#and i can do that like during my leisure time before i go to bed or whatever

[weirdcharacter]

List of stuff to do before october arrives:

finish writing The Myth of König

(Possibly) edit The Myth of König

send the story to friends

Work on Sacrificed (format of the story)

Work on sacrificed (plot)

Do hw of course

Keep up with classes of course

go back to my grandma's house to get some bricolage material

make a lil guy out of papier maché and take it as my first steps in manual arts/ miniatures

think about my chrishmas list

prepare for Nanowrimo

socialize (if i got some energy and time left for that lmaoo)

[redheadspark]

Divine

Summary - Azriel and his mate find each other again during alone time

Warnings - SMUT! SMUT SMUT SMUT!! Although a bit mild, there is smut in this, no minors allowed from here on out!

A/N - This is part of the Ocean Eyes Series. A little smut piece for Azriel and the Reader to enjoy together! I hope you like it!

"I don't like how quiet it is,"

"I knew you were going to miss him as soon as we dropped him off with Cassian and Nesta,"

"I wasn't going to say anything and ruin the mood,"

Azriel barked a laugh, walking over to the fireplace to feed fresh logs into the fire, across from the loveseat where you were already sitting. Watching Azriel feed the fire and let the flame rise a bit, bringing warmth into your little home, made you relax all the more as the early evening was getting darker outside. 

Both you and Azriel had the evening to yourself, Alec having a sleepover at The House of Wind with his Uncle Cassian, Aunt Nesta, and Cousin Rose. Rose was big enough for Alec to play with her, thinking she was so fun to run around with and play with for hours on end. Cassian reassured you and Azriel that Alec would have the best time with his relatives, promising to teach him how to sword fight and do flips in the air with his wings.

The latter Azriel shot down real quick, but he was happy to let his son go for the night,

Plus, you can tell Azriel wanted to have some time with you and only you. Since you finally healed all the way through from being near close to death, you were simply trying to go back to a normal life. Though normalcy was not going to be in your life anytime soon because of recent events: Eris was still on the run with no leads as to where he was, Autumn Court's alliance with Night Court was shaky because of Eris. 

With all of this happening, you were worried about Azriel. No one told you, but you caught onto the fact that Azriel had a personal target on Eris. He was too strung out, too tight in his backside and his stance, and there was no sign of him being relaxed anytime soon. You understood why, but you also didn't wish for him to be wound tight like a tot.  Even feeling the bond and how he was not even relaxed for one moment. Stiff, a bit rigid, and you hoped you could find a way to get him to relax and unwind. 

Maybe it was perfect timing that you two were alone at your home.

Azriel stood back up, looking at his handiwork in the fireplace and the roaring fire that was now active. You stayed in your spot on the loveseat, your head slightly cocked to the side as you were looking at your mate with adoration and love in your eyes. For the last week and a few days, Azriel nursed you back to health and made sure all of your needs were met. Applying the ointment to your wound, delivering your food to the bed you were resting in, traveling back and forth between the River House and your cottage to get you books and some of your cross stitching when he noticed you were getting bored. Mor joked that he was becoming more of a wet nurse than a Spymaster. Azriel never cared, he was more focused on helping you get back to health and making sure you were 100% better. 

With a nasty sliver of a scare along your wing, you finally were able to leave River House behind and head home. But even when you did make it home and were given permission to be mobile, thanks to Madja, Azriel still was on edge. Rightfully so, you couldn't tell him to calm down because the threat that almost killed you was still out there somewhere in Prythian.  You weren't simply wanting Azriel to go back to the leisurely being he was before, but you wanted that light back in him.

"You're quite good at that, my love," You teased, seeing that smile on his face and the reflection of the fire dancing along his cheeks and nose. He looked back at you, his silhouette against the orange tint of the fire would look daunting to others. But not to you, not when he was walking back over to you and lowered himself on the loveseat to be shoulder to shoulder with you. His wings touched yours, making him look over at your wigs that were tucked against your backside.  Reachingup, he grazed his finger along the scar that was still fresh. You shivered from the touch, your wing was a pinch more sensitive thanks to the scar.

"It's healing well," Azriel stated, his voice calm as he was looking at the wing with intrigue. You weren't paying attention to your wing and its sensitivity, you were focusing on your mate. Watching his hazel eyes dancing along your wing, the smoothness of his cheeks after a recent shave, even the soft smile he had made you feel at peace. 

"Thanks to Madja, and you," You replied, Azriel's fingers that were hovering over your scars moved away from your wing swiftly. He moved his hand over to rest in his lap, though you were faster, and took his hand in yours to cradle it. Azrielwatched, you simply lacing the fingers together and smiling at him. Maybe it moved him a bit, seeing how relaxed and calm you were with him since you both were alone. You had plenty of things to say to him but had no idea where to start. Azriel must have sensed your quietness, he looked at you in concern as he squeezed your fingers together.

"Sweetheart?" He asked tentatively, he was searching your face as you were looking down at your joined hands. You are overwhelmed in that moment, being able to be back home at your home, healthy, and able to share this moment with your husband and mate. It made you want to cry, but something was holding you back from bringing on tears. Azriel reached over with his spare hand, placing a finger under your chin to gently raise your gaze to him. All you could do was smile, Azriel was about to say something else when you finally spoke.

"I'm happy," You explained to him as he was searching your eyes. You might have sounded odd to say that since you were on the verge of crying, but Azriel said nothing and simply watched you as you kept talking, "I'm happy that I'm here, and I have you to thank,"

Your voice sounded broken, yet you were smiling as if nothing was wrong. Nothing was wrong, you were in good health and you had your family with you. Maybe you were thinking back to that moment when you woke up in River House, in insane pain, and Azriel perched over you like a guardian angel of sorts. 

