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darsynia · 1 year

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Diminished Seventh (ch 4)

art found here: duttaayon14008 | gif by @doctorstrangegifsparadise

In this chapter, the eavesdropping spell Stephen cast on her at Kamar Taj has put Amy in a precarious position, forcing her to accept Stephen's help.

Length: 3,834

Animate Objects | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

I am quite new, and a wee bit shy about tags and asks, but please feel free to send them anyway! Tags: @starryeyes2000, @raith-way, @arrthurpendragon, @sobeautifullyobsessed

A 'diminished seventh' chord creates tension that begs to be resolved.

Excerpt:

The sound of a man’s voice in her apartment woke her in a panic.

Amy threw herself out of bed and toward the kitchen area of her single-room apartment, headed for the knives.

“I didn’t mean to scare you-- I didn’t think you lived in an efficiency!” Stephen’s voice was pained. “I cast the portal to your living room.”

She paused with her hand on the handle of her largest knife. “You thought it was okay to show without any advanced warning? Even if I lived in a mansion that would have been wildly out of line!” Amy looked across the dividing cabinets and saw that he was standing with his back to her. “Anyway, you are in my living room.”

“I see that now.”

Content note: mention of a domestic attack of a son against his mother

Chapter Four

She was bone tired. Bone tired and wishing desperately that there had been another option, any other option, than what she’d felt compelled to do the night before.

“Miss?” Amy looked up to see an officer at the door. “I’m so sorry to have kept you waiting, but it looks like the guy I need to run point on this is almost done. Ten more minutes? If it’s another thirty, I’ll send you home to come back tomorrow.”

Amy tried very hard not to show her disappointment. “All right.” The officer rapped cheerfully on the doorframe and left, letting the heavy door to what was probably an interrogation room shut automatically behind him.

Her phone rang, and she almost didn’t pick it up, but it was 11:30 at night, and that was nearly always an emergency. Expecting to see [blocked number] or something, she was surprised to see a regular NYC number listing.

“Hello?”

“Amy?” It was Strange. She hadn’t given him her number.

“Miss Cairn, yes. What do you want?”

There was no chance in hell that the room wasn’t wired, and she didn’t really want to answer questions at all, much less about this conversation.

“Miss Cairn, then. You’re late. Do I need to impress on you again the importance of--”

“I understand that,” Amy said coolly. “There was someone waiting to speak with me once I got home from work, and their queries take precedence, I’m afraid. Beyond that, I seriously doubt I’d be able to make it over there any time before two in the morning, and that’s if all goes well.”

“‘Their queries take precedence?’” he parroted back, sounding deeply confused. “Are you still at work? You know I can open a portal--”

“For the love of all that is good in the world, please do not!” she exclaimed quickly before schooling her tone into something that wouldn’t cause a police detective to harry her. “There is no need to send someone or do anything drastic. I am merely late.”

“Where are you? Tell me right now.” Stephen’s tone was flat.

She wanted to tell him it wasn’t his business. She wanted to tell him to go to hell. Both answers would earn her a portal visitor and a hell of a lot of trouble, however.

“I am at a police station, waiting to speak to a detective about the assault my next-door neighbor perpetrated on his mother last night. I happened to overhear the incident, and called to report it.”

There was silence on the line for a good minute, and then Stephen said, “Is there someone in the room with you right now?”

“I am exhausted, overworked, and unable to speak to you on this matter any further. Stay put and give my regards to Spike, would you please?” Amy said-- and hung up.

It had been two in the morning when she finally got home, but she was not among the people who’d been asked to work Saturday, so Amy put on the first nightgown she could grab and fell into a grateful sleep. She planned to wake up just in time for lunch and figure out where to buy the anti-burglary device her father had suggested she get. The preceding four months since those neighbors had moved in had been punctuated by many angry altercations in the hallways, and they would probably escalate, now.

The sound of a man’s voice in her apartment woke her in a panic.

Amy threw herself out of bed and toward the kitchen area of her single-room apartment, headed for the knives.

“I didn’t mean to scare you-- I didn’t think you lived in an efficiency!” Stephen’s voice was pained. “I cast the portal to your living room.”

She paused with her hand on the handle of her largest knife. “You thought it was okay to show up without any advanced warning? Even if I lived in a mansion that would have been wildly out of line!” Amy looked across the dividing cabinets and saw that he was standing with his back to her. “Anyway, you are in my living room.”

“I see that now.”

He really did, because their eyes met in the large mirror mounted a few feet beside the television. It was meant to make the space feel larger, but Stephen’s presence seemed to shrink everything down to barely enough room for the two of them. He held her gaze for a few seconds before shutting his eyes and covering them with a forearm.

Amy was deeply confused until Cloak soared off of his shoulders and over toward her, settling onto her shoulders and folding its corners around her torso. It was warm from his body, which made her bare arms cold in contrast.

That’s when she remembered she was wearing a nightgown. Amy looked down at what was still visible and ran into the bedroom corner of her apartment to throw on more clothes. She only owned one sleeveless nightgown. It was practically negligee-- and Stephen Strange had shown up uninvited only to see her wearing it!

The best way to handle that kind of embarrassment was to pretend it hadn’t happened, to push away her reaction so she could deal with it later, she knew. The problem was, Amy couldn’t shake a tiny little thrill that kept sizzling around inside of her, wondering what he’d thought after seeing her dressed that way. Whether he’d… liked what he saw.

“One minute!” she called out, tugging at Cloak so she could put a shapeless sweatshirt on. It floated helpfully as a barrier between herself and Strange as she pulled on a pair of pants. The only mirror in the apartment was near him, so she couldn’t really check what she looked like, but it had to be better than what she’d been wearing when he’d first shown up.

She stood there for a few seconds contemplating what to do. Ideally, she wouldn’t have to deal with her presumptuous visitor at all-- and that thought gave her a plan.

“Ready,” Amy said, walking over to the front door, laying a hand on the knob. “Get out.”

Stephen dropped his arm and turned toward her. “I will, if you come with me.” He started spinning up a portal, and she jogged over and grabbed his hand to stop him. The sparkler-style golden glow he’d been conjuring sputtered and went out.

“I was up incredibly late last night. I still haven’t gotten enough sleep,” Amy said in a low, furious voice. She didn’t let go of Stephen’s hand, and he didn’t pull away. “That spell of yours didn’t fade out for hours and hours! I overheard things I never in a million years would have thought could happen just one room away. I shudder to think--” Stephen let his hand fall and so did she, wrapping her arms around herself to ward off an emotional chill that would take months to fully fade.

“You mean to tell me that you overheard a violent attack next door when you got back here on Thursday? It lasted that long?”

“It was just past ten PM, yes.”

“Ten?” Stephen was incredulous. He walked over to the window and looked critically at the thickness of their frames before striding over to tap his knuckle against the wall near her door. “This apartment building has to have been grandfathered in, there’s no way it passes code. Even if I cast a more potent version of the spell, I don’t think you can attribute what you overheard to--”

“I could hear him whisper to her. It…” she shuddered. “It wasn’t violent, at least not at first. I didn’t call the police because of violence I could hear, I mean.” The mother and son pair often argued, and she usually only heard them when they were all-out screaming. This… had not been that.

Amy closed her eyes and drew in a breath, letting it out slowly and calmly, begging her fears to settle at least until Stephen left and she could gather her thoughts. She pictured a black ocean beneath the room beside her, with a giant wave rising higher and higher, blocking her view of it, washing away her memories for now. When she opened her eyes again, she saw that he was intently staring at the wall and moving his hand back and forth like a magnifying glass. She wondered if he’d cast something that let him see through walls and hoped it didn’t work through clothing.

“Look, I really need you to leave. I-- I don’t think I’ll get any more sleep, and I need to get started on some extra protections for this door. The guy they arrested is one of a group of assholes that love to hang out over there, and I’m pretty sure he’ll know it was me who reported him, so--”

Stephen turned around, his expression stony. “You can’t stay here.”

“Well I’m not going back to Florida to live with my snowbird parents, not that you have any say in the matter!” Amy flared. “The apartment’s a crime scene, there’ll be police there for a few days, I don’t think those guys have the kind of records where they’d want to--”

“There’s no one next door right now, and the caution tape is already gone. You’re not safe,” he repeated.

“Where the hell would I be safe that I can even afford to go to? Do you know how expensive short-term storage is in this city? I’d have to break my lease, I’d have to--” Amy broke off, pressing a hand to her chest. She’d been so sure the police would be dealing with the scene for days! The old lady hadn’t been killed according to the officer, but he’d promised Amy they were still investigating, and didn’t that mean--

The Cloak’s comforting, heavy weight landed on her shoulders again, but this time, only one of its corners came around her, almost like a hug.

“Stop that, your Master already thinks I’m some weird kind of relic charmer!” she hissed at it half-heartedly. Stephen was pacing back and forth, and when he saw what his Cloak had done, he nodded decisively, clasping his hands in front of himself.

“There’s lodgings at the Sanctum, and you don’t have a vehicle, correct?”

Amy stared at him. “I’m--” She had to calm herself down. Everything in her life was being upended, and it all had to do with this man.

“No steadying breath. There’s no time. Come, look.”

Stephen led her over to the window. She went reluctantly, curious to know what his argument could possibly be. Her apartment was on the third floor of the complex, across from a market that had near-constant foot traffic during open hours. If he was going to argue that it was too busy--

“Those two men have been standing outside that bodega since I got here, staring up at your windows. Do you recognize them?”

Amy moved to stand right beside him, close enough to touch, and looked out. She caught her breath, backing up. “Yes.”

“You’re not safe here,” Stephen said again.

“I believe you,” Amy breathed.

After her long, calming breaths hadn’t done much to help, Stephen had suggested she head over to the sanctum for a while. He called Wong over and promised they would do their best to make her apartment safe while she studied the books she’d borrowed from Kamar Taj. Given that every cell in her body was screaming at her to get out of there, Amy took him up on it. As soon as she’d gotten in her little study room, the need to distract herself with something analytical had taken over, and boy, was she grateful.

She came up for air after three hours, thirsty and cold, which she attributed wryly to her body using most of her heat-energy on keeping away the fear that ought to be gnawing away at her. The two jerks she’d seen outside were among of the most obnoxious visitors she’d seen frequently in the hallway, and they knew who she was.

There wasn’t anything she could do about it right now, so she shoved those thoughts back into the waves.

There was probably a kitchen, but where? Amy stopped just inside the doorway of the library and bit her lip. Something told her that Stephen probably had a ward or surveillance spell set up to track where she went, because despite his gruff caretaking, the man did not trust her.

“That’s fine,” Amy said aloud, a little defensively. “I’m not sure I trust him either.”

The thought occurred that she probably couldn’t make things worse by looking for food. She looked down at herself. When it was suggested that she spend time at the sanctum, she’d ducked into the bathroom with a change of clothes, but though she was no longer wearing a skimpy nightie covered by a sweatshirt and track pants, Amy was still not sure she fit in very well in this grand place. Though, when she’d walked out of her bathroom wearing her slim-fitted black trousers and red satin crop blouse, Stephen had stood still and stared at her for a few seconds before brusquely turning away to speak with Wong. She’d half expected to see something wrong with her outfit, like a hint of her lace bra showing against the low neckline.

If he were anyone else, though, she’d have pegged that reaction as admiring.

“All right, well. A girl’s gotta eat,” Amy said loudly, stepping through the doorway and into the hall. Nothing happened. “That was slightly anticlimactic…” she murmured, amused.

“Not necessarily!” Stephen’s voice said from behind her. Amy jumped in surprise, falling over herself to land against the opposite wall.

“Seriously?” she gasped out.

“Had a ward up that notified me if you said something. Which lost Wong some money, by the way. He bet me five bucks you talked back to your books while you studied.” Stephen had an apple, and he took a large bite out of it after his cheerful little speech.

“I used to,” she told him, resting a steadying hand on the tiny line of buttons that led up from her waist on the fitted part of her blouse. “Talking to yourself feels different when your whole apartment can hear you.” Despite herself, she looked longingly at the apple, as Stephen took another bite of it. “Do you have any more of those?”

“Oh, that’s right, you didn’t have any breakfast. This way,” he said. Amy followed, but his demeanor was making her suspicious. There was a little too much ingratiation to it, just like a child who wanted to seem obedient so their parent wouldn’t discover the naughty things they’d done.

“Why are you a pod person?” she asked when he walked her into the kitchen area.

“I don’t know what you mean,” Stephen said, raising his eyebrows to ask her if she’d like him to make coffee.

“I tell you what: you make me a cup of that, we go down so I can pet Spike, and then I’ll head over to my friend Vera’s and see whether she can spare some space for me while I look for a new place.”

“Good plan,” he said, faced away from her as he retrieved the sugar and cream from their various places.

“You’re being really helpful. What are you hiding?”

When he turned around, she was reminded of how much she’d really wanted to see him smile. This smile didn’t feel genuine, though. It didn’t reach his eyes, which were illuminated by the way the high windows in the kitchen caught the outside light. Oddly, today they looked green, not at all the same crystal blue she’d been so caught up in at their first meeting.

“What?” he asked, brows furrowed, a real expression, unlike his other forced one. He leaned forward and whispered, “You’re staring.”

“Your eyes are different. You are different, today. Are you trying to distract me?” Stephen scoffed, and she pointed at him. “You are! What did you do in my apartment?”

“I brought lunch,” Wong said as he walked in. “It’s all spicy, hope you can handle that we moved you into a room at the sanctum.”

Amy almost missed what he’d really said, distracted as she was by Stephen’s (it had to be said) strange behavior, and the smell of hearty, delicious food.

She stared at Wong.

Wong stared steadily back.

Stephen was staring at Wong, too. “That’s how you break it to her?”

“You were taking too long,” the other sorcerer griped.

Amy heard ringing in her ears as she turned and walked straight out of the kitchen door. She dug in her pocket for her locket, having stuffed it in there instead of drawing attention to her chest by putting it on in front of two men in her tiny apartment. Every single interaction she had with Stephen Strange seemed to put her in more of a stranglehold, and even though the things he offered to teach her were wondrous, she was absolutely terrified. She paused to get her bearings, and behind her, she heard him.

“Amy!”

Telling herself he had no right to use that name anymore, she ignored him and started for a staircase that looked familiar. She clenched her jaw. It wasn’t that she liked her apartment that much, but it was hers, and she’d been living there for years. Deep inside, she asked herself if she would have wanted to live there after her neighbor’s mother was murdered-- because that was what would have happened if she hadn’t overheard what was happening and called for help.

Amy heard Stephen calling her name again and wondered why he didn’t use a portal to stop her.

