#I saw this poem on my dash & I had to.

[thisonelikesaliens]

i finished mdzs (novel + comics vol. 1-10) and svsss and had every intention to start tgcf until i saw this

thought the chinese version would be a quicker read (6 books vs 8 in english) but looks like this will require a bit more brain power

[persnicketypansy]

the FROG poem!!

[pixelword]

♯┆“But You Didn’t” .ᐟ ★

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Alastor x Gn!Reader <3

Inspired by the poem “But you didn’t”. Set before Alastor died. Fluff with a sprinkle of angst.

Remember the day, I borrowed your brand new radio and dented it?

The radio laid on the dining room table, an obvious dent on the side. It could still play, but it was still damaged. They couldn’t just give it back to Alastor in that condition! He had trusted them to take care of his most prized possession, and they had ruined it! Had it not been for their siblings running around and hitting the table it had been resting on, it would’ve been in the perfect condition they had received it in!

They bit their nail as their foot thumped on the wooden floor of their home, trying to think of how to fix it before Alastor came to retrieve it.

“Y/N! Alastor is here!”

I thought you’d kill me

Y/N freezes in place. He wasn’t supposed to be here for another hour! There’s no way they could fix it before he noticed! Oh he’s gonna hate them forever and never want to talk to them again and ugh why did this happen?!

“Y/N?”

They slowly turn your head to the dining room entrance, Alastor stood there with his usual smile on his face.

“…I’m sorry.” They move to the side, letting Alastor see the damaged gift.

But you didn’t

Alastor walks up to the radio and holds it up, inspecting the damage. Y/N squeezes themselves in a hug, trying not to cry.

“I was taking care of it but the twins were playing and,” the explanation and apologies kept slipping from their mouth.

“Y/N”

“And I’m so sorry I promise I’ll pay you back whatever it costs to get it fixed or get a new one-“

“Y/N,” Alastor puts a hand on their shoulder, making them shut up and look at him. “It’s alright dear.”

“What?” They could've sworn he’d at least get angry.

“Does it play?” He asked them. “Well, yeah-“ He cut them off before they could go on further.

“Then it’s all fine dear! It still does it function.” Their shoulders went down from the tense way they had them as they let out a breath of relief, glad he was not mad at them.

Remember that day, I vomited strawberry pie all over your new carpet?

“Cher, I don’t think you should eat that much.” Alastors gaze looked concerned as he saw them forcing themselves to eat the strawberry pie his mother had made for them. Y/N just couldn’t tell her no no matter how gross strawberry pie seemed to them. They didn’t want her to feel bad or have all her effort go to waste.

“Nonsense, I’m sure I can eat more!” Honestly they felt full already and like they’d regret eating it later. They tried to shove another bite down but the minute the flavor hit their tongue they couldn’t hold it down, puking all the strawberry pie they had eaten.

I thought you’d hate me.

“Oh my goodness Alastor, I’m so sorry!” They immediately apologized, their hands slightly shaking as they panicked and didn’t know what to do. Alastor had recently bought that carpet and they had puked on it.

But you didn’t.

Alastor walked over to them and helped them stand up. He moved their hair out of their face as he cleaned it with a washcloth. “It’s alright dear, I’ll just get it cleaned.” He smiled at them.

Remember that day, I flirted with a guy to make you jealous,

Mimzy’s bar was always full at this time of the night. Many men and many women went there to either have fun or to find someone to have fun with. Some simply went to distract themselves from their sorrows. No matter what someone was looking for, they would have fun finding it.

Sometimes however, what you didn’t want would find you. That was often the case with Alastor. He was a charming man with dashing looks, so it wasn’t a surprise many would try to get lucky and score him.

That let Y/N pouting by the bar, a glass of scotch on their hand. Alastor was too nice for his own good and couldn’t just simply tell all those folks to kick rocks, leaving poor old Y/N by themselves.

A man approached them, slightly flushed, as if he’d been drinking for a while. “What’s a pretty thing like you doing all alone?~”

Y/N was about to impolitely tell them to go away till an idea crossed their mind. Why should they watch someone hit on their man like a fool? If he didn’t want to pay attention to them, fine! They’d just get someone else to do it.

and you really did get jealous?

Alastor gave a glance over to Y/N, making sure they were fine and still there before having to do a double take. Some man had decided he was good enough to blatantly flirt with them. His flirting wasn’t even creative or charming! Straight up simple common flirts one could find in a ‘how to get laid’ guide written by someone who was never even touched by another human being with a 10 foot pole! And what was worse is that their dear Y/N was flirting back! If there weren't too many witnesses Alastor would’ve murdered that man right there!

“Excuse me ladies.” He excused himself, his smile now strained. Anyone who truly knew him would know he was in a horrible mood now. Mimzy could only giggle, such a basic plan that had the exact reaction Y/N was looking for.

I thought you’d leave me.

Alastor walked over to the man, grabbing his shoulder rather firmly. “Excuse me, kind sir, but I must inform you that you are flirting with my spouse!”

The man’s face only held shock as he stuttered out apologies, leaving the couple alone. Y/N simply crossed their arms and pouted at Alastor.

“Now my dear, what were you even thinking when you decided to entertain the behavior of that man?”

Y/N's eyes drifted from Alastors face, they could never lie to him when making direct eye contact. “So you can flirt with all those dames but when I do it’s wrong?”

But you didn’t.

“Is that what this is about?” Alastor chuckled, grabbing their chin and easing their face so they’d make direct eye contact. “My dear if you wanted my attention, you could’ve simply asked.”

Yes, there’s a lot of things you didn’t do…

Y/N sat at the table of the restaurant, waiting. He promised he’d be there on time, but it had already been half an hour of him still not arriving. They waved the waiter over, tired and too hungry to wait even more and ordered their food. They’d eat and if Alastor didn’t show up, they’d just go home.

But you put up with me,

They walked alone back home. Alastor had never shown up to the restaurant. From a bit up the sidewalk they could see a man dressed in red, rushing over.

“Y/N…” Alastor took deep breaths as if he had been running. They simply glared at him.

“I’m so sorry cher…” he apologized, his smile wasn’t as big as it commonly was but it was still there, which annoyed them more than anything.

“Fuck off Alastor.” They tried walking past him before he grabbed their arm.

Loved me,

“Mon Cher, I’m so sorry, I swear. It was not my intention to have you wait.” Y/N simply pulled their arm away from his grasp.

“No! You always do this Alastor! You make promises and then you always keep me waiting! I’m tired of it!” They walked away, crossing the road.

Protected me.

Alastor grabbed their arm again and pulled them back towards him in the nick of time. Y/Ns eyes were wide as shock took over, paralyzing their body. Had Alastor not pulled them back, they would’ve surely gotten hit.

There were a lot of things I wanted to make up to you,

Y/N picked up Alastors coat from the hanger, helping him put it on as he was finishing getting ready for work. They gave him a goodbye kiss and closed the door behind him once he left.

They immediately got to work and started preparations for when he’d get back home. Today was their anniversary and they wanted to surprise him with a clean house and his favorite meal, a recipe you’d gotten from his momma.

When you came back from work.

They put on the finishing touches for their outfit as they checked the clock. Any minute now Alastor would be home and they could celebrate together.

They stood by the door, everything done, and waited.

And waited…

…And waited.

But you didn’t.

MASTERLIST !! PINNED POST 🎧💿

[al-of-the-stars]

"Lily of the Valley"

Lute x GN Angel Reader

Synopsis: After being saved from a near-death encounter, you slowly fall in love with Lute, the very same angel who had rescued you. Little do you know, she harbors the same feelings for you.

A/n: I honestly had this idea in a dream and when I remembered it, my first thought was "holy shit I GOTTA write this" Anyways, I hope you guys enjoy!

You never had much of a relationship with Lute. Sure, you were pretty good acquaintances but there wasn’t much more to it than that. You both worked for the exorcist army but she was on the battlefield while you were on the sidelines as a strategist, planning the exterminators' next move. That was until one extermination. While you were lost in your own plans, your eyes practically glued to the map in your hands,you failed to notice the demon behind you holding an angelic weapon. Just when the sinner was about to stab you, you felt another presence nearby. When you turned around, you saw none other than the lieutenant of the exorcists herself, covered in splashes of crimson. Your eyes went wide and you felt golden blood rush to your face, though you couldn't tell if it was from the near-death experience you just had or how attractive Lute looked while killing that unholy soul. You thought it was most likely the latter. “Are you alright? You aren't hurt anywhere, are you?” Those words snapped you out of your train of thought.

“Oh I think I'm fine, thank you,”

“It's not a problem, I'm glad you're okay,” You could have sworn you saw the face on her mask turn into a smile, but you didn't have enough time to comprehend anything as she dashed off flying. Since that day, you grew much closer. During training, you couldn't help but take glances at her. Unbeknownst to you due to the limited expression of her mask, she was doing the same. When you looked her way, she would try extra hard to impress you. All the other exorcists noticed and attempted to wingman her in their spare time.

“Just tell them already!”

“What's the worst that could happen?”

“They look at you like a lovesick anime schoolgirl, there is no way they don't like you back,” After practice, you two would usually visit a cafe and just chat; your company was the highlight of her day. This became routine and slowly, your relationship and feelings grew more and more until it became unbearable to hold it in. Lute finally got sick of those outings being just a hangout between two friends, she was sick of looking at you and wishing she could just grab your waist and pull you in for a kiss, she was sick of pretending she didn't love you. Another day of training passed by and as you walked out the door of the cafe, Lute handed you an envelope.

“Open this when you get home,” She instructed. The walk back to your house felt like forever and the curiosity was practically killing you. The moment you walked through the door, you opened the neatly sealed envelope.

“Dear Y/n,

I was originally going to write a poem to explain how I felt but I'm not too great with metaphors or meanings, so I'll be straightforward with you like always. I love you. I can't help but admire you when you do the most regular things. I have fallen in love with everything about you, your smile, your eyes, your voice. If you feel the same, next time we visit somewhere after practice, I hope it can be a date.

-Lute”

Along with the letter, there was a flower. More specifically, it was a lily of the valley, a flower that represents love and sincerity. You picked up the lily and put it in a vase with water. Who knew the stone-cold lieutenant had a heart of gold?

[bee-kathony]

Out of the Woods | Jane & Guildford

An alternate first meeting of Jane Grey and Guildford Dudley. What would happen if Jane followed Guildford after the chaos in the tavern?

For the first time in Jane’s entire life, no one knows where she is. 

She is alone and free. She can finally escape, ride north, and create her destiny. 

After thwarting the guards, Jane escaped on horseback promising to return home. But home was the last place she wished to return. Her own mother, now her dear cousin Edward had promised her to a marriage she did not want. 

Jane wanted her freedom to do as she pleased. The last thing she wanted was to be tied to someone else for all eternity. So she fled!

As Jane rode on, she swore she could taste her freedom. But there was something in the woods. A light, and suddenly Jane saw them. Guards, a search party clearly sent by King Edward or her dratted mother. She needed somewhere to hide, somewhere no one would ever think to look. 

Dashing off to the right, Jane rode deeper into the woods and thanked the gods as she approached a small village. As she tied up her horse outside a tavern, Jane took one quick glance around her before rushing inside. 

It was unlike anything she’d ever seen before. People were playing dice games, drinking, and laughing. Jane relaxed, leaning against the stairwell as she took everything in. 

That’s when she spotted him from across the tavern. She couldn’t keep her eyes off of him. This dark-haired stranger. 

Jane couldn’t decipher what argument he was dissolving between his friends, but suddenly he had jumped onto the table.

“And now we’re gonna gut ya!” She heard the man’s friend (or perhaps they weren’t friends) say. 

“Gut me with what?” The dark-haired stranger asked as he reached behind him and grabbed what appeared to be the two squabbling drinkers’ knives. 

“Are you looking for these?” Expertly, he tossed a knife and it landed bullseye on the dart board. And the next right beside it. The entire bar cheered, and Jane found herself smiling as she watched this man. 

“And now I have your attention, shall I torture you with a poem?”

“No!” Shouted the rowdy tavern. 

“Too late,” the man said, shrugging. 

“I have decided to die in a tavern.” He was speaking in Latin. Well, he was attempting, but it impressed Jane. 

“Where the wine will be close to my dying…” he continued, searching for the words and the crowd finished for him. 

“Mouth!” They raised their glasses, drinking. 

Jane was entranced, utterly besotted by the display she’d just witnessed. As she’d never been in an establishment quite like this one before, she wasn’t sure what to do next. 

That was…

Until he laid eyes on her. 

Jane looked around, surely he must be mistaken. This dark-haired stranger that had so easily diffused a fight couldn’t be looking at her. 

