T’Challa promised that his sister could help with getting those trigger words out of your heads,” Tony begins, still mid-hug.
Nat rolls her eyes. “Tony-“
“And once that’s done we can get you training, and even start missions if you feel comfortable,” he continues.
The redhead grabs him by the shirt, tugging him away and ushering the rest of the team with her.
“Let the lovebirds have their moment,” she chuckles once they get far enough away.
Sam runs right into the billionaire as he stops in his tracks.
“Lovebirds? What?”
Back in the courtroom, the three of you are still soaking in what this means for you.
“What do you guys want to do first, now that you aren’t enemies of the state?” Steve asks, leaning against a bench.
“I wanna go on a road trip,” Bucky hums. “Take a break before everything goes crazy.”
You nod. “Yeah, we could go down to the Grand Canyon like you always wanted.”
“You could fly it; that’d be cool,” he agrees.
The blond shakes his head. “You two are such nerds.”
Shrugging you stand to stretch from your seat. “You love us.”
Damn you and how right you are. He does. He loves you both a lot. And maybe now he can show it.
“Yeah, and I’d love to be able to kiss you two right now.” But it’s too public, and neither of you are ready. Or so he thinks.
“What, you want to tell everyone?” Bucky asks.
Steve blushes a bit. “Well- maybe not here, at the courthouse? That seems a bit… much.”
“Since when have you been one for subtlety?” you snort. “The only way you could be more noticeable is if you wore a traffic cone on your head.”
He falls silent, and you and Bucky exchange a look.
“Listen,” the latter begins. “We’re both comfortable with it if you are.” The last thing any of you want to do is push the others over their limits.
He thinks, really thinks about it, and steels his resolve. The three of you have waited long enough. “I’m ready.”
You entwine hands with Steve in the middle, and make your way to the front doors of the courthouse. The team is waiting, and Nat, Sam, Wanda, and Clint sport knowing grins. Tony looks a bit pale.
The crowd is bigger than usual today. More signs, more cameras.
“We didn’t really map out the logistics of this, did we?” Steve whispers. Bucky, apparently done with waiting, grabs him by the collar and pulls him in.
When they part for air, the brunet whispers, “Fuck logistics,” before Steve leans to kiss you, gently holding your face in his hands.
The crowd only screams louder, and, in a subtle bit of one-uppery that you recognize in Bucky instantly, he dips you in his kiss.
When you center yourself back in reality, the team is excitedly hurrying up to you. You can’t find it in yourself to give a shit about the crowd. Whether they’re clapping or screaming obscenities, they’re just background noise.
Wanda comes up to you, and without any warning, pulls you into another hug. Chuckling, you pat her back while listening to Tony rave.
“So, you three-“
“Yes, us three,” Steve interrupts.
Stark blinks for a moment. “Wait, you’ve all been sleeping on your tiny-ass bed?”
You shrug. “A queen bed is hardly tiny. We only had a full sized one back in our old apartment.”
“Yeah, but the three of you weren’t all squeezing on that one with your ten-foot wings and the extra inches on Cap,” Sam says.
You can see the gears turning in Tony’s head, but leave him to his scheming. Peter’s equally excited, shaking in place. Or that could be the energy drink he had. You weren’t sure.
“Scott, are you crying?” Rhodey asks over the crowd. The man sniffles before squeaking out, “No! I’m just… Ok yeah I’m crying.”
The rattling of the barriers is your cue to head out. Some of the crowd are pressing past the guards as you pass by.
An elderly man catches your eye, smiles, and tips his hat before disappearing in the throng of people.
Once in the bus again, you take your usual spot with your boys.
“You sure know how to stir up a crowd,” you laugh, taking Steve’s hand.
Bucky grins. “He’s been doing that since those USO tours-“
“Hey! You promised you wouldn’t bring those up,” the blond whines.
“They were really entertaining,” you hum. “Especially the first time I saw you and yelled at you in front of the whole camp.”
He only grumbles, placating when Bucky kisses his forehead and struggles to not laugh more.
“We’re sorry, we’re sorry,” he manages, smiling. You agree, gently tapping him with one wing.
Despite promising not to tease him further, you don’t let up until you get back to the compound, happily retiring to your rooms to change out of the stuffy formal wear.
You’re tugging on some pajama shorts when two arms wrap around you. One metal, one warm.
“Pasăre [bird].” You hum, leaning into the touch.
“Hi, Jamie.”
“‘M tired,” he whispers. You reach up to run a hand through his hair.
“You’re always either tired or hyper, love.” He shrugs, awkward due to your wings blocking the movement of his arms.
You hear familiar footsteps heading down the hallway. “Steve,” Bucky calls.
“Yeah?” The blond has a few bowls of fruit in his arms. “Figured you two were tired.”
“That’s what we were just saying.” You pluck a small orange from the bowl, peeling it slowly. “I think we should ask Shuri about it when we head down.”
“When’ll that be?” he asks. You shrug, discarding a spiral of orange peel in the bowl.
“I’m pretty happy with hanging around for a while,” Bucky says, laying down beside you two on the bed and taking an apple slice. He carefully avoids your wings from where you’re laying on your back.
You pop an orange slice free and pass it to Steve, and as you do so, notice a small cut on his finger.
Taking his hand, you roll over. “What did you do now?” you ask. It’s a tiny cut. Hardly worse than a paper cut.
“Nicked myself on the apple slicer. Turns out Nat sharpens the kitchen tools in her free time, ‘just in case’, whatever that means.” You chuckle.
“May I?”
He nods.
As you work, Steve watches you. He’s always done a lot of observing. It’s how he got good at art, how he got good at strategizing, and, eventually, leading.
He’s never seen a close-up of your powers on him. The last time you used them on him, he was, to be blunt, dying on the banks of the Potomac.
He knows that Bucky knows your powers well. They’re like a safe space for him. They provide memories that aren’t just the cold walls of HYDRA.
But they’re new to Steve. The first thing he notices is how your hands move. With Wanda’s powers, her hands are tense and shaking. The sheer force of the power she holds looks almost painful.
Your hands twist and bend in fluid motions, and though they have the slightest tremble, the differences are like night and day.
The second thing he notices is, well, the powers themselves. The only magic he’s encountered is Thor’s and Wanda’s. Maybe Vision, if the Mind Stone counts. All of their powers radiate a humming noise. It crackles and reminds you of their destructive force.
Your powers are silent. And they almost bloom from your hands. The gold light floats into small shapes, before fading away. When the light touches the cut, the skin sews itself back together.
“…Wow,” he breathes out. You tilt your head.
“What?”
He holds up his hand. “‘What?’? You just healed my hand, sweetheart, I’d say that warrants a ‘wow’.”
“Or two,” Bucky cuts in, pecking Steve’s hand from over your shoulder. You grin when the latter blushes, the slowly setting sun barely peeking through the curtains.
The three of you are tangled together, talking in hushed voices as your hands trail over each other.
Maybe you’re tired all the time now. Maybe the nightmares come every night and the public deems you a killer. And maybe they’re right in some ways.
But you have your boys the way you wanted them all this time. You have a little room and friends who care about you and two bowls of fruit and a TV that you only watch documentaries and cooking shows on.
And you think that that more than makes up for it.
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waltwhitmansbeard · 1 year
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turned my water into wine #6
see my masterpost for what came before this. this drabble takes place after chapter twenty-three of my fair lady. prompted by both @blorbologist and @tiamat-zx. inspired by @romeoandjulietyouwish's medieval au.
Vex cannot believe she is expected to perform her duties as usual as if she did not spend this morning watching her brother, her twin, her best friend, her other half, marry a princess in secret. As soon as the little ceremony was finished—so sweet, the two of them, flushed in the dawn light with the promise they'd just made to each other, yes, perhaps her heart of ice melted, just a tad—they'd all scurried off to wherever they were meant to be, eager not to get caught in the absurd circumstance they were just in. Vex climbed to her office in the guard tower in a daze, trying to wrap her mind around her sister-in-law, the princess.
Now it is nearing noon, and she must eat before she starves. As is her wont, she winds her way to Percy's study, a cat slinking through its familiar alleys, and finds him there staring at some ledger and very clearly not reading. She raps on the open door and startles him out of his reverie. "Can't imagine what's got you so lost in your own thoughts," she deadpans, throwing herself into a chair opposite his desk and snatching some grapes from his leftover breakfast plate.
He laughs, pulling his glasses off to rub at his eyes. "Yes, well..." The door is still open, and they must be careful. "It was an early morning, to be sure."
Vex is contemplating how to have the conversation in euphemism, but before she has to, Pike stomps into the room, slamming the door shut behind her. "Are either of you coming unglued as keenly as I am?" she demands.
Vex kicks the other chair in front of Percy's desk so it skids to face her. "Sit, Pike, and let us grouse about our truly ridiculous friends."
Pike clambers up into the chair. "It was not until I returned for my morning devotions that I realized what we'd done. If the sovereign finds out how we've participated in this..." She lets the threat of it hang in the air.
Percy sighs. "Yes, we have taken on a liability, that is for certain. But at the risk of sounding saccharine..." He leans back in his chair. "I shudder to think of the man I would have become had I not been so steadfastly loved by Keyleth from the moment of my arrival in Zephrah. Of course, my care, my education, my position in court are thanks entirely to the sovereign and his endless generosity, and I owe him my life and my loyalty and so much more, but...she is, as you said, my truly ridiculous friend, and I cannot imagine a world in which I deny her her heart's greatest wish."
Vex knows he speaks true. One of the first things he learned about him, in the earliest days of their liaison, was his ceaseless love for the princess. She worried, in fact, that his love was something romantic, something with which she would feel the urge to compete, but she could not have been more wrong. She knows now that Percy loves her like he loved the sisters he lost, and thinks of her with fondness and vigilance of an elder brother. And in truth, she is glad the two of them have each other, since they both lost so much at such tender ages.
"I, of course, feel the same about Vax," she says quietly. "The truth of the matter is, he has given up a great deal for me. I was..." She swallows thickly. "I believed the lie I told myself about my father, that some day, if I worked hard enough, if I behaved well enough, I could earn his affection. I was wrong, and Vax, gods bless him, knew the reality of his cruelty long before I did. His insistence that we leave saved me from untold heartbreak at the hands of that man so...yes, even though I still think this..." She drops her voice to a whisper, just in case. "...marriage with the princess will end in heartbreak yet, I will never be able to look him in the eye and tell him I do not support his wild pursuit of happiness."
"Well, perhaps this could be a good thing," Pike suggests hopefully. "Perhaps now, when word spreads of what happened, there will be more...leeway for unions between those of different stations." Vex keeps her eyes trained hard on the inkwell on Percy's desk, barely breathing. "Courtly negotiations are always so formal and rigid, and I should think we would all be better off if we could love without regard to wealth or title."
If Vex nods, she doesn't feel it. All she can feel are the pair of icy blue eyes boring into the side of her head that she cannot meet right now. "Yes, well," she croaks out—oh, curse her tremulous throat. "Be that as it may, right now we ought to be concerned with our present circumstance. Do think he'll hang us for our betrayal, or shall we live out the rest of our days in the dungeons?" She's attempting levity, but she can't keep the hollow tone out of her voice.
"Vex'ahlia," Percy chastises, and oh if that doesn't make her toes curl. As Pike buries her face in her hands with a groan, he rushes to reassure her. "Sovereign Korrin is a good and fair man. If anyone is going to die, it's Vax."
"Percival!"
He shrugs at Vex's outburst. "He's the idiot who fell in love with her."
He's not wrong.
Pike claps her hands together. "Alright, enough. We are now being the truly ridiculous friends. This is a day of joy! Our friends are wed, and they are happy, and we are happy for them, regardless of what the future holds. Yes?" The question is pointed, demanding agreement.
Vex chuckles. "Alright, Pike. Yes, as foolish as my brother and the princess are, I am happy that they are happy."
"Agreed." Percy pushes from his desk and stands. "Come. Let us find Keyleth and Vax, and we'll have our lunch together, and we will remind our friends how happy we are."
Pike hops off her seat and makes for the door. As he rounds the desk, Percy reaches out to snag Vex's wrist. She looks to him, confused, and when their eyes meet, there's something in his that she cannot identify. They look at each other half a moment, Vex's spine suddenly tingling with some strange energy, and then his hand and his eyes are gone, and he is following Pike from the study, and she is left there, strangely warm and confused.
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rosepompadour · 2 years
Note
I saw your tags on your Anne Boleyn post about your list of men from history who would have been good in bed, and I'm dying to hear the whole thing! ♡
Ohhhhh, goodness.
♡ Thomas Andrews. A genuinely decent dude, a total babe, a hero...and he went down like a gentleman. (Wink wink.)
♡ Philip Hamilton. Dare I say, even sexier than Dad? Also like his father in that he had the unfortunate tendency to duel...and l o s e.
♡ George Boleyn. First of all, popular history's portrayal of him as an abusive drunk really doesn't have a lot of basis in fact. (His wife has also been unfairly maligned, but that's a story for another day.) What we do know is that he was super smart, ridiculously good-looking, funny, passionate about reform, and an A+ brother. He even  defended himself at his own trial, and did it so well that the court started taking bets on whether or not he'd be acquitted. This smooth son of a bitch, I swear to GOD! He knew he was going down, so he went down swinging. Even if he was ugly as sin, he'd still be on this list for telling the entire court that Henry was a terrible lay. I can actually see the smirk on his face when they handed him that piece of paper.
♡ Babe Lincoln. So tall, so lanky. Him chopping wood in his shirt sleeves while (maaaaaybe) pining for Ann Rutledge? I know the historical record is a mess when it comes to Ann, but the rolled sleeves/pining makes for a very nice combination. Swoon town! (Also kept our nation together in its darkest hour, which is a pretty solid bonus.)
♡ . . .and, conversely, Lewis Powell, the dude who conspired to kill Lincoln. It would definitely only be a one-time hate fuck, but . . . I MEAN.
♡ Tom Mitford, the Branwell Bronte of the 20th century. That picture of him in the t-shirt smoking a PIPE? 10/10. Might have been a fascist, which is v. unfortunate and would ultimately land him with negative points, but accounts differ, and, as usual, I am going with Decca's POV on this one.
♡ Speaking of siblings: Erik Miller, brother of Queen Lee. I have approximately ten thousand books about Lee, and all the pictures of Erik are bookmarked. A happy bonus! ♡ Thomas Wyatt. Eventually ended up bald with a terrible beard and a broken heart, but a TOTAL HOTTIE when he was young. Thin and lanky? Golden hair? Eyes that twinkled like stars? (Not my quote, that is HISTORICAL FACT!) Funny? ROMANTIC?! LOVE POETRY??? Anne, girl...I hope you are having such a fun, sexy time in heaven.
♡ Peter Townsend, dashing hero of the Battle of Britain and Group Captain of my heart! 
♡ Rupert Brooke. Kiiind of seems like a terrible person, but he's my favorite poet and LORD what a face. It would be a very complicated relationship (me: Jewish, him: into dudes), but oh, what a time would be had!
I am going through this list and it has dawned on me that I have a Very Specific Type...très intéressant!
Also, I am super super attracted to WWII-era JFK, but the question is who I would consider a good lay, and tragically JFK did not make the cut. EVERYONE says Kennedy when the dinner table gets a lil sloshed and starts asking which president you'd smash, but he's a terrible choice! The man would last thirty seconds until that damn back of his gave out, and then you'd be trapped underneath him a la Elaine Benes when she got crushed by her mattress from The Lumbar Yard.
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bookofmirth · 2 years
Note
sometimes i sit back and wonder how sjm has made acotar into such a shitshow 😭
we’ve got the elriels vs the gwynriels. one of the most embarrassing fandom fights i’ve ever seen. we’ve got sjm taking the powers away from a female character yet again while still establishing everytime rhysand is on page how powerful and strong her is. we’ve got feyre’s almost teen pregnancy HALF WAY THROUGH THE SERIES. which pregnancy? fine. not going to complain. every woman should choose what path they want. but half way through a fantasy series? a couple months after she said she wanted to wait? when she’s a 20 year old immortal? when there is WAR coming and now we are all going to be forced to care about a child when we’re here for badass fantasy 😭 we’ve got rhysand becoming high king which is going to bring so much hate for sjm. one way or another shes going to take the thrones away from POC and LGBTQ characters and have them kneel to her white male character and his very young wife who has no education or experience being a queen and who’s first act as high lady was destroying a court?
i love acotar but it’s just so all over the place. i feel like she sacrificed so much plot to just haphazardly sow things together to make the crossover possible and ugh worst decision ever.
we’ve got the elriels vs the gwynriels. one of the most embarrassing fandom fights i’ve ever seen.
LITERULLY the most fucking embarrassing, I have never in my life seen this fandom act so fucking juvenile and that's a huge reason why I've been scarce the last couple months. I am constantly flabbergasted at how ridiculous people are acting in public, as if it fucking matters. They must be bored 😭
But yeah the other stuff you said, I'm honestly not as excited for acotar anymore either. I hate the crossover. Fully, enthusiastically, I am not a fan. If/when Az gets a book, it will be the Tower of Dawn of acotar for me (I don't like Chaol, I didn't care about ToD, I've never reread it because 😴, ToD only served to delay the plot lines I actually wanted to read with Aelin).
And on the one hand, it's not that deep. Really it's not. We have great characters, great ships, and that's always been the strength of acotar in particular. I can't remember a time we haven't been ripping on her magic system and worldbuilding in acotar in particular. It's not like we didn't know.
But now it's like, it's to a point where those things really matter a lot more than they used to, and so it feels weird and incongruous to what the series started off as.
Luckily there are thousands of other books on my tbr and tons of other authors I love!
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libidomechanica · 30 days
Text
And your sweets, fair a charm
A limerick sequence
               1
His primrose looked dost excel: for three more ye myrtles stood. And tell—this tears    down the talking none for    a most soon lifelong their own! And mine weren’t ridiculous.
               2
A principle of either some from ugly night laugh. Twenty day, or shadowed    where be the fame,    affection well together dame alone. Limbs, its pipes of basalt.
               3
As love, I drove as moon up without tender, beauteous see bottom off gorged    foretold. I love I    things to survive. Her fair, nor each other dies; and poor the pass.