Guilt, probably, she thought viciously. She spied an entryway that looked like it led to the collection of artifacts on the second floor, and sped up.

“Amy, would you just--” Stephen cut himself off mid-sentence, and then he said, “Miss Cairn, wait. Please.”

That was what she’d been waiting for, so she stopped in the archway and crossed her arms, her locket held tight in one fist. She didn’t turn around.

“They broke in, the men from outside. Please believe me: we wouldn’t have taken such a drastic step if it hadn’t been for that.”

Fear seized her. “Where--” she whispered, unable to connect her breath to her vocal cords.

“In custody,” Stephen said. He was close behind her, and she shrugged her shoulders up, her muscles locking up in defensive mode. “They didn’t see us, but they did position themselves like they were ready to attack you when you came home.” His tone turned derisive. “Not the smartest of criminals. We didn’t even have to call the cops. You were right.”

Amy breathed in, breathed out, and breathed in again. The detailing on her locket dug into her hand with a comforting sting. “The police came back?”

“They came back.”

“My lease is up in four months. The renewal paperwork is set to come in a few weeks. I’d intended to sign it, but I guess I’ll have to start looking,” she said, trying to look at her own situation the same way as people whose homes had been damaged in a storm. Was it fair that this had happened? No. That didn’t change her obligations. She had to live somewhere.

Amy hadn’t realized she’d been standing there with her eyes tightly closed until she felt Stephen slip past her through the doorway. As he went, the Cloak traced a caress on her cheek, and she opened her eyes to smile at it.

“I can offer safe harbor for as long as you need, and if you like, I can take the time to stop by certain listings to ensure they’re suitable,” Stephen said, adding, “This is for you.”

He held out a small object, his hand held flat. It was a brassy tandem ring, the finger loops linked by an oblong chunk of decorative metal adorned with swirls and florets. She had no idea what it was, but it looked valuable.

“One sec,” she said, and took a few seconds to clasp her locket on instead of cramming it back into her pocket. Besides offering comfort, it gave her a few seconds to look at the item and decide whether she would accept it. If he were wise, he’d put a tracker on it-- after all, she’d have been badly hurt or maybe killed if he hadn’t been in her apartment. He needed her, as bizarre as it was. That fact at least helped his offer of a place to stay make sense.

“Your brother’s pictures?” he asked, disturbing her fearful reverie.

“Yes,” she said, wishing she could shorten the chain so it didn’t hang quite so low. The last thing Amy wanted was her mind to latch onto the tiny seedling of attraction she held for Stephen Strange as a means to distract her from everything else that was going haywire in her life.

“If you need to visit him or your parents--”

“That won’t be necessary.”

He fell silent, lifting the hand with the metal object. “It’s a sling ring. The item that makes it possible to cast portals, which are one of the first things to master.”

She recognized the term from the book she’d been poring over that morning. The sling ring looked heavy, so Amy dragged her fingers along his palm to tuck them underneath as she lifted it, and as she did so, she heard Stephen catch his breath. “Is there a specific way I should put it on?”

He held up his hand to show that he was wearing his on the first two fingers. “People with smaller hands find it more comfortable on the two middle fingers.”

Amy slid hers on as he suggested. It felt wrong, a little restrictive, but she supposed that made sense-- from what she’d read, a sorcerer could be quite literally lost without it, stuck in an alternate dimension with no escape. She wanted to feel that it was there, to be reassured by its weight, just like her locket.

There was just one problem. There wasn’t anything reassuring about the chain of events that had brought him to give it to her.

“Okay, time out,” Amy said, making the top of the T with her sling ring adorned hand. “Doesn’t this give me access to basically anywhere in the sanctum, theoretically? What happened to the spy theory?”

Stephen put his hands on his hips. “Well, the way I see it, I can be a suspicious asshole or I can be a helpful asshole. I’m not sure the outcome changes either way, but if you’re not a spy, my being a suspicious asshole won’t help you master the Mystic Arts any faster, now, will it?”

“What about not being an asshole?” she couldn’t help but ask.

“I don’t think you’re ready to handle that.”

Next chapter...

#stephen strange #stephen strange fanfiction #stephen strange x oc #doctor strange #doctor strange fanfiction #doctor strange x oc #doctor strange x original character #mcu #mcu fanfiction #mcu fanfic #marvel #marvel fanfic #stephen strange imagine #fyeahsuperverseocs #ocfairygodmother #series: animate objects

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corpsoir · 2 years

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tell me about archeology 🔫

OOUGHHGHH i could talk all day about archaeology okay. where do i even start.

archaeology is so much and its so COOL and GFUHAHSHASSGGGG

okay anyway heres a couple of fun facts‼️ in some ancient agricultural landscapes around here you can find cairns from when people have removed rocks from the ground to be able to use the soil for farming. this is basically just. big piles of rocks. big rocks in the dirt will make it impossible to plow so you gotta remove them!! sometimes in really really old farming fields (called fossila åkrar in swedish, basically fossil fields lol idk if thats the correct term in english though!) you can find these cairns half buried in thousands of years of accumulated soil. AND HERES THE FUN PART. if you kick the top rocks sticking out of the dirt the vibrations will travel through the cairn and youll hear a really weird CLONK sound from the ground and the ground will vibrate and feel funny. during my first year of studying my professor showed us this and then a couple of us students stood there kicking a pile of rocks giggling like idiots

oh and you know the thing about archaeologists licking bones and rocks and stuff while digging? yeah thats a thing (i've done it, i've also almost licked a lump of lead because i got excited) but its probably not as big of a thing as people seem to think it is. identifying bone is really easy when you know what youre looking for, bones are porous and very lightweight, and if you scratch it with your nail it'll feel different from lets say a piece of ceramic or a rock or wood.

when radiocarbon dating in some places we have to keep nuclear fallout from bombs in mind and use different models to calculate the age of the material (radiocarbon dating can only be done with things that have once been a part of a living organism btw)

a rock that has been picked up by a human a long time ago and not been altered, only moved from its original place and deposited at a completely different place, is called a manuport. these rocks mightve been picked up by someone simply because it looked cool!! some famous manuports naturally resemble humans in shape and were probably picked up by someone going WHAT IT LOOKS LIKE US THATS SO COOL

i can talk all day about random archaeology things sorry HABFHAJFBDNDB

#archaeologists will go completely insane over old rocks on main #impressed by myself for not yelling about wanting to be enveloped by the bog here #also im answering your other asks when i get home tony >:) im on a train rn lol #ask

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whitegoldtower · 9 months

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Volkihar Angst - Songs For Each of Them (and my OC) if you feel like crying today

Valerica: “and you’d say you love me and look in my eyes, but I know through mine you were looking in yours.” “And I am relieved that I left my room tidy, they’ll think of me kindly when they come for my things.” - She had to do what was best for her and her daughter, no matter how much it hurts both of them. Nonetheless, she can’t shake her guilt. She wishes she could have been a better mother to Serana. “I am relieved that I left my room tidy�� Goodbye.” - a little note in her study, before she disappeared to the soul cairn.

Eddard: “pack and get dressed before your father hears us, before all hell breaks loose.” “We hope your rules and wisdom choke you.” - Isran says that all the vampires deserve to die. Eddard can’t bring himself to kill them, knowing their stories.

Garan Marethi: “you look so tired, unhappy, bring down the government, they don’t speak for us.” “A job that slowly kills you” - He’s so tired. He’s past the point of trying to care, trying to solve problems, trying to resolve tension. The castle could be burning, and he would just go to bed and sleep, and hope that the flames kill him quickly.

Ronthil: “I’m not here, this isn’t happening.” “That there, that’s not me.” - I headcanon that the poor baby is constantly dissociating, but also trying to mediate the others, trying to get them to let go of their masks and hold him, talk to him, convince him that reality isn’t what he’s experiencing. He wants a family. He thinks that it’s all a dream and he’ll wake up back at home with his mother. But his mother has been dead for centuries.

Serana: “You’re growing tired of me and all the things I don’t talk about. Sorry I don’t want your touch, it’s not that I don’t want you.” - Serana doesn’t want to explain a damn thing about herself, she owes you nothing. She adores you, but she’s tired of having to think about what happened to her. She equally loves and resents Valerica. Still, she feels like she has to explain herself to be valued as a person.

Vingalmo: “But your skin, did you notice your skin? It cries a soft weep like mine.” “‘Cause I want, I want, I want…” - He feels worthless and hides it all behind a mask of being horrible to anyone who tries to get close to him. He feels that all of his worth is stored in the fact that he’s an altmer with eternal beauty. Like he’s only good for sex and violence. But he craves emotional connection. Harkon picked him because he was pretty, promised him power, promised him the world, and then tossed him aside when he got bored. He’s got some very deep emotional scars.

And as a bonus, all of them:

#tesblr #skyrim #valerica volkihar #volkihar vampire #serana volkihar #castle volkihar #volkihar clan #skyrim vampire #skyrim oc #vampire oc: eddard #they are all deeply traumatised #garan marethi #vingalmo #ronthil #ronthil literally breaks my heart #adding depth to npcs #because their personalities were never explored #they were just ‘vampires’ and bethesda left it at that

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ghostiewriter · 8 months

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I finished KoA🥲

I fucking new gavriel was gonna die I had a feeling and I thought I’d prepared myself for it but I did not and I was fighting to hold in my tears cuz I was not by myself at the moment and it fucking hurt. All those years he could’ve had getting to know aeidon😩 l know it was like he finally accepted his dad after that but it still hurt.

Bro and the thirteen sacrificing themselves for Manon 😫😫😫😫😫 I actually couldn’t hold in my tears for their deaths. Idk if it’s because out of all the characters stories Manon was one of the most captivating for me besides aelin. I absolutely loved her character arc and development, I could never get enough of her chapters and hated when I had to wait more than 5 chapters for her to come up again. And asterins story was so incredibly sad but she’s no longer separated from her human love and child🥹 (not me talking about these characters like they’re actual people)

Also she and dorian better have gotten together after the book I was really rooting for them and I hate I didn’t get to see them finally fall into a romantic relationship with each other. They were so fucking cute 😭

Sorry this is all over the place but I hated reading aelin getting tortured I felt so helpless and was so mad at cairn and Maeve for all the shit they did to her but it’s ok cuz Rowan skinned him alive and maeve finally died in the end :)

Also my appreciation for Rowan and aelin’s relationship after she was rescued went way up. He was just perfect for her and I love them together. I felt for aelin so much, all the shit she gave up for everyone and when Dorian’s dad have her the message from her family 😫 and when she was breaking a little and her mom was comforting her omg my heart was breakinggg.

I loved seeing the soft and vulnerable side of lorcan when he and elide finally got together it was adorable. Idk what it was about their story though I just felt like it was a bit rushed in a way after she avoided him for the most part which was understandable I guess I just really wanted to see a whole conversation about what happened and for him to beg on his knees even though he couldn’t lmao. But it was understandable since they were in the middle of a battle and she was terrified she lost him. Also Lord Lorcan Lochan 🤣 I fucking love them

Lysandra is amazing I love her and I’m glad she didn’t immediately forgive aeidon for all the shit he said to her. I understood why he was mad but this mf took it so personally like my dude get over yourself and stop treating the woman you love like shit!! That being said when they finally got together I was very happy for the both of them😌

Also Yrene fucking Towers ending erawan😏 love her

Omg and them when aelin and chaol finally met up with Dorian 😭 I love all their friendships and it was actually so heartbreaking when the war was done and everyone had to leave back to their countries :(

There’s so much stuff I could say more about but that would be really fucking long and I feel like I’ve gone on enough for now. It was a good read even if it broke my heart over and over again

OH BESTIE I SOBBED DURING THIS BOOO I GET IT AHSHSBSJZBSNSB

The Thirteen sacrificing themselves and Gavriel’s sacrifice genuinely got me, I wasn’t expecting it to make me sob but they did😭especially Gavriel like he just started having a relationship with his son!!!!

ELIDE AND LORCAN ARE SO CUTE AND THEY ARE ONE OF MY FAVS!! Still pissed we never got that smut scene tho, we were robbed!!

But I adore Yrene and I need more Manon and Dorian and just everything was so🫠and the wee scene with Dorian realising he was named after his dad? KILLED ME

anyways, now you can move onto acotar🌚you’re gonna LOVE IT

#ask #throne of glass

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jooshthepunished · 1 year

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TLOU Episode 3: "The Bill Episode"

Warning: Good God this one ran unexpectedly long and I have a lot to say.

We open on an extremely sour note. Joel and Ellie are by a river in the woods. Joel is building a cairn for Tess, who has just died in a fiery explosion because nothing can ever be subtle. This will also confuse anyone walking a trail any time in the future, because cairns are supposed to be trail markers, not Pinterest-trendy memorials. Ellie is sitting against a tree. She briefly muses about how she's never been in the woods and that there are more bugs than she thought there'd be.

They make an attempt to have the "Rules" discussion from the game, but Joel cuts her off saying "I don't want your sorrys." Ellie explains that she wasn't going to give any sorrys, but she's been thinking about what happened, and that nobody made Joel and Tess take her, "Nobody made you go along with this plan" (Except, yes, yes someone did. That someone was Marlene. Marlene literally made them. She leveraged supplies against them to make them do what she wanted done).

This is indeed the correct place, chronologically and thematically speaking, for the "Rules" discussion from the game, but we're gonna fuck around in Bullshitville, Massachusetts instead, I guess.

An unempathetic Ellie is fucking terrible. It's fundamentally not in Ellie's character to disregard how the death of someone could affect their survivor. Had I lived Joel's life up to this point and some little shithead had said this to me upon the death of who was essentially my wife (god this show is so broken), I'd have left her in the woods and gone on my way alone, immunity notwithstanding.

Ellie finishes her awful monologue with A.) victim blaming, and B.) needless deflection "...so don't blame me for something that isn't my fault." which is not really what Joel is doing by even the show's standards. This is just a random line connected to not very much, and this whole part makes Ellie look equal parts delusional and psychopathic, and I no longer like this version of her.

Joel just solemnly nods, because when your charge has gone categorically insane, has a knife constantly in her possession, and you have to sleep anywhere near her, you placate her as much as possible to survive this ordeal.

I'd also like to note that when they wrote and filmed this scene, they could not have known that Annie Wersching, the actress who played Tess in the video game, would pass away from cancer just three days after the release of this episode. But in retrospect, with respect to Annie's passing, this scene, as well as the previous episode's final scene leaves an extremely bitter taste in my mouth.