She couldn’t remember her feet moving, but it was as if she was drawn to the man, and now she found herself standing directly in front of him. 

“So, do you… come here often?” Two seconds later, judging by his gaze, she instantly regretted that question. 

The man finished off his drink, turned back, and burped in her face.  

“Wow,” Jane said, her opinions quickly changing. 

“Oops.” The man covered his mouth. 

“That’s your response? So you can recite the Archpoet standing on a table in a dirt-floor tavern, but you can’t muster a simple apology?” 

The man shrugged, looking her up and down, “I said, ‘oops’”. 

“You mispronounced ‘vina,’ by the way. It’s ‘Vee-na’’, where’d you learn your Latin? In a ditch?” Jane questioned him. 

“Who would teach Latin in a ditch?” His body turned toward her, but Jane wouldn’t be persuaded. 

“Oh, you’re missing the point.”

“The point being?” He took a sip of his drink. 

Jane crossed her arms. “Your mediocre Latin and disappointing table manners.”

The man looked around, “Are we at a table? No.”

“Again, missing the point.” 

The frustrating man stared down her her, just a breath away, “Has anybody ever told you that you’re an insufferable pedant?”

“Oh, where I come from, pedantry is a virtue.” 

“Where I come from amiability trumps semantics.”

“Amiability is for the meek.”

“Amiability is for the amiable.”

They squared off, their words quick as they sized one another up. It was clear Jane had been mistaken about this man. Sure, he seemed charming enough, but he was grating on her nerves. 

“You are the rudest man I have ever met!” Jane rolled her eyes. 

The man raised his glass, “Well, the night is young. Mingle.” 

“Oh, I intend to. Goodnight.” Jane turned to leave, eager to leave him behind and never see him again. 

“Wait!” He reached out for her. “Who are you?”

Jane evaded his question by asking him the same. “Who are you?”

But they were interrupted before either could say a name. 

A soldier burst through the door. “Good evening!” 

Everyone in the tavern hushed, and a few men at the bar looked nervous. Jane only hoped the guards weren’t there for her. 

“Come with me,” the man whispered, taking her arm. 

“As if!” She brushed him away. 

“What?!”

“I said, good evening, my good people. We have it on excellent authority that a certain beast might be in here. Goes by the name of Archer. He’s wanted for robbery, arson, sedition.” 

Jane breathed a sigh of relief. They weren’t looking for her. But a beast? 

“Hand him over or we dunk every last one of you.” 

Suddenly a man close to Jane walked forward. “Why don’t you leave him alone, you bunch of thugs? I’m Archer.” 

The guards rushed towards him, “Then you’re coming with me.”

“Not likely!” Just then Archer transformed into a bear. 

“Ethian?” Jane’s eyes grew wide as she froze. 

Everyone began to scream and run, it was complete chaos. Jane felt herself being pulled towards the door. 

“Right. Let’s go!” The man grabbed her arm, pulling her away from the outbreak. 

They dashed through the crowd, Jane was so curious. As she’d never actually seen an Ethian transform before her eyes. That was until just the other day when her maid Susannah had transformed into a hawk.

“This door leads outside,” the man said as they ducked under the stairs. 

“This is madness. I never knew things were like this.”

“You’ve never seen a bear in a bar before?”

“Never,” Jane said softly. 

The dark-haired man pulled her close, his eyes boring into hers. “Last chance. Come with me.” 

“I can’t… I-“, someone smashed against the stairs. Jane screamed, and before she could protest further, the dark-haired man was dragging her outside into the cool night air. The chaos of the bar drifted behind them as they fled. 

“Wait!” Jane struggled against his grip. “I can’t go with you!” 

“I’m not stealing you,” the man laughed, leading them into the forest. “I’m simply making sure that a lady such as yourself doesn’t die. I can’t have that on my conscience you see.” 

“Ah yes,” Jane tore her hand away from his. “I do see. I’m just another pretty girl you lure into the woods. I think I’ll take my chances with the bear!” 

Jane turned to leave back towards the bar. After all, she had lost her sense of direction, and as much as she didn’t want to return home. She didn’t know where else to go at this exact moment. 

“Not so fast, little one,” the man grabbed her arm, twisting her into him. They were face to face, their chests heaving from the excitement. “I know a safe place we can wait.” 

“I’m not going anywhere with you,” Jane spoke softly. “Just let me go.” 

The man stared at her, his eyes making an assessment. 

“Seeing as how your conversational skills were so lacking-“ 

“I was not-“ Jane cut him off. 

He held up a finger against her lips. “I’d wager that you’ve never been to a place like that. Never seen something like that before.” 

“Perhaps.” 

“Well, perhaps,” the man let his hand slide down, taking her hand again. “You also don’t know that the King’s guards will be traversing this area all night until they find what they want.” 

Jane couldn’t have that. Maybe staying with this man and letting her lead her somewhere safe was the only way she could make it to tomorrow. 

“Fine,” Jane agreed, stamping her foot slightly. “Take me to wherever you are going. I’ll wait until dawn before I go my own way.” 

“Very well,” the man said, sighing. “Stay close.” 

He kept her hand in his as they walked quietly for another fifteen minutes. The sound of the crunching leaves under their feet was making Jane rather anxious. How did she get herself into this situation? Walking through the woods at midnight with a handsome stranger. 

Jane’s mind kept drifting back to the events of the day. Not only had her mother gone behind her back and arranged a marriage she did not want. Her dearly beloved cousin Edward, who just so happened to be the King of England, had approved of the marriage and given his consent. Feeling worn down, all Jane could do was hope that this mysterious suitor died suddenly of the affliction and she wouldn’t have to attend the wedding. 

“How much further?” Jane whispered. “It’s freezing!” 

“We’re almost there,” the man said. “In fact, here we are.” 

Jane had to squint to see what exactly she was looking at. It appeared to be a small cottage if one could call it that. Perhaps, a shack was a better term for it. 

“Come,” the man said and pulled her along behind him. “No one will find us here.” 

Inside the small shack, Jane was surprised to see it wasn’t entirely falling apart. In fact, there was a cozy fireplace on one wall, shelves of books, and a bed off in the corner. It looked like someone lived here. 

“Is this your home?” Jane asked as the stranger rid himself of his jacket and laid it across the chair by the fire. 

“Maybe,” the man shrugged. 

“It’s so…” 

“Small? Ugly? Strange?” The man offered. 

“No,” Jane looked around once again. “Cozy.” 

“Hmph,” the man looked at Jane quizzically before squatting down to the fire. “We can hide here for a few hours. But I must leave before the sun rises.”

“Oh yes, I had better return home as soon as I’m able,” Jane sighed and took a seat in the chair, watching at the man started a small fire. “If we are to stay here for the next several hours, then will you at least tell me your name?”

“Tell me yours,” he looked up at her through his falling hair. 

Jane rolled her eyes, expecting nothing less. She wanted to tell this man everything. Nothing but the truth, which was odd seeing as how he was a complete stranger. But there was something about him, the way he looked at her and made her feel seen and alive. 

“Elizabeth,” Jane lied. While yes, she felt she could trust him. One could never be too careful. 

“John,” the man put his hand on his chest. Little did Jane know that this man was also lying about his real name. 

They were silent as John finished the fire and sat in the chair opposite her. 

“Do you really live here?” Jane asked, curiosity sparking once again. 

“Sometimes,” John said. “My family…” he started, looking down at his crossed hands. “My family doesn’t provide much peace you see. So I built this place as a sort of refuge to get away every now and then.” 

Jane knew he wasn’t being completely truthful, but she hadn’t exactly been either. Seeing how harsh the soldiers had been on the Ethians in the bar, Jane understood that you couldn’t trust anyone these days. 

“Where did you come from Elizabeth? I’ve never seen you at that bar before tonight.” John questioned. 

Lie or truth?

“I ran away,” she said, deciding to tell the truth. 

“From who?”

“My family,” Jane sighed, sinking into the chair. “They want me to do something, and I absolutely will not! My mother,” Jane growled. “She thinks she can determine my future, but I won’t allow it.” 

John blinked before responding. “Well, they would be insane to go against you. Then why would you return home?”

Jane did not want to go home and admit defeat, but she didn’t see another option. Yes, she could ride off into the night and disappear, but she didn’t have any money, nor any idea of how to get some. It was a nice dream she’d had to determine her own destiny, but perhaps destiny wasn’t something one made for themselves after all. 

“I don’t know what else to do,” Jane shrugged. “I’m a woman, and since I am unmarried I cannot do anything for myself.” 

“A shame,” John shook his head. “I would love to see the man that could come up against you.” 

“I don’t believe there is any such man,” Jane laughed. Certainly not this man her mother wanted her to marry, Guildford Dudley. 

“You should rest,” John said, nodding to the bed in the corner. “I’ll sit watch by the fire here.”

The bed did look awfully cozy. Jane had had a tiring day. An exhausting day of having her hopes and dreams dashed. Betrayed by the very people she thought she could trust. 

“Perhaps just a little rest,” Jane agreed and stood up, only her feet caught under her dress and she stumbled. Right into the arms of John. He was sturdy, and he smelled good, oh did he ever! 

“Oh bollocks,” Jane tried to right herself, but her hand pushed against something hard, and John winced, crying out. It was only then as he screwed his face in pain that she realized she’d pushed against his member. 

“I’m sorry!” Jane blushed, her arms flailing out trying to push against anything else but his body. 

“Elizabeth,” John caught her arms, steadying her as he leaned forward in the chair. “Just relax.” 

Before she could process what was happening, Jane had been swept up into John’s strong arms and he carried her over to the bed, gently placing her down. His hands lingered, caressing her cheek, a thumb running over her lips. 

“John,” she whispered, feeling that same intense pull as before in the bar. 

His lips crashed into hers, and Jane moaned, her arms winding around his neck. This was certainly not what Jane had envisioned when she’d come to this cabin. In fact, Jane had just sworn off all men earlier that day. But John felt so good. He tasted so good. 

“Elizabeth,” he sighed against her lips, pressing her to lay flat on her back. Her head rested against the pillows as John’s body covered hers. Just as her hand had felt him just a few moments earlier, she now felt his hard member against her thigh. 

Jane had no experience with men unless one counted kissing the stable boy when she was twelve. Which Jane did not. 

John slid his hand along her body, over the thick layers of her dress until his hand rested on her neck. His tongue opened her mouth, and she let him in. Jane wanted more of him, more of him everywhere. 

Their breathing escalated as they began to undress. John reached for the laces of her dress, and she reached for the buckle of his pants. As Jane sat back and watched him take his shirt off, she began to get nervous. 

“Wait,” she whispered, not knowing if he’d heard her. 

“What’s wrong?” John tossed his shirt aside, his hands coming to her face, gently. 

“I’ve never…” she said shyly. “I don’t…” 

“Ah,” John smiled, kissing the tip of her nose. “That makes sense.” 

“What makes sense?” Jane asked, only feeling somewhat offended. 

John smirked, his thumb rubbing across her lips and down her neck. 

“All that pent-up frustration,” John kissed her lightly. “That spark. No one’s taken it yet.” 

Jane melted against him as he twisted his body and laid down beside her. He kept one hand on her neck, the other in her hair. “I won’t bed you Elizabeth. That honor deserves to be for your husband.” 

“Well aren’t you suddenly a gentlemen,” Jane laughed, feeling relief but also a sense of sadness and regret. While she wasn’t prepared to have sex tonight with a near stranger, she also wanted to do it on her terms. 

“Don’t think I don’t want to,” John kissed her bare shoulder, pulling up the sheet around her. “Gods, I want to.” 

“Will you hold me?” Jane asked, unable to feel him let go. 

John gathered her close, pulling her to his chest as he rested his chin atop her head. Jane pulled the sheet over the both of them. 

“My family wants me to do something I don’t want to either,” John admitted in the silence. Jane couldn’t see his face now, but she listened, feeling his voice reverberate through her whole body. 

“It’s for my protection, and theirs,” he continued. “I only hope it works.” 

“What works?” Jane asked, wrapping her arm tighter around his middle. 

“The solution to all my problems,” he sighed and Jane didn’t want to press further. 

Silence fell on the small shack, the low rumble of the fire flickering as they both fell into a peaceful sleep. Jane had never slept as well as she had those few hours in John’s arms. As she opened her eyes to the cracks of the first light, she noticed she was alone. 

“How chivalrous,” Jane sighed, knowing it was too good to be true. At some point, she had felt John stir next to her in the night, but she’d quickly fallen back asleep. Now she knew he had been sneaking out to leave her. 

It wasn’t as if she knew him, or that they had even been intimate together. But there was something there, something she couldn’t quite place. 