Even with the pain, the near close to death, seeing Azriel gaze at you with so much devotion and love in his eyes was enough to bring you back again. You thought for a split second in the bed that you were in a dream, or that you died and were now in some kind of afterlife with Azriel waiting for you. 

But he did more than that, he brought you back to reality. 

Azriel gently grazed your cheek with a singular finger, catching the one tear that was about to spill over, and smiled lovingly at you, "You never have to thank me for loving you with all of me,"

He made it seem so light, so simple, even freeing. He rarely expressed his feelings to others, even with you though you two have been together for centuries. It was the very simple moments that were sprinkled with love and gentleness, youloved those moments since they showed an intimate side of Azriel that he rarely brought into light. 

"There was nothing in all of Prythian that would stop me from having you in my life, sweetheart," He explained, thefinger that traced your cheek was now curling around your jaw, his palm against your jawline and the touch alone was a shocking sensation to you as he searched your eyes with his soft smile and his bright eyes, "I've told you this before and I mean it when I say it: You make my life so much better. I can't picture going on in this life without you in it,"

It moved you to hear that from him, even though you've heard it say many times from him during your long span of a relationship and courtship. Even back when you two met so long ago as teenagers, fresh in your adoration and love for one another, Azriel poured out his love for you and was willing to give you his heart. He did, to which you took it delicately in your own hands and swore to never break.

You haven't broken it yet, hundreds of years and a son later.

You leaned up and kissed him, starting it soft and sweet as he leaned into your touch. His fingers still against your jawwere delicate for you to feel while he kissed you back and snuggled a bit closer to him.  Something about kissing Azriel in that moment, alone in your small living room away from the rest of the world, made you feel a like of fire in your belly.You knew this feeling, you've felt it so many times before in the throws of intimacy and passion. 

But this time, it felt so slow and like a crawling passion.  Nothing rushed the pair of you as the kisses continued, your fingers both digging into his hair and the soft shirt that he decided to wear that night. His own hands and fingers were moving as well, the hand along your jaw was still gentle but was holding you in a possessive manner.  His other hand was slowly inching up along your arm, sending you shivers and chills that you felt all along your skin and even under it as well.

It felt like you were young again, young and pent up with these losing feelings for one another as the kisses were slowly evolving and growing. Azriel never strayed in his affection towards you, his body curled over to you while you two were getting impossibly close and still kissing one another. Now it was passionate, that fire in your belly was only growing stronger as you felt Azriel trace your lower lip with his tongue.  Barely a graze along your lip with the very tip of his tongue.

You whimpered, moving without realizing it and you were now straddling him.

Something inside the both of you clicked open, like a tight chest that was locked down for so long and now finally free. Azriel tilts his head up to kiss you soundly and wrap his arms around you softly. Your fingers were in his hair, tugging at him slightly as your head tilted to the side to feel him kiss you deeply. Nothing else was in your mind as Azriel was touching you, kissing you, making you feel so whole and alive again. Even after being with him for centuries and with a very healthy sex life, this time it felt different. It felt deep, It felt complete.

It felt alive. 

His fingers were now under your shirt, pushing up your shirt to be under your armpits to give you a chill along your soft stomach and backside.  You huffed, throwing it off within a second and diving back to kiss Azriel and framing his face in your hands. He smiled against your lips, you feeling his skin skim along your stomach and hips while your fingers were not moving down to the collar of his shirt to give it a gentle tug. Azriel laughed against your mouth as you tugged it again.

"Impatient little thing, are you?" He teased against your lips, though you silenced him with one massive kiss, your own tongue then licking into his mouth. He groaned, you having a small smirk as you were needing to lean back but Azriel was chasing after your lips. But you placed space between yourself and him, a hand on his chest and seeing his dilated eyes watching you like you were prey to him, His chest heaving, his lips plump and dark, and the flushness in his cheeks. He might have looked like a wreck to anyone else.

But to you, he was angelic.

"Who's impatient now?" You challenged back to him.  He grinned, a predatory-like grin etched on his gorgeous face as he then grabbed the collar of his own shirt and yanked it off. You watched as it fell to the ground, Azriel seeing it too as he broke out into a laugh.

"Thank The Cauldron these shirts are Illyrian friendly," He said in a snort, you giggling as well as you saw your shirt crumbled next to his.  Having this small moment to laugh, even when you both were shirtless and in a compromising position, was a sweet reminder of how you two were so in love with one another. The centuries of having one another,and learning from one another, all lead to a fulfilling life. Nothing felt bland or out of place, you still had those butterflies in your chest when you had these moments with him. 

You both took in a breath together, looking at one another with big grins on your faces as Azriel finally dived back in to kiss you. The heat was still there, no throes of passion but still active enough to have Azriel place his hands along your backside to touch your bra and the latches behind it. You were feeling so good all over, the heat was getting bigger in your stomach as you nodded against his lips.

"Please," You said along his lips, Azriel groaning in approval as his fingers were skillfully taking off the bra straps and letting your bra slip to the ground. His hands immediately moved, cupped your breasts as you moaned against his lips and curled into him more. The feel of his calloused palms against your soft skin, you feeling your nipples hardening immediately from his touch, it was a weakness for you that your mate knew far too well.

You could even feel your core reacting to this, shockwaves under your skin were felt like Azriel moved his lips along your lips and then to your jawline and then your neck. You clung onto him with one hand, your other moving down to undo the buttons of his pants. 

"Let's go to our bed…" You felt Azriel hum against your neck, making you shiver from his lips along your sensitive skin. But you shook your head rapidly, not wishing to lose this momentum or this drive that was building.  You popped the one button open skillfully with your fingers, and the sound alone was heard by both of you.