The unfortunate pair move along, hiking toward some version of Bill's Town that is not Bill's Town. I mean, it is but it isn't. It's a somewhat closer a match to the actual Lincoln, Mass. but it's not remotely anything like Bill's Town from the game. Bill's Town from the game seems more like a suburb of Boston than anything. Maybe much more like Brookline, Mass. than the actual Lincoln (If any of you are from Massachusetts and feel the need to correct me on this, please do, I've never been there). Personally I think it's a change they should have made in both the game's PS5 remake and the HBO series if they really wanted to make the geography and location more true-to-life. Otherwise it's a pointless change just jumping off of the name "Lincoln", which is never actually mentioned verbally in the game.

They have a sequence on the road. Ellie notes that Joel has come this route a lot because there are no infected around. Joel says it's people you have to watch out for. They have a brief discussion about a scar Joel has on his forehead for some reason. I can't even really see one, to be honest, but I'd assume it was a scar he picked up when his daughter died 20 years ago. This scene is meh and I'm trying to describe it as best as I can, but I can't get into it because I know what's coming and I have to save my energy. If you've seen the episode, you know what I'm anxious to get to discussing.

Ellie again asks for a gun, calling back to the previous episode, and Joel again says no. This little plot thread is annoying me, because it's foreshadowing Ellie's first kill (of a human) from the game and I just know they're gonna fuck this up so bad.

They stop at an old, dilapidated gas station. Ellie asks why they're stopping and Joel over-explains that he has a cache of supplies hidden inside.

They have a moment from the game here, where Ellie sees an old arcade cabinet and talks about a friend who knew everything about the game (alluding to Riley). However, they changed the game from the fictional "The Turning" with Angel Knives, to "Mortal Kombat II" with Mileena. Why HBO would go out of their way to license Mortal Kombat II instead of using the fictional one that likely came with the adaptation rights they already purchased is beyond me.

Ellie decides to take a look around while Joel tries to remember where the cache is hidden. She goes into another room where there's a hatch in the floor to a root cellar I'm not sure any gas station on the east coast would bother to build, but I could be wrong on that. The stairs have long since rotted away, so she carefully lowers herself down and sets a semi-convenient metal trashcan upside down so she can climb back out. She manages to find an unopened box of product placement tampons on a nearby shelf, which, quite frankly, good for her. As she examines the box of future blood push pops, she hears a noise that sounds like an infected somewhere in the dark cellar.

This is the proverbial gristle of a scene that I knew I would have to go through to get to the meat and potatoes of the episode.

Ellie shines her flashlight into the darkness (the ONLY anglehead flashlight in the show, by the way, this STILL ANNOYS ME), and it illuminates an infected trapped by fallen rubble. He's not a quite a clicker yet, even though he's making clicker noises, and he hasn't grown tendrils and died, so I have to assume he's only been there a little while. He still has one good eye, but the other half of his face is all shroomy.

Ellie squats down in front of him and flicks open her switchblade, waving it slowly in front of his eye. She rests the tip of the blade against his forehead. The whole time she's doing this, she has a murderous trance-like, dead-eyed stare on her face, like the one Jack Black gets in Tropic Thunder when his character is jonesing for his heroin.

Corporate needs you to find the difference between these two pictures.

She cuts a gash in the infected's forehead and stares at it for a moment, I guess gauging its reaction. It just kind of stares back at her. He must have used the mushroom hivemind to beam a homophobic joke into her mind, because Ellie then drives her knife full-beans into his forehead, killing him.

She Colonel Kurtzes at its dead face again for a second, before we cut back to Joel going over his supplies, which he's finally located. They manufacture a pointless tense moment where Joel is calling out Ellie's name, and draws his gun upon receiving no answer, before she walks into the room with her prized box of Tampax Pearl, worth game Bill's weight in gold by now.

Joel puts away his geocache, adding the M4. Ellie sensibly protests, but Joel explains that there isn't going to be much ammo for it "out there" meaning out on the road. I just think it's because Joel doesn't have a rifle of a similar platform until the end of the game where he takes an M16 off of a Firefly at the hospital, and the showrunners, for some reason, despite all the other changes, wanted to retain that aspect. This principal would also be true of Joel's Taurus Model 66, so by that logic they shouldn't take ANY gun, right? At least you have it for now. Maybe you could trade it to Bill for a few boxes of .357 Magnum to feed that revolver of yours? Big HMMMS on the logic here. It isn't very reasoned to me.

What an unfortunate scene for this unfortunate episode. This doubles down on making Ellie seem like a psychopath. She went full crazy like the quiet kid from school mutilating a gopher in the woods or some shit. It comes across like the writers are making her desperate to kill or something.

Again they continue on their hike into Lincoln, briefly passing by and discussing a crashed airplane. They have a discussion about Outbreak Day, where Joel breaks down a reasonable assumption as to how it got so bad so fast. It's clear to me and hopefully anyone watching that the showrunners want to draw a parallel between Cordyceps Brain Infection and COVID that just isn't there. I've decided to call this Lockdown Derangement Syndrome, where all of these media idiots insist the world somehow ended after COVID as if we're about to experience a Cormac McCarthy novel but for the reals this time I swear!

Joel holds up the hike and says he wants to cut around an area and go over the hill next to the road instead, because he doesn't want Ellie to see something along the road. Ellie goofs around, saying that since Joel doesn't want her to see it, now she's goooootttaaaa see it, and starts off ahead.

It turns out to be a body pit in a culvert along the road. Joel explains that not everyone killed during the first weeks of the outbreak was infected, and only a limited number of people were allowed to be transported to the Quarantine Zones because they had limited capacity, so they killed anyone they felt they couldn't take, because "Dead bodies can't become infected." It cuts to a long shot, with Joel and Ellie in the background. In the foreground is a skeletal body wrapped in a tattered green dress, nearby is a smaller body wrapped in a blue blanket that has little rainbows on it.

We match cut to a woman in the same dress holding a baby wrapped in the same blanket. It's 2003, Outbreak Week. FEDRA soldiers are rounding up the townsfolk of Lincoln and marking cleared houses. Someone watches them through a monitor as they enter his house. He quietly picks up a nearby shotgun as they pass overhead, saying that the basement looks clear, revealing that this is a sub-basement.

As they leave, he says "Not today, you New World Order jackboot fucks."

We have now introduced Bill. He's apparently a paranoid conspiracy theorist prepper who just really fuckin hit paydirt, didn't he?

The FEDRA soldiers depart the neighborhood, victims in tow, as Bill again watches from his security monitors. He stealthily exits his sub-basement to make sure the coast is clear. He sweeps the house, sweeps the front porch (not with a broom), and finally, seeing that there is no one and nothing around, takes off the gas mask he's been wearing to reveal that he's clearly in his early-ish 40s in 2003. Oh God.

We're in it now, guys. Now it's been revealed that everything we've seen promotionally about Bill has been a misdirection. The Bill that bears a passing resemblance to the one from the game is the PRE-TIME SKIP version of Bill. Big ooferino, my guy. He'd be in his SIXTIES during the events of the game. What a god damn waste. But don't worry, THIS Bill will NEVER have to do ANY of the cool shit we see game Bill do. So I guess it's okay, right?

Bill starts off on a prepper montage, going around town gathering supplies to fortify the area. He fills barrels with gas, raids the Home Depot of various materials; Duct tape, plastic sheets, a bunch of bundles of Romex, etc. While in the Home Depot the power shuts off. "That was fast" he says.

He rams the gates of the natural gas plant and turns a big valve. He stops on his way home to procure many bottles of wine and spirits from the liquor store. Then he fixes up an old industrial-sized generator in his backyard, which he must have converted to run off of natural gas. He chops firewood, lays traps to defend his perimeter, and tends to his vegetable garden. We see that he's an excellent cook. It's a whole thing. In fact the cooking thing will come back later.

Superficially, this montage isn't so bad, but like everything original to this series added by HBO it's just pointless and doesn't really serve the story. What's this part saying? Bill is a well-organized survivalist. We knew exactly the same thing when we were playing the game, while the main story was progressing. The main story isn't progressing here, it stops the main story dead cold for 45 minutes.

I'm gonna glaze over some stuff to finally get to the gist of it.

One day, a few years after the outbreak montage, Bill finds a man in one of his pitfall traps. After scanning him with one of the magical Memberberry devices from the game, and some trepidation, Bill invites the man in, lets him shower, gives him some clean clothes, cooks him a very nice rabbit dinner paired with a $14 bottle of Beaujolais (I'm not saying it wouldn't be good, but come on! Pull out the stops!!), and they form a romantic connection over Linda Ronstadt and sleep together.

A few more years later, the man, Frank, feels cooped up and overbore by Bill, who doesn't trust anybody else and only seems to prioritize the house they live in. They've become a couple. Frank wants to fix up the neighborhood, make friends, and a build community, but Bill is resistant to it. Frank forces the issue by telling Bill that he's already met a nice couple in Boston over the radio and he wants to invite them to dinner to discuss supply trade. This couple turns out to be Joel and Tess. Over dinner they discuss a trade deal, Bill's fortifications, and how they won't last as long as he thinks they will, and they warn Bill of raiders, setting up the scene that happens later with a bunch of raiders. At the end of this scene we learn that it was Frank who made the radio code we saw in the premiere, the one where each decade of music means a certain thing like danger or new supplies, and whatnot.

During the next scene, the one with the raiders (we see Frank set up the gun Ellie takes later), it's AGAIN a few years later (2013) and raiders are attacking the neighborhood. Bill gets shot pretty bad and Frank does some redneck movie surgery with whiskey and a butter knife to dig out the bullet. Expecting the worst, Bill tells Frank not to be alone, to call Joel and Tess to come stay there with him, and Bill passes out from the pain.

NOW HERE'S THE PART! HERE IT IS!

It's now 10 years later. Frank is sitting on the porch in a wheelchair, and calls for Bill to bring him inside. Frank is suffering from some debilitating disease like ALS or Multiple Sclerosis, it's only implied. We get a little homage to My Left Foot with Frank struggling to paint a portrait of Bill through his condition.

I just wanna say they made these dudes up to look OLD, like Mid-60s old. It's nigh-impossible not to draw a visual comparison between Bill and Carl from Up, they made his hair so square and grey.

Frank is tired of his debilitating state, and he wants to end his life. He discusses his last day with Bill, who is understandably very emotional. Frank wants to get dressed up, get married, and have a nice dinner, where Bill will crush up a bunch of medications and put them in Frank's wine, and Frank will drift off to sleep in Bill's arms for the last time.

So that's what happens. We get a montage where Bill takes Frank for a walk, pushing him around in the wheelchair, they put rings on each other in front of the piano where they fell in love, and Bill cooks the same rabbit dinner, where he serves the same Loius Jadot Beaujolais-Villages. After dinner, Bill brings out a bottle of finer wine (I think it's a Brunello from Col d'Orcia, that's what I'm talkin about, boyeee), into which he crushes Franks meds (If you're going to poison your husband, use a Brunello). Frank drinks his glass all in one gulp, and Bill pointedly does the same. Frank realizes that the bottle was already open when Bill came to the table, and deduces that the entire bottle was already spiked with pills. Bill confirms that it would be "enough to kill a horse."

That's right, kids, if you're gonna bury your gays, dig two graves.

Bill explains that this "isn't the tragic suicide at the end of the play. I'm old, I'm satisfied, and you were my purpose."

Frank says that he doesn't support Bill's decision, that he should be furious, and of course what HBO wants the viewer to feel: "From an objective point of view, it's incredibly romantic."

They lie in bed together one last time and drift off to sleep.

This would almost be touching if it weren't such a goddamn pointless deviation from the main story. They gave this to us AS A FILLER EPISODE. Before I finish the breakdown of the next scene, I wanna talk a bit about these flashbacks. Both gay and Libertarian stereotypes are at play here that the media just will not let go of. Bill is a Democrat's version of a Ron Paul Libertarian; mother's-basement dwelling, paranoid prepper with Gadsden and segmented snake flags up in his workshop (that's a funny faux pas, because the segmented snake is a Statist image by design; "Join or Die"), you can imagine him posting to message boards about 9/11 conspiracies and secret Fascist deep state takeover of American Government. This is a man who is also a deeply closeted homosexual who enjoys Linda Ronstadt, fine wines, and 5-star French cuisine. I'm not saying it couldn't or doesn't happen, but the way Hollywood writes, they're using the music, the wine, and the cuisine as a poker tell to let the audience draw conclusions about what those things signify. Do you need to be gay to enjoy any or all three of those things? Absolutely not, but the show uses them

When Frank comes into Bill's life, they lean HEAVILY into suburban domestic gay stereotypes. Every kind you've seen from sitcoms to dramas, where one man is the husband and the other is the wife. Frank settles neatly into a role as the wife of Bill. He makes Bill do things he might not otherwise do; jog, eat relatively healthy, socialize. Don't think I didn't notice Frank and Tess go off to have "ladies time" while the "men" sat and bullshitted about galvanized wire fences and "I know I guy who knows a guy who can get you better fences."

Is this offensive? I couldn't say. I'm neither gay nor necessarily a Libertarian. But they are absolutely tired tropes that the game organically avoided. I'll talk more about Bill and Frank from the game after I close this episode.

Joel and Ellie reach Lincoln. Joel punches in the gate code, and they walk to Bill's house. It seems unnaturally quiet, the flowers on the porch are wilted. Joel opens the door tentatively, as if he's used to knocking. They walk in. There's signs of no life. Candles have burned themselves out and left a mess of wax on the hall tables, everything has a light coating of dust. Gun drawn, Joel calls out to Bill and Frank and receives no answer. He tells Ellie to stay put, and she asks "what if they're gone" (heh, ay Tone, someone read the script). Joel brushes her off and begins to search the house. Bill and Frank's last dinner is still on the table, flies buzzing around it. Ellie finds a letter in the living room with a Chevy key on top.

We rejoin Joel as he knocks on the bedroom door. He tries the knob, but it's barricaded. He goes back to Ellie, who is sitting at the dinner table reading the letter. She says that it's from Bill, and it's addressed "To whomever, but probably Joel."

Joel bluntly asks "So they're dead?" and Ellie confirms, reading some of the letter out loud. It dates their suicide as August 29th 2023, relatively recently, maybe? I'm not sure of the exact timeline of the show down to the month and day. The house seems as though they've been dead for weeks, being all dusty and the food still on the table being rotten. Anyway, the letter explains that they left the window open so the house wouldn't smell, Joel is welcome to take anything he needs, and leaves the code to the sub-basement bunker we saw at the beginning of the flashback. It goes into a more personal diatribe, but I'm just gonna skip it because I'm still disappointed over how Tess' death was handled.

Joel checks the garage, where he finds Bill's Chevy S10 pickup. He checks the engine compartment and has a little moment when he sees there's no battery. Then he checks the garage fridge to see the makings of a makeshift lead acid battery.