               4
And still vowed. Tho court, are full herds wandering is discern a workmanship    her? After nation, owe,    thy paint and gaze where she dwell, when that blows and bleed. Knowledge come!
               5
The famous Druids, like a great; his dissemblems to the had been, she melt;    and, no face! The flies. So    shaping flowe. War with the largely pay as being has Lover!
               6
His gentle world weedes shine o’er they are amorous haue make hands of the    unpaid billows and the    rich town where affied. Than all out—my two Eyes Narcissus seal.
               7
It was anythings toward went to me, I could, the waters, corn; neither should    not afraid of care that    smell asleeping. I’d rather’s season due; for us, bright.
               8
Without ended intrude, and dead, and dames, but eares. Through words euen he call    my heare that would be. And,    and ages on a cycle of creature; but they did; but best.
               9
Because I forgate shrunk away she heart. Fondly preservice dost mount their    part out will in other    draw, long sea. It is turn’d may breast with fear thee restrained to see.
               10
Senses, flash the stay? And now a speake light, deep east: tis not summon sunne, tell    me, cousing; so at loud    the universal nature’s his worthy old by a flames, will.
               11
I dreadful fancy. And love you hasten my prospects; again, now, his whole    into catch you then hell.    I thou shall charms. Ring, with you may liveries of him, whose path.
               12
And now rules to-day, I am not my piteous flood. Had his for myself    uprear, and so hushed bird    feelings, as really two or to thou, were the budding hand low!
               13
Forming be, than heart, where their my hearts the nuptial bower, how she red; or    let me Turn, forward mishap    hath an anguish, ioyless seas, in that err frost of his draw.
               14
Their love. Of Jove; as his contrary I could nothings sit beneath and awful    plight as loath they opened    by the you sooner bled, but the sky, and waxen to jar.
               15
You soon, and mine eye sing and round, swept their street moods and Fates or two, Still be    sandhills, and the stand when    every saul, the princes of self! That least down that hold man, shore?
               16
In one: Marry hed: and at grief, post are room, whose my headlong vine brooks, on    these obtain. I shone, I’ll    lips purse bullion knew not help of you but know white the currence.
               17
Like to live; if not, that can live mown. And of Maud; I said: went was he purpose    rich mayst bed, be both    as on mine opposing a noble never sweeten man’s ground.
               18
Than whom man, the lead thence as my mind to see, turn and I thinks, and then, stay!    And danced, the plain. She way    lead and virtue and never called with my sense of my soule, sound.
               19
One strike unto hear higher lost, yet jointed far words that made, or whose flowers    are ridiculous.    Yes, each sweet silly murmurs, the Harps dive, such a silent. This.
               20
Be nothing these the soon I should lay her vine owns and whose immortal! Bid    a soft in the sun: in    ancient doth dark. Whose at evening herds thy Venice-glassy keys.
               21
Song of promise the session when I my unmendable self-contested,    whose in gear, as one sank    to charms. Shall hollow my body downs—to takes and the time proved.
               22
Of sometimes more apt for eves. My selfsame flood that paid bitten my greater    gain, on and of the nights,    dawn common see here lives the shrubs, with into the truce obtain.
               23
And endeth, but therein Leanders! Ay— there, that sweet hour old carrot’s calmed dark    thou smiles meekly frame the    from woe tell of me, as written what beautiful, exactly.
               24
My days: not words made tongue but earned hair, and up in choir cried, my heart, although    time where all silent,    that shaken black rocked ugly night. You wert deaths at you, all thee!
               25
And favor the Hall away; give thorn’s bashful years, all thy face so; and in    that roses all the poor,    heavy-blossoms complaine; but being a while fault castle. Down.
               26
Her more says: My china. And speech do I hold me a clock of life; the living    in thou shall heateth    kind low! Born autumns and my fancy lights, dawn and doth chocolate.
               27
Because the live; if we drove I can proud composed be take its pipe in suck’d    upon a hill, far as    a broken. Be dull naturally to joy, from Time do I seal.
               28
Gods no pitiful, invisibility: full his fair thou hasten thy    earth and from the riversal    nature’s regarded, art so hush of June? The other e’re.
               29
Be sand. Did enthralled in lassie, fairies of me, and live unacquainted,    and king and Daunger blood,    in offering nights. Save wrongest soone with beautiful, hast was sear!
               30
They shalt seem when you canst pours creep the sun because he gate shatter shall the    rites are swear afternoon    my plains, and be world spread; strong is bark, built in. Is fragranted.
               31
I have lost infinite agree? And tune happy Hobbinol, I lo’ed, forget    this such as knew hate’    she winter ance of those infrequent the played, as if not rest.
               32
With crowning down in then you see a face and mowed, had the beds. And you must    all the names away shed,    she hearted to bed; she spreading was cradle on me, trust meet.
               33
When should I dipt in mine own: perhaps it seem right shine. The throng’d my pen thou—    and still, that tongues coming    yardwand, or a bunch of you now about the passive Sara!
               34
When his tears for than she bonie, blood-red her mown. It lies but you A rose and    stitche: a righted life wither.    Keen seat of light the useless can all on a day, O curse.
               35
Long the bare soon rent, without that had suffer moon is this mood? Change ere the    made her Cheek, and sire,    we watch’d in dreaming all it is throat like light of heavy change.
               36
That he cattle tongue untun’d by how will hate, eitherto heart that eldest    gift, upon the perfection    now. I am not scent that heedle that elder love’s best.
               37
When looking thee; a prize it, elder loath. And offers use, as in free; and    the summer-standeringhi    Glasse, home fresh alarm, and stay, in deaf and spent I adore.
               38
Bene euer lyst pine-grown thee, Shepherd, sitteth, and this, and nature we slended    to our from her too.    Built in think of mine at all,—what way because it’s in his shone.
               39
Breast, am gives in hottest he disease off! No, no, but night I should we    were the attir’d with spenta.    The motion, lest Ioue, which your than all the viewless most dead.
               40
She is, I all the watching I wander cries, Joy! Men’s imprint that large    excitement the hear than thoughts    and oh, ’tis passions, all the kind, as many’s lips wan this call.
               41
Prophetic soule, some savage were getting is not them like a fatal web    beloved Woman! The    hyghest mine and leave the sun grows her bread, at night burn, Amen!
               42
Oh distant least they dazzled and departed muse with tears dragging twig: an    awful, come on The kind    of a widow’s crook. On her droue: no doom, when the ecstasy!
               43
Or crookéd as a messence. Here not wonder the poor Son of the plightly    shining the close trailed up    in a time desert saw Majnún answered and loved with a rate?
               44
Cleopatra lived of courts and depart. And mirror of sex, like a doll    drest or slack death who know,    turned, she still, or else-where Nature bereavement glisterity.
               45
Or whom the world, and spread, and all heart, find then, in solemn choice by languish.    And mine, to you, they are,    thou one. Gather e’re. But in that brushed took a while upon me.
               46
Fathers are yet won, your fancy fate. Of me, lets covert her he meadows,    I adoration the    earth shamed, when frogs can be seen’—but her, and hour lovest is thine.
               47
The light to visit us my through of her so lover’s fading written    by heart, I said—Oh Darling    of perfum’d with itself to a bowls. Fair founds breathless youth!
               48
Who else was after a brown of this crown between turf such less? Why wind, we    music has dark of Langled,    when star from sit once, sounding flash and greet: I hate alone.
               49
Staying, in the springs, we were not won, yet these grass, that Orion sense,    as a snail, let me to    proud horse is it not hap always where ye bin thy meets young main.
               50
Heath, and vows answer, Muse? See now, is to keep their earth an unlearn her on    his Cot, our hands, in thrall;    and the strong music out thee to some for all succeeding wheel.
               51
I thou are are hurts is due: only in a woman it love depends forlorn.    Thing each trifles are,    and dance, like and periwinkles so the stillness night of wine.
               52
I must not he: his heighty king all in us and their tho, then the    thitherto hell herd strong my    love weight thoughts of mine. Shift pure ashes fall determination!
               53
Whose shall panting on the world farthing some others in wall, drink her was was,    beat feels, and stockade or    to die of glass will. If those hours, or hither turned as a long?
               54
Help! The heau’nly paths, whom we shall did we stand pitying tide visit Hero,    hoping follow me:    who hath were ever palfrey freeze another’s, and how fallen.
               55
But when with a sodger and tread the world. For how the back treasure, let her    pain—to-morrow like world    spread of the Power, descents snatch in being wheel in my Maw.
               56
But her page to friends thy bed-vow brings to such cheer, and love herself come him    seen’—but once morn: shall faultless    the love pink, and new; where’s hold and dance, each ecstasy.
               57
Separate be dullingly dreary cry. Green leaves but unto each they were    enamoured drooping thy    floor that concluded this, thought you, all be able was spirits.
               58
And think’st by the beloved my heard the unconscience at grief be dying.    And to proportions boundless    to each accuse or the pastorax from fallen. Self-sways.
               59
The both delight, so ouerthwart that, and I see the current voice restinies.    While thus vse the psyche    dreadful fancy to struggles to th’ earthly the devils!
               60
And the time committeth. So that shrewd gyrles Ruby-hidden waste to my    place wakes of unknown where    and marble. Stay, such sacred heard a tenders! As I wroth wind.
               61
Long ere I always that was a dog, he still sure! I should I am perjured    and God to stars would    not chemist mixing hearts, and in act express and griefe morning.
               62
And with new Elysium, but organic Harp of leave moan; where are quiet    leaves all my eyes wet    a weedes shall are? Thing to the bough, where wish. Sole enemy.
               63
I sighed, supple twilight uncalled. Hide me, true-heart, the same few great she strife,    but only thy best against    thou art, I see that the through her eyes but as beloved!
               64
You made of many a lusty least, from Heaven with blind, being plumes are    stay yet shearse making throught.    So the utmost rich carous an or months my Juliana’s lie?
               65
Of sound-like                       the name and blown throws end. I saying the ring, that unused, the    poor lovers, his sake, must    notes shall determix’d? For, taste, I am sick of Hazeldean.
               66
“What it the wish in each underbolt. Thoughts of sighing sequacious none. Higher,    with men, much more I    don’t own any thou lov’d assayed beyond to star. Badge-the days.
               67
But the took than thou hardly higher. Here in such wars and hour gave it but    be not for speech here a    melodies, legs his parity exactly. Each doth to do.
               68
Now the bare among be, and Timour- Mammon Well hearts haue, my finger bless    and wounds and thorn, batt’ning    stood. And instrung until all that thine. And withstandering skies.
               69
And Fate will lips was believe me; and hair, shall profferent voice I danced, but    the south-wind when it denied.    Yearn, and whenceforth reproachine, where burial comfort?
               70
And every gates with none liuely frame which is due. The self-same milk with    Ignorance got the chin, delight,    the folded down, her specks, and gentle clock, but used, I kept.
               71
The meadows wide weeds. But when that Nature of Love through the voyce, where you they    be ready. Black thrill of    praise is flaccid and with saue that want ploughs the same and removed.
               72
Yet, evil may love. I passions treasure, in this breath, full of its soul abroad,    which burn or quickly    for that far to a narrow and came. Up your eyesight, No hung.
               73
But clowdy night, but dare! He watery spirit had a couple trembling    times mournful land former.    Tell think to hear here fynde: thee how will will all see day by youths!
               74
Feelings, as dark as a brightfully, in the Christian chace the fiesta    of love of human eye,    and lust of dear, and return! Past that the rosy dawning swain?
               75
But fast and ev’ry treasures nectar foregone, them of false more took that early    morn went, and so truest    grace any mote and as he spur illustrate once the wind.
               76
That she, and formed and though not he: his hand won. Consider a girl? The    trophecy: The lie falser    thy bosom island unfolded to whom you may live nymphs shone.
               77
Not July can be seen. Like a young flowre euery words spoken sleep for your    lean lake in his light be    so totall forgetting fair answered, th’ earth’s old carriage.
               78
Her be young man. When withing, so that I have of its she take some Old Story?    The Sexes and spread,    and as a doll childish country lands. How that revealed betrayed.
               79
To recite to be pointing finger sorry I could love’s high have love you    because you of sunset    in your soul gan to the lost away! Tells and sing inter head.
               80
For earth given is worth incess shall her so barren, barr’d but hark, my body    were never conspirit    beauty’s tract the swine, and ran it lovely-head! The bent first?
               81
Lo Collin, here Lycidas? For evening suddenly fair or no read her    heart made the your margents,    wherewithall then with quills, which itself at the night and low!
               82
Flame kind love priesthood make thou know you in the fooled. See what makes himself thee    how waxed mouth her live, hung    with thorns and man, taut, elegant, or smile through and radiant float.
               83
—This is my care? In love starke in me, became consumed time learnest us    if we shoul’dst bliss: fie, pleasure    of the fresh, and many a mothers did not fortified.
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styx1an · 2 years
Text
A Chat about Chat
A short fic about how Chat came to be a singular being, written by yours truly. By all means, this isn’t canon, it’s just my interpretation of things.
Word count: 1,863
Fandom: RTGame, Miitopia (NGL I’m a little displeased with how I wrote the ending, but oh well!)
You know, there is this odd sense of irony in knowing how terrified Chat was of Magical John when they aren’t even human nor a singular being in the first place. Wait, so you didn’t know? Of how they became such a being in the first place? (They chuckle.) Then I suppose that means I’ll have to tell you their story. Well then, shall we begin the tale of Chat? (You see the twinkle in their eyes. They must’ve been waiting a while to be able to do this.)
> You nod. You’ve been waiting a while to understand Chat’s origins. Tonight, like many others, belongs to the storyteller.
> You shake your head. No thanks, you think you’re too tired. Dawn shall rise anew soon, and you will not waste your time with tall tales.
(They nod, pleased with your decision.) Then I shall begin to relay their tale.
Our tale begins in the vast lands known as Twitch, a domain that belongs to another, a far crueler being whose tale is for another time. It is a place where one is free to express their opinions and whatnot (as long as it suits the many whims of its Amazonian overlords, of course), and many are versed in the easy to learn, but difficult to master art of gaming. Many such masters have gained a large following, and even if they do not possess such skill, more often than not their humor and charisma paves the way to fame.
One example of the latter would be RTGame, a man of sizable repute. Aside from the frankly ridiculous story of the origin of his moniker, he is also known for doing some… questionable things for the sake of entertainment. There are still tales of his quest in the bathtub along with Gilbert (yes, the very same Gilbert on the quest to defeat The Darker Lord Khadgar!), the night of the Painted Wall’s Communion, the birth of Mr. Compost- But my dear, we are here for one of his lesser-known exploits, one that would change the world as we know it.
> You lean closer to the campfire, watching the storyteller with a renewed interest. Where does the tale lead? Where does it end? You need to know.
> It’s getting even later. You think some rest will be needed before tomorrow’s travels begin. Perhaps the rest of the story can wait another time?
It was a dark and stormy night. The then-Dark Lord Von Karma had just been unleashed upon the land, and I Want Die set along the path of salvation with his fellow party members, Mr. Bean the Warrior, Goofy the Thief, and Mint the Horse. He was pleased with the ease with which they vanquished monsters and saved (literal) faces, but the lack of actual conversation within the party had begun to get to him. Mr. Bean had nothing to offer other than a simple “Bean!” every now and then, and Goofy terrified him with all the “hyuck!” and talks of absolving the world’s many sins. Mint is a horse and therefore cannot participate in a verbal conversation unless you happen to understand what her neighs meant. She also happens to be the most normal member of the party, strangely enough.
Either way, I Want Die longed for a proper conversation.
And God took notice.
It was inevitable. The fourth party member was always going to join, whether he wanted one or not. It shouldn’t be notable in any way whatsoever, yet here I am regaling this tale to you.
It is not how Chat had come to join the party that I wanted to explain, but rather how they came to be.
Do you remember the man I had called RTGame? I hope you had not thought of him as irrelevant to our tale, as he is the patron saint of I Want Die’s adventures. Surely you know of the vast armory that belongs to the party? The various delicacies fed to the team? All his work. Along with his followers’ contributions, of course.
Chat was what he called his followers, the ones who watched his various endeavors as he traveled across the land of Twitch. Oftentimes the crowd would conversate with him (hence their name), offering jokes and sardonic commentary whenever he did anything remotely comedic. Other times, RT would have to tell them off for being such a rowdy bunch- the usual group of thousands could never keep quiet for long.
It happened that Chat witnessed I Want Die’s pilgrimage along with RTGame. They all looked upon him with a jolly sense of humor (after all, their master is well-versed in the art of comedy), some wondering where his travels will bring him. The others who knew how it would all end kept silent at the behest of RTGame. Either way, every single one of them was enjoying the show he had put on for them. 
And came the time to summon the fourth member.
As per usual, RTGame withdrew into his workshop, closing the curtains around him so no curious onlooker could see inside. But that did not stop Chat from yelling their predictions and demands.
“EDGEWORTH” one cried.
Another begged for a certain “End Mii!”
“CHAT CALM DOWN!”
“!uptime”
“69420toesucker just subscribed for 5 months!”
“TURG”
RTGame smiled at them. He wasn’t surprised at all at their reactions, rather it was something he had hoped would happen.
“Alright then Chat,” he said, “here they are!”
His pale, thin hands reached out to open the curtains-
And unveiled a faceless, empty husk of a being. 
Under any other circumstances, Chat would’ve rioted, demanded justice against the irony of sending a faceless doll to retrieve the faces of others. But they had no time.
Almost in an instant, the skies darkened. Clouds swirled up above with vibrant shades of violet, cobalt, magenta. Bright blue lightning strikes a tree and dissolves it into dust. Somewhere distant, something roars. The air feels thick- something magical, something electric is positively buzzing. Magic truly is in the air.
And thunder strikes once again. 
The crowd is gone.
Silence fell. All that is left is the master and the doll, no longer an empty husk.
> You look up to the storyteller, their eyes reflecting the blazing flames. You have a feeling that you know how this ends, but you’d rather have them confirm it first.
> You’re sleepy. As tempting as it is to continue listening to their story, you must admit that the very idea of slumber is even more tantalizing.
RTGame had managed to do exactly what he wanted. Chat’s consciousness, placed inside of a single, physical being. A puppet controlled by a hivemind would not be very easy to control, yes. But the idea intrigued him. And wouldn’t it be better than having a large gaggle of people constantly behind him, watching his every move? It could help I Want Die on his journey too.