"No," you said hotly, feeling him lean back and look up at you while his hands were still cupping your breasts delicately. You saw that fire in his eyes alone just in the way he was watching you with desire etched all over his face. You took in a long inhale, almost feeling powerful to have the Spymaster himself bend to your will.

So you leaned down, nuzzling his nose against your own and looking at him directly in the eyes.

"I want you, here and now, on this couch," You instructed him.

You've never seen him cave so fast and so willingly.

You both moved elegantly, knowing this dance far too well as you both helped strip each other's clothes off while remaining close to one another. Like magnets, unwilling to be too far apart as you both were now bare and holding onto each other.  In this little home that was your safe space, a space you two built up and kept strong for years on end, your love was blossoming all over again. Feeling his lips descending to your breast, kissing one breast with delicacy and yet with fire while his other hand took care of the other breast with ease. You were too far gone in the lust and sensations of his mouth and hands on you to notice Azriel's own shadows licking along your skin, making the lust come out all the more. You had to give him credit, he knew how to use all his tools to his advantage. 

Moans and sounds of passion filled your little home as Azriel sunk into you, you both holding onto each other so closely as he finally sunk into you.  It always took your breath away, how he both stretched you to your limit and yet made it feel so perfect and so right. So many times in the past you thought how perfect he felt inside of you, snug against your walls and hitting the right spots within you that made you see and feel stars. You felt it again that moment, his cock fitting you so perfectly that you felt like you two were made for one another. It made you speechless for a moment, frozen in his lap as he was watching your reaction. No matter that you couldn't find the words or put together a sentence, you were feeling everything and everywhere. 

You had no idea what Azriel was thinking at that moment, watching up be speechless as he was buried deep inside of you. He was feeling that sensation as well, pure lust and euphoria rolled into one. Nothing else could feel this amazing, this close to heaven or any kind of heaven, and it all came from you.  Your shining eyes, your tender heart, and yourwillingness to love him for all he was and for all his flaws. But the physical love he felt for you heightened all the more.

But seeing you bare, eyes lusted over in bliss and love with your head tilted back and looking up at the ceiling, chest heaving, and your hair cascading down your back, Azriel was in love all over again.

"Mother Above," He said in a breath, almost sounding winded himself from the sight of you. If he were to die in that moment, he would die a happy being and have no shame in it. You opened your eyes, hearing him and looking at you with your breath barely on your lips. He smiled the rare smile that made you think he hung the moon. He uttered one word, a word that he would use to always describe you and his love for you:

"Divine"

From that moment on, you both moved so softly and carefully yet filled with passion and possession simultaneously. Youwere inwardly thankful that your home was tucked away from anyone else, giving you all the privacy to fully enjoy this moment with your mate as he rolled his hips deeply and almost in a feral manner. You were letting him, having the experience know that this wasn't going to be anything typical. Your sex life with Azriel was never typical: it was always driven to ecstasy. Somehow, this time seemed deeper.  Being on the couch in front of a roaring fire, the sounds of bothyourself and Azriel enjoying one another as you rode him carefully with his arms around you, it all felt like an out-of-body experience.

As you were getting close and closer to your peak, you were closing your eyes and leaning against Azriel as you were feeling every sensation: his cock hitting your sweet spot inside of you with every roll of his hips, his hands roaming along your sweaty skin, his lips brushing along your neck. Even hearing him moan and grunt, the pure love and lust he was feeling too while he pleasing you, was making you get closer to the edge as well.  You both were feeding off each other, a tactic you both have done for years and years.

I love you, Cauldron I love you so much. I can feel you….mph….everywhere! You hear in your mind through the bond,that his voice was sounding raw and emotional as you were moving hotly in his ear. You felt wrecked, emotionally and lustfully as you were attempting to connect words to make a thought or two. But he was fucking you so good, drilling into you to the point that you were losing your breath once or twice. 

Right there Az….fuck…right there! Please…please fill me up. You moaned through the bond to him, the rational side was slipping away and something else was taking over. Something that you could only show to your mate when you were in the throws of pleasure. Perhaps you weren't thinking about it too much, but Azriel let out a gutted moan. Something you never heard in a long time, such a long time. It made you open your eyes briefly, looking down at your mate and seeing the wrecked look on his face.  So disheveled, and yet beyond gorgeous to you as he kept rolling his hips over and over to not stop the momentum. 

You knew then that a new side of Azriel took over. 

Say that again! He pleaded in the bond, his eyes slammed shut as you heard his pleading tone in your mind. You were confused at first, not knowing what he was talking about while you were petting his hair and still staying so close to him. He said nothing at first, just grunting with every thrust he was giving, but you were moving your fingers then from your face over to the top of his wings, being dangerously close to running your fingers along the membrane to throw him off.

Say what, baby? You asked him, almost sounding a bit smug about it while you tried to hold back from touching his wing. Just seeing his face alone was enough to make you want to crumble and fall to pieces, your pleasure getting at an all-time high and about to tumble over. But you still had the one last piece of resistance, of control, to hold back until you knew Azriel was going to tumble over with you. 

To…oh fuck….to fill….fill you up. He confessed, having you smile widely in pleasure flowing through you so quickly to take over your entire body. Hearing that from your mate, from a Shadowsinger and feared Illyrian throughout all of Prythian and even beyond, stunned you.  He was putty in your hands, and the way he was shaking and whimpering against your skin, you knew he was close. Beyond close, and all he needed was a push.

With a brush of your fingers along his wing, you whispered against his ear, "Make me fucking full,"

He roared, orgasming and emptying himself into you in such a force that it made you cry out and orgasm as well.