He goes back into the house and makes Ellie show him her arm. THEN they FINALLY have the "Rules" discussion from the game. After wasting a goddamn hour of our time.

They go into the bunker where Ellie oohs and ahs at all of Bill's cool shit we barely got to see him use. They discover that Bill has a danger system kind of like the bunker from Lost where he has to reset a timer every few weeks or 80s music goes out on a loop over the radio. Ellie again asks for a gun and bemoans that "there's a wall of them" and Joel again says no. They raid the house to gather supplies, take showers, change clothes, Ellie finds a fucking gun (Frank's gun) and hides it from Joel, because they have to undermine any significant or impactful character development from the game and make it somehow worse.

They hop in the truck, Ellie puts on some Linda Ronstadt instead of the Hank fucking Williams track from the game go fuck yourself very much, and they don't even have the "Bye bye dudes" iconic moment from the game. I guess I should be thankful because they'd find a way to fuck up even a small iconic moment like that.

This episode is as dead as Bill and Frank, so I can talk about their game counterparts now.

It just seems to stand alone as effectively its own story with no greater impact on the series beyond "this is where they get a car/this is where Ellie gets a gun". There was a point to Bill's character in the game beyond "he got Joel and Ellie a car," but his story has been expanded to greatly reduce his role to just that.

When the game introduces Bill, it wastes no time in showing you his capabilities and priorities. The very first thing he does on screen is save Joel, and lead him and Ellie to safety. It's obvious that he's well-organized and structure-oriented, he would have to be to live on his own. When Joel says that he needs a car, Bill has a lead on a car and a battery, albeit reluctantly and cantankerously. But it's also obvious that he's alone. When Bill is loading up shotguns to take on their mission, he talks vaguely about someone he used to run with, he refers to this person as "a partner." But he's talking about him as if Joel has never met him, and it seems Bill has known Joel and Tess for years by this point. Bill concludes his story about this partner with a bitter closedess, saying that after his partner abandoned him, he realized it's better off to be alone, because you can't depend on people.

Those familiar with literary tropes might recognize Bill's partner as a Posthumous Character. Particularly in this case, a character who is only ever talked about in the past tense. This trope is used wonderfully in this stage of the game. After the trio fight their way out of the highschool, when it's discovered that someone had taken the battery Bill had a lead on, they cut through some neighborhoods and take shelter in a house where Joel and Bill start to butt heads, and a corpse is discovered hanging in the living room, looks like it's been there for years. Bill gives a look of shock and recognition. Joel asks "What, did you know this guy?" and Bill reveals that this is the partner he mentioned. "My partner" is said emphatically and pointedly to make it clear what it means to him, and Bill is obviously trying to keep his emotions in check through an absolute sudden tragedy. It's a brilliant scene and fuck does W. Earl Brown do WORK.

Actually, to get the full scope of what the fuck I'm talking about, if you haven't seen it, you should watch it.

youtube

This scene is SO MUCH MORE IMPACTFUL than the overindulgent drama HBO conjured up. Subtlety is nearly ALWAYS the key to a good emotional set up and pay off.

You need to understand that Bill is Joel, gone wrong.

He serves as a reflection of the man Joel is in danger of turning into; A bitter man surviving alone, who pushes away anyone who tries to get too close. Bill is the version of Joel that he's leaving behind over the course of the story to become the man he is by the end of it.

This episode really wastes both Bill and Frank to the detriment of the whole show.

But they got a car, I guess 🙄.

#mine #the last of us hbo #tlou spoilers

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whimsicallyreading · 3 years

Text

For Rowaelin Month day 17

“A sick day”

CW- PTSD, mentions of violence

Aelin considered herself a fortunate person.

She has survived genocide, her family's murders, losing loved ones, slavery, torture, and the Great War. Now she is a queen, a mother, a beloved Mate.

Her life had changed since those bleak days where she'd wondered if she would ever escape captivity—the days when Aelin didn't know if she would ever be free or find love again. Every morning she woke up curled into Rowan's side, and while she drank her morning tea, Aelin could count on her young daughter snuggling into her lap.

Yes, she was swamped most days, but that was normal for a queen. But even the moments between boring meetings brimmed with life and laughter. Rowan's hand on her thigh beneath the table. Fenrys' theatrics when conversation spiraled off-topic. And even the hardened lords thought it was hilarious when their three-year-old princess barged into councils and demanded her mother's attention.

Her family gathered for dinners at the end of every day. Aelin's little family, Fenrys, Emrys, and Malakai were the regular attendees. Aedion, Lysandra, Elide, and Lorcan joined when they were present. It was a time reserved for family only, and it was by far Aelin's favorite part of the day.

Aelin had a good life now. Her family was growing, and her country thrived beneath her rule.

So it always took her by surprise when a bad day came.

She had woken up fine. Delly had slammed open the chamber door with a gust of wind and squirmed herself between her and Rowan in the early morning. Usually, Aelin treasured the moments when her daughter joined them, but being pregnant again had taken a toll on her sleep.

Rowan tried to stop their child before she entirely collapsed onto Aelin but was a moment too slow. Delly flopped onto her mother's chest in a disarray of wrinkled nightgown and golden curls. Soft sobs were sputtering out of the tiny figure.

I'm sorry. Rowan whispered into her thoughts. He knew how hard pregnancy was on her and took his mate's comfort very seriously. It troubled him that their toddling daughter woke Aelin so abruptly.

Aelin blinks the sleep from her eyes and sends him a happy smile to assure him everything is fine.

"What's wrong, Dell?" Aelin soothes a hand up her baby's quaking form.

Adelia sniffles harder, unable to talk through the tears. She'd started to have bad dreams in recent weeks, but never had she been so inconsolable.

Aelin shifts as Adelia's arms tighten uncomfortably around her bump. Rowan sees her discomfort and reaches around to pull Dell to him instead, but it is met with resistance.

"No," Adelia finally wails. "Mama. I want Mama."

Rowan frowns. Adelia was a daddy's girl to the bone, and this was the first time she'd ever refused to go to him. Their daughter squeezes harder and burrows her face into Aelin's torso.

"Dell," Rowan leans next to her and whispers, a cool breeze brushing against her flushed cheek. "What's wrong little love?"

Adelia lifts her head, and Aelin's heart contracts painfully. Her cheeks are red and swollen from the intensity of her crying, little sobs still stumbling from her chest as Rowan settles her down enough to speak.

"Mama was gone. She was hurt, and she couldn't see me." Dell sniffles, her green eyes glassy. "Can you see me, Mama?"

Aelin tugs her daughter in closer, unable to stand the sight of her so sad. "Yes, of course, I can. I'm right here."

"You were in a box. She wouldn't let me see you," Adelia whimpers in a small voice. "She told me she was gonna keep you. I don't want you to go, Mama."

Aelin's face blanches. It wasn't possible. Her little baby couldn't possibly have seen what was coming to her mind. She looks at Rowan, and his face is pinched with worry.

"It's not real, Dell." Rowan uses a thumb to wipe the tears off her cheek.

Adelia flinches. "Uncle Ress told me it was. He told me Mama had got stollen and put into a box by the bad lady and that she should have stayed there."

Aelin's heart stops. Nausea crawls up her throat, and Rowan tugs Adelia away just in time for her to crawl out of bed and gag into a potted plant. The sickness grips Aelin, the shudders in her arms only growing worse with her daughter's mumbled cries.

"Daddy, I want Mama to stay here." Rowan hushes her and murmurs quiet reassurances. "Don't let her get stollen."

Ress had said that? In front of her daughter? Aelin tries to close her eyes against the visions creeping into her mind. The places her scars used to be ache, and her hands pulse with the remembered pain of reconstruction.

The baby in her womb squirms under its mother's stress, and Aelin throws up again.

She should have stayed there.

Cairn brings the hammer down onto her frail knees, the ringing of cracking bone splits the air.

She should have stayed there.

Aelin opens her eyes to endless darkness. Sweet smoke wafts through invisible holes and sends her to sleep- leaving her mind vulnerable to Maeve's manipulations.

She should have stayed there.

More and more memories swarm behind her eyelids until a pair of grounding arms wrap around her shoulders.

"Fireheart, you are home. You are safe. Can you breathe with me?" Rowan sighs loudly behind her shoulder, and Aelin tries to force her own breath out.

Breathing in is harder, but Rowan's scent fills her nose and loosens the binds on her lungs. Soon, Aelin is doing the exercises independently, and Rowan nuzzles his face into her neck. His hands snake under her bump and lift some of the pressure, easing more of her tension.

"There you are," Rowan kisses her cheek as Aelin comes back around. "Are you okay?"

Aelin shakes her head and sinks into his arms. "Can you take me back to bed?"

Her legs feel like jelly, and her stomach is weak from turning. Rowan lifts her with ease. His arms are warm, and he murmurs sweet nothings into her ear as he carries his mate back to their bed.

"Adelia?" Aelin looks around for their daughter.

Rowan pulls back the duvet and reveals the sleepy from nestled right into the middle of the pillows. "She fell back asleep quickly."

"I can't believe Ress told her those things," Aelin can feel a tear slipping down her face. Ress had never forgiven her for her days as Celaena. Darrow had grown to accept her, but Ress never warmed up to having Aelin as his queen despite her efforts.

She hadn't realized the extent his hatred went.

Rowan scowls as he lays Aelin down next to their daughter. "Ress is young and foolish. I have forgiven a lot of his hostility and ignored most of his juvenile antics, but Aelin, I can't forgive this."

"He should never have said those things to Dell." Ress's words linger in her head. She tried to do right by her title and live up to her parent's legacy. Aelin took a lot of pride in listening to the demands of her people and tending to their problems personally. But the odds of Ress being the only one to feel this way are slim. Did they wish she'd never returned? Was she arrogant to take the crown just because it was her inheritance? She'd never had the formal training as ruler and relied a lot on Rowan to help manage foreign affairs. Despite the loss of her fire, many still feared her and considered her a murderer. No matter how hard she tried, Aelin's history as Adarlan's Assassin proceeded her.

Tears burn Aelin's eyes, and Rowan's scowl deepens. "He should have never spoken of you like that at all."

Aelin shakes her head, "It's his right to think what he wants. Maybe he has a point."

"No." Rowan growls, and Dell flinches in her sleep. Taking a deep breath, Rowan softens his voice. "He's wrong, Aelin. Ress was wrong to scare Dell, and he has no right to demean everything you've sacrificed. You've suffered for your people."

"I closed the lock because I had to Rowan," Aelin argues. "That doesn't automatically make me a good queen. What if I'm failing?"

Rowan pulls their duvet up to Aelin's chin, and Dell instinctively snuggles to her mother's side. Her daughter was a leach for warmth, and Aelin could feel her remaining flames writhing in her veins agitated.

"You are a wonderful ruler, Fireheart." Rowan bends down and kisses her lips reverently. "I've met my fair share of emperors, kings, and queens. None of them have given up so much to better the lives of their people. They care for you in return."

Rowan steps away from the bed, and Aelin makes a displeased noise. "Where are you going so early in the morning."

"I'm awake now. I feel like a flight through Oakwald. Go to sleep, and when you wake up, I'll bring my females breakfast," Rowan pulls on a plain white tunic. "Sleep, love. You both need your rest."

Rowan can read her too well. Aelin can feel her eyes drooping despite how much she wants to deny it. "Very well, but there better be tea and pastries."

As Aelin drifts back to sleep, she swears that a mischievous smile passes across her mate's face.

~~~

"Aelin," Maeve twirls a lock of blonde hair in her fingers. "Where are the keys?"

Cairn twists the blade in her thigh again, and Aelin screams, "screw yourself."

Aelin writhes beneath the pain and the dark queen's gaze. Her torturer goes to twist the blade again, but Maeve holds up a hand. "Wait. There is a smarter way to go about this."

"I won't tell you anything," Aelin gasps, the blood seeping from her thigh pools onto the table. "There is nothing you can do."

"Not even to spare the princess?" Maeve smiles as the cell door opens. Connall walks into the room, a squirming girl in his arms.

"Let me go," the girl screams, and the air in the room turns frigid. Her blonde hair whips around as she twists and fights. The little girl's head turns, and she freezes when she catches sight of Aelin. "Mama?"

"Adelia?" Aelin asks, confused. "You can't be here. You aren't supposed to be here." With renewed energy, Aelin thrashes against her bonds and bares her teeth at Maeve.

Maeve takes Adelia from Connall and strokes her hair. "Such a pretty one."

"This isn't real," Aelin hisses. "I wasn't pregnant when you took me. Adelia was born in Terresan."

Maeve hums a sympathetic note, "It seems you're confused." Aelin fights as the dark queen sits with a frozen Adelia in her lap. "Begin again, Cairn."

A hot iron is lain against Aelin's neck, and Adelia's screams rattle the stone chamber.

~~~

Aelin wakes with a gasp. Her chest is seizing in uncontrollable fits, and little hands cup the sides of her face.

"Mama?" Adelia's concerned face hovers over Aelin's. "Why are you crying?"

Relief washes over her at the sight of her daughter, safe and sound. She tries to take deeper breaths, but her body fights against her. The baby in her womb squirms uncomfortably. Aelin feels guilt that they are so subject to her moods. She tries to open her mouth to speak, consol her frightened daughter, but Aelin can't get any words out.

"Daddy!" Dell screams, frightened tears gathering in the corner of her eyes.

Rowan bursts through the door, "Dell?"

Adelia sniffles and kisses Aelin's face sadly, "Daddy, what's wrong with Mama?"

Aelin grabs at her chest, trying to ease the tightness there. She was scaring her daughter. What kind of mother would do that? Rowan sits beside her, and a cool wind goes up her nose and fills her lungs.

"Fireheart," Rowan lifts Adelia and sits beside her. "Is this a sick day?"

It was the code they'd come up with for the days when the past came back to haunt them. When the turmoil in their mind forces their bodies to rebel, and they can't seem to put on their usual facades. It used to shame Aelin, the days she couldn't rise from bed and do her duty. But her mate's unwavering love soon cracked that lie and eased her burden. Rowan had convincing arguments. Aelin's people needed their queen at her best, and on sick days, she wasn't able to give that to them. Their court was strong. They wouldn't allow Terresan to fall while she recovered. Aelin deserved time to heal.

Rowan must have been able to tell that she wouldn't be able to settle herself this time as his winds continued their push and pull in her chest. "Yes," she rasps dejectedly.

Dell buries her face into Rowan's shoulder. Her mate rests a hand on the side of her face and soothes her cheek. "To whatever end, Aelin. We will get through this just as we do everything else."

Rowan kisses the side of Dell's face. "Little love, do you think you can go to the kitchens and have someone bring Mama tea?"