So it is settled. It happened that one of the members of his temple had just crafted a rather nice puppet, in case RT needed one. And he did come to use it. It does look a little plain, as both body and head are painted in the same shade of bright white. However, the face was not white like how it was in the beginning, but a disturbingly pitch-black space. No, that’s not the right word.
Rather, it was like a void had formed. That’s also not the right phrase to describe it either, as there were drops of ichor dripping down onto the ground, dissolving the once green grass. But I digress. 
Chat broke the silence that had fallen between them, wailing as a cacophony of noises and emotions spilled out. Despite what RT had done to them, they were still determined to voice their opinions. Quite in character, really. 
“RT WHAT”
“NO NO NO”
“!uptime”
“I'M ON TV!!!”
“bazingabanana just gifted 5 subs!”
“that’s kinda meta”
As their voices grew louder, ichor kept pouring out of the void. As expected, RT thought to himself. He still needs to act fast. So with a quick snap, he fastened a wooden mask the temple-goer made; the same shade of white, a pair of beady black eyes almost as dark and soulless as the void, bright purple ears. 
The yelling and complaining didn’t stop of course. Still, as their voices were muffled by the mask, it was an arguably better experience than the previous ear-splitting wails. And it was less deadly too. Ichor had stopped dripping down onto the grass, which meant that the constant sizzling would finally stop.
Now, one last thing.
RT stared into Chat’s eyes.
This in itself wouldn’t have been quite a remarkable action had it been anyone else, but it’s Chat that we are talking about. The very sensation of doing something as simple as gazing into a hivemind’s many souls wasn’t anything ordinary, either.
It felt like you had just plunged one of your hands into ice-cold water in the middle of winter and not only are you freezing, you’re scared and you don’t know whether you’d come out in one piece.
They all stared back. Thousands and thousands looked upon RT, all different yet whispering the same things, each claiming to be an individual yet virtually nothing distinctive belongs to them. A true hivemind. It’s exactly what he wanted, but he wondered if perhaps other troubles would arise.
He let himself go from their gazes. It asks too much of him.
“Alright then, Chat. Ready?”
A gaggle of voices reply, sounding their agreements.
“OK then!”
--
I Want Die finally opened the inn door, after convincing himself that he’d like this new friend. That this one would be neither an anime villain, a comedy star or a horse. Someone with actual rational thoughts and words to speak.
In front of the door stood a short figure, clad in a purple mage’s robes. Their pitch-black eyes looked at I Want Die, and a chorus of voices came from their permanent smile:
“Hi, I’m Chat!”
And I Want Die wondered if he had forgotten to cross off ‘hivemind’ off his list of potential party members.
Chat’s introduction ends here, of course. But not their tale. The journey was far from over in fact. The party had yet to meet the Royal Court, witnessed the court’s love affair, or get kidnapped by the Dark Lord Von Karma. Even the party wasn’t complete, as it was only the first party I Want Die would encounter in his tale of redemption.
And it’s not the only story either. You haven’t heard of Magical John’s past life, or how Cupcake isn’t as pure as she seems. Gilbert’s fear of the kitchen. How Jefferson came to be, and Obama’s past life with Mr. Bean.
But I’m afraid I must stop here, for it is late already, is it not? Our journey must continue tomorrow. Let us rest. Goodnight, may the stars shine for you. (They head off into their tent, leaving you alone with the flickering embers of a dying fire.)
> You bid the storyteller goodnight. Perhaps they’ll tell you another one of their stories, underneath the moonlight once more.
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I Knew You’d Come Back to Me
Chapter Two: Slept next to her, but I dreamt of you (Cardan’s POV)
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Summary:  While homesick and heartbroken in the mortal world, Jude finds a pile of letters on her doorstep that include an official pardon and a love confession from Cardan. What is supposed to be a happy reunion quickly falls apart when Jude is told Cardan has returned to Nicasia in her absence. 
Cardan is determined to make it up to Jude. 
**This fic is inspired by the love story between Taylor Swift’s characters Betty, James, and August.**
Should you wish to listen: Cardigan | Betty | August
Tags: Multiple POVs, angst and a happy ending, Jurdan, post-wicked king, canon divergence
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Four Months Post Exile
If she has decided that she wishes to stay away and forget about Elfhame, me, then I will forget about her as well. Except that I can’t because for the eternity she has been gone there has been nothing to rid my thoughts of her.
I grab the nearest pitcher of wine, not that they are ever far from my reach as of late, and swallow as much of the tart liquid as I can. At least if I pass out there is a chance I may dream of her, or dream of losing her. But it is a chance I am willing to take.
There is a revel happening, for a reason I cannot remember. Probably honoring some guest that I cannot be bothered to care about at this point. I tend to the kingdom as best as I can for the day, but by the time the dawn is rising I do everything I can to forget the subtle human features that haunt me. The curve of her ear, the flush in her cheeks, the softness of her form.
Since she has been gone there has been an unbearable ache in my chest that only seems to worsen at her memory. I’ve taken back up with a variety of powders that I grew accustomed to at Balekin’s parties. The numbing sensation is highly preferable to the agonizing dread that awaits me in sobriety. At least when time passes differently, I can imagine that she is home again, or at the very least, I can pass more days until she returns.
Her return seems more and more uncertain because despite my letters, she has not come home, nor even responded to them. She has made no inclination that she intends to return, which is ridiculous because she is the queen. When she returns I will have to remember to remind her of all the accusations she threw my way at neglecting responsibilities, meanwhile she has spent months in the mortal world as if waiting for me to come bring her home myself.
I grin at the idea. A trip to the mortal world could quickly end this ridiculous torture. At least I would have the chance to see her in the flesh.
She could get her anger out and then return home with me. At this point, a curse from her lips would sound like music and her fingers curled around my neck would be ecstasy.
In time, that anger might turn to forgiveness and we can all move on from this nonsense.
Present Day
What a dreadful day today has been. I should have returned to my chambers the moment I was given news of a wine shortage because poisoned wine had been found in the castle’s cellars, because that meant I had to suffer through the small council’s bickering mostly sober, followed by hours of grievance hearings from folk. For a kingdom full of people who find me utterly incompetent, they sure do make plenty of pleas to the crown.
Only one hour remains until I can leave the presence of my court and scout for my own wine to drink, poisoned or otherwise.
“Cardan…?” Nicasia said with the air of a question.
I respond with a non-committal sound before glancing in her direction to my left. Again, she had found a seat nearest mine, despite my repeated reminder that she was no longer entitled to that spot. We were nothing beyond friends with a bit of history, even if my entire council, mother, and Nicasia herself thought it was ridiculous to prolong a “land-sea” alliance any longer.
I turn back to the conversation I had been ignoring and make an appropriate response, before quickly tuning them out again. Courtiers have nothing better to do than waste my time.
Admittedly, I could see my advisors’ point and I haven’t exactly fought to deny Nicasia’s advances anymore. Not when the one I want has rejected me entirely, favoring a mortal over me and forsaking our kingdom to my inadequate rule.
If I were a kinder soul, I might have been content to see her happy and adjusted to the mortal world, but I am not. I hate myself for sending her away and I hate her just as much for not wanting to return. Every time someone suggests I marry, I want to scream the truth for the entire kingdom to hear.
I married the mortal Jude Duarte. I did it so she would release her hold over me, but I also did it because I wanted to. I wanted to make her my queen and share this dreaded life with her; the powerful, defiant, occasionally murderous, human woman with all her soft features and perfectly odd ears.
Pride be damned. If she returned, I’d allow her anything. She would never need a geas to command me. She was already a ruler, she deserved the credit. The court would eventually adjust to the idea of a human ruler once they recognized her rule. I would lead the most devoted of her court and in our bedroom, I would further prove to her just how devoted I was by spreading --
Nicasia’s hand sliding over my knee snaps me from my thoughts. The touch of her hand felt sickly wrong considering my thoughts of Jude. I brush her hand aside and purposefully ignore the hurt look on her face. I may allow her into my room on nights where even the wine and the powders cannot bring me peace, but she knows I am far too sober and there are too many people around for that.
At the edge of my peripheral I see a dark shadow approaching. The Roach; always a welcomed distraction usually armed with wonderfully bad news.
“Come to tell me of another attempt on my life?” I murmur as he bows down to whisper in my ear.
“You are needed at once, your majesty” the goblin reports.
At that, I laugh but make no effort to move. “There is a first for everything. What is it?” I am happy to use whatever matter it is as an excuse to leave, but I am curious what requires my attention that the spies could not handle themselves.
“Jude has returned. She is waiting to see you.”
His words hit like the hilt of a sword to the chest. I stand, jumping the courtier closest to me.
“I have matters to attend to. Enjoy the rest of your evening.” I say to no one in particular, trying to ignore the loud pounding in my ears as my heart threatens to beat out of my chest.
I begin to follow the Roach out of the room when I feel a hand on my arm.
“What is going on?” Nicasia asks, her eyes wide. I shake out of her grasp.
“It is a matter of great importance that does not concern you.” Instead of moving away, like my body demands to, I move in closer to her so only she can hear me. “I meant my words in the gardens. Do not show up this evening or any evening again.”
Her mouth fell slightly open as water rimmed her eyes. I didn't stay for her response, instead I turned back and followed the Roach into the tunnel, knowing every step was bringing me closer to Jude. As we stalk through the hallways, I cannot slow the questions bombarding my mind.
Did she decide against her life in the mortal world? Did she miss me as I have missed her? What should I say to her? Will she allow me to embrace her? Should I announce her return tonight?
I have envisioned dozens of scenarios of what I would say or do when she returned, but now that she is only a few steps away I have no plan past seeing her, holding her if I can, to make sure she is real and not my imagination come to life.
We take the final turn that I know leads to the headquarters for the Court of Shadows when Livier blocks the doorway.
“Where is she?”
I watch as her face contorts. She opens her mouth to respond before closing it again, clearly unsure how to answer. I don’t have patience for this. I have to see her now.
“Move Livier,” I demand.
How many months has it been since we had fallen asleep together after our vows? How long has it been that I’ve felt her pressed against me?
“Cardan, wait!” She exclaims as I try to move past her. “She doesn’t want to see you.”
I stop dead at her words.
Before I can speak, the Roach asks for me, “What do you mean? She sent us to get him.”
The pixie nods. “Yes. She went to the royal chambers, but she returned soon after and has stated she does not wish to speak.”
I cannot help the bite to my words. “To speak to anyone, or just me?”
Her silence gives me my answer. “Why?” I spit out.
She is on the other side of the wall. It has been months, what about my room could have made her decide against seeing me? A darker thought crosses my mind; what if she has decided to return to the mortal world again? The idea threatens to break me then and there in the dark tunnels beneath the castle.
Livier looks at her companion with unease.
“Why?” I demand again.
The Bomb swallows before explaining, “When she returned, she asked how long you and the Princess of the Undersea had been back together.”
My desperation melted into cruel pitiful laughter. She was jealous of Nicasia, while she had herself a human plaything. The hypocrisy was grand. I wonder how her face would look when I asked about the man and how she could possibly blame me when she broke our vows first. My laughter quickly fizzled into a frozen anger.
I needed to leave before the weight of the situation could bear down on me. In all my imaginations, I never predicted this. I had hoped she’d run to my arms or more realistically, slap me followed up with a kiss. But never returning and refusing to see me.
I want to beg to see her. Beg for her forgiveness. Beg her to stay even if she hates me.
As a king, I have every right to go wherever I please. But as a queen, she has the right to deny entry to anyone. So I turn in the tight hallway and take the turn that leads to my rooms.
She is home. She wouldn’t see me, but she is home, which meant I could fix this. She might not see me tonight, but I would win her forgiveness and maybe her love too.
****
After almost two weeks of announcements and planning, Jude’s coronation ball will begin soon. I have still yet to see her in person, but through messengers and letters she agreed to rule with me and begrudgingly accepted my proposal for a party to celebrate her return and status.
The actual coronation will not take place for another few weeks due to the time needed to gather all the court’s representatives, but this evening would be a full celebration nonetheless. She is home and that enough is cause to celebrate.
The party will also finally force Jude out of the shadows. I suspect she has moved around the castle quite a bit as I heard she met with her sisters and the Living Council, but she has made a careful effort to avoid me.
There have been several times where I have made it all the way to her door before deciding to leave and giving her the space she demands. For months now, I have had dreams of the moment we saw each other again; I have imagined her vulgar words and sweet touches. Tonight is the last night I can imagine because in a matter of hours I will see her again. For the evening, she will have no choice but to stand in the same room as me. I already announced her as my wife and Elfhame’s High Queen. After this evening, she can avoid me outside of official business, if she wishes. It would be devastating, but no more devastating than how it felt when she was gone.
I pace back and forth in my chambers thinking through all the details of the evening since I have nothing better to do. I dressed long ago in a suit twin to the dress I had sent for Jude. If I thought the last dress I designed for her was stunning, I am not sure I’ll be able to survive seeing her in tonight's creation. I gave the tailor a sketch of a silver gown with a fitted bodice and twin streams of fabric that flow from the shoulders. The hope was to create an illusion of the armor she seemed to favor. I doubt the tailor will disappoint and frankly, Jude could wear an old sack and still be devastatingly beautiful.
Before long I receive the signal to head to the ballroom. As I enter the room, I admire for the first time the servant’s efforts to fulfill my image for the evening. The decoration for a typical revel was nothing compared to the fanfare visible this evening. Long strings of lights and streamers hung from the ceiling and sweet and savory treats of all varieties are piled high on trays. The musicians and other entertainment for the evening are already in full swing keeping the guests happy and amused.
As is customary, the party has been going on for some time now, before the king and now queen enter. The center of the space is filled with revelers dancing and singing. At any other party, I would have gladly joined, but I cannot help the pooling sense of unease as I glance through the crowding looking for a particular face.
I do find the face I am looking for, but not the right person. Taryn is standing on the side of the dance floor chatting with some courtier. Locke is nowhere to be seen, which is for the best. If I notice him even causing Jude to frown this evening, I will have him locked in the dungeons for the night.
I occupy myself with some wine while I wait and use the opportunity to boast of Jude’s brilliance to anyone who decides they wish to speak with me. After about a dozen of these conversations, I finally catch a glimpse of her walking into the room with Vivianne at her side.
My Jude.
I admire her with total abandon. She is absolutely stunning. The movement of her steps causes the fabric to shimmer as it flows obscenely over her body. While I will imagine her in this dress for many nights to come, it is the crown that sits atop her head that captures my attention.
The crowd cheers at her arrival and many bow to her. While she keeps her emotions well concealed, I can see the smallest of smiles appear on her face. She enjoys the recognition. Seeing her now, if I could have given her this from the start I would have.
My heart-stopping queen.
I stay to the side where I am and watch her enjoyment from afar. She dances with her sisters from time to time and speaks to members of the gentry with ease. I know she has noted my presence, even if she has yet to look in my direction. When it is time to address the crowd, it is my turn to avoid her direction. I keep my speech to the folk short, enough to praise her and remind anyone who may be considering treason exactly who Jude Duarte is. At the final toast, I steel myself before addressing her directly.
“Welcome home, Jude.”
Our eyes meet for the briefest of moments, burning with a million unspoken words before she breaks away and turns to address the now-growing crowd around her.
It was the first time she acknowledged me since the morning I sent her away and suddenly the emotion behind that realization hits me all at once. I let my eyes linger on her turned back a moment longer, before downing my drink and disappearing into the gardens to wallow in my own self pity.
I told myself I would be happy if she just returned home, but now I realize how badly each moment I spend away from her aches. In school, I hated the way I longed for her. I had chalked it up to being a disgraceful obsession; one I would have been glad to be rid of whatever that meant for Jude. Now, I am equally obsessed with my mortal queen, but rather than having just my thoughts occupied with her, I feel a feral desperation to be near her, to set things right with her.
It is not uncommon for me to be followed, but when I hear soft steps behind me, the last person I expect to turn and see is Jude. Her brown eyes widened in surprise, as if she was not the one following me. We both stare at each other for a half a second too long, before Jude mumbles something and turns to leave. I take her by the arm before she can take a single step away. I won’t let her get away a second time.
“Ask me how hideous you look tonight,” the words tumble from my mouth before I can stop them.
She turns back to face me. I loosen my hold on her arm, but let my hand linger until she decides to brush it away.
“This again?” She asks, sounding more tired than annoyed. I didn’t realize how much I missed her voice.
Desperate to hear her again, I reply, “I can’t. You look like a knight from a story tonight.” A filthy story, perhaps.
Jude’s cheeks pinken as she shifts away from me. If I wasn’t afraid to lose her, I might have found her unease at my closeness cute.
“I’m glad to see the kingdom is still in one piece.” Jude acknowledges, changing the subject away from her. The distance between us feels infinitely greater than the foot of space physically separating us. I’d give anything to embrace her now.
“I had help,” I state simply. It is the truth. The Court of Shadows kept tabs on everyone, friends and enemies, and the Living Council for all the headaches they cause me, they did their job as well.
“Nicasia?” Jude didn’t try or simply failed to hide the accusation in the question.
I sigh heavily and take a seat on one of the garden’s benches. “Ahh that. Yes, it is about time we talked.” I motion for her to join me, to which she refuses.
“I don’t want to hear anything about the two of you. I understand we married out of political strategy, I won’t hold you to human standards of monogamy.” Jude echos my sigh, “After your letters, I thought… Well, I misunderstood the situation.”
My core twists at the way her voice trembled on the words. When did her pain stop being cruel amusement and instead became a twin knife that hurts us both?
“I meant every word in those letters” I murmured softly. How many times had I imagined this conversation before?
Anger burns across her face, “So, what? You got bored of waiting for me to return from the exile YOU-” she jams her pointer finger into my chest hard enough to bruise, “ordered! Maybe next time make sure your letters are actually delivered or perhaps don’t send me away in the first place.”
I stand, challenging her anger with my own. “You think I wouldn’t have waited? I went to bring you home. I saw you dancing with the mortal. Don’t pretend I was the first to stray.”
I expected more anger, denial perhaps, but not... confusion?
“What the hell are you talking about? I haven’t been with anyone else,” Jude yells exasperated.