The orgasm alone was enough to make your head swim and your skin crawl in the best way possible. The pleasure alone, mixed in with the lust and love that you had for one another was now filling the room as your body was riding through each moment that felt like a lifetime. Azriel clung onto you as he was shaking, still riding his own high as you felt like you were going through it in slow motion.  From the top of your head to the tip of your toes, it was all there. You felt out of your body for a split second, floating in the air right above your home and embracing the air.

You were floating back down to the ground again, back onto that couch where you felt boneless in the arms of your mate, who was still shaking himself and feeling just as exhausted as you were. Both of your shared labored breaths, you blinking slowly as the white-hot pleasure that once soared through you was now a Luke warm, a soothing warm. Azriel'sscarred but beautiful fingers were dancing along your bare back, his face dug into your neck and sounding breathless and exhausted. Yet you felt a smile along your skin, you grinning as your face was against his head.

"That's….that's a first," You commented in a gasp. Azriel laughed, sounding so light after giving you an earth-shattering orgasm, "Never took you to like something like that, sweetheart,"

"You bring out the side of me that I never knew I had," Azriel confessed, having you giggle in a shy manner as you finally pulled back a bit to look at a blissed-out Azriel. You loved this look, the look of bliss and pure happiness that could only come from something like this. You were feeling it too, the sense of being the only two beings in the world and everything else ceasing to exist. And having Azriel cradle you close in his embrace, almost shielding you from the outside world and keeping this small bubble of bliss intact.

"You know, the last time we were in a position like this….I got pregnant with Alec," You explained to him as you reached down and ruffled his sweaty hair. He lit up a bit from the memory, you thinking about it too that fateful night when you two were in the deep throws of pleasure together in your bed. It was in the same manner too, you being in his lap and cock buried so deep side of it that you felt every moment and the insane pleasure that he experienced. That memory alone was vibrant in your mind, Azriel leaning up and perhaps reading your mind through the bond, you feeling his flicker of joy over and over as he spoke up again.

"Are you suggesting that we have had a repeat of that fateful night?" He asked, almost in a tease as he saw you blush. Youwere about to hide your face from him, moving your eyes away from him. However, he was faster in catching your jaw with his fingers and making sure you were facing him again. You felt the butterflies in your stomach as he kissed you sweetly. This kind of intimacy, this kind of love, it was something others around dream to at least experience once. Youhad it for centuries, years of building it up together and making it as strong as it was. 

As Azriel pulled away from your lips, he still kept his smile and his loving gaze on you as he searched your eyes.

"If we did, then I am all the more happy for It," You whispered, your heart beating out of your chest. You were thinking in the back of your mind that maybe down the road, sooner or later, another little one would be in your family. It was never a topic you or Azriel spoke about, but then again it wasn't closed either. Life with Alec was beyond a blessing, unlocking a part of your heart and soul you never thought you would have in this lifetime. A child that was the perfect mix of you and your mate, was all you've ever wanted and more.  And thinking of another child, another perfect child that you and Azriel would guide in the world.

It was so tempting.

"I think a shower is in order," Azriel hummed, carefully slipping out of you and you shifting a bit uncomfortably. But he moved swiftly, he picked you up bridal style, you laughing as your arms were around his neck and he stood up. You both were naked and yet ecstatic, Azriel carrying you over to the bathroom that was attached to the bedroom as you leaned your head on his shoulder. 

The flickering dream of perhaps another child in your family was still in the back of your mind. 

The End.

Tagged - @valeridarkness @impossibelle @acourtofbatboydreams @prettylittlewrites @fxckmiup @alwayshave-faith

[madame-fear]

Hello can I order CAPUCCINO (modernAU!lucerys x reader, headcanons about their have their first time and they get cought by Nyra 🙂‍↔️)

Sorry for my english <3

𐙚 𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐂𝐀𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐁𝐘 𝐍𝐘𝐑𝐀 𝐃𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄 | 𝐌𝐎𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐍.ᐟ𝐋𝐔𝐊𝐄 𝐇𝐂𝐒.

ೀ amira speaks.ᐟ : sweetie don’t you even worry about your English ! it’s not my first language either, yours is perfect ♡ thank you for ordering, hope you enjoy it ! ˗ˏˋ ꒰ summary : requests above. ♡

˗ˏˋ ꒰ genre : headcanons, some smut, fluff. ˗ˏˋ ꒰ pairing : Modern!Lucerys Velaryon x (fem!)Reader

WARNING.ᐟ THIS FIC CONTAINS ; mentions of smut, nsfw content. your first time together, a bit of vanilla sex. Luke is 18. you guys know the drill. *wink wink*

꒰ check out my 3k followers coffee shop event ! ꒱

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖🎐 Having known each other for years, that certain chemistry between Luke and you had always remained— to which, it was of no surprise to anyone when you began dating. Lots of “finally!” were heard during your dating announcement.

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖🎐 What is of no surprise either, is Luke’s eternal shyness around you. Yes, he had grown more confident & less meek with the years, and the more time you spent together— but his timidness only intensified when you started your relationship.

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖🎐 Soft lingering touches come and go with him. Delicate hand holding, affectionate kisses & caresses, tight embraces... And, often, you can feel his hand resting on your thigh, stroking your skin with his fingertips.

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖🎐 Though, in the end, sweet boy will always remove his hand from there, and mutter a feeble “sorry”.

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖🎐 Expect this to happen more than once. If he’s already shy doing sweet, cute little things with you, imagine him trying to go further in your relationship. Mostly, it’s not only because he’s too embarrassed to even bring up the topic of having intimacy together, but as well, Luke would be too frightened of accidentally making you feel uncomfortable.

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖🎐It’s not as you would feel uncomfortable, of course, but he wouldn’t want to risk it. As a young couple, both of you can’t help but feel slight awkwardness when it comes to more intimate topics.