Jane gathered up her few belongings and left the little shack, closing the door behind her. Attached to the front door was a piece of parchment with a nail drive through it. 

“Dearest Elizabeth, 

I hate to have left you alone, you seemed so peaceful. Those few hours in your arms were the most peace I have felt in so long. It was a pleasure making your acquaintance… however tumultuous our first meeting began.” 

Yours, John G.D. 

Jane felt what could only be described as butterflies in the pit of her stomach. Folding the note neatly, she slid it into the pocket of her cloak. The sun had risen now, and lit a path to a nearby road. Surely if her mother and Edward were looking for her, she could find them along the main path. 

As Jane began to make her way through the forest, thinking of her night spent with the mysterious John, she heard a sort of snuffle beside her. 

It was a horse!

A dark brown horse, with a black mane and tail. He was feet away to her left, and he was staring at her. Jane froze, a sense of familiarity striking. Jane began to walk towards the horse, but he shook his mane and ran off deeper into the woods. 

How odd.

[jamneuromain]

Wild Child Chapter. 4

Series Summary:

As the granddaughter of the sole Duke in your country, you know that you were going to marry some douche prince, because it is the only way to solidify the grasp the future king has on the Upper House. On the flight home, you come up with a brilliant plan to defy your upcoming matrimony.

Bringing a random man to your grandfather's place, and say you have a boyfriend already.

"Is there anything else I should know about? Before I meet your family?" Ari cocks his head to the side, watching you adjusting your cerulean Valentino dress when you wave your hand dismissively.

"Just say we're in love and help me get out of marrying this D-bag."

Ari Levinson x You

#i didn't know he is my fiance-douchebag-prince

#when i did, it was too late

A/N: A big smooch to @rogerswifesblog for she has come up with some of the most hilarious conversation XD Please send her some love<333

You were young, carefree. Came back from school only five minutes ago. Happy, giddy.

You were showing your mother, who took your school bag from your shoulders, a face you make, learnt from your friend in school.

You pulled your lower eyelids, and stuck your tongue out, making your mother laugh at your shenanigans.

“Very funny, sweetie.” Your mother tapped your nose with her finger with a “Boop”, before kissing it gently, “Now go wash your hands, okay? Daddy’s going to be with us for dinner. So be an elegant little lady, and don’t disappoint daddy, okay?”

“Okay!” You dashed to the bathroom with a happy grin, having your mother raise her voice.

“Don’t run in the hallways, sweetie, you might fall!”

Your father barely came to visit you. He would occasionally stop by for an hour or two, leaving you and your mother in this house for months before visiting again. To you, he was a stranger, but your mother’s attitude proves more than that. She would tell you to obey your father and be a good girl, that he is busy and could not afford to visit you often, and that your father loves you.

You saw her taking out the beautiful lilac dress that she had kept in her wardrobe for years, putting on make-up, and finding a pretty white dress for you, which was the most beautiful thing you had ever seen. Calling the two servants in this house, your mother ordered them to place the best silverware you had at the table, and having the chef cook a five-course meal.

You and your mother always had dinner together, in the small house on the outskirts of Ancetol. She would supervise your homework before dinner, and take your little hand, and walk you to the dining room.

But she forgot about tutoring your homework that day, and you were simply glad that you didn’t have to practice your piano and violin, do your math questions, or recite the poem in French that she taught you the day before.

You watched the few people in this house swoop in and out of rooms in haste, curious as to why the simple presence of your father could make your mother (almost) completely forget about you.

In the end, this was the one problem you could not have figured out, no matter how hard you tried, using the brain of a 7-year-old.

The clattering of plates, furniture, and heels clicking on the floor slowly died down, and you hid in your room, reading the fantasy stories written by some brilliant female writer, whom you hoped to be one day.

One of the servants knocked on your door.

“Miss. Y/L/N, your father asked to see you.”

“Coming!”

If there is one thing that you have figured out, it is that making your father happy equals making your mother happy. And you’d want that, making her happy.

So by some sort of twisted logic inside your head, when your father asked you what have you learned in school, you pulled your lower eyelids, and stuck your tongue out, making a face.

You remembered every detail of how your father snapped, slapping you across the face and shouting at your mother, hitting her forehead with an ashtray that cut into her skin, before storming out of your house.

It was a memorable lesson as your mother locked herself in her bedroom and cried, while you sat by the dining table with a swollen cheek, looking at the meal gone cold, flinching at every sound, fearing that he would return.

When one of the servants came and informed you that your mother wouldn’t be joining you for dinner, by the time your stomach cramped in protest, for you were persistent in waiting for your mother to dine with you, you nodded in silence, grabbing the knife and fork, cutting the cold chicken into small pieces.

In the large, dim dining room, with romantic candles lit on either side of the long table, you sat on your chair, eating chicken and wiping your eyes, until your hands were soaked with tears that you could barely grasp the silverware anymore.

You were pulled out of your thoughts when Guy, Guy Thomas approached you and sat down right across the table. He wore something more casual today, a blue T-shirt and a dark green jacket with a pair of sunglasses.

“Y/N.” His smooth brunette hair tousled as he removed his sunglasses, and a lop-sided grin lingered on his lips, “What a pleasant surprise.”

“Guy.” You rolled your eyes, signalling the waitress to take your order, “I called and asked you to come. There’s nothing surprising here.”

He folded his sunglasses, placing them on the table, right by the menu, “Since I am accompanied by this kingdom's future queen-”

“SHHHH!” You glared and kicked his shin under the table as the waitress clicked her pen and flipped a new page on her pad.

“May I take your order?” The waitress asked in a bored voice, not even bothering to lift her eyelids and look at you.

“Chamomile tea, please, and two croissants.” You handed the menu to the waitress.

“Ice Americano, please. Nothing else.” Ari scanned over the piece of paper briefly, handing it to the waitress as well.

Your focus drifted to the empty sidewalk and a few pedestrians. A young couple, having large mountain bags on their shoulders, taking a selfie with their daughter in a pink lacy dress.

All you remembered were the flashing camera lights at proms. Where you were forced to smile with pearl-white teeth. Or carefully orchestrated family pictures, which took hours to pose and select the best one.

Photos.

You and Ari both remained silent as your food and drink arrived,

Ari observed you.

You still didn’t look happy.

There was a cute little frown on your face, as you stared outside of the window in this small café.

However, his observation did not last long, for you turned to him and put a smile on your face. The smile had all the elements, the movements of the muscles on your cheek, the corner of your lips, even the little lines at the edge of your eyes.

It looked sincere. Yet a small voice at the bottom of Ari’s heart told him, it was not.

"I've got this all figured out." You chirped up, a total change from your brooding status, pulling out a little notepad and started reading, "We met at a business dinner party in London when we got acquainted because the host accidentally put us next to each other. We had a fun night and talked about literature. I'm thinking French or German but you can decide the details. We exchanged phone numbers and started texting. But we're also new into this relationship so I'm thinking six or seven dates before sex, which of course, happened in my place."

Ari choked on his iced coffee.

“Sex??” He wiped his lips with a napkin, “Hold on. Hold-on.” Ari raised his hand, gesturing you to stop reading from your notebook, “You are making up a background story for this fake relationship?”

“Well yeah,” you shrugged as if you were not the one who just made up a story detailed enough to publish, “they are going to ask these embarrassing questions anyway, and they'd probably separate us to see if our story stays the same."

“They?”

“My folks. Parents. My dad, especially.” You quickly changed the center of attention, “So … six dates before sex?” You quirked your eyebrows at him.

Ari made a mental note not to drink when you were speaking, “Sure, six.”

“Great!” You traced your finger on the notebook, finding the part where you had just left off, “Oh, right, new to relationship. I shall say three months? So we met in June, one months of texting and flirting and we settled the relationship on August 10th."

“Is it really necessary to have a date?” Ari huffed a laugh in amusement, you were way more fun than he had imagined, “You're making it sound like they will torture us for this information.”

A disapproving look was thrown in his direction. “I know my family. And trust me, talking to them is pure torture.”

Ari put both of his hands up in surrender, "Fine. You were saying?"

It didn’t take you long to find your notes this time. “Oh, the date. Because you are going to prepare a small gift. Small. To celebrate our 100th day together. Without saying, I'll obviously buy the gift and all you have to do is give it to me so that I can act surprised and talk about it in front of my family.”

Seeing Ari having nothing else to add, you continued: “About the time period of our relationship. You only need to remember one month of texting and flirting before we get together, but I'll act like slightly pissed at you in front of my parents. I'll say six weeks or five weeks and four days. Or forty days. Don't react to my answer. I'll probably sway your arm and pout and ask you to agree with me. And it doesn't matter if you do or still say one month; that would be real enough."

Ari nodded, biting the inside of his cheek to stop the laughter from bubbling out. He was now part of your plan, he had to follow it through.

“One month. 100th day, three months. Got it.”

You let out a sigh of relief, seeing there was still about 1/3 to go. “Right, sex. (Ari waited for a moment to swallow the coffee in his mouth) Two months should count for at least a dozen. But the first time should be in my bedroom. My parents are way too traditional to be told otherwise. And you took me to a fancy restaurant before that.”

“Anything else?” After listening to your fake relationship project, there was nothing that could shock him now.

“Anything else you need to know is on that piece of paper.” You snatched a piece of paper from your bag, with a list of likes, dislikes, and some fun facts about you. “Questions?”

Ari was reading through your likes of fantasy novels and dislikes of realism movies, “Only one.”

Not that there was only one question, but the only important one, that he wanted to ask, ever since he met you.

“Is your family always like this?”

His misty blue eyes focused on you. Yet the pitying and the condescending sympathy were too much for you to take in.

The need to share and the bottled wrath crashed into one another, prickling your eyes with tears. It had been so long since anyone comforted you – someone who wasn’t connected to you by blood. This was much less a comfort, and more of a confirmation that normal families, with emphasis on “normal”, should not need their daughter to join hands with a total stranger and lie to them to get out of a marriage proposal.

You shrug, pretending that it didn’t bother you, “You know, family expectations. And then the family I'm supposed to marry has another ton of expectations. And expectations crush you into something you're not. Showing them one side and trying to hide away another. But anyway, I bet the guy I'm going to marry is a lot worse. Machoman shit or stuff like that.”

Seeing him frown, you added, “Not you, Guy. The guy I was supposed to marry. The other guy. His name is not ‘Guy’, of course. But that guy…” Feeling like you had made the conversation a lot weirder, you gave up explaining, frustration taking over your tone, “… you know what I mean.”

Ari found that he was more prone to silence these days. True love was a vague concept for him ever since he knew that he would marry you one day. He thought about how you look like, how you speak or act in front of him. But it never occurred to him that the rules from both families are crushing you, molding you into a lifeless doll rather than a living human being. The twisted family you had, imprisoning you in your house, stripping you of connections to the outside world, and forcing you to marry someone that you did not even know about.

Was it the right choice to marry you? After seeing first-hand what the title and the royal burden meant to you?

Ari was sure before. Now? He was not so certain about it.

Changing the topic of your conversation almost jokingly, he swept away the heavy tension hovering above you: “You sure I’m the right guy-” Remembering your frustration on the “Guy” subject, he decided to ditch the word for the time being, “person to be your boyfriend?”

You dismissed his doubts with a simple reply, “Yeah yeah yeah, you have good genes. They’d love to see our kids.”

Ari was drinking the last few drops of coffee before choking on it again.

He would never drink anything while you were talking.

“That’s-” He coughed into his napkin, “That’s not what I meant.”

“Joking!” You pushed the napkin box in front of him, the smile on your face bright enough to dazzle the sun, “I’m joking. Seriously though, you don't need anything else. I think they'd be more welcome to someone twice my age…”

Twice your age?

Despite the fake documents and birth certificates that the royal secret services forged, the age put on the fake documents were similar to his own, for example, different birthday but the same year. On paper, Guy Thomas was the same age as Ari Levinson, both had turned 32 earlier this year.

He was six years older than you, not old enough to be your father!

The veins on his temple jumped with the beat of his heart.

He did not even look that old! Twice your age is what? 52 years old?

“…they are going to like you. One more thing, I need to know if you have any likes? Dislikes? Allergies?” You were so excited about your plan that you did not notice the muscles twitching down his neck.

“No allergies. Not that I know of.” Ari clenched his teeth. The rules bound to him ever since he was a child, telling him to be polite, were the only thing that prevented him from snarling after getting his ego (and his age) jabbed at.

You clapped your palms together, barely containing the giddiness from the bottom of your heart, somehow completely oblivious to Ari’s fuming, “Splendid! My parents think allergies are for the weak. They are going to love you.”

Later that night, Ari went drinking with an old friend of his, Sammy Navon.