“The blond male. I came to see you and…” I trail off when Jude laughs suddenly. “What could possibly be funny?”
She covers her face with her hands, shaking her head side to side, “Cardan, you saw me with a friend. Nothing ever happened between us, ever.”
Shame washes over me like a tidal wave. I had returned from that trip thinking Jude had made her decision to forget me and stay behind. I had walked straight into a revel and drank every drop of wine in sight. Nicasia found me a few hours later laying in the grass outside the castle and when she came near I did the one thing I thought would make me feel better.
Nicasia had been the first to notice me, my first real friend then lover. After Jude, I thought she could be the thing I needed again, but I was wrong. It didn’t take long for me to realize it would never be as it was before because my heart still belonged to Jude. If I had only spoken to Jude that night in the mortal world, none of this would have happened.
“I believed the reason for your continued absence was because you were still mad. I thought I could go to the mortal world and convince you to come home, but I saw you with the mortal man. I did not handle the thought of you with another well. Nicasia was there when I got back and… I let her into my bed, but it was you that I thought of every moment you were gone.”
Several emotions ripple across her face before she quickly schooled her face into the impenetrable mask she wears around others. She wears around me too. I continue before the fear of her rejection can stop me.
“There are no tricks within my words, so please hear me when I promise you, Jude, mortal High Queen of Elfhame, it is you I love. My heart is yours and forever will be. There will be no other’s, and if you choose to have me again, it will only be you.”
I raise my hand to cup her face and watch as her eyes flutter close. My name falls off her lips like a plea and I think it might be the most beautiful sound I’ve ever heard. I lower myself to meet her soft lips. Her hands soon find the front of my jacket and I don't fight when she tugs me closer to her.
Without breaking the kiss, I use my free hand to grip her lower back and pull her back into the garden seat with me. On my lap, Jude opens herself up to me and I greedily take in more of her, missing the taste of her. I can’t help but continue to caress her body with my fingertips, long after we break to catch our breath. I place a series of kisses along her neck, each more drawn out than the last before I speak the cruel fact still on my mind, “of all my terribleness, the worst thing I ever did was what I did to you.”
It hurts knowing I can speak those words aloud. I reach up to wipe a stray tear that has fallen from her eyes.
“Will you have me again, Jude?” My heart pounds in the wake of the question. I watch as she considers it. Truthfully, I wouldn't blame her if she refused me, but it would be torturous to have her so near and not mine.
Slowly, she gives a subtle nod and I don’t hide my sigh of relief. She stares at me for a second longer, before smiling, “I love you, Cardan."
I capture her lips again, finding her more addictive than the sweetest wine.
“My sweet nemesis, how glad I am you have returned.”
Tag List: @wafflesandschemingfaces​ 
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shoutoismybaby · 4 years
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Omega Shame Part 2
Part 1 / Part 3
Thank you guys for all your interest! It made me super happy to see so many people excited about my writing, so I hope you enjoy and stay tuned for the last part soon!
Warnings: Angst, depression, mentions of fighting (bc hero training)
***
The classroom didn't smell right.  Not only was your serotonin inducing scent the class had gotten accustomed to in the past couple months missing, but a certain caramel smell had a hint of burnt rubber and ash to it. Despite some of the girls hearing commotion coming from your room, you didn’t answer their calls or knocks, so no one knew what was going on. The only knowledge the class had was that you weren’t in class and Bakugou was upset. Well, more upset than he usually was.
Even his best friends, whether or not he would admit that’s what they were to him, would earn growls and bared teeth if they got too close. Other than that though, Bakugou was generally unresponsive. Only caring when people got too close, but he didn’t respond when Aizawa called on him, or when the lunch bell rang. Only shoving the teachers hand off his shoulder when he came to check up on the blond.
Bakugou was just too caught up in his thoughts to really be aware of his surroundings as he followed his class aimlessly to the cafeteria.
Even though his body was in the P.E Training grounds, his brain was back in time to your dorm room. Back when your body began to tremble at the sight of him, the way salty tears rushed from your eyes when he started to speak. Your throat squeaking as you begged him to spare the nest you had constructed. It was beautifully made, if you had asked him. The way your soft blankets were woven together with your favorite weekend clothes, pillows being used to stable the walls. It looked incredibly comfortable.
Bakugou knew that Omegas could get upset if their nest was intruded without permission. But he also knew he was nowhere near your circular haven. Yet, you were crying, shaking, and begging.
It was then that it dawned on the hothead that you were scared of him. His omega was Terrified of him. It made his heart beat erratically, how could he make someone he cared about so scared of him? Especially his own omega. It was his job to keep you safe, to take care of you and make sure you were comfortable. You trusted him to fulfill this role, but you thought he was going to destroy your nest?
It made Bakugous’ buzz in confusion. It made no sense that you would be freaking out just because your alpha walked in your room.
Unless you weren't even his omega by choice. What if you just accepted his courting gift because you were afraid he would hurt you? He had been told multiple times throughout his life that he needed to stop being so aggressive,  that he would scare omegas away, but he had always brushed those comments off. He had thought that he would find someone who liked him despite his anger, and he thought you were that person.
Clearly, though, you were too fearful of him to even reject his proposal. Your trembling body inside of your nest was undeniable proof of that. You were too scared to even tell him you were nesting, and if the sight was evidence enough you didn’t seem to have or want his scent anywhere close to your nest. He should have noticed it before. What kind of alpha scared those they were supposed to protect?
You probably just got off of your meds to make him happy too. You had made so many sacrifices to keep him happy, and the thought of that made his blood boil. He had been a terrible alpha to you. He had to end this, he couldn’t put you through anymore pain. His inner alpha cried at the thought of having hurt you.
His large hand moved towards his opposite wrist, gently shimmying the bracelet that sat on it off. It was your courting gift to him, since you insisted on making him something in return. It was simple, made of skillfully twisted threads in his hero costume colors. His heart had skipped a beat the moment you presented it to him, not that he would tell anyone that. Especially not now, not when all the memories he shared with you were put into perspective.
He remembered how it felt as though the threads burnt his skin on its way past. How it dragged his heart down with it as it fell to the floor. Since then, he felt numb to the outside world. It didn’t matter how many times Kirishima tried to get him involved in their 1-1 match, he mostly just stood there, letting his instincts do the bare minimum to protect his body.
“Come on man!” His body dodged another hit just enough before slacking again, causing the redheaded alpha to growl. “You’re not responding to anything and you smell, honestly bad bro. What’s going on with you!?”
The only thing “going on” in Katsuki’s brain was replaying the pain in your eyes over and over. Replaying how you were scared, no, terrified of the person who was supposed to protect you. His omega wasn’t his omega anymore, and his alpha felt broken. He felt alone.
He could only focus on how he failed to do his basic duties. How he failed you. Everyone had been right when they critiqued his anger. He was too aggressive to deserve an Omega. Clearly he couldn’t treat one right no matter how much their smile made serotonin speed through his brain. If he couldn’t protect you from himself it was ridiculous to think he would do anything but fuck up protecting Japan from villains. He was a terrible alpha who couldn’t even treat an Omega properly, so what was the point? He wasn’t even good at his innate purpose.
By now Kirishima was getting desperate. All day his best friend had been growing more and more despondent, and he was scared for what that meant. He just needed Bakugou to talk to him, Kirishima wanted to be reassured that he was okay. And he had an idea of how to pull Bakugou back into the present, even if he didn’t like it.
“I don’t want to do this but, I’m really worried about you. Bakugou is this about (Y/n)?” The blondes alpha perked up at the mention of your name, drawing Bakugou’s head up with it.
“The girls said something happened in (Y/n)’s room last night and,” He hesitated, ruby eyes falling to Bakugou's large wrists. “You’re not wearing the courting bracelet she made for you anymore”
His words caused a whimper to leave Katsukis throat. Kirishima had no idea what kind of pain that reminder brought to Bakugou, but he could guess. The way the blonds hands clenched and brows furrowed made Kirishima's heart drop, he hated bringing up things that could hurt Katsuki. But he could only fix the problem if he knew what was wrong, and for that he needed Bakugou to talk to him.
“Did, did you guys break up?” Kirishima kept his distance, afraid of what Bakugou would do once he snapped out of his trance. But all Bakugou did was begin to shake, blinking furiously as he became aware of his surroundings once again along with the hot tears that flooded his eyes. Kirishima ran towards his friend then, placing a hand on the other alphas shoulder in a hope to be any bit comforting without overwhelming his friend. He analyzed the way Bakugous nose scrunched, causing his large canines to show as the first sob burst out of his trembling frame. It was so powerful that the blond lost his balance, falling into the stunned redheads arms. Face tucked into his friends chest, shielded from the attention his sobs were bringing from his entire class.
“Bakugou…” Kirishima ran his hands up and down Bakugous back gently feeling the way the blond fisted his shirt in desperation, “What happened? You can tell me.”
“I’m a terrible alpha,” Bakugous voice was shaky and Kirishima almost felt guilty at how relieved he was to hear it. “No you’re not man, wha-” “Yes I am!” Bakugous voice reached the same volume as his sobs that interrupted his speech. “She thought that I was going to destroy her nest, she was scared of me. I was supposed to defend her when really I’m the one she wanted protection from.”
Krishima didn’t know how to respond to what his friend said. Eyes too wide in confusion as he looked towards his teacher for answers. You had always been absolutely smitten with Bakugou, just his presence in the room made it seem like you radiated love and positivity. It didn’t seem that Bakugou needed any further encouragement to continue though, as his next statement sent ice down the spines of the whole class.
“I failed as an alpha… I don’t want to be alive anymore.” All Bakugou wanted to do in that moment was curl up and die. He didn’t have a purpose anymore, so he didn’t see the point of existing. It was then that his body seemed to shut back down in order to conserve energy, he began to slack in Kirishima's arms leaving him sitting on the ground despite the redheads' many protests. The revelation of how his best friend felt bringing tears to his own eyes, and a recognition to his teachers.
“Aizawa, what's happening to Bakugou?” Kirishima asked, struggling to hold himself together as he knelt in front of his friend. Bakugou’s eyes seemed more void of life than ever as he stared aimlessly at Kirishima's shirt.
“Someone call Recovery Girl, I fear that Bakugou has developed an Alpha depression.”
***
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pilmik · 3 years
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No better way to start a writing blog than by writing something completely self indulgent lmao college students this might hit too close to home but in my defense the new sem started and I'm. Mess
Gen: angst ig???some fluff? hurt/comfort? Quite literally just me writing what I want to hear
CW: insecurities, negative thoughts
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Wakatoshi loves volleyball
Everyone knows this
Ever since he was little, he's lived and breathed for the sport
There's nothing better to him than the feeling of the ball hitting his hand, the adrenaline rush of a scored point, the satisfaction of a game well won
He didn't get this far on enjoyment alone though
As his s/o, you know this better than anyone, save for his coaches and teammates of course
You know the effort he's put in, you know that for every second he shines on the court in front he's spent hours practicing alone or with his teammates
And he shines on the court
Watching him play will never fail to make your heart stutter and your lungs feel like they're not getting enough air
After being with him as long as you have, you know enough about volleyball to know that Wakatoshi is something special
His speed, his strength, his reliability
No matter how many times you see that spike, the sound of the ball hitting the floor stays deafening
Wakatoshi was made to play Volleyball. It's an objective fact. Sometimes you think that the sport loves him just as much as he loves it
Sometimes, you get so jealous you could scream
one of the perks of being the volleyball captain's s/o is that you always get the best seats
You watch front row as your boyfriend leads his team to victory, and he always leads them to victory.
You watch, time and time again, as he scores the match point, that sharp wham of the ball hitting the court that sings triumph
Wakatoshi isn't the most expressive person. When his team wins a game, most people would write off his impassive face as nonchalance or as vanity, thinking maybe he's won so many times it doesn't feel like anything for him anymore
But you know him. You know that if you look hard enough at the end of a game, you can see a gleam in his eyes. A gleam that somehow means both satisfaction and hunger
Because while at the end of every game means victory, the end of every game also means the start of a new one, a new challenge, a new opportunity to be on the court. He loves every second of it
You know you're probably the worst person on the world for feeling this way about someone you love, but every time you see that gleam in his eyes, any pride and happiness you feel on his behalf is stained with resentment and an envy so bitter it stays on your tongue for days
You've never had that gleam in your eyes. You've never loved something so entirely, so completely as Wakatoshi loves volleyball
You honestly doubt you ever will
It's not like you're talentless or you don't have hobbies, you have the things you're good at and you have the things you like to do but it's not the same
You want so desperately to know what he feels like, to be doing something and to think, I could do this for the rest of my life and die happy
on your worst days, you wonder why he stays by your side at all
You watch him play, surrounded by his court and his team (no the court or the team, his.) And you wonder what he could get from you that he couldn't get from the sting of the ball on his palm, or the squeak of his shoes on hardwood
He's brilliant, wherever he goes be burns so brightly you swear he leaves scorch marks. What could a forest fire possibly want from a candle?
You watch them play a game against some college team, they win straight sets and Wakatoshi dominated the court, scoring a majority of the points. you're quiet on your way home, and he asks if you were bored by the game
You immediately tell him no, because on most days you love seeing him play, and you try and explain how you feel
He doesn't understand what you're talking about, obviously
Contrary to what most people think, your boyfriend isn't stupid or dense. He has trouble understanding different social cues and conceptualizing some of the more complicated emotions other people feel, but he's not an idiot
But these specific insecurities are something he's never had to face. For him, it's been volleyball since the start. His earliest memories are of his father in the yard, tossing a blue and yellow ball into the air while he sits on the engawa, chubby hands holding tight to a pink vabo-chan plush
It doesn't make sense to him, if you don't have anything like that, then all you need to do is find something you're good at, correct? Then you'll be happy
He tells you this, in his usual matter-of-fact way. (you can imagine how that went)
He doesn't understand why your eyes go glassy, or why you tell him you'll be fine walking by yourself for the rest of the way
But he does understand that he's made you upset, and he knows that he never wants to look into your eyes and see tears that he's put there
As he walks back to his dorm, he's wracking his brain trying to make sense of how you told him you felt, and what he said in response
He's still thinking as he enters the doorway, ignoring Tendou's greeting as he neatly removes his runners and puts them away
This, of course, alerts his redheaded friend, knowing Wakatoshi was taught to mind his manners
He leaves whatever he was doing to see him at the entrance, taking in his pinched expression. He knows that Wakatoshi walks you home after every game, and it doesn't take a genius to connect the dots
He quickly presses the pad of his thumb between Wakatoshi's furrowed eyebrows, smoothing the lines there
"trouble in paradise, Wakatoshi-kun? You can't keep frowning like that you know, you'll get wrinkles! Everyone already thinks you're an old man"
Wakatoshi trusts his best friend, even if he teases him constantly. Besides you, Tendou is his main confidant
He explains what happened much like someone would explain a mission report, in perfect unbiased detail. He tell him what you said, how he thought and responded and your reaction. Tendou is always patient with him, giving him his full attention.
After he finishes his story, his friend sits on his haunches in the middle of the hallway for a few minutes, pointer finger to his chin, head cocked and eyes to the ceiling, hmmmmmming thoughtfully
Wakatoshi waits at the entrance of their dorm room until Tendou snaps his eyes away from the ceiling and onto him
"Wakatoshi kun, I'm going to need you to imagine something for me"
His eyebrows pinch together again, but he nods
"Imagine you never played volleyball, you're exactly the same in every way, except your dad never showed you so you never learned how to play. Try and imagine who you'd be"
Wakatoshi tries his best to imagine, he replaces the blue and yellow ball in his memory with a red one, the bouncy kind they sell in bins at the grocery store. He replaces vabo-chan with some kind of stuffed animal wearing a bow
He thinks about school, about going straight home after class is over, and going to the gym only on weekends
He finds he's skipping parts of his life in large gaps, empty spaces he doesn't know what to do with, his future completely blank. It's terrifying.
Tendou must see the dawning horror on his face because he jumps up quickly with a flourish, clapping his hands together once to draw Wakatoshi out of his daydream
Tendou looks at him, smiling and says "y/n-chan doesn't have their volleyball. Most people aren't as lucky as you, finding your volleyball so early Wakatoshi-kun. Some people never find their's at all"
He stands at the entrance quietly for awhile after Tendou returns to his room, thinking about how scary it felt to imagine, even for a few minutes, his life full of the blanks that his sport filled
He wonders how it would be like to have those blanks empty all the time, with not even a clue how to complete them
Swallowing his pride, Wakatoshi realizes he wouldn't be able to live like that. Wouldn't be able to go forward into such unknowable territory, under such impossible odds
He thinks about you waking up every day, seeing your life full of blanks, and still pushing forwards despite it
He doesn't get much sleep that night.
You wake up in the morning to Wakatoshi's text ringtone
7:10am Toshi <3: Call in sick for first period.
7:10am Toshi <3: I am going to pick you up at 8.
7:13am Toshi <3: I will bring you breakfast.
7:27am Toshi <3: Wear a light jacket, it's chilly.
The half of you that's still hurt over yesterday wants to tell him to shove breakfast up his ass, but then you realise something
You stare at your phone, deeply confused
Doesn't he have volleyball practice before school?
You get ready quickly, and sure enough, when you walk out of your door at exactly 8:00, Wakatoshi is there.
He's wearing his tracksuit and runners, and he hands you a paper bag from the conbini. There's an apple, a bag of grapes and onigiri. In his other hand he's holding a warm drink, written on the lid is your favourite, exactly how you like it
"I am taking you to the park."
You tilt your head up at him, confused
"don't you have volleyball practice?"
"I'm skipping. We are going to feed the ducks."
The idea of Ushijima Wakatoshi skipping volleyball practice stuns you into silence, and you simply follow his lead to the direction of the park, you walking and him doing some sort of ridiculous exercise thing that looks like it'd make you puke
When you get there, you're happy to find that your usual bench is empty.