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖🎐 When the time finally came, it hadn’t really been spoken beforehand. The moment flowed rather smoothly, while you were both on his room sitting on his bed, and you were supposed to casually be talking together... But then, one kiss that was given to you, naturally lead to several more fervent kisses.

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖🎐 One of his hands cupped your cheek, as the other one travelled to your waist, slipping his fingers beneath your shirt to caress your skin and explore it further. Tilting slightly his head at the same time you did, Luke deepened the kiss— groaning gently against your lips.

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖🎐 Gently, you laid with your back against the bed, as his body pressed itself firmly against your own; managing to be on top of you. Occasionally, Luke pulled away from your lips briefly, allowing both of you to catch some air as you groaned and panted needily— before rapidly pressing your lips against his own once again.

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖🎐 Being the most gentle, loving young boy ever, Luke would pause for a brief moment, pulling away from your lips. “Are you comfortable with this? Would you like to continue?” you’d hear him inquire in between pants— his lips travelling all across your neck, placing soft kisses.

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖🎐 Your answer was an immediate yes without thinking twice, making a proud grin grow widely at the corner of his rosy lips. And so, the action began.

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖🎐 Trembling hands lowered each other’s trousers, along underwear as you fervently kissed. Wetness dripped out of you leisurely, feeling the cold breeze of the atmosphere cause you slight shivers.

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖🎐 The mere sight of your exposed wetness provoked him to get even harder, if it was any more possible at the current point— feeling his leaking tip poking against your aching entrance needily, as your legs interwined themselves on top of his back.

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖🎐 Continuing to lock his lips with your own, faintly groaning against them as his hands firmly held your hips in place, Luke pushed himself gently inside of you; the tip of his shaft beginning to stretch your inner walls.

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖🎐Nibbling on your lower lip, holding back a loud groan from escaping your throat, one of your hands clawed it’s nails on his back, as the other one interwined it’s fingers in between messy strands of his hair.

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖🎐 A tear managed to escape from your eye, initially feeling a slightly painful, burning sensation as Luke entered inside you carefully, but he kissed your tears away.

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖🎐 His movements were slow and gentle, adapting to your comfort. And as soon as you had given him the green light to continue & thrust faster— he immediately complied to every single word of yours. The sensation of your inner walls tightening around his member was such a satisfying sensation, unlike any other he had experienced; helplessly increasing the pace in which he thrusted. But...

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖🎐 The door was widely opened in an abrupt manner, much to your surprise. “Oh my God, sorry,” you both would hear his mother mutter in surprise, causing your eyes to immediatly widen as you craned your head towards the door.

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖🎐 Rhaenyra would immediatly look elsewhere, slightly closing further the door. She had forgotten to knock, so seeing both of you in such a compromising situation was rather... Shocking. “We’ll all need to have a talk about this downstairs, now.” she would say.

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖🎐 She has never been much of a rigid, strict mother— but naturally, she cares for both of you and your safety. How could none of you asked her anything about intimacy?

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖🎐 Though, of course... Both of you were slightly timid around one another and about these certain topics, plus you were still young. Your hormones were all over the place— she suspected the moment hadn’t been spoken beforehand and it simply flowed naturally. Nyra was right.

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖🎐 Much to your luck, after awkwardly getting interrupted and being forced to go downstairs to have a chat with Luke’s mother, Nyra didn’t entirely scold both of you, just a little bit — but overall, she simply inquired you two about why you hadn’t thought about bringing the topic up with her just in case, and gave you some advice for mutual protection.

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖🎐 The only bad thing for you, though, was when you noticed that Jace had peeped enough into the conversation— sneering at the sight of your faces being covered in a crimson hue, only worsening your state after he teasing both of you.

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖🎐 It had been a rather awkard, but very much needed conversation. None of you couldn’t deny that you actually managed to get some useful information from his mother— knowing how to protect yourself, dos and don’ts, etc.

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖🎐 Foe both of you, it felt as if it had been a pretty embarrassing first time, yes. And perhaps it had been embarrassing— but nevertheless, one thing lead to another... With none of you scolded, and being allowed to have intimacy with each other as long as you took care of yourselves.

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖🎐 Perhaps, it hadn’t been so bad, after all... You just had to find alone time for yourselves, now.

◞ ꙳ ๋࣭ ⭑ ` taglist

@jacesvelaryons @jjamieberry @anemicroyalcore @countsmoon

@manuholland6 @keiratonks @kyuupidwrites @tchatso

@phantasyy @tasty-nutella @mstxdes @valeriecash @cookielovesbook-akie

@zzz000eee @bellarkeselection @feliuuuksks @visenya-reigned @maria699669

@mariaelizabeth21-blog1 @sweethoneyblossom1 @jamiemydeer @snowprincesa1

@aegonswife @cloveradora @rosieevan @eliseline @beebo86

[yokohamapound]

hii omg i just discovered ur blog and ur writing is! so! amazing!!! i’d like to request maybe chuuya, ranpo, dazai and fyodor with an s/o who likes to bite them playfully??

Characters: Nakahara Chuuya, Dazai Osamu, Edogawa Ranpo, Fyodor Dostoevsky

Contents: NSFW references, biting, NSFW "punishments"

Nakahara Chuuya

The first couple of times you do it, Chuuya yelps and grabs your face, squishing your cheeks until your lips pucker out like a fish. 

“The hell was that for?” he demands. “Damn rabid brat.”

If you make a habit of it, however, he decides to fight fire with fire. If you sink your teeth into his arm, he’s going for your neck. If you bite his neck, he’s gonna yank down your pants and bite your thighs. Don’t try to one-up Chuuya, because you’ll likely fail. 