Sammy recently returned from a trip with Doctors Without Borders, before that, he had served two years along with Ari in the Ballenian Royal Navy.

While Ari continued serving for two years each in the Air Force and the Army, Sammy did two more in the Navy before deciding that he preferred saving lives in countries struggling in poverty rather than on the battlefield, and spending last year in South Sudan.

Both Doctors Without Borders and the Ballenian Army did not leave much space for press, let alone personal communication, hence they had only been reunited for a few months.

The tall, lean man slumped on the chair, pouring himself a healthy dose of scotch.

“To what do I own the pleasure of the future king raiding my private collection?” Sammy drummed his long fingers on the bar counter, glancing over the empty tavern that the royal bodyguards had ordered to clear out.

“Can’t it be a men’s night out for old time's sake?” Ari half-complained and dumped two ice cubes in both of their glasses, “How’s South Sudan?”

“Diseases. Famine. Warlords. The likes.” Sammy grunted a “thank-you” for the ice, before asking back, “How’s the royal family? Did the plan work? To check out the girl you were going to marry?”

“Sort of.” Ari hissed due to the spiciness of the scotch, “Gah- This is some pretty strong stuff.”

Sammy smiled ever-so-faintly, “Sort of?” He mocked his friend’s voice, “What – she found out about it?”

“No. Not yet.” Ari chewed on some salty peanuts, “One thing though.” He cleared his throat, swallowing with another gulp of scotch, and asked, “Do I look 40?”

Sammy opened his mouth to speak but no words came out, which made Ari more miserable.

So he did look that old.

Sammy finished the liquor in his glass, and replied, grinning, “You mean with or without that bush on your face?”

Taglist (also tagging those who might be interested: @irishhappiness @patzammit @identity2212 @lokislady82 @petalj @thezombieprostitute @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @magnificentsaladllama @xx-rennyxx @cringeycookies @autumnrose40 @hawkeyes-queen @vonalyn @theliheat @boo8008 @mrsevans90 @bradfordmyworld @delldenaro

Find the Wild Child Masterlist here 👈

Questions? Comments? Requests? 👉Send them to my inbox 👂

[desolateddreamur]

Paper Trail

Kyle x Poet!Reader

Story: Being too shy to confess face to face, you decide to give Kyle a challenge to figure it out himself.

Gender neutral reader!

Requested? No!

TW: Cartman.

Note: P2 anyone?

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He sighed loosely, sulking off to his locker. Valentine's day was coming up and everyone had someone to celebrate it with... But not Kyle. Not poor, sweet Kyle.

Three days til... He thought glumly, opening his locker. To his surprise, a piece of paper fluttered out. He grasped it quickly, desperately, even, to read it.

Hope you don't mind,

I want to be your valentine.

Each day brings a poem,

Each day gives a hint,

Find me out early and you might earn a kiss!

Three days' all you have,

Now here comes the hint!

You know who I am,

Just as much as I know you.

Maybe ask a friend or two,

Like someone in a hat that's red and blue.

Xx,

Your secret admirer

Kyle felt his heart soar abruptly, reading the note over and over. He slammed his locker shut and leaned his back to it, note pressed to his chest.

So the hint was with Stan, huh? He thought excitedly. This was it! He would get a Valentine! He dashed off to the lunch table his clique shared to talk about it.

Quickly grabbing lunch from the line, he slid into his seat and spoke quickly, "Stan! I got a Valentine's poem in my locker and it says you have a hint on who wrote it!"

Stan, who was sipping his milk, choked on it at the statement and shot milk out of his nose. Kenny instantly burst out laughing. When the coughing fit ended and the ravenette settled back down, he glared over.

"Yeah, I do. But next time wait til I'm not drinking something?!"

"I neeeed that hint, though! I have until Valentine's day to find out who it is!" Kyle brought up, shovelling a spoonful of corn into his mouth.

"Yeah, yeah, here you go..."

Stan scoffed and recited what he was told.

"We share our pottery class."

"Pottery class?" He remained puzzled, but kept it in mind for the rest of the day.

"Hah! Some fucking sissy in a pottery class likes Kahl!" Cartman wheezed, "Probably a dumb trick to make fun of him being a lonely jew!"

"Shut up, fatboy! At least I have a valentine!" He sneers back.

"AYE!"

So lunch came and went, the poem still on his mind day in and day out. In pottery class, he eyed around at every person there. He had to weed out just who exactly wrote that poem!

He knew it couldn't be anyone he didn't know, so a majority of the class was off the table. He couldn't recognize the handwriting either so it can't be any of the guys there.

The day ended and like in school, the romantic words written just for him were locked in his brain all afternoon and far into the night.

Morning of the next day came and he rushed to his locker for the next note. Sure enough, it was there!

Two days to go,

You should find your flow,

Like the way your curls dance in the wind.

Never in my life, would I give such advice,

To a boy that's as charming as you.

So get hint number two,

That's all I ask of you!

Find what you can,

Piece by piece, that's my plan.

Ike should know the next hint.

The kid has lots of wit.

Xx,

Your secret admirer

Kyle chewed at his lip and looked over a paper where he had written the names of his pottery classmates. Who does he know that knows Ike and shares a pottery class with him? He narrowed down more people by crossing our more names.

He groaned and set his head on his desk. The others looked at him sympathetically (except for Cartman, who started laughing his ass off.)

You give a slight smile to Kyle and his struggle, shaking your head and slipping out of the doorway unnoticed...

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The day came and the final poem was received...

The final day's come.

Hope you found my game fun.

I saw the frustration that was on your face...

But now it's time to show my shape.

Go to locker 3.2.5,

Place a note with my name inside.

At 4:23, head down Cherry Street,

Turn the corner and me you shall meet.

His breath shuddered as he slid the paper into the designated locker and left to start his school down, a determined smile on his face. He hoped he got it right... He spent so long trying to figure it out.

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You paced around the corner. It was 4:18 and he was nearly there, you presumed. You gripped the paper from the locker that has your name on it. He got it right... And that was about to be proven to him.

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Kyle took a deep breath. 4:22, and he rounded the corner.

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"H-Hi, Kyle..."

[etherealspacejelly]

ROBIN WHAT IS A CALZONE WHAT IS GOING ON I ASKED DORIAN AND HE CALLED ME KITTEN???????

ok so basically. i saw this poem on my dash that rhymed calzone with bone. and i was like. but those words dont rhyme?? and dorian was like yes they do. so i looked it up and I WAS RIGHT, ITS PRONOUNCED CALZON-EH. IT DOESNT RHYME WITH BONE

but now everyone is bullying me and saying im wrong :(

also i think its a type of pizza? idk ive never actually had it before

[madeintheniamh]

i want to write you a song

stmf one shot #6.

a/n: posting this very special one today because today is my 19th birthday! hope you all love it. i did cry writing it but it was well worth it.

content warnings: fluff, dadrry

song: matilda - harry styles

“Come on lovey, please go to sleep,” Harry sighed, rocking his 11-month-old daughter in his arms, his green eyes now underlined with black bags. “Daddy’s getting so tired, he needs his sleep too,”

He glanced over at the owl shaped clock on her bedside table- it was now three o’clock in the morning. He had tried and tested everything he had remembered you telling him before you left for the night to go out with Anne and Gemma for one of the first times since you had had Tilly- feeding her, sitting with her in the rocking chair in the corner of her bedroom, changing her into a different set of clothes, giving her a bath- and nothing had worked. Out of desperation, he reached into the drawer of dummies that you were hopelessly trying to wean her off of despite her teething and grabbed one. Her red rimmed emerald eyes lit up as she saw it in his hand, tiny fingers reaching out to grab it from him.

“Don’t tell mummy,” He whispered, smiling. “Because she says you shouldn’t have it, because you’re nearly one. When did you get so big, eh?”

Her dainty little eyelashes were glistening with tears, her eyes still glossy as she stared up at him, now sucking on the pink pacifier between her lips. She cooed softly as she stared at him.

“That’s better baby, isn’t it,” He smiled. “Daddy loves you so, so much. He wishes you could stay this little forever,”

She gripped onto the grey material of his t-shirt with her fists, still staring aimlessly at him, eyes wide, listening carefully. She suddenly spat the dummy out and began to wail again.

“Oh no, no, no, no, baby,” He moaned softly. “Please,”

He was out of ideas. There was only one option left, and he felt his stomach beginning to warm slightly at the idea of it. As he began to sing, he felt her tiny frame relax into his chest.

“You can let it go, you can throw a party full of everyone you know,” He crooned slowly, watching her eyes begin to close. “You showed me a power that is strong enough to bring sun to the darkest days,”

It had come so naturally to him, that he hadn’t even really thought about the words coming out of his mouth until she had finally fallen asleep. As he placed her softly back down into her cot, the realisation hit him. He quickly dashed downstairs to pour himself a glass of water, frantically rushing through the kitchen drawers to find a pen and paper.

As soon as the ink hit the page, the words just wouldn’t stop coming. Harry had never thought he was good at English at school- he had always struggled come up with his own poems when he had been put on the spot. Over the years, he had realised that he had always written the best songs out of the most unexpected situations. He looked back down, his messy handwriting littering the page, and smiled to himself. This was the one, and pencilled in his diary for the next day just so happened to be a meeting with Jeff. He traipsed back upstairs, peeping in at the crack in Tilly’s bedroom door to make sure she was still asleep.

“Goodnight, Tilly Gem,” he smiled down at her. “I know you’re little now, and you won’t know what it means, but I think Daddy might have just found the best first birthday present for you,”

---

Two years later- Wembley Stadium, June 2022

As he opened his mouth to announce the next song, he felt that same warmth at the bottom of his tummy that he had felt when he had sung it for the first time to Tilly two years ago on that warm, May night.

“This next song is very special to me, because it’s a song I wrote for my little girl, and tomorrow is her third birthday,” he smiled. “So happy birthday, to my little Matilda. You make me a better person every-day,”

He met her gaze, as Anne held her up in the executive box. She was still tiny enough, that he could barely make her out, but he could recognise those curly brunette locks from any distance. He waved up at her, hoping she could see him too.

He had to hold himself together as he felt his voice beginning to crack. “I’m so proud of you, and I’m the luckiest man in the world that I get to watch you grow up,”

When he began to sing Matilda that night, he let the tears flow freely, with no shame whatsoever. There were more songs he had written for her, and he was now a dad of two girls, but that had always been their song, and it always would be, for the rest of time.

“You don’t have to be sorry for leaving and growing up,"

---------

awww! i love the concept of harry writing songs for his girls. maybe he'll write more songs in the future...

my requests are always open!

[popjunkie42]

Blossoming in Winter Chapter 3

@witchlingsandwyverns I bring you the new year chapter! Chapter 3 just wouldn't quit. I tried very hard to bring you some lovely gardens and wilderness in this chapter, I hope I succeeded!

Blossoming in Winter (read on AO3)

Chapter 3: Endure with Patience the Hours of Waiting

(snippet below!)

Summary: Prince Rhysand accompanies Feyre on a mission among the rooftop gardens of the Dawn Palace. While Feyre hunts for absolution, the armies of Prythian and the Continent get ever closer to Hybern.

A first war ACOTAR AU inspired by the story of Faramir and Eowyn. For @acotargiftexchange 2023!

A million thank-yous to @witch-and-her-witcher, @temperedink and @wilde-knight for the beta reads and helping to keep me sane!!

Snippet:

Rhysand’s eyes were on her again as they slipped through arched vines of jasmine, hanging so low they trailed down her hair. She turned to warn him about a loose stone in front of her and when she saw him, she thought the blossoms that snagged free in his raven hair looked like a crown of stars. Feyre stopped at the sight as he smiled at her and batted away the last vine on his face. 

The smell of oils and mineral spirits wafted through her mind as she imagined the swaths of grey and blue and black she would layer on canvas with a knife to capture him. She watched as he raised a hand to her hair, plucking a white blossom gently between two fingers. 

“You’ve got flowers all through your braid, darling,” he said with a softness in his eyes that made her stomach jump, made her yield half a step to him.

He regarded her with curiosity. “Have the healers and nurses been able to look at your wound?” he asked quietly.

Her skin burned with cold. Last night it had begun shooting jolts of pain down the muscles of her back. “I’m fine.”

“Are these all the answers I’m to get today?”

“What would you like to know, my lord?”

He sighed. “Everything.”

He released her from his gaze and she finally took a full breath, turned away from him to stalk down the path, the prince still close on her heels.

“Are you so used to that boor in Spring that conversation seems unnatural? I’d fault you but I’ve met the male, and he is admittedly better with a sword than he is with his tongue,” he said behind her.