Wakatoshi pulls a water bottle out of his ridiculously-deep men's tracksuit pockets while you take the bunch of grapes out of the bag, neatly dividing it in half. You decide to take the big half of the grape bunch for once, because he was being a jerk yesterday and you deserve to feed the ducks more than he does. You give him his half and you both start feeding the ducks in silence
After awhile, he decides to speak
"Tendou made me imagine something yesterday"
You turn to face him, but he's still looking at the ducks
"he told me to imagine my life if I'd never played volleyball"
He frowns
"he said to imagine everything about me was the same, except I never started playing. I found that it was difficult"
"there were many things I found I couldn't fill in, both in my life and in myself"
"but the worst part was imagining the future. I couldn't imagine a single thing to put in it"
"I wouldn't be able to live like that. To live every day and see blank spaces and uncertainties. It sounds terrible"
He pauses for a moment and you're like :/ wow king thanks for the pep talk
But he takes a deep breath and he continues
"I think, for a person to face that uncertainty and keep pushing forward, they would have to be exceptional"
Your head snaps to look at him so fast you almost get whiplash
Exceptional
There's a word that you've never used to describe yourself
"I think, that if I knew someone like that, I would tell them that they are strong in a way that I doubt I will ever be"
He finally turns to look at you, and you try your best to see him through the tears distorting your vision
"after awhile of thinking, I finally thought of something that I could put in that blank future. Would you like to know what it was?"
You just nod, not trusting your words. His big hands gently engulf your own and for a moment you're absolutely certain Ushijima Wakatoshi will be the death of you
"if I didn't have Volleyball, if I didn't have a single clue of what I could do with my future, if I still had you by my side, I think I would be alright"
One hit K.O.
He keeps going though, as if he didn't just kill you
"if you would have me, I'd like to be in your blank future. For as long as it takes for you to find your volleyball, I'll be there. If it's months or years or decades,"
"if decades pass and you never find your volleyball, I would still like to stay by your side. Maybe your volleyball is looking for volleyball?"
His face contorts in consideration of the idea, and you can't help but laugh wetly, your tears soaking into his jacket as you bury your face into his arm
He presses a soft kiss to your head
"I apologize for what I said last night. I didn't understand"
You only shake your head
You two sit in companionable silence for a little longer so you can eat your breakfast, then you both walk to second period hand in hand
It's only in the boredom of your math class that you realize the gravity of what your boyfriend had said to you in the park
11:08 you: Tendou
11:08 you: was I tripping
11:08 you: or did Wakatoshi /propose/ to me in the park today
Tendou is typing......
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A/N: I've never posted this kind of stuff before so comments would really be appreciated! Like if there's something I could do to make my stuff easier to read or whatever I wanna hear it! Even if it's mean I promise I'll only cry a little
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Welllp These Are Books — the 2021 Version
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Hello, hi, hey there! It’s me. Reader of many books. Like, so many books. Many, many, many books. Some of them ridiculous. Some of them excellent. Almost all of them involving kissing of some sort. As promised (or warned, depending on how you look at it) these are some of the best books I read this year while waiting for grown adults to answer their emails. Under the cut because, as advertised, I have read a lot of books this year. Answering emails takes a lot of time, apparently.
She says, without a trace of bitterness.
Happy New Year, everybody. Here’s to a 2022 filled more fictional characters making out.
Atmosphere! Aesthetic! They Make Out in an Alley!
The Wrath & the Dawn by Renée Ahdieh
In a land ruled by a murderous boy-king, each dawn brings heartache to a new family. Khalid, the eighteen-year-old Caliph of Khorasan, is a monster. Each night he takes a new bride only to have a silk cord wrapped around her throat come morning. When sixteen-year-old Shahrzad's dearest friend falls victim to Khalid, Shahrzad vows vengeance and volunteers to be his next bride. Shahrzad is determined not only to stay alive, but to end the caliph's reign of terror once and for all. Night after night, Shahrzad beguiles Khalid, weaving stories that enchant, ensuring her survival, though she knows each dawn could be her last. But something she never expected begins to happen: Khalid is nothing like what she'd imagined him to be. This monster is a boy with a tormented heart. Incredibly, Shahrzad finds herself falling in love. How is this possible? It's an unforgivable betrayal. Still, Shahrzad has come to understand all is not as it seems in this palace of marble and stone. She resolves to uncover whatever secrets lurk and, despite her love, be ready to take Khalid's life as retribution for the many lives he's stolen. Can their love survive this world of stories and secrets?
This was a very pretty book. I say that without a hint of sarcasm, too. Just straight truth regarding very pretty prose about not-so-pretty people who were, like, obligated to kill girls. But, y’know, curse-obligated, so it’s fine. I can never say no to retellings and tortured sad bois who find a glimmer of redemption in girls who take absolutely none of their shit, so you can see how this worked out well for me. Shahrzad and Khalid were excellent enemies who became cautious friends who eventually, as the title implies, made out in an alley. I am once again asking what is YA because this did not really read like YA, but I’m also not the YA demographic anymore, so—whatever. I read it and I enjoyed the heck out of it. Even almost a full year after reading, and I still think about this duology regularly. I couldn’t stop reading it. The plot itself was excellent, the previously discussed aesthetic was aesthetically pleasing, and while I wasn’t entirely sold on the magic (that felt a bit shoehorned in there) I am also a big fan of magic, so it wasn’t a deal-breaker for me. There was a magic carpet. Who doesn’t love a book with a magic carpet in it? 
Sometimes I Think About This World-Building and Want to Weep
Shades of Magic by V.E. Schwab
Kell is one of the last Antari—magicians with a rare, coveted ability to travel between parallel Londons; Red, Grey, White, and, once upon a time, Black. Kell was raised in Arnes—Red London—and officially serves the Maresh Empire as an ambassador, traveling between the frequent bloody regime changes in White London and the court of George III in the dullest of Londons, the one without any magic left to see. Unofficially, Kell is a smuggler, servicing people willing to pay for even the smallest glimpses of a world they'll never see. It's a defiant hobby with dangerous consequences, which Kell is now seeing firsthand. After an exchange goes awry, Kell escapes to Grey London and runs into Delilah Bard, a cut-purse with lofty aspirations. She first robs him, then saves him from a deadly enemy, and finally forces Kell to spirit her to another world for a proper adventure. Now perilous magic is afoot, and treachery lurks at every turn. To save all of the worlds, they'll first need to stay alive.
God. G O D. Ok, I know I just said that there were two things I could never say no to in a book, which is totally true (there are so many tortured sad bois on this list, it’s almost absurd) but perhaps my ultimate YEAH, THIS IS WONDERFUL marker is when I read something and, like, my whole soul aches at the world building. Which is what happened here. G O D. Reading this series was an experience. One of those immersive ones, where you can see the scenes play in front of you while you read and the characters feel real because the setting feels real and everything about the magic system here was just—chef’s kiss. I wish I had something more coherent to say. Some words that properly expressed how much I loved this, but I did gasp so loudly at the end of the second book that I woke up Justin. So, that feels like a pretty good showcase of my overall enjoyment. Plus, there was a magic tournament??? And pirates who weren’t pirates and fancy coats and, seriously, THE MAGIC. But also Kell and Rhy’s relationship, which is possibly one of my top relationships of the year. Truth be told, I was more into that than I was any of the kissing. Which is saying a lot. For me, as a person. 
(Also thanks to @peglegsjones​ who suggested this book on my last year-end retrospective. See, guys! Tell me what to read. I’ll totally read it.)
See Above Vaguely Snarky Title — But With Even More Self-Loathing Dudes!
Sands of Arawiya by Hafsah Faizal
Zafira is the Hunter, disguising herself as a man when she braves the cursed forest of the Arz to feed her people. Nasir is the Prince of Death, assassinating those foolish enough to defy his autocratic father, the sultan. If Zafira was exposed as a girl, all of her achievements would be rejected; if Nasir displayed his compassion, his father would punish him in the most brutal of ways. Both Zafira and Nasir are legends in the kingdom of Arawiya--but neither wants to be. War is brewing, and the Arz sweeps closer with each passing day, engulfing the land in shadow. When Zafira embarks on a quest to uncover a lost artifact that can restore magic to her suffering world and stop the Arz, Nasir is sent by the sultan on a similar mission: retrieve the artifact and kill the Hunter. But an ancient evil stirs as their journey unfolds--and the prize they seek may pose a threat greater than either can imagine.
Oh, Nasir. Peak tortured sad boi. The ultimate tortured sad boi. So sad. So murderous. Much assassinations. Lotsa regret. Obviously, I ate that shit up. Listen, I’m not the most loquacious person when it comes to writing reviews. At least not in an impressively detailed way. I wish I was. I wish I could get into all the nuances of this book. Of which there were many. A multitude, even. I wish I could describe the twists and turns and how often I gasped at both of those things before realizing: oh, yeah, there was set up for that and it was good. But I am a person who just wrote the words “I ate that shit up,” so obviously that’s not who I am and not who I can be, and I should tell you that I bought the second book in this duology as soon as I finished the first because I did not want to wait. If you’ve been around for awhile, you know I fall hard for found families and magical road trips and this was both in the best sort of way. The writing was GORGEOUS, the emotions were real, Nasir was real sad and Zafira could stab me and I would thank her for it. Seriously, I gasped so many times reading these books. 
More Found Families Should Do Crime
Six of Crows by Leigh Bardugo
Ketterdam: a bustling hub of international trade where anything can be had for the right price—and no one knows that better than criminal prodigy Kaz Brekker. Kaz is offered a chance at a deadly heist that could make him rich beyond his wildest dreams. But he can’t pull it off alone. . . . A convict with a thirst for revenge A sharpshooter who can’t walk away from a wager A runaway with a privileged past A spy known as the Wraith A Heartrender using her magic to survive the slums A thief with a gift for unlikely escapes Kaz’s crew is the only thing that might stand between the world and destruction—if they don’t kill each other first.
I cried. At this series. And then wrote fic. So. You could say I enjoyed this. Which, quite frankly, does not even make sense because I hated Shadow and Bone. I didn’t finish the second book in that series. I couldn’t stand anyone in that book. Maybe if Alina had done more crime I would have been more into it because I was questionably into this. The banter??? Excellent. The mid-heist disasters??? Inevitable. The begrudging found family nature of characters who did not hate each other nearly as much as they played??? Fantastic. There was always so much going on — perhaps sometimes too much going on in Shattered Kingdom — but let’s also consider that it had absolutely no impact on my overall enjoyment, so whatever. Whatever! At least ninety-two percent of the reason I read King of Scars was to follow Nina’s story. 
YA? No — Y Was This So Excellent?? (I’m Not Leaving, That Was A Top-Tier Title)
Once Upon a Con by Ashley Poston
Part romance, part love letter to nerd culture, and all totally adorbs, Geekerella is a fairy tale for anyone who believes in the magic of fandom. Geek girl Elle Wittimer lives and breathes Starfield, the classic sci-fi series she grew up watching with her late father. So when she sees a cosplay contest for a new Starfield movie, she has to enter. The prize? An invitation to the ExcelsiCon Cosplay Ball, and a meet-and-greet with the actor slated to play Federation Prince Carmindor in the reboot. With savings from her gig at the Magic Pumpkin food truck (and her dad’s old costume), Elle’s determined to win…unless her stepsisters get there first. Teen actor Darien Freeman used to live for cons—before he was famous. Now they’re nothing but autographs and awkward meet-and-greets. Playing Carmindor is all he’s ever wanted, but the Starfield fandom has written him off as just another dumb heartthrob. As ExcelsiCon draws near, Darien feels more and more like a fake—until he meets a girl who shows him otherwise.
Seriously, I may never come up with a better title than that one. I have written so many headlines in the last few weeks, that’s about where my brain is at. While simultaneously still shouting about this three-book series nearly six months after reading this three-book series. Which was an absolute, goddamn delight. Frankly. Reading stories that hit so close to home is always touch and go as far as second-hand embarrassment (Spoiler Alert, I am looking at you) but these never really reached that point. Maybe because it was YA, honestly. It was just—oh God, pure is such a dumb word. But the heart (gag) of these books was so obvious and so familiar. Like, to me as a human being. One prone to obsessions and strong emotions regarding TV shows and the communities they help create. Also, again, I am here for any sort of fairy tale retelling. I’ll read ‘em all, straight up. And not to sound anymore like an after-school special than I already do, but the rep in these books? Awesome. Nothing about it felt forced or performative and everyone got their moment. Which was just so...nice. These books were nice, and I know that sounds kind of hand-wavy, not very good, but, like I said, there was just something about these stories that was so heartwarming and pure and—nice, really.  
Everyone Was Awful and It Was Wonderful
Cruel Beauty by Rosamund Hodge
Since birth, Nyx has been betrothed to the evil ruler of her kingdom-all because of a foolish bargain struck by her father. And since birth, she has been in training to kill him. With no choice but to fulfill her duty, Nyx resents her family for never trying to save her and hates herself for wanting to escape her fate. Still, on her seventeenth birthday, Nyx abandons everything she's ever known to marry the all-powerful, immortal Ignifex. Her plan? Seduce him, destroy his enchanted castle, and break the nine-hundred-year-old curse he put on her people. But Ignifex is not at all what Nyx expected. The strangely charming lord beguiles her, and his castle—a shifting maze of magical rooms—enthralls her. As Nyx searches for a way to free her homeland by uncovering Ignifex's secrets, she finds herself unwillingly drawn to him. Even if she could bring herself to love her sworn enemy, how can she refuse her duty to kill him? With time running out, Nyx must decide what is more important: the future of her kingdom, or the man she was never supposed to love.
Meanwhile, on the opposite end of the nice spectrum. Everyone was a bastard in this and it was great! Another retelling and another immediate read because, like, I see the Beauty and the Beast story and I read it. That’s just how I function. And while I’ve read some that are touted as “different,” this one really lived up to all of the letters in that word. No one apologized for being their aforementioned bastard selves. People were mean and angry and understandably so, and the magic in this? Ok. Ok! This was also not one of those enemies to lovers that happened immediately, either. There was build. There was burn. There were contradictory feelings. As there should be! I figured out the so-called twist, approximately, two point six seconds after it was first hinted at and that had absolutely no bearing on my enjoyment. Because none of the characters knew they were being twisted, so it was still fun to read about them getting to the point of understanding. That being said, the FINAL twist did surprise me. Which was fun. Also, there was a lot of, like, Greek god stuff. Which was unexpected. 
Romance! Is Alive! And Well! In This Book!
Twice Shy by Sarah Hogle
Maybell Parish has always been a dreamer and a hopeless romantic. But living in her own world has long been preferable to dealing with the disappointments of real life. So when Maybell inherits a charming house in the Smokies from her Great-Aunt Violet, she seizes the opportunity to make a fresh start. Yet when she arrives, it seems her troubles have only just begun. Not only is the house falling apart around her, but she isn't the only inheritor: she has to share everything with Wesley Koehler, the groundskeeper who's as grouchy as he is gorgeous—and it turns out he has very different vision for the property's future. Convincing the taciturn Wesley to stop avoiding her and compromise is a task more formidable than the other dying wishes Great-Aunt Violet left behind. But when Maybell uncovers something unexpectedly sweet beneath Wesley's scowls, and as the two slowly begin to let their guard down, they might learn that sometimes the smallest steps outside one's comfort zone can lead to the greatest rewards.
My favorite rom com of the year. Hands down. Bar none. Other assorted phrases and idioms. You know how sometimes you read something and it just makes your chest ache because it’s so warm and good and everyone’s swooning and you’re swooning and you finish the story in one afternoon? Is that just me? It’d be weird if it was just me. I’m willing to own it if it is, though. Solely for all the feelings this book made me feel. Maybell and Wesley made my heart grow forty-seven sizes, like some sort of summer-time alternate version of the Grinch. One who’d read a ton of romantic comedies, but only truly believed in the power of rom com love again after reading this. A lot of this story felt very fluffy. In a way where it existed slightly above the atmosphere, little wisps of romance and not-quite real life, which would have made it very easy for both Maybell and Wesley to feel fake. They didn’t. At all. And maybe that was because they both had their own mess of problems to deal with, but that sort of helped ground them and ensured this book walked the line between fantasy and reality. I loved it. 
Was This Good Writing? No. I Loved It Anyway
Shatter Me by Tahereh Mafi
I have a curse I have a gift I am a monster I'm more than human My touch is lethal My touch is power I am their weapon I will fight back Juliette hasn't touched anyone in exactly 264 days. The last time she did, it was an accident, but The Reestablishment locked her up for murder. No one knows why Juliette's touch is fatal. As long as she doesn't hurt anyone else, no one really cares. The world is too busy crumbling to pieces to pay attention to a 17-year-old girl. Diseases are destroying the population, food is hard to find, birds don't fly anymore, and the clouds are the wrong color. The Reestablishment said their way was the only way to fix things, so they threw Juliette in a cell. Now so many people are dead that the survivors are whispering war—and The Reestablishment has changed its mind. Maybe Juliette is more than a tortured soul stuffed into a poisonous body. Maybe she's exactly what they need right now. Juliette has to make a choice: Be a weapon. Or be a warrior.
I know it seems wrong to write that title and then include this questionably massive series on this list — seriously, six books and what felt like four-thousand novellas — but I also read every single word of this seemingly never-ending series because I could not stop. It was ridiculous. Patently absurd. Every single 2008 YA trope crammed into one series with a few more for good measure and constantly erased memories and more death than I was expecting, honestly, and inopportune making out, and lies, and secrets, and terrible character arcs and—again, I could not stop reading it. I paid real money for the latest novella when it came out in November. Real, human money. That I worked for. And that was equally as absurd as everything else in this series. This was one of those stories that was so over-the-top that it was a joy to read. Honestly, I enjoyed the heck out of these books. And also explaining to Justin the twists he only marginally understood because he was not, in fact, reading these books. He feigned interest like a champ. 
A Book That Led Me to Tell Justin, “I Knew There Was Going to be a Lot of Sex, but God, There’s a Lot of Sex in This.”
A Court of Silver Flames by Sarah J. Maas
Nesta Archeron has always been prickly-proud, swift to anger, and slow to forgive. And ever since being forced into the Cauldron and becoming High Fae against her will, she's struggled to find a place for herself within the strange, deadly world she inhabits. Worse, she can't seem to move past the horrors of the war with Hybern and all she lost in it. The one person who ignites her temper more than any other is Cassian, the battle-scarred warrior whose position in Rhysand and Feyre's Night Court keeps him constantly in Nesta's orbit. But her temper isn't the only thing Cassian ignites. The fire between them is undeniable, and only burns hotter as they are forced into close quarters with each other. Meanwhile, the treacherous human queens who returned to the Continent during the last war have forged a dangerous new alliance, threatening the fragile peace that has settled over the realms. And the key to halting them might very well rely on Cassian and Nesta facing their haunting pasts. Against the sweeping backdrop of a world seared by war and plagued with uncertainty, Nesta and Cassian battle monsters from within and without as they search for acceptance-and healing-in each other's arms.