He gets into it. Before you know it, it becomes a habit to shove you up against the nearest vertical surface and leave a few bite marks and love bites on your throat, your chest, your arms. He’ll pin you in place with his Special Ability so you can’t wriggle away. If you’re going to bite him, then he’ll make sure you can’t hide the ones he leaves on you, either. 

Bite his neck during sex to make him go wild. 

Dazai Osamu

Dazai complains like a big baby when you sink your teeth into him. He blinks those big brown eyes at you and asks in a piteous voice why you’re always attacking him. In some ways, you’re more feral than some of the orphans he’s picked up. Atsushi turns into a literal tiger and he doesn’t bite!

Don’t let Dazai’s whining fool you—he doesn’t actually have a problem with you biting him now and then. You can’t do a whole lot through his bandages, anyway. 

Unlike Chuuya, he probably won’t bite you back. Not immediately, anyway. He’ll save it for when you’re spread underneath him, on the edge of an orgasm and begging for him to send you over the edge. That’s when he’ll sink his teeth into your inner thigh, or bite playfully at your nipples. He’s quite a proponent of mixing a little pain with your pleasure to heighten the sensation. 

If you bite him in bed, he moans and fucks harder, his back shuddering. 

Edogawa Ranpo

Look, I completely get it. Ranpo is such a cute little brat that he induces cute aggression in his partner, to the point where you quite literally want to bite him. 

The first time you do it, he's kind of confused. Did you mistake him for a gummy bear or something? But when he sees the stupid, glazed look in your eyes, he knows. 

"That's the same look the boss gets when we go to the cat cafe," he says, pointing his lollipop at you in accusation. "Next thing you're going to start waving a feather on a stick in front of my face."

Yeah, you've been tempted.

Ranpo won’t be the bigger man. He will absolutely bite you back. He has a habit of snapping at your fingers when you reach for his face or his snacks, or he might turn his head and bite your cheek or your chest like he’s biting into a steamed dumpling.

Chomp. 

Fyodor Dostoevsky

Fyodor is a bit of a hypocrite here, seeing as he spends most of his time chewing on his own fingers. Obviously, evidence indicates that he is in fact very biteable. All that pale, pristine skin. How can you not want to leave a couple of marks on him?

However.

While he might excuse a love bite or two during your little conjugal sessions, he isn't nearly so forgiving of you sinking your little teeth into his arm or his shoulder or god forbid, his face whenever you get the urge.

He looks down at the teeth marks you've just left in his forearm and raises an eyebrow.

"Are you a kitten I took from its mother too early, my love?" he asks, his tone promising…something…later. "Or perhaps you have developed a case of vampirism.”

If he truly minded, he'd find a way to "encourage" you to stop, but as it is, he is more likely to have you restrict your biting to the bedroom, where he has the time and leisure to repay the favour as he sees fit. 

And if you don't heed him, he might just see fit to put you in your place, whether that be on your knees in front of his desk chair while he works, or bent over his lap while he disciplines you properly.

[being-addie]

Sunday Resets

Setting aside time for yourself is so important. I don't think people understand how vital it is to pay attention to your body and just take a day to let your body r-e-l-a-x. We're all so busy fighting to reach the top, that while climbing the corporate ladder, we lose ourselves somewhere along the way. Burnout, depression, and monotony come into play when we don't listen to our bodies telling us they need a break.

Once every two weeks or so, on a Sunday, I turn off all my notifications and have a day dedicated to me. Giving my body some TLC, resting and preparing for the next week. If I have plans on a Sunday, such as brunch or a meeting, I shift that day to Saturday, or at the very least, a day where I have at least 4-5 hours to spend leisurely.

Things I like to do on my Sunday resets:

Wake up early/sleep in: Depending on my mood, and how much sleep I've had during the week, I'll either be up at the crack of dawn or still in bed till it's nearly noon. There's no shame in staying in bed till 11:30 if you're particularly exhausted, but I recommend waking up at least before 11 AM because then you'll feel tired and groggy (of course, this doesn't apply to everyone)

Clean my room: I always make my bed without fail, and if my room is messy, then I'll clean it. Clean the vanity table, my desk, closet, art cupboard and bookshelf, and then the bathroom. If my mom needs help around the house, I do that too.

Food: I make myself a good breakfast, taking time to move around the kitchen and just breathe. I'm getting to eat good food, the sun is shining and I'm alive. It's great. Sometimes my dad cooks for the whole family and we just sit and eat together.

The Everything Shower: I take my Everything Shower on Sundays, where I wash my hair, deep condition, use a hair and face mask, exfoliate and do a face massage. I don't shave because I get my waxing done in a salon. I then slather myself in cocoa butter lotion and apply lip balm. Then do my hair routine (curly hair). It takes a few hours, but it's worth it.

The Next Week: I prep for the next week by cooking something I can take to my classes, like granola bars or homemade pita chips. I also sit down and plan my schedule (any dinners, meetings, parties, etc) and make a rough plan of my goals for the week, like assignments and deadlines.

Errands: I usually make a list of things I need to do during the week, like any specific separate groceries that I use, art supplies I'm low on, or needing to top up the air in my tyres. Then I go complete all of those in the afternoon.

Walks: In the evening, I take a walk around the block with a friend. I usually am too busy to do this during the week, so getting some fresh air is always a treat.

Relax: The rest of the evening is spent relaxing. I watch Netflix with my family, chat with my younger sister, read a novel/play the piano/write poetry. We have dinner together and then either watch a movie or just spend the time talking about our week, or the news. It's fun.

Double-check: Before I go to sleep, I make sure to double-check that my work is done, my bag is packed, clothes are folded and all my devices are charged. I'm in bed by 10:30 PM.

Remember that not all Sundays will be like this. Sometimes I'm extremely drained, so I'll sleep in, order food and just lay in bed recuperating. It's okay to take a rest day. This guide is if you want to be more productive, and it helps the week go smoother. Be the person who has their life in charge. You've got this.