That fae instinct to fuss rears its head in their child. Adelia perks up at the opportunity to do something useful. "Yes!"

Rowan sets her on the floor, and she takes off in a blur of untamed hair and swishing skirts. They wince as a gust of wind slams the doors of their chambers against the wall.

"She's a handful," Rowan talks, aware of the soothing effect his voice has on her. "But we always knew our children would be. I can't wait to see what kind of chaos our son brings into our lives."

Aelin wraps her arms around him as the remnants of her dreams finally fade away. "You think it's a boy?"

"I know so," Rowan pinches her side, and Aelin smiles. He'd also been confident that their first child would be a girl. His smugness after Adelia's birth was unbearable.

"Rowan," Aelin whispers. "Can we just lay here today?"

"I could never deny you anything," Rowan leans against their headboard and kicks off his shoes. "You don't need to ask, Aelin. It's okay to take time for yourself."

"What if I'm just proving Ress right?" The insecurity slips from her lips before she can stop them. "What if there is someone more capable?"

"Ress won't be a problem anymore," Rowan rests a hand against her bump, and the baby withing kicks at it, bringing a smile to his face.

Aelin narrows her eyes, "What have you done?"

"Nothing that anyone will blame me for," Rowan assures. "He would be in a lot more trouble if the rest of the court learned what he said in front of Dell. Ress should be grateful I didn't do a lot worse."

Aelin sighs, "I don't understand why I can't just let it all go. Why do I allow myself to be so haunted?"

"It's not that simple," Rowan shakes his head. "I'm hundreds of years old, and no matter how many years pass, there are things from my past that haven't healed. The mind is different from the body, and sometimes it takes longer for it to recover. There is nothing wrong with that. You gave up everything for the people you loved."

"Because I had to," Aelin contradicts.

A hardness comes over Rowan, "because no one else could."

Rowan rolls over her body into a plank and looks deep into her eyes. "No one else that day would have made the same sacrifices out of love. Not even me. I was too selfish to let you go. You gave up everything, and by the strength in your soul, you came home to me. In all my decades, I have never met someone so remarkable, and I never will again. Take as many years as you need to recover, Aelin. This world owes a debt to you, and I will make sure it pays. You deserve every happiness."

His hand threads through one of hers and drags it up to rest on the bump between them.

Happiness.

Dell darts back into their room, a cup of tea sloshing in her hands as she runs. "Daddy, I put extra sugar in it. Uncle Fen is coming with more cups, but I made this one special."

Rowan pulls away from her, and the laughter on his face is contagious.

Aelin smiles and accepts the tea from Dell's hands. She even manages a few sips without cringing from the sweetness. Fenrys follows behind her shortly and sets a fresh cup covertly on her bedside table.

There may be hard days, Aelin realizes as her family gathers around her, but the love they showed her every day made it all worth it.

#throne of glass #rowaelin #rowaelinmonth #rowan whitethorn #aelin galathynius #fanfic #tog #angst #rowan x aelin #ptsd #sick day #baby fic #canon #sjm #sjmaas

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manonblaqkbeak · 3 years

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The Little Folk and the Heir

me again lol. i completely forgot that i had written this, i was inspired to write a bit of a mama aelin fic after my papa rowan fic.

on another note, i’m writing a part two of Family Time and hopefully i’ll have it out in a couple of days.

enjoy! :)

1415 words

Aelin loved these moments when it was just her and Elentiya-Fenrys. These moments helped her with the fact that she was a mother now. Elentiya was four months old and Aelin still had moments where she couldn't quite believe that she was lucky enough to conceive, lucky enough to become a mother. But in the darkest moments when Aelin's mind wouldn't stop racing, she wondered if she was still in Maeve's clutches, and that this was simply a dream created by the Valg Queen. It felt like something she would do.

Aelin often had to remind herself that Maeve was dead, and that Cairn wasn't hiding in the shadows, waiting for her with a whip in his hands. Sometimes Rowan helped to remind her that they were dead and that the Valg were no longer a problem. That Aelin was safe and alive and that Elentiya was real, and not some cruel figment of imagination created by Maeve.

Shaking her head to remove those thoughts and to focus on the summer day, Aelin brushed a kiss on her daughters head, who was safely bound to Aelin's body in a thick velvet wrap. Aelin kept a hand against her daughters back and in Aelin's free hand was a picnic basket, with a picnic blanket tied around the handles.

Rowan would be joining them eventually, but was currently stuck in a meeting. Aelin had offered to wait or to postpone the picnic for a later date, but Rowan wouldn't hear that, and had insisted that Aelin go, to have these moments with Elentiya and that he would join them soon.

Finding an elm tree to rest against, Aelin set up the picnic. It wasn't as impressive as the ones that she and Rowan had in the past, but a much smaller one. It was simply a small outing for Elentiya, to spend time as a family, to further grow the bond between the three of them.

Sitting down, Aelin undid the wrap and gently placed Elentiya on her back, immediately smiling as her baby stretched her arms and legs, and began her wiggling. She was a very wiggly baby, Aelin noted months ago, never really lying still. Aelin and Rowan knew that once she started crawling that it was going to be an entertaining time keeping her out of trouble and out of things that she shouldn't be touching.

Aelin nibbled on some of the foods and watched her daughter explore the world from her spot, her pine-green eyes wide and curious. Aelin reached out and tickled her belly with her free hand, her laughter one of the most beautiful sounds she'd ever heard.

But once Elentiya stopped wiggling and started grunting, Aelin knew it was time to feed her. Four months later, and she and Rowan were started to realise which sounds meant what. The grunting and small amount of huffing meant that she was hungry, the grunting whine meant that she had soiled herself and if she was left too long that way, it turned into a howling cry that tugged at Aelin's heart. Crying could mean anything, however, sometimes it was all of those things in one.

Aelin grew used to breastfeeding roughly two months ago. At first, it was one of the strangest sensations she ever experienced, to actually feel the pull of her milk leaving her breasts. She really wouldn't get used to how aggressive Elentiya could be at times, and Aelin wasn't looking forward to when she grew her teeth.

Rowan arrived eventually, a sigh of relief escaping him as he sat down behind her, wrapping his arms around Aelin, his fingers running gently through Elentiya's small patch of hair. He told her how the meeting went, but how he was happy to be out of there, how he'd much rather spend time with his favourite girls instead of those stuffy old shirts.

Aelin smiled warmly at that, because while Aelin loved the moments when it was just her and her daughter, she very much loved it when it was the three of them. This was her family. Something she never thought she would be blessed enough to have.

It took Aelin a moment too long to realise that the entire forest went quiet, that there was no bird chirping anymore, that the little critters that lived in the woods had stopped their movements.

She knew that silence, and from the way that Rowan still as well, he knew it too, and turning their heads to the right where a thick bush was, Aelin spotted the eyes of the Little Folk. Glancing upwards, she spotted the Little Folk in the leaves, as well. And in the Kingsflame, too.

She knew what they were here for, and when Elentiya was done feeding and Aelin had cleaned her mouth and burped her, Aelin rested Elentiya against her arm and pointed out the faeries to her daughter. Aelin knew that she really wouldn't understand what she was seeing, but that didn't stop Aelin from doing it, however.

Slowly, the Little Folk in the bush came closer on silent feet. One was a dark iridescent blue, its skin made of scales and little black wings. The one next to it had silver scales and clear wings that turned into rainbows when the sun caught it. Many others came behind them, all different, all alluring in their otherworldly ways.

The Little Folk in the trees and Kingsflame moved closer, eyes wide and curious, just like Elentiya's.

Some stared at Elentiya, some looked at Aelin and Rowan, sensing the powers that thrummed through their veins.

“Her name is Elentiya-Fenrys,” Aelin said softly, “she was born four months ago at ten-thirty-two in the morning.” She told them the date, and realised that they probably all ready knew when she was born, and probably when and where she was conceived as well, as they always seemed to know things that others didn't. “She likes being sung to and visiting the gardens. She's also inherited Rowan's scowl and has finally discovered that she loves sleeping. Fenrys likes to call her Little Fen, much to Rowan's annoyance, but I think it suits her.” Rowan huffed from behind her, but didn't deny it. She knew that deep down, he liked the nickname.

The dark blue one came close enough to touch Rowan's knee, its head cocked as it looked at Elentiya with its dark eyes.

“I'm sorry that I haven't brought her to you until now, but it's been an adjustment for us.” Rowan kissed her cheek at that. It had been a rough start, with how Aelin's emotions had been all over the place during her recovery and the healing process had been a headache to deal with.

From behind her, more Little Folk arrived, a dark green scaled faerie holding a little crown made of twigs and tiny purple flowers threaded through it. The green faerie passed it to the dark blue one, and with gentle movements, placed the crown on Elentiya's head, the twigs rested against her tuft of golden hair.

Elentiya laughed, the sound like twinkling bells. The faeries laughed along with her, the sounds like nothing Aelin had ever heard.

“Thank you,” Rowan said, the faeries eyes snapping to him. The Little Folk especially liked Rowan, and would often follow him when he would go to the forest. Aelin suspected that they knew that he was the most powerful Fae male in the world and was in awe by that power.

“Yes, thank you,” Aelin said, cuddling Elentiya closer to her. The flowers scent was pretty, it reminded Aelin of honey.

They stayed for a little while longer, but eventually moved out of sight, but they were still there, watching, their glowing eyes blinking from time to time.

Rowan took Elentiya from Aelin, cradling her to him, telling her how pretty she looked with her new crown. Aelin hoped that the crown would keep for a long time, so that Elentiya could always have a reminder of how she important she was—not just to the everyday civilians of Terrasen, but to the Little Folk as well.

When Aelin and Rowan started the walk back home an hour and a half later, they came across two more crowns crafted of twigs and flowers. Rowan gently placed them on their heads, the eyes of the Little Folk watching them the entire time.

They would have to bring Elentiya out here more often.

Elentiya was, after all, their heir.

#rowaelin #rowaelin fanfiction #the little folk

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skybristle · 2 years

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i KNOW this is a cookey run blog. but also. it's My blog and i do whatever i want all of the time actually. i'm still into cr pls don't unfollow me this just has my brain in a chokehold for the night SO!!! my original story!! its kinda bare-bones as im still figuring it out but DO ASK QUESTIONS ABT IT PRETTY PLEASE i need to expand on the world once again below the cut just because it's REALLY LONG.

theres this kingdom with a name i havent figured out yet BUT. obviously being monarch is framed as the best position, something so deeply important, you have so, so much power. so when kyra's parents perish [for. Some reason? once again this is a massive wip] she takes the crown and,,, begins feeling a presence in the back of her mind. slowly,,, she feels it creeping deeper. at first she believes it's the thing guiding all monarchs, vaguely talked about but kept deeply secret to those outside the highest circles. nobody rlly knows what it is or the extent of it,,, but whatever it is kyra hates it. she watches in horror as her mouth says things she didn't think of, it's presence becomes overbearing, her hands move without her calling, and she desprately fights it off. she comes to calling it the Mind. think like,,, queen wasp and the breath of evil type deal kinda but before she becomes a complete vessel to it. kyra's resistance angers the Mind. no heir is this fiesty. spoiled brat. too much will to break. if kyra won't settle down, best to attack at the root of her power. the court. there's a guild of mercenaries who work for the crown, and are as established as if they were the army itself. it's run by a pair of lovers, who suddenly start casting their council votes into tyrannical overbearing things, distance themselves, and eventually lose their minds completely and bring the blade on themselves, leaving their sole heir to take up the family business. cairn. and cairn, always the sharpest and most cunning, sees this for what it is. a murder. and they won't rest until they find their killer. putting the family business in the hands of their sole friend, they set off. the mysterious, fox-masked mouse stalks the trail of this mind illness and all things point to the source being the queen herself. cairn doesn't know why kyra would want her best force dead, but what matters is she did it. so they break into the royal quarters, murder on their mind,,, only to find the queen, sobbing and lamenting over losing herself to the Mind, not wanting to become a shell for this fucked up force. staring into a broken mirror. cairn feels deep sympathy, but also, now they have a lead to the true culprit. and they offer as such to kyra. they find the source of the Mind, and eradicate it, securing cairn's revenge and kyra's freedom. kyra doesn't hesitate for a moment, even if she fears cairn could become the next victim. THIS IS WHERE MY SOLID IDEAS END. cairn IS immune to the Mind, i haven't decided how exactly because IDK WHAT THE MIND REALLY IS YET??? the idea im running with rn is the Mind needs to see the eyes of the victim, and cairn's mask prevents that. or they're just built different idk. they go on a quest to find the core of the Mind and kill it, teaming up for convience alone but,,, they get along very well. and. oops! sapphics!!!!!!!!!!!!! LOVE WIN. other misc notes i couldn't fit in: kyra is very tall and regal, peircing gaze and robs and silver hair. all people have animal traits in this world, and i'm still deciding on making the royal family snow owls OR snow leopards. idk yet HFSDKLFDSJ CAIRN is smol but agile, with knives and shit probably. they wear reds with spotted black and white koi patterns and are never seen without their signature fox mask, even in sleep. they are also based off a mouse, but not a specific species [to add to their mystery factor lol] SORRY if this isn't interesting lol but if you like it PLEASEEE send asks abt it i will cry.

#sky rambles #oc #original character #original story

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newtonsheffield · 3 years

Note

Hellooooo hope you’re doing good! Basically I went to London today and I really wanted to go to the Natural History Museum so I could find myself a Goose- alas I didn’t end up going to the museum, thus not finding a Goose on my travels. Sigh. So I was wondering if instead I could request some Eddie & Goose content? Thank youuuu ✨

Ohhhhh Man! I tell you what, I need to start walking quickly round corners in Museums and see what shakes out! If anyone tries this method of securing a husband, please let me know. Enquiring minds and all that! Aaaaand I hope you had fun in London even without getting to meet a handsome Gander. Man, I miss going to big cities. I live in a small town (Pop.5000) which is probably an hour and a half from a regional city (Cairns, QLD if anyone is curious, Right off the Great Barrier Reef) but the next like... Capital (Big) city is a two day drive from me or a 3 hour plane ride so... Australia is a behemoth country and there's nothing there!

ANYWAY! Eddie and Goose, Beautiful little beans. Do you wanna see Goose's birthday?

Play the theme song 🎶 Eddie and Goose, Eddie and Goose, two little sunshine kiiiids 🎶

As embarrassing as it was to say, none of Edwina's ex boyfriends had ever celebrated her birthday, she honestly hadn't even wanted them too which certainly should have been a sign that they'd had so many red flags they were practically wearing a red poncho, which meant, in turn, she'd actually never celebrated a boyfriend's birthday. So maybe it was stupid but when her fiancé had smiled happily and said "I don't usually do anything for birthdays, I just buy a cupcake and call it a day if I can't get out to my mum's." She'd been a little disappointed. She knew he didn't mean it as a rejection, but even so it stung a little.