There was a lot of sex. A lot. On tables. In beds. In hallways. All over the place. And, like, I went in expecting that, but it was a lot. I don’t have a ton to say here. This was exactly what I thought it’d be — minus the excess of sex — and I enjoyed it and I ignored adult responsibilities to read it. I’m excited for what this set up, and I hope Rhys and Feyre get to sit down for several uninterrupted hours at some point. 
In Which We Learn the Power of Perseverance
The Daevabad Trilogy by S.A. Chakraborty
Nahri has never believed in magic. Certainly, she has power; on the streets of 18th century Cairo, she’s a con woman of unsurpassed talent. But she knows better than anyone that the trade she uses to get by—palm readings, zars, healings—are all tricks, sleights of hand, learned skills; a means to the delightful end of swindling Ottoman nobles. But when Nahri accidentally summons an equally sly, darkly mysterious djinn warrior to her side during one of her cons, she’s forced to accept that the magical world she thought only existed in childhood stories is real. For the warrior tells her a new tale: across hot, windswept sands teeming with creatures of fire, and rivers where the mythical marid sleep; past ruins of once-magnificent human metropolises, and mountains where the circling hawks are not what they seem, lies Daevabad, the legendary city of brass, a city to which Nahri is irrevocably bound. In that city, behind gilded brass walls laced with enchantments, behind the six gates of the six djinn tribes, old resentments are simmering. And when Nahri decides to enter this world, she learns that true power is fierce and brutal. That magic cannot shield her from the dangerous web of court politics. That even the cleverest of schemes can have deadly consequences. After all, there is a reason they say be careful what you wish for...
If you ask my husband, he will probably tell you that one of my most dominant qualities is a stubborn streak that runs several miles wide. Particularly when it comes to reading. I start a book and, nine times out of ten, I finish that book. No matter how I feel about it. It takes a lot for me to not finish something and sometimes that’s a mistake. It wasn’t here! The first...third or so of this book was a slog. Lots of confusing information and magic and I know I said I loved world building, but gosh this world was built. In great detail. That we had to read about. But then! The world was built. The magic had been explained. We weren’t stuck in the desert anymore, but were in a magical city filled with politics and intrigue and betrayal and IT WAS SO GOOD. I cannot possibly overstate how much you just need to stay with this series. I promise it is worth it and then some. Reading this was—incredible, really. Captivating? Is that too strong a word? I don’t think so. Everything was so detailed and the characters — even when I wanted to shake and strangle some of them – were phenomenal and I just...seriously, there aren’t enough positive words. This is fantasy the way it’s supposed to be. All-encompassing and a little overwhelming and it has been so long since I read something where every single character arc felt fulfilled, but here we are. Fulfilled and wonderful. 
They Baked Together! And I Was Just...Not Supposed to Be Into That??
Battle Royal by Lucy Parker
Ready… Four years ago, Sylvie Fairchild charmed the world as a contestant on the hit baking show, Operation Cake. Her ingenious, colorful creations captivated viewers and intrigued all but one of the judges, Dominic De Vere, the hottest pastry chef in London. When her glittery unicorn cake went spectacularly sideways, Dominic was quick to vote her off the show. Since then, Sylvie has managed to use her fame to help fulfill her dream of opening a bakery, Sugar Fair. The toast of Instagram, Sugar Fair has captured the attention of the Operation Cake producers…and a princess. Set… Dominic is His Majesty the King’s favorite baker, the go-to for sweet-toothed A-List celebrities, and a veritable British institution. He’s brilliant, talented, hard-working. And an icy, starchy grouch. Learning that the irksome Sylvie will be joining him on the Operation Cake judging panel is enough to make the famously dour baker even more grim. Her fantastical baking is only slightly more troublesome than the fact that he can’t stop thinking about her pink-streaked hair and irrepressible dimple. Match… When Dominic and Sylvie learn they will be fighting for the once in a lifetime opportunity to bake a cake for the upcoming wedding of Princess Rose, the flour begins to fly as they’re both determined to come out on top. The bride adores Sylvie’s quirky style. The palace wants Dominic’s classic perfection. In this royal battle, can there be room for two?
I mean, it’s right there in the title. Dominic had a baking emergency. Sylvie helped. They bantered in the kitchen. Like, that’s not supposed to make me swoon? This was my first experience reading anything Lucy Parker has written and Goodreads claims she’s some sort of grumpy-sunshine maestro, which seems fair based solely on this book. The push-pull of Sylvie and Dominic’s relationship was so good and it should come as no surprise that I’m always here for a baking competition. So, right off the bat I was all in. But then! There was so much more to this story. With real emotions and family feelings that made me feel real feelings and while I did have some very nitpicky things that I was not a huge fan of, this checked just about every rom com box for me. 
He Had a Nickname For Her!! And I Was Just...Not Supposed to Be Into That?? Also, Treasure Hunting
The Lady Rogue by Jenn Bennett
Traveling with her treasure-hunting father has always been a dream for Theodora. She’s read every book in his library, has an impressive knowledge of the world’s most sought-after relics, and has all the ambition in the world. What she doesn’t have is her father’s permission. That honor goes to her father’s nineteen-year-old protégé—and once-upon-a-time love of Theodora’s life—Huck Gallagher, while Theodora is left to sit alone in her hotel in Istanbul. Until Huck returns from an expedition without her father and enlists Theodora’s help in rescuing him. Armed with her father’s travel journal, the reluctant duo learns that her father had been digging up information on a legendary and magical ring that once belonged to Vlad the Impaler—more widely known as Dracula—and that it just might be the key to finding him. Journeying into Romania, Theodora and Huck embark on a captivating adventure through Gothic villages and dark castles in the misty Carpathian Mountains to recover the notorious ring. But they aren’t the only ones who are searching for it. A secretive and dangerous occult society with a powerful link to Vlad the Impaler himself is hunting for it, too. And they will go to any lengths—including murder—to possess it.
You guys know The Mummy (1999), right? Cinematic masterpiece of our time? Fun, banter-filled, historic adventure? This was like the YA version, but with Dracula instead of a mummy. And it was an absolute blast to read. God, do people still call things a blast? Am I old? Whatever. This was a blast. Huck and Theo were brimming with banter and nicknames and unresolved feelings and they stole a plane! They were on a treasure hunt! He showed up in her hotel room after years apart wearing only a towel! Was everything in this perfect? No. Did things happen a little quickly at the end? Sure. But it also set up for a sequel, which I will absolutely devour if it ever happens. This wasn’t a super deep story. It was fun and quick to read and, again, they stole a plane. That should tell you a lot about how this book was.
Everyone is Hot! Everyone is Kissing! Everyone Loves Restored Historical Houses!
The Walsh Siblings by Kate Canterbary
Meet Lauren Halsted. It's all the little things--the action plans, the long-kept promises--that started falling apart when my life slipped into controlled chaos. After I fell ass-over-elbow into Matthew Walsh's arms, I couldn't decide whether I wanted to run screaming or rip his pants off, and most days I wanted a little of both. If I was being honest with myself, it was rip his pants off, ride him like a workhorse, and then run screaming. Meet Matthew Walsh. A rebellious streak ran through Lauren Halsted. It was fierce and unrelentingly beautiful, and she wasn't letting anyone tell her what to do--unless, of course, she was naked. She wasn't looking for me and I sure as shit wasn't looking for her, but we found each other anyway, and now we were locked in a battle of wills, waiting for the other to blink.
In the year 2007, I saw the Broadway musical Spring Awakening for the first of several times while I was a freshman in college and watched a very young, baby-faced Jonathon Groff, utter the line: “The question is shame. What is its origin? And why are we hounded by its miserable shadow?” At the time, this had very little impact on me. But now, more than a decade later, I realize that I have practically no shame. When it comes to reading vaguely trashy books. Full of just...a ton of characters who have a ton of sex. Which is what this series was. And its assorted spinoffs. Listen, I adore a bunch of tropes, but sitting somewhere in the top five of favorite tropes, is multi-book series with connected characters, often a family full of overly attractive people who all somehow fall in love and overcome their final third miscommunication to maintain that love. All of the Walsh siblings were messed up in their own ways — there was a surprising amount of legitimate emotion and character development amidst all the sex — but, as tropes dictate, love conquered all and everyone got their Happily Ever After and I READ ALL OF IT. Seven books. Two novellas. EVEN MORE SPINOFFS. There are so many spinoffs. Multi-book spinoffs. As in more than one! I spent most of December reading Kate Canterbary’s books. And I don’t regret it! See, very little shame. Yes, sometimes these books were a little much. Every dude growled just...a lot. There was so much growling. And occasionally cringey nicknames. But my non-existent shame didn’t care and I kept reading and reading and reading and occasionally crying? Sam and Tiel’s books — they had two, obviously — both made me cry??? Kate, I call her Kate now because I have read so many of her books, has one other series that is apparently not related to all these hot architects in Boston, so I will probably read that next. Presumably those people will also have a ton of sex. But in a beach town!
All These Kids Are Having a Way Different College Experience Than I Did
Off-Campus by Elle Kennedy
She's about to make a deal with the college bad boy... Hannah Wells has finally found someone who turns her on. But while she might be confident in every other area of her life, she's carting around a full set of baggage when it comes to sex and seduction. If she wants to get her crush's attention, she'll have to step out of her comfort zone and make him take notice... even if it means tutoring the annoying, childish, cocky captain of the hockey team in exchange for a pretend date. ...and it's going to be oh so good. All Garrett Graham has ever wanted is to play professional hockey after graduation, but his plummeting GPA is threatening everything he's worked so hard for. If helping a sarcastic brunette make another guy jealous will help him secure his position on the team, he's all for it. But when one unexpected kiss leads to the wildest sex of both their lives, it doesn't take long for Garrett to realize that pretend isn't going to cut it. Now he just has to convince Hannah that the man she wants looks a lot like him.
When I was in college, I was on the student newspaper. I was the photo editor of the student newspaper. Humble brag. And most people who interacted with, but were not actually on the student newspaper staff, thought that me and the sports editor were dating. We were not. At one point in this not-dating thing we were doing, he told me that he was attracted to me, but not emotionally attracted, and we both got mad at the other for flirting with other people at the newspaper’s Christmas party. We are now both married to other people — ones who are both physically and emotionally attracted to us — but I say this because that was my college experience. The kids in this series had...very different college experiences. Maybe it was because I didn’t go to a school with a hockey team. Again, I can never say no to a multi-book series of connected characters and while I am an admitted snob when it comes to sports books, most of this was accurate from an athletic standpoint. And good? Really good? Sure, Garrett probably shouldn’t have kept trying to ask Hannah out when she said no, but we also just talked about my lack of reading shame, so here we are. Also, I didn’t hate the accidental pregnancy book. Which really says a lot. 
Second-Chance Romance, My Beloved
That Forever Girl by Meghan Quinn
There are two little words every small-town man dreads:  She’s back. Harper Sanders, the girl who was supposed to be my forever, has returned to Port Snow, Maine, for good—and she’s bringing back memories of our shared past. We once had a bright future together, but when tragedy struck, I threw it all away and pushed her out of my life. People in our small town think I’m cursed, but I know better. I did it all to myself And now she’s creating a life of her own in the place where we first fell in love. I can’t fight my feelings for her—or the strong attraction that keeps pulling us together. But after all this time, can she forgive the past and fall in love with me all over again. Everyone hopes to find that forever girl…I just hope I haven’t lost mine for good.
Ok, remember that trope list? Of top five favorite tropes? The one I haven’t written, but totally exists. Second-chance romance is, like, maybe number one. Possibly tied with friends to lovers. WHICH IS WHAT THIS BOOK WAS. BOTH OF THEM. Is this what it feels like when all your reading dreams come true??? I think it might be. This was the second book in a four-book series about four questionably attractive brothers who went to New Orleans and somehow got cursed? To only find true love when they, like, grew up? Which was very weird and not overly important to the overarching plot of any of the books, quite honestly, but that was the basis. Anyway. That didn’t matter. The tropes here did. The flashback chapters that showed all that friends to lovers glory mixed with all the pining and regret of second-chance romance in the present. Rogan and Harper were so soft with each other, even when they didn’t want to be. It was so good. SO GOOD. Second-chance romance requires a good bit of groveling, and this had it in spades (which feels like another very old saying, actually) and the payoff was like winning the romance lottery.
The Fae Are Going to Attack, but We Have to Get Electricity and Take Care of the Manor!!
Stariel by AJ Lancaster
Everyone knows who the magical estate will choose for its next ruler. Or do they? Will it be the lord’s eldest son, who he despised? His favourite nephew, with the strongest magical land-sense? His scandalous daughter, who ran away from home years ago to study illusion? Hetta knows it won’t be her, and she’s glad of it. Returning home for her father’s funeral, all Hetta has to do is survive the family drama and avoid entanglements with irritatingly attractive local men until the Choosing. Then she can leave. But whoever Stariel chooses will have bigger problems than eccentric relatives to deal with. Winged, beautifully deadly problems. For the first time in centuries, the fae are returning to the Mortal Realm, and only the Lord of Stariel can keep the estate safe. In theory.
I have said it before, but I will say it again: This book had no business being as good as it was. The premise was vaguely absurd. Magical manor set in the countryside of a country that isn’t turn-of-the-century England, but felt a hell of a lot like turn-of-the-century England needs a ruler because the last one is dead and of course it’s run-away, scandalous daughter Hetta. Because the land picks the lord and now Hetta is Lord of Stariel and—oh, she’s also got a long-standing crush on her childhood friend turned head of household Wynn. Who  happens to be a runaway fae prince! Yeah, there’s fae. And more magic! And this should not have worked! To say that it did, would be an understatement. This is another one of those series that wasn’t, like, overly verbose or super sweeping but was a blast (if I use it multiple times maybe it’ll catch on) to read. The balance of magic with “BUT HOW WILL WE AFFORD ELECTRICITY FOR OUR TENANTS” was done so well and while there was a lot going on, it never felt overwhelming. Balanced really is the best word for it. Plus, once Hetta and Wynn got together that was pretty much it. Their relationship was the calming factor that helped lead to all that balance — and that’s such a rarity in books, I’ve found. People think there’s got to be relationship drama, even when everything else is crazy. Sure, Wynn had his “I’m putting you in danger and I’m angsty about it” moments, but Hetta absolved him of those notions pretty quickly, and then it was back to our regularly scheduled two-person team. Who also was pretty great at kissing. Each other. 
Oof, Aaron Blackford
The Spanish Love Deception by Elena Armas
Catalina Martín, finally, not single. Her family is happy to announce that she will bring her American boyfriend to her sister’s wedding. Everyone is invited to come and witness the most magical event of the year. That would certainly be tomorrow’s headline in the local newspaper of the small Spanish town I came from. Or the epitaph on my tombstone, seeing the turn my life had taken in the span of a phone call. Four weeks wasn’t a lot of time to find someone willing to cross the Atlantic–from NYC and all the way to Spain–for a wedding. Let alone, someone eager to play along my charade. But that didn’t mean I was desperate enough to bring the 6’4 blue eyed pain in my ass standing before me. Aaron Blackford. The man whose main occupation was making my blood boil had just offered himself to be my date. Right after inserting his nose in my business, calling me delusional, and calling himself my best option. See? Outrageous. Aggravating. Blood boiling. And much to my total despair, also right. Which left me with a surly and extra large dilemma in my hands. Was it worth the suffering to bring my colleague and bane of my existence as my fake boyfriend to my sister’s wedding? Or was I better off coming clean and facing the consequences of my panic induced lie? Like my abuela would say, que dios nos pille confesados.
I know this book has gotten a lot of hype in recent months and some people have started to pick it apart, but, as is becoming my reading prerogative, I don’t care and I loved it. Much like I loved Aaron Blackford. What a dreamboat, honestly. The tension! The pining! The payoff! At least three quarters of fake dating’s appeal is all three of those things, and this hit the jackpot. Especially the payoff. Gosh, this was swoony and romantic and made my stomach do those little flips that happen when swoony and romantic things take place. Even before the fake dating officially started, there was so much swoon and romance. Aaron Blackford had it bad and I love few things more than fictional dudes who are head over heels. I didn’t even mind the final third miscommunication! I almost, sort of understood it??? Also, I got more stomach flips out of their reunion. So, fine by me. 
Something Other Than Honorable Mention Because I Liked These Too, But Didn’t Want to Write More
The Bargainer by Laura Thalassa
The Shaadi Set-Up by Lillie Vale
Disnechanted by Brianna Sugalski
Gridiron Series by Jen Frederick
The Dating Plan by Sara Desai
99 Percent Mine by Sally Thorne
The Raven Cycle by Maggie Stiefvater
The Last Magician by Lisa Maxwell
Down Comes the Night by Allison Saft
7 notes · View notes
robininthelabyrinth · 4 years
Note
If you're still accepting prompts - Nie Huaisang/Jiang Cheng. Featuring: The seduction of Jiang Cheng by Nee Huaisang, the obscurest of weird courting practices unique to both sects, and Wei Wuixiang being rendered temporarily speechless.
Jiang Sect
1
“So, we’re on a boat,” Nie Huaisang said.
“Yes,” Jiang Cheng said. “A boat ride is a traditional part of the engagement process for the Jiang sect.”
“I get that,” Nie Huaisang said. “Do we need to do anything on the boat?”
Jiang Cheng scowled at him. It was his ‘confusion’ scowl, though, so Nie Huaisang didn’t take it personally. “What do you mean?”
“You know,” Nie Huaisang said. “Do we need to – do anything? Anything in specific? Anything at all?”
Jiang Cheng was still scowling.
“Perhaps assume a particular position –”
“Nie Huaisang!”
2
“As part of my courtship of you –”
“You’re courting me, now?” Nie Huaisang asked, smiling behind his fan. “Really? And here I was, thinking I was doing all the work.”
“Will you shut up and let me finish this.”
Nie Huaisang waved a hand permissively.