<3

[femmefatalevibe]

Hello darling! I’ve tried several times to do time blocking and have my app calendar organised but it never works. I have adhd so it’s like I don’t know how to keep it up because I never found a method that it works for me. Can you share how you do it in case you do it? And some tips? I feel like it’ll help me to organise my life but I feel stuck every time I have to do it. Thank you <3

Hi love! Sharing my method below. Hope it's somewhat useful xx

To-Do List Planning:

Spend an hour or so on the weekend to list all of the important assignments/errands, etc. you need to complete during the week. Fill your calendar with your school/work/activity obligations first see an overview of how you will need to spend a considerable amount of time dedicated to each non-negotiable activity. Use this overview to help you map out the "free" time" you have and pre-schedule when you will do specific work projects, study for a particular exam, when you will run certain errands, engage in leisure activities, etc.

Before bed/dinner, use this weekly framework to finalize the next day – your agenda for the upcoming day. Determine the big 1-3 tasks you want to complete the following day and when throughout your day you will focus on these specific tasks. Giving yourself this pre-assigned schedule will eliminate decision fatigue and allow you to go into a more "autopilot" mode by completing the action you've already planned to take at any time of the day.

Important Date Reminders:

Utilize your Google Calendar and sync it to your iCloud (make sure it's private!) to allow you to write down any important dates available for viewing on your phone, computer, etc. at all times.

Create a color-coding system to organize your calendar (i.e. make any big projects due in blue, regular/smaller assignments to complete in red, important job reminders in yellow, errands tasks in green, family/friend obligations in purple, appointments in orange, etc.)

If you need to remember to submit certain paperwork, run an errand, etc., use your Reminders app to alert you at the time when you're able to complete this task before a deadline, going home, etc.

Use the location function or invite other participating members on a specific Google calendar event for any obligations where you need to be at a certain place at a specific time and/or are working on a group project, having a meeting, or need to be at a location with someone else.

I'm very into my "bookend" routines aka the rituals I do before I start my tasks for the day and how I wind down at night.

In the morning: Skincare, outfit, makeup, 2 big mugs of black coffee, reading articles & newsletters

In the evening: A long walk outside or a 15-30 minute YouTube workout/dance party session when the weather isn't optimal. Shower, skincare, get into sweats, make dinner, clean up around the house

To plan out my work week/days:

I use the 3-Month Productivity Planner by Intelligent Change (linked here). It's been my holy grail while building my business for the past 3-4 years. I also love having a physical "To-Do" list notepad next to me for tasks that come to mind or come up throughout the day that I want to organize/come back to later. (I always try to plan my week out on Sunday evenings and for the next day either before my evening routine or after dinner) I was gifted this one from The Daily Edited a few years ago and love it. Very much worth refilling the inserts.

For meetings: I use Google Calendar that's linked to my iCal. The notes section is essential for me.

For small tasks/bills/errands: I set scheduled Reminders for the day/time I need to pay a bill, write an email, schedule something for work or life, create a reminder for something I need to take before heading out to a meeting or appointment, something I need to buy at the pharmacy, etc.

As someone who in certain ways completely embodies the stereotypical "creative" type, my brain naturally goes in a million directions at once, so streamlining everything has become an important, deliberate habit and way of life for me. People think I'm naturally organized at this point in life, so I hope this system works for someone else out there too! x

[dulcewrites]

Fool Me Once (part 9)

Summary: you feel your grasp on your passions slip as a new person takes the Iron Throne (wc: 4.3k)

A/N: GUYSSS we are getting into the home stretch :(. I plan on having one more part after this, then a little epilogue/explanation what explains what happens during the actual war and the aftermath. Can’t thank y’all enough for all the support I have received since starting this series. It started as a one off and has turned into something else. sorry this took so long, I had some creativity issues going on. BUT I hope to get part 10 and the small epilogue out very soon.

Also check out my new alys x aemond x oc fic that explains how I actually see aemond and alys lmao

Fmo masterlist

Drowned in Love

When you were young, you loved the water. Your father said it was the Riverlands in you. Your family home was situated near the Bay of Crabs. There was a river that ran from the Bay near the castle.

Your mother used to chastise you for playing too close to the water in your nice dresses. One of the worst punishments you ever got came after you went into the water without her wishes. At the time, you could not swim. All she saw was hair bobbing in the water, your blue dress floating out around you.

Perhaps it was practice for when you are older, and now you must keep your head above water. Everyday.

You lie in bed, eyes tracing the dark swirls in the on the ceiling. Hair damp, hands shaking, only thing on your mind the sound of waves crashing the shore. A loud, urgent knock on the door makes you jump. There is no panic in the way you slowly up and walk towards the door.

Quinton is standing there, chewing on his lip. He takes in your sedated disposition with furrowed brow.

“Are you ok?”

“I am fine,” you lean, leisurely against doorway.

He winced slightly, before looking down the hallway to see if anyone is around. He takes your hand, and you fight back a flitch. You worry he can sense the difference in them. Or maybe that is in your head. Like a lot of things these days.

“King Viserys… he’s dead.”

You blink once, then twice before a giggle comes out of your mouth. Quinton gives you a slightly mortified look. It only makes you laugh again.

Dead. Viserys dead.

Your stomach churns as the giggles don’t stop. You stop as the bile works it’s way up your throat. It is not long before you are running towards the chamber pot in your room, dry heaving what little is on your stomach into it.

A hand follows on your back.

“It’s ok,” Quinton whispers. “You much be in shock.”

Yeah…. Shock.

By the time you compose yourself and get ready. When you get to the Great Hall. Rhaenyra is sitting in a chair, rubbing a hand on her temples. All her children standing around her.