Feyre bristled at every implication. “Maybe I simply do not speak unless I can improve the silence.”

He grinned. “Good thing I’m such a tolerable conversationalist, then.”

Feyre continued walking, taking her bearings by the sun and paths and hoping she was not leading them astray. Rhysand’s eyes were upon her with an amused twinkle.

“What?” she asked, annoyed. She tried to set a fast pace to keep his breathing too fast for words, but the prince excelled at conversation all the same.

“I’m simply trying to work out your attraction to that horned brute. I can certainly attest you are not the type to be impressed by a title alone.” Feyre snorted at him. “So tell me, how do we compare? You prefer your High Lord’s sons thick in body and in the head? Tamlin is quite dashing, but I must say he’s a bit lacking when it comes to the verbal arts. Or did he turn into that golden beast and win over your wild side?” He smiled as she walked faster, turning her head away from his gaze with a snap. “Oh, no one could blame you. All that muscle and fur - he’s quite a spectacle. Even I’ve cast an eye his way when he’s wrapped in all that natural glory.”

“You forget our bargain yet again, Prince.” she said with steel in her voice. “We aren’t speaking of Lord Tamlin.”

Rhysand clicked his tongue. “I’m speaking of you, darling. Tell me,” he asked, “How did the Prince woo a creature such as you? Somehow I doubt he plied you with jewels and dresses. Did he make flowers spring up wherever your feet fell? Did he recite love poems in your ear? Did Tamlin play that ridiculous fiddle of his and waltz into your heart?”

Maybe it was the bargain she had already accepted, maybe she was angry and tired, but Feyre felt her stubborn quietness waiver as her annoyance grew. He was gallingly good at chipping away at her defenses, but she refused to give him the satisfaction of winning this game, of sulking back to her stifling room and the worrying nurses. 

She had dealt with one High Lord’s son. How bad could another one be?

She barely paused as she spoke, throwing her words over her shoulder. “You seem awfully focused on the subject,” she said. “One might be excused for thinking you jealous.”

As the path rounded and they breached more wild hedges, it split again into two diverging trails. Feyre stopped short, assessing the options.

When she turned back around she gasped to find the Prince so close to her. In another half a step he stood chest to chest with her, her words about their journey lost on her lips. Her nose filled with his scent, citrus and the sea, and she couldn’t take her eyes off of his face.

“Jealous?” he asked, his voice quiet in the garden. “I told you, Feyre, that you’re finally getting closer to it.”

Feyre felt a flush on her chest that had nothing to do with exertion. “I know what you’re doing,” she said with a whisper.

“Do you? And what is that?”

His look was challenging, amused. “Throwing me off my guard. Disarming me. Probably fishing for information.”

He smiled. “Did you ever consider that perhaps I just enjoy watching you squirm?”

Perhaps the most insulting answer, if she was just a plaything and without any relevant information to pry from her mind. Her anger grew, especially considering the trust she was putting in him this afternoon. “You’re a shameless flirt. Was it your plan to wait until you had me in the middle of the gardens to show your worst side?” The birds sang around them, oblivious to her rising anger.

Rhysand flashed an arrogant grin. “Am I such a villain in your mind? Your sister, obviously wise, insisted on a chaperone. Consider me an applicant for the position.”

Feyre snorted. “On what qualifications?”

“I’m a High Lord’s son, honor and chivalry are woven into my very bones.” Her eyebrows were skyward. “Haven’t I been a complete gentleman, seeing to your needs, joining you on…what is it we’re looking for, again?” Rhysand looked around the gardens.

“I’ll know when I find it.”

Read on AO3

[askbensolo]

please tell me hows space mom

I had prepared myself for Mom to be worried about me. Usually, she wants to make sure that I haven't been hearing voices, and that I haven't been having disturbing dreams, and that I haven't been depressed or anxious, and that I haven't been participating in any weird fringe holonet politics (listen, I only fell down the What If Palpatine Didn't Die conspiracy theory rabbithole one time, and it was for research).

Anyway. I met Mom at the docking bay, where she was waiting outside the Falcon. She was leaning against the boarding ramp, dressed in casual wear but with her hair impeccably braided, scrolling rapidly on her datapad. Dad said she was always taking her work home with her, but that was just Mom. Always going.

"So. Dad let you take the Falcon out without him, huh?" I asked, causing her to look up. She smiled when she saw me, her eyes creasing, and I noticed her hair was starting to go gray near her ears. It reminded me of the mundane horror that had only begun to haunt me as an adult: the mortality of one’s parents.

I jettisoned that thought into space unknown.

"Oh, your father knows I'd never hurt his baby girl," Mom said, matching my playful tone and giving me a hug. "I'm only a little jealous."

She winked, then became more sincere as she looked at me fondly, no doubt seeing her little boy in front of her. "It's so good to see you, Ben."

"Great to see you too, Mom. Who’s your co-pilot?” I asked, leaning to the side to peer into the ship.

“You are, now,” she said, patting me on the back. “It was Threepio before.”

As if on cue, Threepio trotted out on the boarding ramp, his gold plating reflecting the late sunlight. "Oh! Young master Ben! What a pleasure to see you, sir!"

I gave him a salute. "'Sup, Threepio!"

He cocked his head and jittered his arms, flustered. "Oh, well, er...'sup, sir."

Mom and I snickered, and she gave me a smirk that I read perfectly. Threepio was an excellent protocol droid (if a little irritating), but he wasn’t a very good co-pilot.

We got situated in the cockpit. I ran my fingers over the dash…batted my hand at the golden dice that dangled from the ceiling. Took in the familiar musky scent of Wookiee hair and reformed smuggler. We started the Falcon up, and the hum of the engine was like a missing piece of my soul. The ship was a repair crew's nightmare, with so many janky modifications as to render the owner’s manual useless, and her hyperdrive failed half the time. But she was a part of us. A part of our family. Sometimes, when I couldn’t sleep at night, I closed my eyes and imagined I was in a bunk on the Falcon.

“So…how are you doing, Ben?” Mom asked, once we had left Naboo behind and open space spread out before us.

"Fine. No voices, no dreams, no neuroses, no conspiracy theories or extremist politics," I rattled off dryly, doing a Reassure Mom speedrun.

Oh Ben, I didn't mean that, I imagined her saying. I meant: how is work going? Tell me about your friends! How much can you bench now? Are you still writing poems? Have you done anything fun recently?

"Good," Mom said in reality, satisfied and clearly relieved. Something burned inside of me, biting, snarling. I turned my face away.

Chill out, I told myself. She'll probably ask more later.

And she did. In fact, the next thing out of her mouth was a question about a project at work I had mentioned to Dad a couple weeks ago, when I'd asked him to visit.

See? I told myself. The little monster inside of me grumbled and curled up to sulk.

"Maybe I could come visit you for dinner sometime," Mom said, something weird in her voice, a kind of embarrassed hopefulness. "I'm so glad you and Dad hang out. You two seem to have a good time together."

And I wish that you wanted to spend time with me, too, was the part she didn't have to say out loud for me to understand.

"Yeah...maybe," I said, embarrassed as well. "Oh...I have a different roommate, though, if you do come over. Do you remember Fannie? She was one of Luke's students..."

"Oh! Yes, I remember," Mom said. "Sweet girl. When did she move in?"

"Like...a month ago or something."

Silence. I looked at her.

"...Mom? What’s up?”

"Oh, I'm just...a bit surprised you didn't tell me sooner," she said, sounding kind of weird again. My little monster bristled defensively.

"Well...you never ask about me," I said, also starting to feel kind of weird.

"What?" she protested, the whole ship jerking slightly as she snapped to look at me, her steering hand unstable for a moment. "Ben, how can you say that? I ask about you all the time. You never respond to my messages. You've ignored my calls. You have given me every indication that you want to be left alone. I practically gave up on trying to reach out to you."

She was absolutely correct, and I didn't know how to argue with that, or how to explain what I meant. That despite all of it, I still felt like she never really asked about me.

She stared at me for several seconds, expecting me to say something. When I merely disappointed her, she faced forward again with a huff.

I wondered if maybe it would have been easier to just have dinner with Fannie instead.

"...Sorry," I mumbled, feeling five years old.

“What are you sorry for?” Mom asked, correctly not buying it.

“I don’t know,” I said, feeling four-and-a-half.

“Well...all right, then.”

Silence stretched out, like the big blackness of space, and I started feeling…I don’t know. Scared. Lonely. Angry. All those ugly teenage feelings I had declared to be cringe.

Or maybe they weren't teenage feelings. Maybe they were just person feelings, and they never went away.

...Well, one thing that was different from being a teenager is that I knew how to handle those feelings better. Most of the time, anyway.

I took a slow, deep breath to calm myself down, and let it out in a sigh, not taking my eyes off the stars. "...Look, Mom, I...I'm sorry. Really. I shouldn't have said you never ask about me. And I'm sorry I've been so terrible at keeping in touch. It's just...still kind of difficult for me that you're so—" Paranoid? Wait, no. Delete. "—concerned about my safety. I know it's 'cause you love me, but...really, I'm fine."

Mom was quiet for a moment. I looked at her. Her brows were furrowed.

"Ben...of course I trust you," she said finally. "You've grown up to become such an intelligent young man. But...you have to understand that what happened to you with Snoke wasn't...normal. This family isn't normal. Part of it is the life I chose, that your father chose when he joined the Rebellion and when he married me...and part of it, we did not choose, and I often don't understand. I have seen too many things happen to too many people I've loved, and I will never, ever let anything happen to you. Never again." Her voice was strained, as if breaking under the weight of a hundred past experiences I couldn't imagine. She turned to look me in the eyes. "Do you understand?"

Yeah, I understand there's no getting through to you, said the sassy teen Ben who lounged on the couch inside my brain. I kicked him in the shins.

"I understand, Mom," said adult Ben, who was civil, if not always fully sincere. "You've been through so much. Thanks for always looking out for me."

"I'm sorry it's been difficult for you, Ben," she said. "I always wanted you to be able to have a normal life, as much as you could. But...I wish I had realized sooner—much sooner—that in some ways, that was never possible for you. If only I had known that...if only I had been more on guard..."

Then maybe Snoke would never have gotten his hands on you, was the part she didn't have to say out loud for me to understand.

"...Hey. Mom." I reached over to pat her hand, offering a hopeful smile. "It's okay. I'm okay. See? I'm here. I lived."

I meant it as a joke, but I forgot there was a part where I almost didn't.

"What I mean is, it wasn't your fault," I said quickly. "There's no way you could have prepared yourself for something like that. There's no way any of us could have."

Mom shook her head. "I suppose not. But...don't you understand? That's why I have to make sure I'm as prepared as possible—to the extent that I can be, at least—for anything that could happen to our family in the future. To you, to Rey, to Dad...even to Uncle Luke."

"Yes, Mom. I understand," I said quietly.

And I did. I didn't like it or agree with it, but I understood.

The Falcon whirred and hummed like a happy tooka.

Mom cleared her throat. "...So. Fannie. You're...roommates now?"

I rolled my eyes. But of course, how could the conversation not go this direction? It was part of why I hadn't told her for so long in the first place.

"Housemates," I corrected. "She's staying in the living room. Just for the summer. I have someone else moving in next fall—his name is Poe Dameron—"

"Oh my goodness! No way. Kes and Shara's son?"

"Uh. I don't know. Who?"

"Oh, just some friends from the old days. What a small galaxy. But—speaking of friends. Fannie...she's still just a friend, right?"

Normally I would have emitted a groan like a dying tauntaun and shouted "uh, yessssss" with the "yes" part having at least five syllables. But this time...I found myself horrifyingly speechless.

I opened my mouth, then closed it again. The most disgusting awkward little chuckle came out of me, in lieu of actual words.

That was a terrible omen. I died inside.

"It's okay, sweetie, you don't have to answer," Mom said cheerfully, but it looked like she was probably formulating an answer of her own.

[lottiecrabie]

As a recent lottiecrabie enthusiast and longtime feral consumer of a certain M Healy related writings, I saw something about a tutor!au. Here are my dreadful, frankly illegal thoughts. Do whatever you will with them, Lady Lottie. Your works kill me in the sweetest, sexiest way and resuscitate me harshly back to life.

1. You're a maths student , year two in the university. He's the newly joined English TA that's been developing a bit of a reputation for his longwinded rants in class and his unconventional assignments.