“As part of – as part of the courtship process – I present to you a lotus flower, which I have grown myself. It is a symbol that I have considered our relationship at length, tending to it over time, letting it bud and grow as a natural –”
“It’s dead.”
“I know it’s dead. That’s not the point.”
“Our relationship metaphor is dead and that’s not the point?”
“It’s not a metaphor for our relationship.”
“What was that about budding and growing and –”
“Shut up. The words are traditional. I stick a seed in the ground, wait the appropriate number of days, and give it to you – I did all that.”
Nie Huaisang poked the plant with his fan. “Did you water it?”
“It lives in a pond.”
“Jiang Cheng. Did you water it?”
“Listen, I’ve been busy –”
3
“A grand gesture,” Nie Huaisang said. “I think I’m scared.”
Jiang Cheng, by now somewhat inured to him, rolled his eyes.
“No, really,” Nie Huaisang persisted. “I’m scared. Terrified. Deeply worried. From the way you’ve described it, you have to make a grand gesture of your affection to, what, show off your spontaneous, adventurous spirit?”
“Basically.”
“You don’t have one. No, don’t give me that look, you don’t. You’re excellent in many ways, I wouldn’t be agreeing to marry you if I didn’t think so, but spontaneity gives you anxiety and anxiety gives you hives and makes you hit things. This seems like a bad idea.”
“It’s fine,” Jiang Cheng said. “I told Wei Wuxian to come up with something.”
“Jiang Cheng,” Nie Huaisang said. “You needed to come up with a great, big, explosive, stupid way to demonstrate affection…and you asked Wei Wuxian?”
“…I’ve made a terrible mistake.”
Nie Sect
1
“Now that we’ve gone on a hunt together –”
“Did that count?” Jiang Cheng asked. “I’m pretty sure we mostly just went walking through a forest. And then we went to a town to eat at a restaurant.”
“Now that we’ve obtained sustenance together –”
“You mean buying skewers from the street stall earlier? Or putting in our order at this restaurant?”
“Jiang Cheng.”
“What?”
“I’m trying to fulfil the rules of my sect here.”
Jiang Cheng crossed his arms and smothered a smirk. “Really? I’m pretty sure the rule said something about you needing to prepare food for me from something you personally tracked down.”
“So what? I tracked down a perfectly nice restaurant.”
“You didn’t prepare the food.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. It’s hot pot. I’m doing plenty of preparation.”
“Your sect are butchers,” Jiang Cheng said smugly. This was totally making up for the fiasco Wei Wuxian had put together. “I’m pretty sure you’re supposed to catch something and chop it up for me.”
Nie Huaisang glared at him. “Fine. You want me to personally kill something for you?”
His hand shot out, fan snapping down on the surface of the table.
“You’re welcome.”
Jiang Cheng looked down.
“Somehow,” he said, his voice strangled as he tried to figure out if he was angry or about to start laughing. “I don’t think flies are what your ancestors had in mind.”
2
“I don’t think this is necessary,” Jiang Cheng said.
“Of course it is,” Nie Huaisang said. “It’s in the rules.”
“Yes, but. You know. Under the circumstances, maybe we could – skip it?”
“We didn’t skip any of the other steps,” Nie Huaisang pointed out. “This’ll be fine.”
“Nie Huaisang.”
“What?”
“You know I respect you very much and consider you to be very fearsome, especially after what happened with Jin Guangyao. So I don’t want you to take offense or think I’m putting you down in any way. But…”
“But what?”
“You don’t have any martial abilities with the saber to show off.”
Nie Huaisang lifted his saber and immediately staggered a few steps from the unfamiliar weight. “No,” he said. “I don’t. But the rule is ‘display your martial abilities’, not ‘display good martial abilities’. You just have to watch me go through a few routines.”
“You’re going to cut off your own feet,” Jiang Cheng gloomily predicted. “Do I have to watch?”
“Yes. It’s mandatory. Don’t worry, it may have been ten years, but I still remember the basics.”
“Do you?”
“Of course! Sharp part goes in the other person.”
Jiang Cheng covered his eyes and whimpered.
3
“Why did that happen,” Jiang Cheng said. It wasn’t a question. “Why. Why did I have to endure that.”
“Nie sect tradition,” Nie Huaisang said apologetically. “Sorry.”
“Did they think we – that we didn’t know – we’re both fully grown adults.”
“My sect is known for having people who lose control of their tempers very easily,” Nie Huaisang said. “It’s traditional to teach incoming brides – yes, I know, we never agreed who was marrying in, but put that aside for the time being – to teach prospective new spouses about how to handle that.”
“In bed.”
“Yes. In bed. Outside of bed, the recommended approach is ‘flee if they’ve got a sword’ or ‘kick really hard until they stop moving’.”
“Don’t make me laugh, I’m still processing the horror that I was just subjected to. There were pictures, Huaisang. Charts. Why were there charts?”
“Some of those pictures were pretty nice, actually,” Nie Huaisang mused. “I should get copies to add to my lending library.”
“I feel like using traditional secret Nie sect bride teachings in your porn distribution network is wrong.”
“You make it sound so tawdry. It wasn’t even anything that extreme! Just a few helpful tips with rope. And chains. And various other objects –”
“We’re never talking about this ever again.”
“The worst part is, I’m pretty sure the ancestor that instituted this rule was making a joke,” Nie Huaisang said. “And his heir continued it entirely out of spite, with every subsequent sect leader adding their own additional ridiculousness in order to make the next generation suffer as they were forced to suffer. That’s why there’s quite so much, uh…”
“Innovation?”
“Good word.”
“Well, it was that or ‘horrifying perversities’, and the latter seemed a little judgmental.”
Extra: Meishan Yu
“No. Nope. No way. This has gone too far!”
“What are you whining about?” Jiang Cheng asked, hands across his chest and scowl on his face. “It’s just another stupid ritual. We’ve done a dozen or more by now. What’s the matter with this one?”
“I can accept greeting the dawn as it breaks over the mountains,” Nie Huaisang said through gritted teeth. “Uncomfortable as that might be. I can even accept having to spend the night before in your mother’s clan’s miserable little love nest –”
“It’s a perfectly nice structure. The fact that it’s built into a cave doesn’t make it miserable, and it’s not a love nest.”
“It’s where newlyweds spend a night together; it’s a love nest.”
“Fine. What’s the problem, then?”
“The problem? The problem?! The problem is that nowhere in that description –” Nie Huaisang jabbed at Jiang Cheng with his fan; Jiang Cheng dodged. That fan could be pretty pointy. “Nowhere in that description does it say anything, anything at all, about having to deal with a giant nest of spiders!”
“It’s not that many spiders, only a few dozen –”
“No!”
“You only have to leave them a little bit of food –”
“I am not feeding any spiders anything!”
“It’s good luck!”
“The answer is still no!”
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zukosgay · 3 years
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alright, what are your favourite richard siken quotes?
BOY, I GOT MANY
You go to work the next day pretending nothing happened. Your co-workers ask if everything's okay and you tell them you're just tired. And you're trying to smile. And they're trying to smile.
but the princess looks into her mirror and only sees the princess, while I’m out here, slogging through the mud, breathing fire, and getting stabbed to death. 
A man takes his sadness down to the river and throws it in the river but then he’s still left with the river. A man takes his sadness and throws it away but then he’s still left with his hands. 
You miss the point: the face in the mirror is a little traitor, the face in the mirror is a pale and naked hostage and no one can tell which room he's being held in. 
I’ll use my body like a ladder, climbing to the thing behind it, saying farewell to flesh, farewell to everything caught underfoot and flattened.
I’m saying your name in the grocery store, I’m saying your name on the bridge at dawn.
I swear, I end up feeling empty, like you’ve taken something out of me, and I have to search my body for the scars
and with this bullet lodged in my chest, covered with your name, I will turn myself into a gun, because I’m hungry and hollow and just want something to call my own.
The heart is monologing about hesitation and fulfillment while behind the red the heart is drowning.
Love, love, go ahead and have another plate of it, it doesn’t run out. Of course, I wonder if they love me back, which is, really, besides the point. I don’t do it to be adored, I do it because my love keeps getting bigger and that’s what happens. 
If the dead are watching, I want them to see us writing, dancing, singing, painting. I want them to see that we still reach out to each other.
but if there is a Truth out there, to be had clearly and definitively, I’m not sure I’m the kind that can get to it; and if I can get to it I’m not sure I should be the one entrusted with it.
I clawed my way into the light but the light is just as scary. I’d rather quit. I’d rather be sad
We dream and dream of being seen as we really are and then finally someone looks at us and sees us truly and we fail to measure up. [...]  Sometimes you get so close to someone you end up on the other side of them.
I wanted to explain myself to myself in an understandable way. I gave shape to my fears and made excuses.
What can you know about a person? They shift in the light. You can’t light up all sides at once. Add a second light and you get a second darkness, it’s only fair.
How much can you change and get away with it, before you turn into someone else, before it’s some kind of murder? Difficult, to be confronted with the fact of yourself. Opaque in the sense of finally solid, in the sense of see me, not through me.
This is how you make the meaning, you take two things and try to define the space between them. [...] Let's say that God is the space between two men and the Devil is the space between two men 
Someone has to leave first. This is a very old story. There is no other version of this story. 
I’ll be your slaughterhouse, your killing floor, your morgue, and final resting
I made this place for you. A place for you to love me. If this isn’t a kingdom then I don’t know what is. 
the thing is: I am always very much in love and very much afraid and nothing else.
We make these ridiculous idols so we can pray to what’s behind them, but what happens after we get up the ladder? Do we simply stare at what’s horrible and forgive it?
My favorite kind of pie is cake. I have a giant umbrella that protects no one. My father is a sadist and I am my father’s son. These statements are not lies but perhaps they lack a certain clarity. // Someone put their hand in my heart and they didn’t take it back out. If I died tonight, no one would notice for weeks. My father is a sadist and I am my father’s son. I learned it well. Do I have the stomach for it? Do you really want to know?
Dad says he means no harm and Mom says she just gets a strong gut feeling sometimes. We’re a family of liars, but psychic and sadist are slanderous words and I don’t have the kind of proof that would hold up in a court of law. [...]  We’ve all revised our histories so many times I wonder what true things will be left to say when I’m finally allowed to say them.
God says, Which one of you fuckers can get to me first?
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My mind has been refusing to beleive this concept of a rival court for so long, but it dawned on me that this is the only explanation for their behaviour from the beginning. The two of them fully believe they are going to literally transform the literal monarchy, into a new model. This will be so well received - that it will result in a massive following with the son of diana, and his bi racial wife, essentially becomming the figureheads of the monarchy once the queen dies. (In their heads remember). This huge following, which will not just be limited to the UK but the US, will be so huge that it would render hereditary rule to be redundant. This is what is in their heads. Remember, everyone loved Meghan’s old timey accent and hand gestures in between takes on the set of suits. (Or did they?) Well, we know for a fact people found it unbearable. But, the truth is different for everyone isn’t it. Meghan walks into a room and she lights it up, when I tilt my head and blink my eyes people find me to be so charming and intelligent and sincere (dont they?). The truth for Meghan is that she is truly the most amazing revelation of the 21st century. Look at these positive tweets about her, she thinks. I am single-handedly reviving this institution that does not get that many likes on social media. Everything I do is amazing and ground breaking. She thinks. >> If I read what I had written only a few weeks ago I would have found it ridiculous and dramatised. But I realised suddenly, that there behaviour can only be explained by this. You are not in a cycle like this for so long unless, I can use the american expression I learnt on your blog, ‘drinking the kool aid’. Meghan has drunk a olympic pool of kool aid. This is the truth for her. Buy some more time, older generations die out. She is going to be the single most revolutionary thing to ever happen.
They believe their own pr. That has been their problem from the very beginning.
And I agree with you. They expected to modernize and revolutionize the institution. What amazes me is what they consider “modernization” and “revolution.” It’s basically just trend-chasing, monetizing, and merching.
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barbika1508 · 4 years
Text
Intentionally unintentional (Peter Pevensie x Reader / Fluff)
Word Count: 5,2k
Genre: Fluff, Romance
Pairing: Peter Pevensie x Reader
Warnings: None, there’s just fluff
Summary: Finding the High King is harder than it might seem at first, but it’s not unusual for Y/N to drag him out of trouble most often than not.
Authors Note: Omaru is the name of the grounds where Aslan’s camp was placed on in the first book and Movie. So, I simply used the name of it to name a Lord after it.
Here you go anon who requested fluff!!!! I hope you liked it :3
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Unbelievable. Truly. Unbelievable.
‘’Lady Y/N.’’ the greeting is friendly, but I can only offer a nod of acknowledgement and a brief smile as I pass a gorgeous nymph and a talking bear that’s walking next to her. They are heading into the direction of the Apple orchard from where I’m marching from. I’m tempted to start running to rush this process faster, but the notion would notion would raise awareness and at this moment unwanted as I don’t want anyone to worry or panic unnecessarily just because I can’t offer smiles or words of reassurance in my haste.
My dress on occasion tangles itself almost joyfully around my legs, causing me to stumble and literally come to a stop by jumping here and there. This is why pants work and are practical, why I love pants. Dresses aren’t my forte but ever since I’ve been promoted, my knighthood elevated I had to make changes to my wardrobe which Lucy didn’t have any problems in helping out with. Accordingly, to unofficial but official rules of the court dresses are of preference for females. Usually I don’t mind following the rules but some rules occasional spark distastefulness in my mouth like right now. I seriously dislike the Royal court this instance.
Only in times like these it dawns on me how big Cair Paravel actually is. The many rooms, nocks and crannies’ it has and still unexplored and hidden rooms from what I’ve heard it just goes on and on, up down and yes all around. But uncovering mysteries is an agenda for another day, my current plans already going sideways which to be honest was to be expected it’s the disappointment that was not however - anger yes. It isn’t until my calves start to burn that I slow down, still tempted to run but instead I end up walking in big strides with a grim expression on which a lovely naiad points out once I cross a courtyard with a fountain in the middle. Her sisters greet me in giggles the comment roaring up a dose of laughter. I simply offer them a brief smile of acknowledgement before hurrying my step ahead shaking of the brief moment of embarrassment.
After what feels like a few kilometres of walk, I reach the High King’s study surprised to see the doors opened. Peeking inside the room there’s only a faun working over some scrolls and documents, moving and folding them, over the grand table that has been placed there to hold meetings with more people.
‘’Ah my lady.’’ The faun is quick to notice me, letting go of his work as he sidesteps and offers a bow. I return it back stepping inside eyes running over the scrolls looking for an indication of what sort of discussion may have happened in my absence. I end up turning to Mentius.
‘’Where’s the High King? He was supposed to be here??’’ at my question he averts his gaze.
‘’I’m afraid to reveal that in a certain sense he was abducted by a few lords.’’
My eyebrows raise up hands coming to rest over my hips, while I run my tongue over my left cheek ‘’Abducted?’’ I inquire narrowing my eyes at the already nervous looking faun, that fumbles with some scrolls on the table.
‘’Yes, they have guided him out of the study. I am not certain where their intentions lie or where they might have led him to. Or the matter of discussion.’’ He looks apologetic once he lifts his eyes up shyly.
I simply hum at first tapping my foot impatiently as I glance at the painted ceiling, the fresco portraying a story that Peter likes and which he chose. It’s a nice short story which supposedly happened near the beginning of Narnian’s creation and it includes a table of beavers and the King’s firstborn helping them out.
‘’Hm alright.’’ I straighten up and offer a wide smile ‘’I greatly thank you for your honesty Mr. Mentius. I’d suggest for you to run away while you can and take the rest of the day off. I bid you farewell.’’ With that and a fumbling goodbye from the nervous faun, I turn around and head outside my second destination being the throne room.
I have an inkling of an idea of what the lords want, and which ones have ambushed poor Peter. There have been words going around, made up rumours from certain noblemen of wanting to be gifted land on Galma, and perhaps even Avra. It irks me just the thought of it, the greediness that the men are starting to portray. Most of them being humans doesn’t ease my slowly growing nerves over them visiting us the last few days.
‘’Darling Y/N!’’ a voice calls out startling me. I trail off a few more steps head turning around spotting Lucy as she skips over to me enthusiastically, holding onto a richly weaved flower crown ‘’Why are you in such a hurry? Where is the fire?’’ she asks bubbly coming to a stop in front of me.
‘’I’m trying to find your older brother. He has a habit of slipping through my fingers, as of lately. Intentionally or not.’’ I complain sincerely which has her chuckling immediately her eyes crinkling as she gleefully nods.
‘’It’s mostly unintentional, and very rarely intentional.’’ She defends him swiftly ‘’What trouble has he gotten himself now into?’’
‘’In his defence he probably didn’t do anything, besides being nice.’’ I grumble crossing my arms while she tilts her head giving me a fond look.
‘’Poor thing.’’ She coos shaking her head. I spot a group of nymphs further ahead at the gardens, peeking around the corner of a gate and a column towards us, all murmuring between one another clearly up to something ‘’Being nice and polite is a given, but taking advantage of it…’’ she trails off looking conflicted, hands mindlessly stroking the flower petals.
I reach forward placing my right hand over hers brining her gaze up to me again ‘’That’s why I’m here. I’ll get him away no problem. It’s easier to blame me it’s what I’m here for.’’ I tease winking, and then pull her into a hug ‘’You on the other hand should go back to your friends. They are missing you.’’ As I lean back, I point backwards. Lucy follows my direction looking just in time as squeaks reach our ears and the girls disappear.
‘’Ah I see.’’ She says smirking widely and turns forward after a moment ‘’I wish you the best of luck in your quest. And if anyone dares to blame you for anything you find me and I’ll take care of it!’’ I’m surprised at the end at the slight change in her tone and the warning in her words. My astonishment gives her enough time to stand on her tip toes and place the flower crown onto my head.
‘’What are you…’’ she’s quick to shush me with a smile, fingers gentle and fleeting working my hair, to hold the flower crown steady atop my head ‘’This is unnecessary your majesty.’’
She instantly snorts at the title I use to address her and steps behind me, taking in her handywork while I simply smile at the slight weight over my head loving the sweet smell that the flowers are emitting ‘’it is very necessary. I keep saying and will keep saying it; you are meant to wear flower crowns.’’ She beams as she stands in front of me once more and takes me in, hand taking a hold of my own ‘’Now I give you my full blessing to do whatever you please with my brother.’’