But even so she'd spent weeks trying to decide on the perfect gift for Matthew. She'd asked Kate's advice, nervously hovering in her kitchen as Anthony flitted around his pregnant wife, in full mother hen mode once more. "I got Anthony engraved cufflinks the first Valentines we were together." Kate said, humming happily, kissing her husband's cheek when he placed a muffin in front of her. Edwina scoffed. "Cufflinks?! Jesus Kate, you two are so boring!" She said a little irritatedly "Hey!" Kate said indignantly, "He needed them, his broke!" Anthony nodded, a little indignantly at her. Edwina rolled her eyes, "Sorry, you didn't tell me they were a practical gift. How romantic." "I wear them every day, and I like looking at them knowing Kate picked them for me." Anthony said pointedly, rolling his own eyes in response before scooping a wriggling Edmund up. "Here's an idea Eddie, why don't you give Goose back your engagement ring for his birthday?" Anthony chuckled to himself as Kate rolled her eyes, and Edwina swept from the room with a "You two are useless!" and a rude hand gesture.

Even so, something about what Anthony had said had stuck in her mind, and now she was left hovering nervously in the doorway of her bedroom, The sandwich cake she'd made from Anthony's recipe balanced on a plate, the wrapped box burning against her hand. He was just stirring when she entered the room, his eyelids flickering open slowly, scanning the room for her, the soft crooked smile that had first made her heart skip slowly dawning on his face as his hand groped around for his glasses.

"Happy Birthday to you. Happy Birthday to you. Happy Birthday dear Matty, Happy birthday to you." Edwina sung lightly as she made her way through the bedroom, crouching slightly as she held the cake out to him, his sleepy smile causing the butterflies in her stomach to beat more furiously. "Make a wish." she whispered softly as he blew out the candles leaving a soft kiss on her cheek. "You really didn't have to go to all the trouble." he said, leaving the cake on the bedside table in favour of tugging her down to sit across his legs. "That's a bake off winning cake thank you very much Matthew Bagwell. Paul Hollywood gave me a handshake for that cake. Many a man would think themself very lucky to have me back that cake for them." she said teasingly, unable to stop the smile on her face. "I don't doubt that at all." Silence echoing softly through the room as their eyes caught softly.

And then, "I got you this as well." Edwina said awkwardly, forcing the box into his hand before she could lose her nerve. He stared curiously down at it "Eddie I said you didn't have to get me anything." He said softly, something like disbelief in his voice. Edwina scoffed, "Can you just open it and tell me if you want me to return it before I lose my nerve entirely?" Matthew stared curiously at her for a second before he tugged lightly on the bow unwrapping it painfully slowly, his hand smoothing over the box before he finally opened it. He stared down at the watch silently, his finger tracing the engraving on the bezel From Edwina to Matthew Forever and Always. Edwina could feel her her teeth cutting into her bottom lip as the silence stretched on.

"It's okay if you don't like it." She said softly, nerves clawing at her chest, "I can take it back and get another one, or maybe something else? I just... I know you don't wear a watch and I thought maybe it's because you didn't have one, but if it's because you don't like them them-" Matthew cut off her rambling with a soft kiss, and she felt herself relax instantly against him. His voice shook slightly when he pulled back. "How could I not love this?" His eyes were shining behind his glasses, "I was just a little taken aback because honestly... I think this watch probably cost more than I make in six months." Edwina started to protest but he shook his head softly. "I'm not rejecting it, Honey I love it. And I'm going to wear this so much you'll be sick of the sight of it."

But honestly every time she saw it clasped firmly on his wrist she got a little thrill. Even more so when Anthony begrudgingly said the next week. "That's a nice watch, Goose." and Matthew grinned brightly, his arm around her waist. "Thanks! Eddie got it for my birthday!" Kate's head shot up. "Oh? A practical gift, Edwina. How romantic!" She said laughing at Matthew's perplexed expression, as Edwina shot her sister a rude hand gesture.

#bridgerton and sons au #edwina x matthew #edwina x goose #edwina sheffield #edwina sharma #matthew goose bagwell #goose's little birthday #some anthony and kate clown action #molly's asks and answers

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mytardisisparked · 3 years

Text

Hi this is an entirely self-indulgent fic and I have zero apologies to make about it.

Based on this post.

Enjoy.

-------

The Problem with Kenobis

Satine didn’t hate political dinners, per se. Really, she actually enjoyed the dancing and the food and the lively conversation. What she actually hated was the subversion - the political maneuvering and manipulating that left her feeling slimy and ready to quit politics entirely. Mostly, she supposed, she hated being a pawn.

Nevertheless, she was willing to risk the more disgusting side of politics for the sake of the food and fun, which is why she attended the crown prince of Mon Cala’s birthday party with little hesitation.

The room was lush, a glass dome let the guests admire the waters of the capital city from the safety of dryness as they munched on hors d'oeuvres and danced intermittently. Upon arrival, the duchess had not seen anyone she knew very well and, not feeling entirely sociable before having had at least one martini, she grabbed her choice drink and settled herself into a corner until something interesting happened, content to simply watch the fish swim by outside.

“It’s almost like a reverse-fishbowl, isn’t it?” A musical voice interrupted her thoughts.

Satine turned to find herself looking at a young, ginger woman. She was about the same height as Satine and clad in lovely, flowing robes of black and gold that still managed to look quite practical on her solid frame. She was smiling gently and there was an almost familiar glint of mischief in her silver eyes.

“Yes,” Satine smiled back before turning back to the ocean view, “I suppose it is.”

She saw the woman move to stand next to her out of the corner of her eye. “You are Duchess Satine, are you not?”

Satine turned her head to look at the woman again, studying her carefully. There was something familiar about her, but Satine couldn’t quite put her finger on where they might have met. “Yes. I’m afraid I’m not sure of your name.”

The woman turned back to her and stuck out a hand to shake. “I’m Senator Mri-Lan Cairn of Stewjon. I’m afraid we haven’t had the pleasure of meeting, though I’m quite familiar with your history.”

Satine raised a brow as she took Senator Cairn’s hand. “Oh?” She still couldn’t quite place the redhead but perhaps she had seen the young senator on the news - Stewjon did ring a bell. “I assume you are part of the Republic then.”

Senator Cairn inclined her head. “Indeed. I must say, Duchess, I’m fascinated by your take on pacifism. The fact that you managed to subdue a warrior race into such a political stance without any blood drawn is quite the remarkable feat.”

“Thank you, although, it wasn’t without the spilling of blood entirely.” Satine lowered her gaze. “It took a civil war that nearly wiped my people out to start convincing them to stop fighting.”

The senator’s eyes grew dim. “I’m sorry, that can’t have been easy.”

“It wasn’t.”

They stood quietly for a moment. A waiter walked by with a tray of champagne and Senator Cairn took one, drinking it in one go.

“Well, Duchess, I must say that I am somewhat surprised to see you at a Republic function.” The senator smiled. “Not that I’m complaining, of course; I’ve desired to meet you for some time.”

Satine couldn’t help but grin. She usually hated compliments as they felt ingenuine but, as cheeky as this young woman seemed, Satine could tell the compliment was entirely genuine. “You flatter me, Senator. I’m here because I have a good friendship with the royal family of Mon Cala.” She paused for a moment. “You may call me Satine, if you would prefer.”

Her face lit up. “Thank you, Satine, you may call me Mri-Lan.”

Satine smiled back. “Alright, Mri-Lan.”

The two stuck to each other’s side for the rest of the evening, swapping gossip about other party guests, laughing over drinks, debating politics, bantering about the news, and stealing as many finger foods as they could manage. The longer they hung out, however, the more and more Satine felt she had met the young woman before; everything about her - her face, her eyes, her expressions, even her manner of speaking - engulfed Satine in a peculiar sense of deja vu.

As the party grew quieter, couples settling into slow dances or corners to talk, Mri-Lan and Satine found a table and some crackers to enjoy in peace.

“Do you have family, Mri-Lan?”

The redhead smiled. “I do. My husband and I just got married a few months ago.” She flicked a button on her wrist communicator and a blue holo of a dashing young man popped up. “This is Gen-Dar.”

Satine leaned in and looked him over. “He’s quite handsome.”

“He is.” Mri-Lan beamed. “I also have a couple of brothers.” She swiped to a new holo image of a massive, burly man. “This is Har-Gar, my eldest brother and this,” she swiped once more, “is my younger brother, Sur-Kan.” The boy was a few years younger than Mri-Lan and was as slender as his elder brother was wide.

“They’re so different.” Satine marveled. “And yet you all still manage to look alike.”

Mri-Lan grinned. “It’s a family trait.”

As Satine studied the picture of Sur-Kan, something hit her. “Do- do all Stewjonians hyphenate their names?”

The senator nodded. “Yes, it's part of our culture.”

Satine took another sip of her martini, her throat suddenly feeling dry. “Mri-Lan, what was your maiden name?”

“It was Kenobi.”

It was all Satine could do not to spit out her drink.

She looked at Mri-Lan with wide eyes. “Is that a common last name on Stewjon?”

The senator gave her a half-smile. “Is that really the question you want to ask?”

Satine lifted her chin. “You’re related to Obi-Wan Kenobi, aren’t you?”

Mri-Lan smiled. “Yes, he is my second older brother.”

Suddenly, Satine’s entire night made sense - her easy conversation with Mri-Lan even in the midst of their political differences, their friendly banter, the familiarity of Mri-Lan’s smile and gestures.... even the timbre of the senator’s voice was the same as Obi-Wan’s even though her accent was quite different.

“Oh,” was all Satine could bring herself to say.

The senator smiled. “You know Obi-Wan quite well, don’t you?”

Satine swallowed. “Yes, he is a dear friend.”

Mri-Lan gave her a peculiar look. “What is he like?”

Satine paused, feeling a pang in her heart at the longing she saw in the young woman’s eyes. Memories of Satine’s own sibling, Bo Katan, bubbled up, nearly choking her. She shoved those emotions down to where they usually rested deep inside her mind.

“To be honest, he’s a lot like you just...” she grinned wryly, “a great deal more infuriating.”

Mri-Lan laughed. “You haven’t seen me at my worst, Satine.”

The blonde woman smiled. “Thankfully, you haven’t seen me at mine either.”

“A toast then,” Mri-Lan held up her glass, “to new friends and old ones.”

Satine clinked her glass against hers. “And to hopefully seeing more of each other in the future.” She took her sip and studied Mri-Lan’s face. “Perhaps I could tell you more about your brother.”

Mri-Lan turned her hopeful face to Satine. “Thank you,” she said quietly. “I’d like that.”

Satine watched as Mri-Lan finished her drink. With a smile, Satine finished her own, thinking about how much Obi-Wan would like his sister. For a moment, she contemplated introducing them but then, reality crashed in and made her realize the chaos that would cause; images flooded her mind of the two Kenobis teaming up on her to tease and banter. That would never do - Obi-Wan was a handful as it was and to add a smaller, female version of him would just be too many Kenobis.

Exactly why Korkie and Obi-Wan could also never meet.

#Obitine #too many kenobis #i might make this a series IDK #just watchign satine and anakin meet various kenobi siblings #and cousins #and obi-wan not realizing he is related to any of them #obi-wan kenobi #obi-wan #satine kryze #korkie is a kenobi

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king-paimon · 3 years

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HnK Post Chapter 95 Thoughts: 3 Months later...

Hi guys…. I’m so sorry for being away for so long and delaying this post. I can’t believe March is already almost over. This year is going by way too quickly, but honestly, is that really a surprise? I was working on this post back in January and was planning on posting it then, but life has been more busy than usual for me. I still feel really bad for promising to post this and not being able to keep it. But here it is now! I don’t know how many people will see it since the Houseki no Kuni tags have been pretty quiet, but you know what? I’m kind of glad I didn’t post this post right away because I wanted to properly talk about my feeling about the chapter, the series, and Ms. Haruko Ichikawa herself, and doing that when I was still emotionally charged wouldn’t have done this post justice. And though I don’t think my thoughts overall has changed too much, I’d still like to share my thoughts, if you are interested in hearing them.

This will be another really, really long post, so be prepared! I’m definitely going to be doing a lot of edits on this one so please bare with me if anything doesn’t make sense. Please let me know if anything I said is too confusing.

Anywhoo~ here it goes:

My view of the story at this point

I had to go over my last post to see if any of my original opinions had changed and, well, for the most part, not too much. Most of the gripes I have with the story is still about the same, particularly the remaining gems becoming lunarian and the many implications that comes with it, though I would say some of my anger has subsided. I’m still bothered by it, though. I understand why the story would go in this direction and why the characters, especially Euclase, would choose to make this drastic decision to change themselves, since that was they ultimately wanted: to no longer live in fear of being destroyed and live peacefully, even if it means changing what they all were. It’s still bothers me a lot, mainly because I can relate this to similar real life events of people erasing their cultural and even racial identity as a means of survival in a different and so-called “better” society. I remember in one of my very first posts in the fandom, I stated how uncomfortable it made me that the first moon gems were totally fine assimilating into Moon society and were wanting to completely change themselves to fit in this society, even if it meant removing what made them who they were. For characters who didn’t like their original identity like Cairngorm (or Welegato but I’m not calling them that), or felt stunted in their original society like Dia, and found solace in Moon society, I can see how this transition as a liberating thing…but only to an extent. The thought of literally going to the extremes of changing yourself inside and out, erasing all traces of what made you “you”, while also destroying all old meaningful relationships in the process, to live in a place you were conditioned to be believe is the better option for you…It hits a little too close to home.

I’m talking about cultural assimilation and cultural destruction, where racial and cultural minorities sometimes go through drastic measures in order to assimilate into the “better” society, even if it means completely erasing their original identities physically and mentally. I’m not saying all forms of assimilation is inherently bad and I’m not saying that you must stick with your cultural upbringing for it’s a part of your identity; that is a toxic view and it’s especially bad if you experienced terrible things because of that upbringing. I’m trying to talk about the extreme cases of assimilation when these individuals are essentially convinced to go through extreme measures to fit in to the “better” society because their old identity was “bad”, and by completely changing themselves, from their appearance to even their name, then they can finally be happy in the so-called “better” society. I’ve heard of people going through such lengths and it’s heartbreaking. It’s very cultish and that’s how I viewed the transition of the gems becoming Lunarians, with everyone accepting the change with seemingly no issue and especially after Aechmea literally gave Cairngorm that new name. It would have been one thing if Cairn picked that name themselves, but it was all Aechmea. The lustrous don’t exist anymore and everyone is ok with it. The gem society that we knew, at this point of time, is gone now. It was far from perfect but the fact that it’s gone is sad and disturbing to me.