2. Like what the fuck is "Write about being an influencer in a dystopian world where you have to sell a graffiti eraser for VR devices after artists are actively vandalising the metaverse"

3. Anyway, hallway whispers about how attractive he is find their way to you but you're wholly unconvinced because pfft, really now, this is a cliche. One drunken evening at the local bar and you're jostling shoulders, he's ordering a long island iced tea just because and eyeing your whiskey on the rocks. He's really as pretentious as you thought he was - a dark mop of curly hair, crisp linen shirt and this dense, buttery jacket scented with menthol, marijuana and bergamot. He has a delicious rasp, holding court with his little circle of friends about how fullstops have come to mean something completely different when people text each other in the present day. There's not much you think of it - except one night after you break things off for good with your boyfriend who asks if you've come five minutes. into sex.

4. That night, you find yourself wondering if his neatly filed nails would leave red crescent commas on your skin, if your moans would be the em dashes between his consecutive thrusts. You imagine him seeing you at work, chalkboards filled with a haze of numbers and letters, you're arguing about why pure math PhDs and English PhDs are really two sides of the same coin, languages to explore the textures of the world.

5. You realise you're irrevocably fucked.

The annual debate between your college and the rival one is announced and you want to take part, as you always do, except this time it's a whole series of complex themes that require you to be assisted by someone else. Guess who you're assigned as your mentor.

6. You can't think straight, but you want to impress him so much. He's pretty much unfazed - logically unfolding his stances like an origami blossom. His mind entices and frustrates you : how can you possibly read Shakespeare today and a bunch of e-girl tweets the next and use both of these in your speeches?! Good lord. The longer you resist the urges, the worse they become. He dances in circles around you. Sleepless nights. Scattered sheets and unfinished drafts. Smoke breaks across the campus. Joints rolled with thin paper you bum from the art department, you sit blowing plumes at each other one orange afternoon. He reveals himself in delicate slices - a flash of a tattoo on his taut abdomen, soft voiced calls to his mother, Heroin by Velvet Underground playing from his tinny earphones.

7. He's dissatisfied - there's some verve and rawness that's missing from your stage presence. you're not emoting enough. He jokingly wonders what the cause might be - the lack of sleep, or the lack of sleeping together? Wait, you haven't had sex in months? There it is.

8. He says that sex sells. In order to convince the audience, you need to have seduce them with your mind.

Prove it, you say.

9. He finds May I Feel by e.e cummings and decides to walk around you as you take turns to recite it. By the fifth line, you've had enough. His knees are behind to yours, his skin branding into your stockings. He places his fucking mouth close, so close to your ear - warm enough to entice you with the possibility of a kiss, but instead he takes it away just as swiftly.

10. "let's go said he

not too far said she

what's too far said he

where you are said she" (side note - I recommend listening to the Tom Hiddleston version of the poem!)

You laugh, because it's so bitterly on the nose. He wonders aloud if he's really too far - too far away from you, that is.

His first kiss is like a wine tasting. He sips and nibbles your lips, sweetly parting it with his inquiring tongue. His fingers snake across your body, a low laugh caught in his throat when his hands brush your guilty nipples. Dilated pupils, and filthy promises. His kisses are poisonous, intoxicating.

11. Rutting mindlessly over his desk. Panting, whining in back seat of your car. Wet kisses in a darkened theatre. Hand jobs in the library, leaving the both of you a shivering mess. He is relentless, rendering you feverish for more. He refuses to have sex until he's satisfied his desire to explore you enough.

12. You try to take matters into your own hands and dress in a tiny skirt, with the smallest scrap of lace covering your soaking cunt. You end up over his lap, his handprints still warm on your back.

13. He worships you. He spits in your mouth. He ties your hands to the bedframe. He calls you sweetheart, baby, my darling. He doesn't stop edging you. He makes you read poems and eats you out, with the threat of stopping if you stutter even a little. He makes you think, he makes you dream, he makes you laugh.

14. You don't care about the debate anymore.

oh my god this was so lovely!! love when u guys leave me blurbs like this to read i feel like I’m the one getting bedtime stories for change. you have such a vivid and imagery way of writing it’s so beautiful. the prose is so delicate and effective; i can so clearly Feel and See the moment. i especially love ‘his first kiss is like a wine tasting’ and ‘you sit blowing plumes at each other one orange afternoon’. get on tumblr mama start writing there’ll be a spot opening up soon✊

although this is a lot more professor!matty than tutor!au🕺 (the tutor!au staples are weird loser virgin nerd with cool popular bitchy experienced girl) you actually kinda knocked it out of the park for professor like yeah that guy is making her read poetry while eating her out. yes ofc they’re making out on his desk. well yeah he’s debating you and only getting you more worked up for him

[trensu]

How about a Magic is Real au with a dash of cursed item dubcon thrown in? I feel like there should be more of this type of au in the fandom. Y'know, for funsies.

--

Okay yeah, Steve probably shouldn't have touched the cursed object. Like, it's practically in the name, right? And Steve might not be genius-smart like nearly everyone in his friend group but he's not an idiot. He's got common sense. He's the one that grabs Dustin by the collar or steps in front of Nancy when they get into their heads to run some genius plan without taking into account that, like him, they're frail mortal humans.

Which is why he touched the cursed object himself--a handwritten poem on some thick paper that's yellowed with age--because if he hadn't, they both would have gone for it. He saw them start to reach out because they're both too stubbornly curious for their own good. He figured if the object was actually cursed, it's better that he carry the curse and have the genius-level smart people on the job of figuring out how to break it rather than them being cursed and benched for it. It's sensible! Of course none of them listen to him. But he's feeling fine so really, what does it matter?

"Okay, hand it over," Dustin says after Steve didn't display any negative effects.

"Nope! Not happening, Henderson," he responds cheerfully. Dustin tries to protest but Nancy cuts him off.

"No one else is touching the thing until it's been put in the neutralization circle. Just because Steve hasn't had a visible reaction to it doesn't mean something didn't happen."

"Look at the bright side," Robin tells the still grumbling Dustin. "We get to visit your favorite dragon master!"

"Dungeon," Dustin says exasperatedly. "Eddie's a dungeon master."

Steve and Robin roll their eyes simultaneously. "Whatever."

So they trek over to Eddie's place. Nancy and Dustin trade off questioning Steve the whole time.

"What does it say?" Dustin asks.

"I don't know, it's just some poem? No name on it. Looks kinda...sappy," Steve shrugs. "Do you want me to read it to you?"

"Better not," Nancy shakes her head. "It might be a spell that activates by voice. How does it feel?"

"...like paper. It feels like old paper."

"No weird sensations? Is it lighter or heavier than you'd expect? Does it look odd when you read from it?"

"No, Nance, it literally just feels and looks like some old-timey English homework."

"And you're still not feeling weird?" Robin asks, because she's his platonic soulmate who cares about him doesn't get wrapped up in every new puzzle that shows up like Dustin and Nancy.

"Still feeling fine. Seriously, I'm starting to think the rumors were just, y'know, rumors." He tucks the supposedly cursed paper into his jacket pocket, ignoring Nancy and Dustin's indignant protests.

They finally arrive at Eddie's place. Eddie opens the door with his usual mischievous grin.

"To what do I owe the pleasure of your company today, my lords and ladies?" he asks with a lazy half-bow.

"Eddie! We need to use your neutralization circle," Dustin starts to explain.

Steve should probably try to pay attention but he can't because Eddie is here. Eddie is here and taking up all his focus, and if Steve doesn't kiss him right now he might die. Steve moves without a second thought, shoving Dustin to the side to get right into Eddie's space. Eddie's bambi eyes widen (fuck he's beautiful, how is he so beautiful) and tries to take a half step back and hey, that's not allowed.

"Whoa there, big boy, what--"

Steve doesn't know what he was about to ask because he's pulled Eddie close and nipped at his lips. Eddie yelps in surprise, and Steve takes advantage to deepen the kiss The shocked whimper that escapes Eddie's throat thrills Steve. Eddie starts to relax into his arms and all Steve can think is yes, yes, this is what he wants. Distantly he hears someone squawk in shock, followed by other similar exclamations from other people that really really don't matter right now because Eddie is in his arms and Eddie wants him and he needs Eddie to take him to bed right now.

Eddie tears his mouth away from Steve and wait no, why's he doing that, oh, hang on Steve can work with this. Steve presses wet kisses along Eddie's jawline.

"S-Steve," Eddie gasps, and doesn't that just sound delicious? But it would be even better if Eddie would just scrape his teeth against Steve's neck. Huh. That's a...what do you call it? Dilemma? Yeah, a dilemma. How can he get Eddie to cover him in love bites and talk to him in that voice at the same time. He pulls back for just a moment to ask Eddie what he would rather do, because Steve is down for whatever Eddie wants, and in that moment the worst possible thing happens.

Someone else's hands grab the back of his shirt and yank him back while Eddie takes the chance to also shove him away?? Why is he shoving Steve away?

"What the fuck," Eddie says, sounding slightly hysterical. "What the fuck just happened?"

Did Steve upset him? Oh god, what did Steve do wrong? He knows Eddie wants him so he must've screwed up big time if Eddie's pushing him away now. Steve has to fix it, he has to.

He tries to get back to Eddie but the hands on him tighten their grip and Steve nearly growls in frustration.

"Steve what are you doing?!" Nancy asks, voice high pitched and grating and Steve feels a flare of annoyance because wasn't it obvious?

"I was kissing Eddie," Steve bites out.

"Why?!" Dustin screeches.

"Because I'm good at it and I want him to fuck me," Steve snaps. Because, again, this should be obvious and they are getting in his way.

Dustin slams his hands over his ears, screeching again. "NOPE, NO, I DON'T WANT TO HEAR THIS."

Underneath the screeching, Steve hears Eddie giggle. When he looks over to where Eddie's plastered himself on the opposite wall (and damn, why hasn't Eddie shoved him up against the wall yet? He can't think of anything better than having Eddie manhandle him), he sees that while Eddie is giggling, he doesn't look exactly happy about it. He looks skittish, which is the opposite of what he's supposed to look like. He's supposed to look like he wants to eat Steve up with a spoon. Steve tries to smile at him anyway because he loves Eddie's laugh and he hates seeing Eddie distressed. For some reason, Steve's smile makes Eddie look more distressed.

"Uh," Robin clears her throat. "So, um, is this something new? Because, I'm kind of insulted you didn't tell me you were dating, Steve. We're supposed to tell each other these things!"

"We're not, we're so not. I have no idea what's happening right now" Eddie interjects and Steve feels his heart splinter a bit. Alright, Eddie might technically be right in that they haven't actually done or said anything about dating or making out or doing dirty dirty things to each other before but that doesn't matter because he knows Eddie wants him and he needs Eddie.

"Eddie," Steve says, "Eddie it's fine, I just want...why are you so far away?" Steve takes a lurching step towards him.

Suddenly, Nancy's hands move from where they'd been gripped into his shirt and puts him in a chokehold. "Nance," Steve rasps. "What? Let go."

"I think we've found the curse, Steve, so no, I'm not letting go," Nancy says firmly.

"Curse?" Eddie asks, looking straight at Nancy and not sparing Steve even a glance, what the fuck. Steve struggles against Nancy's hold but she doesn't budge an inch.

"We were following up a rumor about a cursed object and we found a handwritten poem--"

"--that the dingus of course just had to grab--"

Well that was rude. Steve's gotta find himself a better platonic soulmate. But that's a problem for later, right now he has to figure out how to coax Eddie back.

"He said he was fine though," Dustin whines. "He was acting completely normal!!"

"We were coming over to use your neutralization circle so we could investigate the item safely. And yes, Steve was behaving normally before we got here," Nancy continues to explain. God, why did these people have to talk so much? Can't they see they're wasting their time?

"I am fine, I don't know why you all are acting like this," Steve complains and tries to wriggle out of Nancy's grip again.

"Why we're acting like this?" Dustin splutters.

"We're not the ones acting weird, idiot," Robin says.

"You're keeping me from Eddie," Steve says as an explanation. "Nancy let me go!"

"Yeah, that's not--this is not normal behavior for you, Steve-o," Eddie says, and he might as well have stabbed Steve in the heart. How could Eddie not know how much Steve needed him?

"Eddie," Steve whimpers. He needs to fix this immediately. "Don't say that, Eddie. I'm sorry, whatever I did, I'm sorry okay? Tell Nance to let me go and I'll make it up to you. Just give me a chance. I'll make you feel really good, Eddie, I promise. You want me on my knees don't you? I can do that! You can even pull on my hair."

Eddie makes a strangled sound. Nancy on the other hand makes a disgusted noise that was almost inaudible under another of Dustin's screeches. Robin starts to babble something about getting the paper into the circle yesterday.

Steve really doesn't understand why everyone is freaking out.