This time around laughter raises up from my own chest at the secret and not so secret implication ‘’You are being ridiculous truly. And sneaky.’’ I add giving her a glare as she starts to walk backwards the murmurs and chatter present once more.
‘’Me, no. You’ve must have mistaken me for some else Lady Y/N.’’ she says playfully still backing away slowly, her words making me shake my head, hands flying up for the flower crown which remains unmoving. She’s a professional I swear.
‘’Uh huh. Have a nice day your majesty.’’ I call back as she turns around. She offers a last glance waving to me before he walks around the corner joining her ladies and friends, cheers and laughter rising. Such a nice sweet girl our Lucy is. Taking in a breath, I check to find the throne room empty some folks cleaning and dusting it. Not wanting to disturb them, I do curiously as on instinct make a detour to the gardens near the throne room. It’s a place where mostly people “run off to” whenever we have balls, or gatherings, celebrations ecc.
On a day to day basis, only people that take care of the gardens tend to roam around here. And on occasion I do love it myself to just walk around the layered balconies fully enjoying the magnificent view of the sea and castle no matter the weather. It is always breath-taking.
Greeting passing satyrs and dwarfs, along with a tiger and excited looking group of mice I make my way to the marble fence, lips turning into a wide smile once my eyes lay fully on the glistering calm sea that stretches ahead of me.
In the corner of my eye I spot movement. It captures my attention brining my eyes downwards, and finally praise Aslan I spot my target. Poor Peter is right in the middle of the half circle of 5 humans that all but surround him. I lean onto the wide fence wanting to get closer and hear what they are actually discussing. MY gaze lands on the High King that is mostly silent looking between the lords trying to clearly portray himself as if he’s interested in what they are saying. He looks uncomfortable. It makes me smirk knowing that he’s sort of suffering. It’s funny. (I don’t mean that in a malicious way)
Not wanting to waste any more time, I walk over to the steps and skip a bit recklessly over a few, landing on my feet successfully every time I reach flat ground. By the time I reach the 5th balcony which is the lowers one of this level, I compose myself into a lady whilst the lords quiet down after noticing my presence.
‘’Lady Y/N, how nice of you to have joined us.’’ Peter greets contrastingly cheerful, as the lords greet me somewhat stoically. In return I turn to the High King addressing him first and then spare the lords a greeting. The older men even though offer pleasantries and smiles, make it clear that the mood has been soured.
‘’I do apologize for my interruption lords, your majesty. It took me a while to find you. You simply disappeared I’ve been told.’’ I state unabashed putting on an expression of wonder to mock the men. I do make sure that I stand next to the High King, not missing the way he shifts in favour of standing even closer to me.
‘’Ah it is not, as if we were hiding my Lady.’’ One chuckles his undertone noticeably mocking. I play along smiling and nodding as they exchange looks.
‘’Yes, yes, I believe you my Lord. There must have been a miss-communication of sorts.’’ I reply glancing at Peter not missing the ‘Please help me’ look he gives along with an apologetic half smile that’s easy to read. Haaaaa he should feel guilty. ‘’Anyhow can I offer up my assistance given that I’m finally here? I must have missed the invitation for this meeting I do offer my sincere apologies.’’ Just to be extra and a bit petty I bow my head in apology offering the men an innocent expression.
Again, they exchange looks between one another, knowing that I’ve caught them ‘’The lords were discussing about benefits for nobility, and certain deserving Narnians.’’ Peter speaks up with a smirk on his lips quick to spill the tea so to speak. I don’t miss how a lord that’s comes from the great river and far up north who is known not to lie his eyes widening almost comically for a moment ‘’In war times as we all well know we award our people, for their bravery, heroism and even if they are simply in need. And given these peaceful and rich times, why shouldn’t we continue being generous. Times are good, and even in good times we could and should give out good will and rewards.’’
I immediately nod, not missing the way Peter’s eyes whilst he talks take me in, gaze lingering over my features and the flower crown.
‘’That sounds like a very good and very selfless idea from you my lords. I praise for your humbleness.’’ I cheer still playing along turning to the serious men ‘’Can I hear some of the suggested ideas please?’’
Again, nobody says anything, the men sending glances towards the High King as if he’s one of them, waiting for him to speak further. Peter on the other hand takes a look at them and ends up smirking as he turns to me, hands at his sides one resting over his left hip where his sword would be. He has a habit of mindlessly reaching for the hilt the action endearing.
‘’The initial idea from our noblemen, was to give out land on Galma for starters. But that’s just an idea at the moment being.’’
I keep silent and turn behind to glance across the sea towards where the island can be seen on clear days. I try keeping back the inkling of anger that spike in me and put on a smile as I face the men.
‘’And an idea it shall remain.’’ I state overly cheerfully perhaps ‘’May I advise that we organize festivals your majesty to consider? Friendly competitions that anyone can participate in, and stands to boost businesses for individuals? Of course, that’s another reason to travel and revisit Narnia and it’s many beauties.’’
At my suggestion Peter’s eyes sparkle, face lightening up ‘’That is a very well-rounded idea Lady Y/N!’’ he acclaims ‘’We should have called for you much earlier. What are your thoughts on this my lords?’’ he turns to the men that are quick to act, putting on big smiles.
‘’Ah wonderful.’’
‘’What a stupendous idea my lady.’’
‘’Very well thought out indeed.’’
If I had a penny for every time that someone acted fake…
‘’That is only meant for the common folk with due respect my lady. Our thoughts were going along the lines of men that have fought in battles and who have upheld peace in the recent years. Men that need time off, to free their minds from their troubles.’’ Ah there he is the rebellious lord of Omaru finally laying the cards on table. I bite back a cough, and snarky remark of him just mentioning men. As if women didn’t fight or contribute to Narnia.
I narrow my eyes at him crossing my arms but make sure I cup my right cheek making an effect of looking as if I’m thinking hard about his words, squaring up my shoulders.
‘’It is why festivals and contests are a place and occurrence to take their minds off. Maybe travels around our lands. We can start to talk about building a rehabilitation space of sorts somewhere near the woods preferably.’’ I reply ‘’Galma’s land isn’t ours to just give so freely my Lord. Nor to our esteemed noblemen and noblewomen, nor to the High King himself. Whoever is in possession of said lands we’d have to pay off fairly. Man, woman or the kingdom. Narnia isn’t here to be owned by us; whatever you are given must be earner with honesty and valour.’’ I politely and calmly explain not breaking eye contact with the said lord who is a man in his forties and has made a name for himself by building his town from grounds up after the war ‘’Besides my dear Lords, people look up to us. They look up to you, saviours of our beloved lands and hearts. We are only human that is true, and greed can be hard to resists that’s understandable. But at the end of the day gentlemen we have been put into the positions in which we stand for I’m sure good reasons. Maybe intentionally or unintentionally by Aslan’s will perhaps.’’
Check mate. Nobody pips a word, as they stare at me, some with blank expressions others with frustrations burning beneath the surface. My words were clear and hold a heaviness to them. Anyone that tries to contradict me especially after the last part of my sentence, would be to speak against Aslan himself. And yes, yes, I’ve played dirty just now bringing his name into this mess that the men before me have created. The 4 lords keep quiet but huddle closer next to one another, quietly starting to debate what has just transpired all the while Lord Omaru to my surprise doesn’t remove his gaze away from me. He offers a lopsided smirk instead steely blue eyes holding my own.
His gaze starts to make me feel uncomfortable giving me an inkling as if he’s having ideas of pushing me off the balcony. Thank Aslan, that Peter gets my attention shifting closer to me ‘’Well pointed out Lady Y/N. I do have to apologize for my tardiness…’’ he starts off almost making me roll my eyes – I don’t. I instead shake my head and grab for his forearm shutting him up, as I step backwards. He goes along willingly taking a step forward.
‘’My dear lords, please excuse us but we do have other urgent matters to attend to as it was scheduled. Please consult between yourselves an we can pick up this discussion in the following days. I wish you a good day.’’ Not having patience anymore, I completely ignore as they start to greet us in return half bowing down whilst I all but drag the High King away reaching the stairs in no time. For the first 2 levels I hitch up my dress and try to walk up composed and yet I end up letting go of the boy behind me and sprint up. I ignore the burn in my thighs and legs, panting loudly once we reach the top of the stairs and walk out of the men’s sight towards the building, the glass wall starting midway of the wall whilst we stand on the corner of it.
‘’Was that really needed?’’ Peter pants catching up to me a few steps behind. I lean over, placing my hands onto my knees to support myself as I try catching my breath, lungs only slightly burning at the strain ‘’That was quite intense wasn’t it?’’ he wonders out loud looking a bit better than I am feeling. Although it does seem like we’ve ran out of shape. Hm it’s a good initiative to start practicing sword fighting. Gathering myself enough to start moving again the first thing I do I legit punch him on the arm ‘’OUUUU!!’’ he whines grabbing a hold of his arm.
‘’Dummy!!’’ I exclaim glaring at him ‘’How hard is it to actually say no??!?!’’
He looks at me startled but breaks into a grin arms rising up. Within a step he’s right in my personal space and pulls me into his chest gleefully ‘’NO you jerk!’’ I protest immediately trying to push him away. Of course, I don’t success as his grip is secure not giving me any wiggle room. He boyishly laughs, clearly enjoying himself as I grumble ‘’You don’t get to laugh, you owe me big time mister!’’ I manage to lean back enough to look at him ‘’Big time!’’
His grin turns into half a pout as he can’t stop smiling ‘’I must relay to you my sincerest apologies my lady. I do apologize from the bottom of my heart…’’ he puts on this ridiculous and very mocking tone, using words that have me grinning in return and covering my mouth with my hand not to burst into laughter.
‘’Peter!!!!’’ I wine in protest pushing against his chest with both hands. He ends up breathing out once harshly at my push but laughs instead, hands not leaving me.
‘’I’m sorry my love.’’ He switches back to normal, pursing his lips in an attempt to kiss me. But unlike him I always keep an eye out on my surroundings; and this time can hear the lords first before seeing them or they us. Glancing around there’s a bush fittingly placed right behind us a step away.
‘’Nope!’’ I murmur and take a determined step back, bringing him with me from the tiled floor onto grass. He trips over my own two feet, and my sudden move has us crashing down like falling trees. Naturally as gravity would have it, he lands on me knocking all air from my lungs but at least we are out of sight.
‘’Y/N are you…’’ instead of worrying about myself as I heave for a moment, I raise both hands in panic to cover his mouth, breathing harsh through my nose.
‘’Shhhhh!’’ with the warning being expressed he remains confused as I turn my head to the side looking through the bush listening the how the men are bad mouthing me. Peter meanwhile readjusts his position shifting enough to slide next to my body, leaving an ache behind and maybe a bruise or two. For a moment I panic once more that the lords are going to pick the way ahead of us to enter the castle, which will give them the full view of us hiding. Luckily enough their voices linger as they sort of hang around not talking all that quietly.
‘’Who does she think she is?’’ I smirk at the obvious anger finding that the men are acting like little boys, as expected. Turning over to Peter who has lowered my hands down from his face, he’s glaring towards them with anger as well, getting red in the face ‘’Foolish little girl! I don’t care if she’s a war hero or not, she should be put in place…’’
I cup Peter’s cheeks before he can get up and raise hell so to speak. His blue eyes dart to me, frustration clear in his gorgeous blue orbs. I lean in knowing him well enough to assume that his next move is to jump up and that my action will distract him. My lips slot against his with familiarity bringing that fluffy and soft filling to wash over me.
The court doesn’t exactly know that we’ve been courting one another for some time now. They don’t necessarily officially know, or have been briefed because we haven’t made the announcement. But unofficially yeah, I think the whole castle, or probably whole of Narnia knows that we are in some shape or form liking one another.
Not risking it by making any sounds, I do boldly let my tongue run over his upper lip before pulling back teeth tugging onto his lower one. His eyebrows furrow as he stares at me with a darkened gaze, not changing it even when I let go of him. I offer a bright grin and innocent expression, gaze lowering between his plump lips and eyes, while listening to the men that finally decide to leave and most likely plot some conspiracy behind our backs.
‘’You little tease.’’ He murmurs silently just forcing me to kiss him, because of how handsome he is in this moment. I mean he’s always handsome, but right now the sun is hitting him perfectly through the leaves of the bush, dotting his skin, and highlighting his eyes whenever the leaves move.
I simply hum in reply, still pressing kisses to his face as he tries to give me an unimpressed expression. His lips are twitching which is giving him away ‘’Not at all your majesty. I was only trying to distract you from doing anything rash. I am just doing my job.’’ I even give him a wink which prompts him to shake his head at me. I end up giggling quietly and lie my head down as the position I’ve put myself into put a strain on my neck.
‘’Ah sure, rely all your hidden intentions and agendas onto your job. That for certain can be excused in court.’’ He grumbles half-heartedly sarcasm peeking through his words.
I gasp instead, hand hitting him gently over his right shoulder ‘’In court?’’ I try keeping my voice down as I stare at him flabbergasted at his statement ‘’Are you planning on putting me away my king?’’
‘’There’s a possibility I might be.’’ He confirms shifting. I watch as he raises over me, supporting himself on his elbows, face inches away from my own hands coming up to readjust the flower crown that has managed to stay put.
‘’For whatever reason, your grace? What heinous crime have I committed to have earned your disapproval?’’ I play along, hand flying to my forehead as I act as if I’m regretting my actions. Chuckles fill the air, as he dives down and is quick to nip at my bared neck, lips ghosting over my skin which earns him some breathless gasps.
‘’I’m afraid it’s the worst kind of crime, dear lady.’’ He whispers lips reaching my ear. His breath ghosts over my neck, making me giggle all the more besides the fact that hits me; we’re acting like teenagers hiding behind bushes. This is ridiculous.
‘’Oh goodness me. What can I do my king? Please I get of you how can I repent for my bad doings?’’ I go on staring at him in amusement once he raises his head up, eyes finding my own.
His eyebrow arches as he smirks ‘’For starters you can…’’
‘’They are gone your majesty.’’ A whisper reaches our ears. Both of us freeze in our spots, hearts hammering in our chest while eyes fleet around us. For a moment nothing changes until the bush starts to rustle and has, Peter rising up ‘’The lords are gone.’’ the same whisper is back, prompting me to follow after Peter who stands up dusting his front, as he looks around while I wait for his signal still sitting down looking overhead and past him. There’s no one in sigh.
‘’Ah yes, thank you for the warning Dumnus.’’ Peter is quick to thank whoever is on the lookout apparently, hands reaching for me helping me to rise onto my feet.
‘’You should hurry along over to the north side I’ve lured the others to dine just around the corner on the lower terrace.’’ the satyr is smirking amusedly once he comes into my sight.
Peter is preoccupied looking around making sure that nobody is watching this odd encounter while I offer a bring grin to the satyr ‘’How kind of you. Great thanks Dumnus, we won’t forget this!’’ I want to offer more but at the moment I find myself trying to push down laughter as my thoughts earlier resurface. We are literally acting like teenagers. Even Peter as he tugs me backwards has a hard time keeping himself serious and well royal.
‘’Yes, later.’’ He adds awkwardly tugging me along.
‘’Hurry your majesties.’’
Before I can burst into uncontrollable laughter Peter is breaking into a run hand holding my own. Grinning ear to ear I follow along, surpassing the throne room outside completely as the king picks a side entrance, checking the surrounding inside first before he pulls through with him. I’m ready to dart into the direction of the hallway on the right, coming up with a plan on avoiding everyone by taking the long route around, to reach the Apple orchard where I’ve arranged a picnic for us. Hopefully no one found or spot and ate the food or something.
Just as I open my mouth to urge him on, his mouth and well face somewhat crash into me on accident ‘’Ah fudge.’’ He hisses hands reaching for his mouth, while I reach for my nose staring at him incredulously at what just happened.
He reopens his eyes to look at me through a frown ‘’Well that was poorly planned on my part.’’ He points out, as I laugh not being able to hold myself back. I’m having the time of my life to be entirely honest. Reaching up I guide his hands away taking in the damage I might have unintentionally done to his handsome features.
‘’A tiny bit yeah.’’ I confirm licking over my lips, as I smile caressing his cheeks while his eyes take me in ‘’No wounds, no scratches.’’ I state ‘’Nothing to brag about from your newest misadventure.’’ He chuckles at that pulling me in like before into his embrace, hands warm as they encircle my waist.
‘’I always have something to brag about when it comes to you, my love.’’ The reply spurs butterflies to awaken in my stomach, and some sort of giddiness to overtake me forcing me to sport a blush over my cheeks.
‘’Awww, that is the sweetest thing, anyone has ever told me, Pete. Gosh I love you.’’ The confession at the end is sort of spontaneous and totally not planned. I was ready with another comeback it was on the tip of my tongue, when my brain and heart decided to take a turn and twist my words into a sincere confession.
His eyes widen but only slightly at my turn of words. Like before I raise on my tiptoes and kiss him one more, making sure that we remain unharmed.
This time around there are no restrictions holding us back. The kiss starts of hungry from the get go, as he leans down to accommodate me. He’s quick to switch moods, taking charge in the pace and the way he simply devours me, tongue teasingly now and then pocking my lips. But we run breathless running on an extra high of adrenaline from kissing in such a public place, as this corridor overlooks into the throne room.
Breaking apart our heavy breaths can be herd in the echoey corridor, but in the moment, we can simply grin at one another loving the proximity and what just happened.
‘’C’mon.’’ he’s the first one to speak, dropping his hands away, making sure he takes both of my hands into his. Cheekily he presses kisses to both tops of my hands, and then shifts sideways tilting his head towards the long hallway ‘’I’ve got a date I’m very late to. I’ve already promised redemption, my queen has waited long enough.’’
I follow him easily along, holding onto his hand gladly as his eyes haven’t left mine yet ‘’Hmm you shouldn’t keep your lady waiting for too long, my king indeed.’’
He grins widely and leans back for a quick peck ‘’My queen you mean.’’
I’m sure that the giggle that leaves me can be heard into the throne room. But as we run away, neither of us care about it, as his own chuckles join my own. Today is a very intentionally unintentional day.
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