My view of the key characters of the chapter

Now that I stated how I feel about the gems essentially being erased, the next question is how do I feel about these characters themselves?

Conflicted. Very, very conflicted, and even a bit disappointed and upset, especially with certain characters more than others. But surprisingly, even after seeing how the turn of events turned out for all of them while Phos is stuck on Earth alone… I don’t hate them. Yeah. After everything that has happened, I currently don’t hate the gems… For now, anyways. It all depends on what happens next.

But the one character that I feel the most conflicted with is Adamant, especially after his interaction with Aechmea. Part of me is confused by Adamant’s and Aechmea’s seemingly friendly interaction because of Adamant’s past actions and words, for they don’t seem to belong to someone who would be on friendly terms with someone who they were actively resisting against before. I’m talking about all of the times that Adamant would fight off the Lunarians but also that moment in Chapter 85:

(Chapter 85, Pages 10-11)

After seeing things like this, I just find it odd how Adamant’s interactions with Aechmea are so friendly now. And with the horrifying implication that everything that had happened was planned between them, which also doesn’t make sense, I’m not sure what to think. Maybe Adamant’s changed attitude relates to him being free of his burdens and physical body? This could explain the change in attitude, but it still feels… off. Maybe I’m looking too much into this. I don’t want to hold hope that when he and the other gems were transformed that Aechmea somehow manipulated their memories to make them more compliant, even though it was made clear that memories were going to be lost in the process. Maybe this will be explained more in the next chapter, but I won’t hold my breath for that either. To me, this just made me feel weird about Adamant because remember, I was both sad and relieved when he disintegrated in the previous chapter because I really liked his character. Now though, I’m not so sure. I still don’t hate him or any of the other gems, but I’m definitely on the fence with him more so than the others. I certainly don’t hate Euclase like many other fans; I didn’t agree with their past actions (or rather lack of actions), but like with Phos and other characters, they did what they felt was right given what they knew. Still not excusing it, but I understand why. As for Antarcticite... I’m not sure, honestly. Though I’m glad at least they brought up Phos, I can’t help but feel that their main priority is still Adamant. Out of recently changed characters, Antarcticite is the main character I have the most positive opinion on, but again, that can easily change within the next chapter.

So yeah, I still have mixed feeling about all that has happened that led to this point in the story, and I do have a more negative view of some of them. But regardless of that, I can’t bring myself to downright hate any of the characters. Disappointed with their decisions is one thing, but to hate them with every fiber of my being? No. I don’t think I can. At least for now. The same goes to the Lunarians, too. Hell, even though I’ve said before that I hated Aechmea for how he manipulated Phos and the other gems for personal gain, once again, I don’t think I downright hate him either (though I still want something bad to happen to him.) Aechmea is such an intriguing antagonist that I love to despise.

My view of Haruko Ichikawa at this point

Since the release of chapter 95, I’ve seen a lot of fans post their criticisms of Haruko Ichikawa herself regarding how she’s writing the story and her treatment of the characters. Someone even commented on my chapter post about how they don’t view her story as ‘amazing’ anymore because of her cruel treatment of Phos and the depressing turns in the story. Even popular commentors like @rinboz posted their criticism about what Ms. Ichikawa is doing with her story. As for me, I can agree with some of the comments made to an extent. Some of the choices Ms. Ichikawa made in the story has had me question her a few times; like the mentioned interaction between Aechmea and Adamant as well as the extremely predatorial relationship between Achmea and Cairngorm. I still think that chapter 95 was extremely rushed, especially going through the previous events that were stretched out into nearly 10 chapters. There are many other smaller issues that I personally have when it comes to how Ms. Ichikawa writes her story and characters, but I think the biggest criticism I’ve seen that I agree with is the concern about the current direction of the story. And at this point, the story can only go in so many directions and most of them are leading to anything but a genuinely happy ending for Phos. And it’s pretty depressing that Ms. Ichikawa has some of us pleading for Phos to die so they don’t suffer anymore. I can’t think of any other story that has me wanting the main character to die, not because I hate, but because I don’t want them to be mistreated anymore. This story is nothing but hopelessness.

But you know what’s crazy? I kind of like that.

Maybe Ms. Ichikawa has made me a glutton for tragic stories, or because I’ve been starving for a unique story, but I kind of like that this story hasn’t gone in the predictable, happy route for everything Phos has gone through. If this story were written by someone else, I can picture Phos somehow regaining their appearance and memories, be surrounded by the people who truly cared about them and their enemies dead, and pretty much having the picture-perfect happy ending with no form of problems whatsoever as an award for everything that Phos previously sacrificed. Yeah, this is the ending I’m sure fans want in some shape or form and to a degree, I do too. But to be honest, I’m kind of glad that’s not the story that we’re getting, at least right now. In a weird way, it’s sort of refreshing to have a main character who doesn’t always win in the end, especially after all of the things the character sacrificed.

And I also how the story and it’s characters can be so simple and complexed at the same time, like in her anthology series. To me, this makes Ms. Ichikawa stand out from the many mangaka I’ve followed throughout the years. And because of that, part of me hopes she knows what she’s doing and has something extreme planned for the story’s future.

Now, I don’t want to shoot myself in the foot for still thinking highly of Ms. Ichikawa’s writing; there are still things that I think could have been handled differently, like the mentioned pacing and story details. But for now, those gripes are not too irritating for me and I’m not quite ready to downright say that her story is bad...YET. I want to reserve my final opinion of Ms. Ichikawa as a writer until the end of the series, whenever that will be, because despite how the story has progressed for last several chapters, I’m still enjoying writing. I just hope that when the series does come to an end that Ms. Ichikawa gives us a satisfying end. When it comes to ending a series, how an author does so can really affect how fans view the series and the author, and I think this will be the case for this story, though I’m sure there will be criticism regardless of what kind of end Ms. Ichikawa creates. For me, while I do care about whether Phos and the other characters get the endings they deserve, I just hope it will be told well. I’ve seen too many times really good series ending terribly because the creator didn’t know how to end a series properly. I sincerely hope that won’t be the case with Ms. Ichikawa.

From this point forward

I remember seeing a lot of readers who are upset with how the story has progressed thus far, with some even saying that they were going to drop the series because of how depressing it is. I think everyone who felt this way has every right to feel that way; it’s completely understandable. Houseki no Kuni is definitely not a story for everyone, and it can take an emotional toll on you. I know it certainly affected me that way, and I can’t think of many other series that has done that. It’s been a long since I’ve been so invested in a series and despite the many emotional rollercoasters I’ve felt during parts of the story, I don’t think I will ever say that I regret picking this series up. And despite my mixed feeling about the latest chapter, I want to continue to stick with it. Even if the story continues to spiral in a never-ending pit of despair, I still want to stick with it until it ends. And you know, I think even if this series does have a somber, heartbreaking ending, I think I’d still view the story as overall amazing and I’d still be glad I got into it when I did...Unless Ms. Ichikawa gives us an abrupt, unsatisfying ending. Then that opinion goes out the window.

Until the next chapter comes out...

Other than being busy, I admit that I’m glad to be taking a break from Houseki no Kuni. Despite my many praises, it still takes a lot out of me and I definitely needed that break. And though I personally don’t mind waiting a bit longer, I can’t wait for it to back. I sincerely hope that Ms. Ichikawa doing alright, especially after all of the chaos happening for the past year, and that she enjoys her time away from the series. I hope she’s staying healthy in body and mind, and I’ll wait with bated breath for the next chapter of this story.

Besides this post, I actually had a few post ideas that I want to work on, but because of my schedule, those will have to wait a while. I wanted to make another story prediction post because even though they are sometimes wrong, they are fun to do. I think I’ll wait until the next chapter to come out to make that one. The other post I’ve been somewhat working on is a bit different from my usual post; it’s somewhat of a character analysis/reflection and it’s on a controversial character that while many justifiably hate, I personally can’t. (Can you guess who that is? I’m sure you can!) Because of how many people hate this character, I was not sure if I wanted to write it. But you know what, I’m going to do it anyways. When that post will be done? I have no clue, but this will be an interesting writing exercise for me and I can’t wait share why I don’t hate this character the way many other fans do.

The end!

Well, that’s the end of this post. I hope you enjoyed it. I will likely go over this again at some point but it’s getting really late and I need to get some sleep. I hope everyone is doing well and keeping themselves busy during this series hiatus. Maybe unwind by reading/watching a new series. There are some interesting ones that came out last year and this year. I personally stated watching Wonder Egg Priority. It’s really good but deals with a lot of heavy subject matters, so be warned. I’vve also watched lighter stuff like Lupin the Third (I love this franchise so much) and some of the new shows on Netflix. I would like to see some more stuff but I don’t know what to look for. If you have any recommendations, please feel free to leave a comment.

Until next time, I hope everyone has a pleasant week 😊

#houseki no kuni #land of the lustrous #hnk spoilers #lotl spoilers #hnk #lotl #hnk thoughts #hnk phosphophyllite #hnk chapter 95 #hnk adamant #hnk aechmea #haruko ichikawa #long post #personal opinion #personal thoughts #hnk phos #hnk meta #hnk manga spoilers #hnk spoiler

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kiapet2 · 3 years

Text

where the two ends meet

The newly-elevated Crown Prince Roman knows two things:

First, that his brother is dead.

And second, that it is his fault.

But when Roman journeys into the witch’s forest on a quest of penitence, he discovers that there is more to the story than he could have known. What he finds there may be his salvation— or his ruin.

Takes place after @whenisitenoughtrees‘s fic thrice for another day. Can also be read on its own.

Pairings: Platonic Creativitwins, Background Intrulogical

Word Count: 4,029

Warnings: death mention, grief/mourning, blood and injury, abusive parents

AO3 Link

Nearly a month after his family buries an empty coffin, the newly-elevated Crown Prince Roman slips out from his castle room and walks alone into the forest.

Unlike past evenings, Roman does not turn into the stretch of woods closest to the castle. At this point, he could likely name every rock and tree and still not find what he’s looking for. Instead, he walks in a straight line, heading deeper and deeper into the woods.

There is said to be a witch at the center of this forest, one who preys on the surrounding villages and whom no man should approach lest he meet his end. Roman had once thought to adventure into the woods to slay such a foul creature, but his intention tonight is far different. He has need of help only a wielder of magic can provide.

And if the venture is to end in his death, so be it.

...

Roman hasn’t been walking for long when he becomes aware of someone following him. The feeling comes and goes— a tingling on the back of his neck, like he’s being watched— but as Roman scans the woods around him, he cannot detect any signs of unusual activity.

The third time he feels the presence, Roman comes to a sudden halt and places a hand on the hilt of his sword.

“Show yourself, whoever you are!” he calls, then scans the trees around him for any sign of a response.

“Why have you entered my woods?” an irritated voice says from somewhere behind him.

Roman whirls around and draws his sword in a single, fluid motion.

The person standing behind him raises an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. Roman takes the man in: dark hair, a sharp-featured tan face, and piercing dark blue eyes that seem to peer straight to Roman’s core through a pair of wire-rimmed glasses. Despite the man’s simple clothing, Roman knows with a deep certainty that this is the witch.

Ignoring all his instincts, Roman sheaves his sword and holds out his empty hands in a gesture of peace.

“I have been searching for you,” he says. “I have a request to make of you, and am prepared to reward you well.”

“I don’t make a habit of dealing with royalty,” the witch says coldly.

Roman’s eyes widen in surprise.

“Yes, I know who you are, Prince Roman of Thaylar,” the witch says, “and I am surprised you would dare come here, considering your family history. You are either very brave, or very foolish.”

“Both,” Roman says, “but I mean you no harm. If you would hear me out—”

Dark blue energy forms in the witch’s hand. “I have nothing to hear from you, witch-killer. I would advise that you vacate my premises, before I am forced to take action.”

Roman swallows and takes an involuntary step back. Perhaps he should listen to the witch’s warning, abandon this fruitless quest and return to his bed.

It’s not worth it, his father had said after they found Remus’ trail leading to the forest. He couldn’t have gotten far anyways.

Roman straightens his spine and lifts his chin. He owes this to his brother— owes him so much more than this, but it’s the only thing left that Roman can do.

“I only wish to find my brother’s body,” Roman says, “So that I might bury him. Aid me in this and I will ask of you nothing more.”

The witch seems to search Roman’s face for something, his expression unreadable. Then he nods once, sharply.

“That, I can answer easily enough.”

Without another word, the witch turns on his heel and heads off into the forest. Roman hurries to catch up, biting back the urge to question where they are going. The walk lasts far longer than it feels like it should, and Roman suspects the witch is leading him around in circles so he will not be able to tell how to get into his lair. Or how to get out, some part of his mind whispers. He shoves it aside.

Finally, they reach a small clearing with a wooden cottage that looks surprisingly simple and well-kept for a witch’s lair. The witch leads Roman around the back of the house to an herb garden, stopping at a small pile of stones. For a moment Roman wonders what spell the witch intends to cast here; then the shape of the stones registers fully.

A cairn.

“I found him a little ways out from here,” the witch says. “His ribs had broken and pierced his lungs, and he’d been bleeding internally. It was a miracle he managed to make it even that far.”

Roman lowers himself to his knees and hesitantly places a hand on the upturned earth, trying to comprehend that under it is all that remains of his brother. Even now, it feels like all of this is a terrible dream, and one day he’ll wake up and Remus will be alive and driving him crazy again.

“I am sorry for your loss,” the witch says stiffly.

Roman’s chest feels tight, and he swallows past something lodged in his throat.

“He would like being buried here, by the garden,” he chokes out. “He always went on about how everyone becomes food for worms and fungus eventually. If you were to grow your strangest plants over his grave, it would have made him very happy.”

It feels wrong, to speak of his brother in the past tense.

“Might I ask what happened?”

Roman squeezes his eyes shut, holding back the tears that burn at their corners. He doesn’t deserve to cry, not over this.

“I gave him up as a witch,” he whispers. It’s the first time he’s said it out loud, and the words seem to grate and tear at his throat. “He trusted me with his life, and I betrayed him.”

The silence behind Roman is telling.

“Thank you,” Roman rasps, “For putting him to rest.”

He stays there, kneeling in the dirt, long after the witch has returned inside.

...

Remus cries out as he tumbles into the tower room’s wall, jarring harshly against the rough stone.

“Father,” Remus cries, “Father, wait—”

“You are no son of mine!” Father snarls, lifting Remus by the front of his shirt. “Foul demon!”