(one additional bit to the au)

[sketching-shark]

You used to like Bull Demon x Sun Wukong right? Could you do 76 + 85? Could also include Iron Fan or be one-sided if that's more your style

SDFAEGRTHSGRFES I literally got this ask three times so dang anon it seems you really like your Demon Bull King x Great Sage ship! Though I will say from my own end that while I personally see Sun Wukong as aroace, of all the people I have seen Sun Wukong shipped with I think pairing him with his og classic bestie made the most sense (like wow Wu Cheng'en even composed this whole poem about their ferocious fight and how tragic it was that their incredibly close friendship ended in bitterness). ANYWAY, here's an attempt at a Demon Bull King x Sun Wukong story with lots of Princess Iron Fan & the prompts of "Did They Or Didn't They" + "Innocent Physical Contact"

-----

Humans could become gods, gods could become yao, but it was vanishingly rare for a yaoguai to declare themselves equal to heaven. Learning that there was another who would so audaciously dare to rebel against the deities was what had initially attracted the self-styled goddess Princess Iron Fan to the far-away Mt. Huaguoshan. She was a xian who knew herself to be accomplished in both the martial, spiritual, and magical arts, but even with an entire mountain cave court of her own to run she felt that the existence of another who called themself a deity on Earth was well worth her personal attention. There was always the chance, after all, that a Earthly god would sooner or later make an attempt at her home and her life. Such a being, as she knew from her own character, would not be restrained by the same rules that governed the Heavenly entities.

For an immortal of her caliber it was but a short trip to Mt. Huaguoshan. It was as filled with fruits and flowers as its name suggested. It was also a scene or unbridled, yet still strangely ordered, chaos. Thousands upon thousands of yaoguai--a good half of them monkey yao--were everywhere playing, eating, fighting, lovemaking, drinking, and even studying scrolls on a multitude of different subjects under the eyes of attentive teachers, all while others practiced military drills in tight formations. Five of the monkey yaoguai who were clearly working as guards had watched Princess Iron Fan float in. One of them had dashed off as soon as she was spotted--likely to announce her presence to this so-called Great Sage Equal to Heaven--while the other four waited for her to land with polite, if cautious, deference. They greeted her as Lady Immortal, and requested that she wait for their king to come welcome her himself. Princess Iron Fan decided to play along for now. Based on what she had seen of the activity on Mt. Huaguoshan, this Great Sage would at the very least have to be quite the administrator to organize everything from food production to education for all the yaoguai who called this mountain home.

When the Great Sage arrived not long after Princess Iron Fan had made herself comfortable on a stone chair covered with high quality silk and was wondering whether she should attempt the plum wine or assorted delicacies that had been brought out for her enjoyment, he did not come alone. The self-declared goddess found herself grudgingly grateful for the impeccable manners she had been instilled with when she still resided in heaven, as she had almost snorted with surprise and mirth when she first saw the vast differences between the Great Sage and his companion. Princess Iron Fan had known before coming that the Great Sage Equal to Heaven was a monkey yaoguai, but she hadn't expected him to be so...short. His stature and slender frame made the towering, well-muscled bulk of his bull yaoguai associate seem all the more formidable.

It was something that Princess Iron Fan, carefully keeping her face pleasantly neutral though she did, couldn't help but appreciate.

The two yaoguai both greeted her with a level of enthusiasm that shocked the self-declared goddess before they flopped carelessly onto the stone seat across from her, the bull yaoguai settling back with a snort of contentment, the monkey yaoguai using his horns to swing around and seat himself on the bull yaoguai's shoulders. The monkey yaoguai--the Great Sage--stared at Princess Iron Fan for a few seconds from his perch before he gave a short chatter of knowing laughter.

"Let's have a cup of wine each, brother bull! It's best if we start this party of three by assuring our guest that nothing's been poisoned."

Princess Iron Fan felt her face heating in embarrassment from being read so easily. Still, she was a stranger in a strange land, and the easygoing hospitality of the yaoguai across from her signaled that they didn't find anything insulting about her suspicion. Rather, they both leaned forward almost eagerly, and asked her if she had come to be part of the alliance of seventy-two mountains.

She had arrived knowing that the self-proclaimed Great Sage was a monkey yaoguai. She had also gathered tales of the many friends that he made everywhere he had traveled. And if she was being honest with herself, Princess Iron Fan had come not just to potentially scope out a future enemy, but with the hope that she might be able to make a new friend.

Deciding in a flash that honesty was the best policy when it came to forging new and hopefully friendly relations, Princess Iron Fan congratulated the Great Sage for his audacity, and admitted that it was precisely that which had first prompted her, as another self-stylized Earthly deity, to make the trip to his mountain home. The bull yaoguai--who, she learned, went by Niú Mówáng-- had roared in laughter at that, and informed her with a cheeky wink that his sworn brother might be the Great Sage Equal to Heaven, but that he was the Great Sage who pacified it. From there the conversation and wine had flowed quickly and pleasantly. Princess Iron Fan learned many details about the alliance between seventy-two yaoguai rulers and their seventy-two mountains that the Great Sage Equal to Heaven, religious name Sun Wukong, had created. She heard story after story of the exploits of Sun Wukong, Níu Mówáng, and the other five members of the sworn brotherhood, and offered a few of her own. Hours flew past in laughter, and while Princess Iron Fan had ended the party by telling a pouting Sun Wukong that she needed to consider matters further before she agreed to be part of his alliance, she could confidently say that their meeting seemed to be the beginning of a delightful relationship. That cheered the monkey right up, his good humor only getting larger when the three immortals were accosted by a pack of young monkey yao that Sun Wukong greeted enthusiastically as his grandchildren. He gave Princess Iron Fan one last wave before he let the horde tug him away, and proceeded to pull one sweet after another out of seams in his armor, the clamor of his grandchildren getting louder and louder as they all begged "Yeye Sun" for some of the treats.

Níu Mówáng watched the monkey and his young entourage leave with clear fondness before he turned back to the self-styled goddess.

"Well my Lady Immortal, what now? Are you planning to return to your own court, or shall we explore those amorous looks you have been throwing my way all evening a little further?"

Princess Iron Fan felt shocked by the bull yaoguai's bluntness into silence, long enough for Níu Mówáng's eyes to grow comically large as he fumbled through an apology for his forwardness, saying sorry that he had so terribly misread her gaze, sorry that he had assumed, sorry that he had-

"Please, you can call me Raksasi. And I think that could be a lovely way to end a delightful day."

The Demon Bull King looked so happy and grateful for her consent that Princess Iron Fan nearly laughed. She couldn't, however, help a squeal of joy and amusement when he picked her up easily and settled her on his shoulders, whispering almost conspiratorially that there was more than one way to ride a bull before setting off at an eager jog for his bedchambers.

Princess Iron Fan had been an Earthly immortal for centuries, and over that time had enjoyed a number of lovers. Yet if she was being honest with herself once again, Princess Iron Fan was coming to prefer the blunt honesty among many of the friendly more "animal" yaoguai over the strange, upsetting mind games that so frequently haunted even the closest of human and godly relations. At the very least, their willingness to express their true desires helped assure that the pain which came with misunderstanding was kept to a few embers, rather than turning into an inferno of raging and confused feelings.

---

It wasn't often that a relationship which had begin for mainly physical reasons blossomed into deep love, but it was a position that Princess Iron Fan found herself in when, years later, the Demon Bull King had greeted her marriage proposal with joyful tears and a bellowed "YES!!!!!" The bull yaoguai had been loud enough that a worried Sun Wukong, his as-you-will cudgel at the ready, had flown into the orchard Raksasi and Níu Mówáng were meeting at with his fangs bared, declaring he could turn their foe into a meat patty. All that fury quickly morphed into joy when he heard what his sworn brother had agreed to, and for all his small stature Sun Wukong was easily able to get the Demon Bull King in a headlock so that he could alternate between nuzzling his sworn brother and tousling his fur with monkey shrieks of delight. Sun Wukong even insisted that they hold at least the wedding feast at Mt. Huaguoshan, even going so far as to bring Princess Iron Fan into that sanctum sanctorum--his personal wine cellar--to convince her of the obvious benefits to choosing his mountain home over her own cave court. Eventually they compromised through the realization that there was no need to have one wedding feast when they could have several. It was a recognition that got that particular monkey off of Raksasi's back as he went to go plan at least five nights of what would be, in the Monkey King's own words "parties that will blow our collective tits clean off."

Raksasi had been happy with her life beforehand, but her upcoming marriage and all the years of friendship and love she had received made everything all the sweeter. She was a powerful xian, loved, respected (and a little feared) at her own court, a firm member of the alliance of now five hundred caves, the friend of some of the most amazing yaoguai she had ever met, and now soon to be married to the great love of her life.

And yet...and yet.

The relationship between Princess Iron Fan and the Demon Bull King had gone through many shifts, yet his relationship to the Monkey King was as strong now as it had been when she first met them. And it was clear to anyone with eyes that the Great Sage Equal to Heaven and the Great Sage Who Pacifies Heaven had a very close relationship, defined by constant tussling and hugging, loud parties, confidential whispers, and even bouts of them going off on adventures for two that sometimes lasted months, Sun Wukong perched confidently on Niú Mówáng's shoulder as they left the Mt. Huaguoshan cave, waving back at the cheering assembled yaoguai until they had disappeared from sight.

Raksasi knew all about this, of course. Conversation between her and her betrothed often turned towards the great deeds him and his sworn brother had accomplished (as well as their mishaps, if the bull yaoguai thought it made for an amusing tale). As it was, Raksasi had come to appreciate this part of her own relation to the Demon Bull King. Being the leader of her own court made for a very busy life, with many aspects that she had constructed according to her preferences over the centuries and which she hadn't wanted another party attempting to abruptly rearrange under the belief that romance with her allowed for anything. Indeed, her and Niú Mówáng had discussed this aspect of their upcoming married life in great detail, and had agreed that Raksasi's cave court and the Demon Bull King's grassland territory should more or less follow the systems that both yaoguai leaders had already established even after they had officially joined forces. Too abrupt a change could result in chaos for their people and for their personal lives. And that was to say nothing of the fact that they were both yaoguai centuries old, and as such as seen a multitude of relationships among their kind falling apart from too many small annoyances piling up as the years went past. The Demon Bull King and the Princess Iron Fan loved each other, but their love would be like the wind caressing the tree; their lives would be connected, but they would still stand as their own beings.

Raksasi was often left giddy in the knowledge that she had found a lover whose own desires wre so suited to her wants. But the closer her marriage to Niú Mówáng got, the more the intimate relation between her betrothed and the Great Sage Equal to Heaven became a topic of court and cave gossip. The whispers and rumors all around her started to become to intense to ignore. The Iron Fan Princess tried...no, she did trust her groom to not be dallying with another yaoguai behind her back, especially not with one with which they were both friends. But as the rumors continued to circulate over the precise nature of the Demon Bull King and Monkey King's apparently too friendly relationship, after she caught a number of her own court regarding her with pity, Raksasi felt justified in seeking reassurance.

When Princess Iron Fan was alone again with the Demon Bull King, she stopped his amorous touches by telling him about the rumors she had heard, how prevalent they had become, how much it was putting doubt on her and her betrothed's relationship. Niú Mówáng grew wide-eyed and gave a snort of surprise upon hearing all of this. It was, however, quickly followed by a thoughtful hum.

Princess Iron Fan braced herself for what might come next.

"I won't lie to you, honey. You are the love of my life...but Sun Wukong is the first one I ever felt such affection for. He...he was my best and most beloved friend for centuries before we even met you. He's been there for me through some of the hardest times in my life. And, well, you've seen him. Whether he's acting as a general or a drinking buddy, he's...he's magnificent."

Princess Iron Fan felt herself bristling a bit at this language in spite of the countless declarations of praise the Demon Bull King routinely gave to her own glory. She almost wanted Niú Mówáng to stop talking. But she wanted the truth of their relationship even more.

"Did you ever...act on your affection for Sun Wukong? Are...are you still acting on it now?"

The Demon Bull King looked absolutely crestfallen at her question, and Princess Iron Fan felt a pang of terror. She had been so worried about the possibility of her betrothed ruining their upcoming marriage with a secret affair that she had completely neglected to consider how her own mistrust might do the same. But Niú Mówáng eventually but smiled and gave her hand a gentle squeeze, as if in silent apology for how his feelings and actions could have sparked her suspicion.

"Truth be told, I don't think he's ever even recognized my affection. And, well, once I realized that he had never shown that kind of interest in anyone, I got scared that me doing so would ruin what we have." Niú Mówáng offered Raksasi another hesitant, melancholy smile. "Truth is I'm still scared to tell anyone."

Raksasi experienced yet again the warm glow that came from understanding how much someone else trusts you to see something they'd rather have hidden. But even so, she had one more concern that, no matter how foolish it might seem she could not ignore.

"If Sun Wukong was receptive to your affections, do you...would you rather be marrying him?"

The Demon Bull King moved towards Princess Iron Fan slowly, as if scared she would fly away. But she let him pull her into a gentle hug and take a few minutes to assemble his thoughts.

"I love my sworn brother. But I want to spend the rest of my life with you."

Princess Iron Fan returned her beloved's hug fully.

"Thank you. For your love, for your patience...and for the truth. I know that it can't have been easy to admit your lingering feelings, not right when we're soon to get married. So know that because you told me the truth anyway, I will treasure all the more."

Reaching up, she cupped his face and tried to pour all the love she and understanding could into her gaze. It was also to buy some time to put together one of her own less-than-standard thoughts.

"So thank you for the truth my love. But know that if...if he ever tells you that he may want to take your relationship further...I wouldn't necessarily be averse."

The Demon Bull King's eyes and nostrils grew big with surprise, but then his faced rearranged itself into an expression that was absolutely lascivious.

"Oh? You'd like our dragon and phoenix to be joined by a monkey? I didn't realize I was marrying such a lecher~."

The Iron Fan Princess screamed in mock fury before giving her love a few gentle swats with her folding fan, condemning him for a mind clearly overtaken by the lust he accused her of. The Demon Bull King just responded with a bellowing laugh and sweeping Raksasi up so that he could nuzzle her face and pepper it with kisses, his whispered words going from naughty to sweet and then back to sensual. The Iron Fan Princess was left both heated and warmed from her husband-to-be's attentions and the promises of the treats he had planned for their wedding night. Yet for her the most wonderful part of all was the blooming realization of how honest with each other they could be.

And to be honest with herself once again, she could admit to jealousy. She had never had as deep a relationship with any of her past lovers as she had found with Niú Mówáng, something that left her both joyful that he had it and terrified that he wouldn't want to be in her life forever. Even if she had nothing to worry about in terms of Sun Wukong coming between her and the Demon Bull King, the reassurance that she was the love of his life soothed the spectre of loneliness that often haunted her thoughts. She was, at any rate, very grateful that she didn't have to confront the Great Sage Equal to Heaven for making moves on her man all while pretending to be her friend. Still, Princess Iron Fan could fully admit that while it was not the same kind of adoration that she and the Niú Mówáng shared, neither Raksasi nor anyone else could deny the loyal fierceness with which Sun Wukong loved the Demon Bull King.

It was something that Raksasi could even feel a terrible gratitude for when, centuries later, the Monkey King had prostrated himself before the entirety of a Heaven he had once attempted to overthrow and managed to negotiate, using himself as a bargaining chip, Niú Mówáng's sentence of death for attempting to hinder the journey to the west down to five hundred years imprisonment.

[sambhavami]

The Lost Flute - Part 1 (An Open Door)

Balarama's chariot kicked up the dust on the rustic road as it rustled past the sun-soaked fields and bristling bushes of Mathura's countryside. The sun was already about to kiss the horizon. His arms were wrapped around the half-asleep young girl beside him. She had covered her mouth with the end of her dress, her head resting on Balarama's shoulders. This journey had been long overdue, but it was finally drawing to a close.

"Can I ask you a question, Rama?" The girl asked quietly.

"You know you don't need my permission, Subhadre." Balarama smiled down at her.

Subhadra laughed quietly, "Rama, I've always heard how great of a flautist Kanha is, but I've never seen him play. He always makes excuses when I ask. Did he not enjoy playing the flute?"

Balarama shifted slightly in his seat, "Who told you that? He and that flute used to be inseparable. We wouldn't be able to pry it from his sleeping hands!" He chuckled at the memory.

"So why doesn't he play now?" Subhadra asked.

"I don't know Bhadre, maybe he's just too busy to be indulging in a hobby right now."

"Is that why he didn't come with us today?"

"Probably." Balarama sighed.

Suddenly, he sat up in his seat, "Look, there's our Vrindavan! Do you see those stone houses across the horizon? That's the village! And to the west, those are the pastures. From sunrise to sunset, that is where we lived! Nand-baba used to teach us every day- in the morning follow the sun but when he sets, you turn and run! I must tell you the stories about the times we got lost in the forests and nearly forgot that little poem!"

Balarama stood up from the cushioned seat of the chariot and started waving frantically at a man across the field, "Hey Madhu, MADHU!" He jumped down from the slowing chariot and ran towards him. Soon, a crowd gathered around them. A few boys ran back to the village to announce their arrival. The farmers and the gopas stood with folded hands as Balarama went around inquiring about their lives. 

As some villagers approached them carrying on torched, Balarama turned to Subhadra with a broad smile, "Come on then! We can walk the rest of the way!"

Balarama stopped and turned as the torchbearers fell a few steps behind. Subhadra was approaching him with her bejewelled skirt held high as she trod carefully on the muddy, uneven road as five villagers attempted to light the way as best they could. He laughed, "I probably should have told you to wear a lighter dress!"

"Well," Subhadra raised an eyebrow, "You did say I was going to meet two of the most important people of your life. You can't fault me for trying to impress!" Though her tone was soaked in sarcasm, she smiled warmly.

Balarama smiled back as he took a torch from one of the villagers, "Come on, walk with me!" He said as he put an arm around her.

---

Standing at the gates of the stone villa, Balarama looked around. There was no one standing to welcome them. There were no extra lights lit or flower garlands hung. "That's strange," he said, almost to himself, "Are they not home? But the others would've told us if they weren't!"

He walked up the stairs leading up to the heavy, wooden gate. The door was unlocked. As usual, he thought. He walked into the sprawling courtyard, Subhadra trailing along awkwardly. In the inner sanctum under the archway, stood a dark figure. Balrama smiled as he saw the man.

"Grand gestures are for strangers, my son can walk right in."

Balarama dashed to embrace the man, both of them tearing up slightly. Balarama turned and beckoned his sister, "Subhadra, meet him. He is our Nand-baba, and Baba, this is my Bhadra, our little sister!"

Subhadra smiled politely and went to touch his feet, utterly unaware of the fact that Nand had gone white as a sheet. Balarama, noticing immediately, quickly ushered his sister to the guestroom.

Balarama walked out to the courtyard to find Nand pouring some soma juice into two large chalices. He sat down beside the old man, "I probably should have told you I was bringing her."

"Yes, you should have." Nand turned away.

"Come on, Baba, you can't lie to me." Balarama took a sip from one of the cups, "It was a tough call you made. There was always going to be only one: either Kanha or her. I have lain awake several nights pondering what I would have done in your position. Before it was so simple- save the saviour, but ever since our Shashi came to us, I cannot make a decision! I love Kanha, but I do not think I would have been able to give up my Shashi, even if it was his life on the line!"

Nand sighed, "I do not care how brave people say I was. Do not tell me how Kamsa was the one who killed her. I sent her to him! I made that decision, to end one life for another. There is blood on my hands that will never be washed away."

"Subhadra is innocent in this. How is it fair to punish her?"

"I am not punishing her. Haven't you heard the rumours? They say she is her, reborn! How can I look in those eyes after what I've done?"

Balarama refilled Nand's chalice, "I get it, Baba, but the rumours are baseless. She is her own person. She doesn't deserve to be seen as someone she is not. Also, is it fair to replace her? She who gave herself to give us victory, in more ways than one! She gave us Kanha! Is it so easy to replace her sacrifice with another child? Subhadra deserves a chance to have you in her life in the same way as we have! Besides, where's Yashoda-maa, does she not want to see us?"

---

Yashoda had concealed herself in her chambers when the boys had brought news of their arrival.

Krishna had not come with them.

An overwhelming emptiness had suddenly engulfed her. She had watched Balarama walk in from the window in her bed-chamber. He had come up to talk to her after dinner but she had locked the door. After knocking for a few minutes, he had left thinking she was asleep. The truth was that she had stayed awake all night, pacing up and down the room. Up until then, everything had seemed surreal.

There had been a faint hope that Krishna would return, and then everything would go back to normal. Seeing Balarama walk in with their new sister, without Krishna, had suddenly made everything so very real. It felt to Yashoda like the invisible wall between her and Krishna was finally cemented.

---

As the sun rose, Yashoda straightened her mostly undisturbed bed and went out to face her bland, ordinary day. Outside, she found the young princess standing in the centre of the corridor. Her hair was tied back neatly in a tight braid, and she wore bright yellow apparel. In the darkness of the night, Yashoda had not realized how much her face resembled Balarama. However, her mannerisms reminded Yashoda of Kanha. She stood upright in a regal fashion, but her eyes were lowered in deference.

"May I know who you are?" Yashoda asked, although in her mind she already had guessed.

The girl looked up, "I am Princess Subhadra, daughter of the great Prince Vasudeva and the pious Princess Rohini of Mathura, granddaughter of the illustrious King Ugrasena of the renowned family of Yadavas, ruler of the kingdoms of Mathura and Dwarika, niece of the distinguished Lord Nanda, ruler of Gokula and Vrindavana, and sister to the unparalleled warriors- Prince Balarama, viceroy of Mathura and Prince Krishna, viceroy of Dwarika."

Subhadra's words seemed like a twisting knife lodged in Yashoda's heart. The one this girl spoke of, is Devaki's Krishna, not Yashoda's! Still, the girl is innocent, she thought and forced herself to smile once more. Clearly, the girl had been taught to parrot off her titles from a young age.

She smiled at the girl, "Well, I am Lady Yashoda, Consort to the Lord of the realms of Gokula and Vrindavana, Mistress of the household you currently grace, and maiya to anyone who's interested."

Subhadra's eyes lit up immediately. Dropping the regal demeanour, she sighed with relief, "I hate having to do that, maiya! Rama makes me practice that all the time! He says how we conduct ourselves should always reflect the standing of our illustrious family!"

Yasoda laughed, "Yes, he does find happiness in perfection. I see no reason why he shouldn't inculcate the same values in his sister!"

[skibasyndrome]

Hi ! May I invade your askbox with book relative stuffs ?

I saw your posts about your last reads and that gave my inspiration for my (always increasing) list of futur readings !

I love George Sand but I had only read her "rural" books, so I will give a try to "Gabriel".

I also looove classics, but mostly french an british ones, 18 or 19th century. What would you advise me if I want broaden my horizon and dive in german classics ?

About Amélie Nothomd, my favorite one is still her first (maybe because it's the first I read ?) : Hygiène de l'assassin. But her autobiographic novels are also great : Stupeur et tremblements and Metaphysique des tubes are my favorites.

Ok, I stop here ^^ Have a nice day !

Omg yay thank you, I love that you sent this ask!!!! 💜😍

Gabriel was actually the first book I read by her, and I was absolutely blown away, so I highly recommend it! And feel free to recommend your faves to me as well, I'd love to get more into her works :)

Regarding German literature... omg where to start lol. I gotta say that I kind of "specialize" in late 19th/early 20th century German literature, so that's where most of my recs are from, hope that's still fine :)

(I'm putting this behind a break because I think I've spammed people's dashes enough with book talk, sorry about that)

I think you posted something about enjoying Zola a while back (sadly haven't personally gotten around to reading one of his novels yet), but based on that I'd definitely point you into the direction of German naturalism as well, they were all very inspired by Zola:

Bahnwärter Thiel - Gerhart Hauptmann (novella, beautiful way of interweaving nature and psychology)

Papa Hamlet - Arno Holz & Johannes Schlaf (novella, sometimes credited with coming up with the so-called Sekundenstil)

Die Weber - Gerhart Hauptmann (play, very anti-capitalist, as most of my favorite books probably are, but this one's especially got a good flavor of revolution as well)

Theeeen someone whose works I really enjoy as well is Arthur Schnitzler, he's one of the main authors of the Wiener Moderne or the Vienna Modernist Movement I guess would be a translation, and his works are very focused on psychology and sexuality, which I always find interesting.

I especially like Lieutenant Gustl (often credited with establishing the stream of consciousness style in German literature!) and Traumnovelle.

And so that this doesn't get even longer I'll just add a last recommendation maybe, this time a bit more modern: Bertolt Brecht. He was an amazing playwright, developed his own style of theater with the goal of inviting the audience to start thinking about a in his opinion very necessary revolution. I especially love Mutter Courage und ihre Kinder and Der gute Mensch von Sezuan.

I hope this wasn't too all over the place and if you (or anyone reading this for that matter!!!) want any more specific recommendations (like novels, plays, poems etc; or like... idk, specific periods or movements etc) fell free to hit me up anytime, I love talking about this!!!

omg omg yes!!! Métaphysique des tubes was actually the first one I read by her and I loved it! Definitely going to check out the others you mentioned as well! 😍

And thank you again soooo much, this is fun!!!