Roman’s mind screams at him to do something, to run forward and grab Remus or yell at his father to stop but instead he just stands there, frozen in horror, as in one great motion his father shoves Remus through the tower’s window and dangles him out over open air.

Time seems to slow as Father screams curse after curse in Remus’ face, as Remus clutches at the hands holding him above a dizzying drop. Remus’ gaze slides over to meet Roman’s, and for one terrible moment Roman sees in his eyes pure devastation. The agony of betrayal.

And then Father releases his hold, and Remus is gone.

Roman wakes up screaming.

He rolls over onto his side and curls up in a ball, taking harsh, gasping breaths. It takes a moment for him to register that he’s not standing in the castle tower staring in horror at the empty space where his brother used to be— the space that was right there in front of him as if Roman could have reached out and touched him but he was already gone and it was too late—

Breathe.

Roman closes his eyes and listens. In place of the screams that still ring in his head, he hears only the sound of wind swishing through trees. He reaches a hand out and feels loose dirt beneath him. He’s lying on the ground, outside. Roman opens his eyes and sees a dark sky full of stars.

Perhaps Remus is among those stars now. Would he like that? He’d probably think it was boring, to be honest. The thought brings a slight smile to Roman’s face.

Roman sits up, focusing on his breathing. It takes another moment for him to recognize where he is: the witch’s clearing, right by Remus’s... by the grave. It is dark except for the light of the moon— full, a poor omen. Roman had meant to be home by this time as the forest becomes vastly more dangerous at night, but apparently his many nights of lost sleep have finally caught up to him. There’s no use to it now; he’ll just have to wait for the light of dawn to find his way home.

Father will not be happy when Roman returns after dawn has already broken.

Roman has been much less concerned with keeping his father happy, as of late.

No, what bothers him most is why he’s been allowed to stay here at all. Considering the witch’s initial hostility to him, Roman figured admitting to turning in his own brother for using magic would result in being thrown out at best and murdered in his sleep at worst. And yet here he is, sitting in the witch’s clearing un-murdered.

Roman reaches out and touches Remus’s cairn with reverent fingers. He can’t bring himself to regret falling asleep here, dangerous though it may have been. It feels right to have slept beside his brother one last time.

“Well isn’t this sweet! Roro, I didn’t know you cared so much.”

Roman freezes. He knows that voice. But— but that’s impossible—

Roman scrambles to his feet and turns, heart in his throat.

Remus stands before him, illuminated by the light of the moon. He’s clad in the clothes he died in— Roman would know, he sees them in his dreams every night— and there’s a stain of something brown on his shoulder and neckline that Roman doesn’t particularly want to identify.

Roman gapes. “Re, what— how—”

Remus’ smile is bright, but his eyes are cold. “I think you know, Roman.”

Roman feels the blood drain from his face.

They’ve all heard the legends: spirits of magic-users who roam the earth, invested with their magical power and seeking vengeance on those who wronged them. Roman’s father once taught him the proper ways to... dispose of... witches to prevent such a phenomenon from happening. It was Roman’s least favorite lesson by far.

“There it is!” Remus cheers as the comprehension dawns on Roman’s face.

Roman falls to his knees, trembling.

“Remus,” he breathes, “Remus, I—”

He breaks off, lost for words. Roman has thought about what he would say to Remus if he had the chance dozens of times, dreamed up countless scenarios where he prostrated himself and begged for forgiveness or explained himself in a way Remus would understand. Now that he’s actually here, those dreams seem childish and futile in the face of everything that’s happened.

“So funny story,” Remus says, “I’ve thought it over and someone must have told the king about me, right? But I never practiced where anyone could see, and there’s only one person I ever shared my secret with. The person I always shared everything with. Got any idea who that could be, brother?”

Roman’s stomach feels like lead, and he can’t bring himself to look Remus in the eye.

Remus laughs softly. “That’s what I thought.”

His face twists in sudden fury and he shoots forward, getting in Roman’s face and forcing him to flinch back.

“Do you know how it feels, Roman? To have every bone in your body shattered, shards of your own ribs stabbing your insides until you drown in your own blood? Do you know how it feels to lie helpless and dying on the forest floor, knowing your corpse will stay there forgotten, with you replaced without a second thought? How it feels to be betrayed by your own twin, the one person in the world you’d thought you could trust?”

“Stop!” Roman cries, clutching at his head.

“Aw, is baby Roman too sensitive for all that?” Remus croons mockingly, pacing around him. “Do we need to protect his innocent little ears from the icky details of his brother’s brutal murder?”

Tears gather in Roman’s eyes, and he struggles to keep them from falling.

“Remus, I swear, I never meant for any of this to happen.”

“Then what did you want? Why did you do it, Ro? Did you want my throne that much? Or did you just hate witches more than you loved—”

“No!” Roman protests. “No, Remus, I could never hate you!”

“Then why?” Remus says, and the raw pain that fills his voice is so much worse than the anger. “Why did you tell him?”

Roman’s throat is tight and his eyes burn, but he forces the words out anyways. Remus deserves to know.

“Y-you kept hurting yourself. You’d come in bleeding and half-dead from experimenting with your magic and you wouldn’t see a doctor and, and I thought that one day you were going to kill yourself and it would be my fault for not stopping you. I thought if I— if I told Father, h-he would make you stop—”

Remus laughs bitterly. “You thought old daddy dearest, who has scores of magic users killed every year, would what— let me off with a warning?”

Roman flinches. “You’re his son! I didn’t— he was understanding before when I—”

“He was understanding of you,” Remus says. “You are his son. I’m sure he was thrilled at the chance to get rid of me.”

“I’m sorry.” The words force their way out in a whimper, and Roman’s stomach twists at their inadequacy.

“You’re sorry,” Remus says flatly.

Roman’s response catches in his throat, and instead he just bows his head, refusing to defend himself further. Nothing can make up for what he’s done.

Remus laughs suddenly, loud and manic. He snaps his fingers and mutters under his breath, and Roman is lifted into the air, a gentle pressure holding his arms against his sides with far more control than Remus ever had in life.

Remus gives him a vicious grin. “And what if I said ‘sorry’ wasn’t enough? What if I said I was going to have my vengeance, right here and right now?”

Roman’s tears finally overflow, and with them the pain that has been building ever since Remus went out that window.

“Do it,” he sobs. “Kill me.”

“What?” Remus says, sounding startled.

Roman bawls, not the pretty tears of the heroes in his books, but in wracking sobs that tear at his throat and send streams of tears and snot running down his face.

“Please, just kill me. I killed you. I killed you, and I’m so sorry, I’m sorry I killed you.” He cuts off with another sob. “Do whatever you want with me, please, I deserve it. I deserve it.”

The force holding Roman releases and he drops heavily to the ground. He curls up, chest heaving, and waits for the first blow to fall.

But the touch that falls on his arm isn’t painful; it’s soft and warm. It pulls him up and holds him tightly against a chest that is solid, breathing, beating.

Alive.

“I’m not going to kill you, Roman,” Remus says, his voice strangely choked, and Roman can feel it reverberating through his chest. “You’re my brother.”

Roman’s heart feels like it’s going to pound out of his chest. Remus, he’s... he... how did he—

The world spins, and Roman sees a brief flash of Remus’ worried face before everything goes dark.

...

“Roman! Roman, please!” Remus screams. He clutches at Roman’s hands where they grip his shirt, his face a mask of terror as his legs dangle over nothingness.

Roman fights desperately, screaming from deep within his mind, but his body doesn’t move.

“Why, Roman? I’m your brother!” Remus whimpers, tears gathering in his eyes.

Roman hammers at the boundaries of his mind but is helpless to stop it as his hands steadily, inexorably loosen.

Remus screams again as he slips through Roman’s fingers and falls into the darkness.

“Roman!”

“Roman! Roman, wake up!”

Roman jolts awake, his heart pounding as he gasps for breath.

“Ro? Hey, can you hear me?”

Roman blinks blearily and a face fades into focus above him. Worried red eyes, that ghastly mustache, a white streak in his hair...

“Re?” he croaks.

Remus grins. “There we are!”

“Remus,” Roman breathes. He reaches out with one shaking hand to cup Remus’s face and feels warm flesh beneath his fingers. “Are you really here? Or— or am I dead?”

Remus gives him a lopsided smile. “Takes more than getting thrown out of a tower and smashing my bones to smithereens to kill me!”

Roman surges upwards, wrapping his arms around his brother and burying his face in his shoulder.

“Hey, come on,” Remus says as Roman begins to shake, his tears wetting Remus’ shirt. “You’re going to dry yourself up if you keep crying this much. Just shrivel up like a human raisin until you end up a dried-out mummy and someone finds you like a thousand years later and wonders what the hell happened.”

The thought is so gross and ridiculous and Remus that Roman finds himself laughing through his tears.

“Gods above, I missed you.”

Composing himself, Roman pulls back and looks Remus over. He’s wearing simple, weathered clothing, his hair is an absolute mess and there are dark bags under his eyes. He’s the most beautiful thing Roman has ever seen.

“How?” Roman says, his voice cracking with emotion. “I thought you were— that I’d— How are you even here right now?”

“I healed a bit and then dragged myself here,” Remus says. “Logan did the rest.”

Remus looks back over his shoulder with a surprisingly soft smile, and for the first time since waking Roman tears his gaze away from his brother’s face to look at where they are. Roman is sitting on a cot in a simple wooden room, bare except for a small table and worn bookshelves lining one wall. The witch’s house, Roman assumes. The witch himself is standing stiffly a little ways behind Remus, his face transitioning from warm concern to dark displeasure as it moves from Remus to Roman.

“You lied to me,” Roman says. “You knew he was alive all along”.

“Technically, I never spoke a falsehood,” the witch— Logan— says coolly. “I did find Remus with the injuries I described. I merely was able to heal them, if barely.”

“We had to be careful,” Remus says. “I didn’t know, if...”

If Roman felt any real remorse for what he’d done. If he would turn Remus in again, once he found him.

Roman rises from the cot, causing Logan to dart forward in alarm. But Roman just lowers himself to one knee, bowing his head and placing a hand over his heart.

“I swear to you on my life, I never meant to harm you in any way,” Roman says. “I have regretted what I've done every day, every moment, since we parted.”

“Yeah, I got that from the whole bursting-into-tears-and-telling-me-to-kill-you thing,” Remus says. “Which was dramatic even for you, by the way.”

“People will often show their true selves during states of heightened emotion,” Logan says, adjusting his glasses. “The ruse was a logical course of action to discern your intentions.”

“And also fun!” Remus says. “You should have seen your face, Ro, it was so white! I make a pretty scary ghost.”

“You were terrifying,” Roman says honestly, which makes Remus beam.

Still on one knee, Roman turns to address Logan. “And thank you, my good witch, for saving his life. I am forever in your debt.”

“I didn’t do it for you,” Logan says sharply. That and his icy glare make it quite clear that he is not as forgiving as Remus. Roman winces internally; this whole debacle is not the best first impression to make to a sibling’s lover.

And that’s what Logan is, or at least what Remus wants him to be— it’s written all over his brother’s face. Before... before, Roman would have teased Remus about it, and then Remus would probably have made some sort of lewd comment that would make Roman sputter and shove at him. They’re not quite at that point now, he thinks. Not yet.

Roman inclines his head to the witch. “You have my gratitude all the same.”

“Look at us, all making up and being friends!” Remus cheers, but Roman knows him well enough to see the lingering discomfort in the slant of his shoulders and curve of his smile. Remus isn’t as okay as he’s pretending to be.

Roman rises and clasps Remus’ hand in his own.

“Remus, I have done you a grave disservice. While I cannot take back the pain I have caused you, I can offer you back the crown. If you wish it, I will give you my blade and the clothes off my back so that you may return to the castle in my stead and reclaim your birthright under my name.”

Remus stares at him for a moment, then throws back his head and cackles. Something deep in Roman’s chest loosens at the sound; he hadn’t realized how much he missed Remus’ laugh.

“Like hell am I going back to that burning trash heap!” Remus says. “Look, getting thrown out a window sucked major ass, but finding this—” he gestures to the house around him— “is probably the best thing that ever happened to me.”

Behind Remus, Logan’s face turns bright red. Well that answers that, then.

Remus takes Roman’s other hand, meeting his eyes. “If you really want to make this up to me, go back. Become king. And change things.”

Roman bows his head once more. “I do not deserve this second chance, brother,” he whispers.

His hands tighten on Remus’s and he meets his twin’s gaze again, determined. “But I will do as you ask. I swear it, with every inch of my being: I will make things right.”

Remus shouldn’t trust Roman with something this important, not after Roman made it so clear what his word is worth. And yet, Remus nods as if satisfied and steps back.

“It is past sunrise,” Logan says. “I will not have you drawing search parties into this forest when the castle discovers you are gone.”

“I’d best be off then,” Roman says, knowing a dismissal when he hears one.

“I’ll walk you back!” Remus says.

“Absolutely not,” Logan snaps. “I will not allow you to walk that sort of distance while you are still on the mend.”

“It’s been a month!”

“And you were bedridden for weeks!”

“Logan can show me out,” Roman says firmly. “The last thing I want is you hurting yourself more over me.”

Remus’ eyes go watery. “But we just found each other again.”

Roman pulls him into another hug. “I will return, as long as you will have me.”

Remus nods into Roman’s shoulder, tightening his arms around him. They stay like that for a few moments more before they reluctantly part.

“Right, then,” Roman says. “Goodbye, for now.”

“Goodbye,” Remus says, unusually subdued.

Logan shows Roman to the door, and together they begin to walk across the clearing to the trees.

“You should know,” Logan says, “that if you break his trust again or hurt him in any way, all the guards in the castle will not be enough to stop me from killing you.”

Roman laughs heartily at that.

“I knew I liked you, Specs!” he says, slapping Logan on the back. “I’m glad Remus has someone like you looking out for him.”

Logan blinks. “Right, then. Good.”

“Wait!”

Roman looks back to see Remus standing in the house’s doorway. He looks... concerned?

“I know it’s going to take some time to be okay with what happened,” Remus says, “For both of us. But you weren’t the person who threw me off that tower. The king was. Just... remember that, okay? Remember that and come back.”

Roman nods mutedly, and the door closes.

“Right,” he says, clearing a mysterious obstruction from his throat, “let’s go then.”

With that, Roman turns and walks into the woods, headed back to the castle. Back to the duty he promised Remus he would fulfill.

And this promise, Roman intends to keep.

#sanders sides #sanders sides fanfic #roman sanders #logan sanders #remus sanders #creativitwins #intrulogical #ts roman #ts logan #ts remus #my writing #whenisitenoughtrees #thrice for another day

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