Daemon is standing near window of the hall, Dark Sister unsheathed.

Rhaenyra looks up through her hands, and when she spots you, she stands Jace tries to follow her, but she reassured him she is fine.

“I need to speak with you.”

She does not wait for you to answer, just continues to walk out of the hall. As you turn to follow her, Daemon turns from the window making eye contact you. You don’t think you have ever seen his eyes that dull. You nod in acknowledgement before leaving.

Rhaenyra’s pacing around the room only makes your anxiety spike more. The wine you poured yourself not helping. You want to go hug your kids. You want to be far away from this place… from these people.

The natural response should be to comfort her; she has just lost her father. You had thought her husband would be the one to do it but the moment letter made it’s way to painted table, Daemon left the room. Rhaenyra reaching out just to be rejected.

“Rhaenyra, you really should not be exhausting yourself in this condition.”

She asked you to come to her study with her, and since then has done nothing but pace and mutter things to herself. Your eyes go her bulging belly. The maester had told her to be careful this time around. This would be her sixth child, the third in the last five years. Stress never bodes well for a woman with child.

“I want you to advise me once I am named Queen,” she finally turns to you suddenly.

You can’t help yourself, you let out a bark of laughter. No matter how much you feel for Rhaenyra at times, she will always prove herself to be a typical Targaryen. Self-serving to a fault. Delirious with her own thoughts.

“You do not even need to have a title,” she replies. “Just an ally to keep an eye on certain things for me.”

Your eyes go to the red liquid in your goblet; it reminds you of the color of fresh blood. A bile finds its way up your throat. Blinking away tears, you look up shaking your head.

“You will be Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. You will have no shortage of political allies. Ones much more capable than me.”

“Who said anything about politicking,” Rhaenyra rebuts. She sighs, putting her hand on her stomach. You see beads of sweat on her forehead.

Otto had told you to stay close to Rhaenyra while at Dragonstone. She may pretend to walk alone in the world, but she will cling to any partnership she can forge. You can’t help but think about what he is doing right now, and what he would tell you to do. Pre Viserys passing, he would probably tell you to oblige her. The closer the better. Now that the throne is in reaching distance for both Rhaenyra and Aegon, you wonder if his answer would be the same.

“You mean keeping an eye on Aegon, on my husband.”

The word husband leaves a wretched taste on your tongue. Rhaenyra gives you a look, panic in her iris eyes. “I am sure they have been waiting for this moment.”

Though you told Otto the best course of action would be to wait it out, the realm shows their disdain for Rhaenyra and vice versa. You know better than to fully trust that will happen. For all you know, he could be crowning Aegon right now. You pray for their sakes nothing of the sort has come to fruition.

“You really think if I knew about some grand plan to usurp you that I would be foolish enough to come here,” you roll your eyes. “Where could you essentially hold my children and I hostage? Aegon has no desire for the crown. Your father’s treatment diminish that want years ago,” Rhaenyra’s eyes darken, and you throw your hand up in defense. “And Aemond… he wants a lot of things; does not mean he will get them.”

“But… if I chose to agree,” Rhaenyra’s resolve perks up. You want to say something about it being a very strong but, though you are sure it would not help in this moment. “There needs to be honestly, about everything, Princess. Me to you and you to me.”

She eyes the cracked door to the study before going over to shut it. Rhaenyra leans against the door.

“I think we have much in common.” Outside of being women and mothers, you can’t seem to find many similarities. “Sometimes you find yourself in positions… in positions with people you thought you could trust. Decisions are made. People get hurt. It all blurs together till you get what you think you wanted.”

“What is your point, Rhaenyra?”

It’s the talking in riddles, the lying, that you are so sick of.

“My point is, you and your children will be safe under my yoke. I can promise you that. The same way my children are a priority for me. I don’t know if anyone else around you can promise you that.”

Your eyes go from her to outside the window in the study. The beach waves crashing in the back.

No one is ever safe in this family.

— — —

“I do not see why the whip in necessary.”

The dragonkeepers exchange a look. You know they probably do not want you here, but someone needs to advocate for Daella.

You watch from the rocks as another dragonkeeper and Daella wait on the flat grassy area near the castle.

“It is only to assert dominance. He has already sees her as his rider. He just needs to understand that he should keep his attention on her,” the male dragonkeeper says in a low voice. “It has been years. Subservience is something that may need to be relearned.”

Dragons and subservience. The thought makes you want to snort with laughter. It makes you feel like the crazy one, thinking that messing with dragons will blow up in everyone’s faces. A long dynasty built off the beasts should be enough proof it can happen. But you have since learned that Targaryens and everyone else live in two different universes.

While everyone else can see the dangers, they welcome them, accept them as the risk because it is in their blood.

Rhaenyra’s return to King’s Landing is as somber as it was expected to be.

But she is not the only one with a solemn disposition. By the time the ship that carried everyone docked, and dragons that followed close him scurry away, you can see the tense looks on the faces of those that greet you to.

Alicent, Daeron, and Helaena are there once the carriages stop, the feelings unintelligible because of the stoic nature of their faces. Daeron and Helaena rush over to you.

“I told you to be discreet,” you say softly but pull Daeron into a hug.

You see out of the corner of your eye, Alicent and Rhaenyra reaching out to each other. Daemon makes no effort to be greeted or greet anyone else. You hear him say something to guard about seeing his brother’s body.

Helaena grabs your hand and gives it a squeeze, and you squeeze hers back. A part of you does not want to face Aemond yet, but he just lost his father. Despite it all, your heart does hurt for him.

Daella insisted on showing people her new dragon. Alicent included, who gave you a sympathetic look while her granddaughter pulled away by her dress. You ask for Quinton to accompany them to the dragon pit.

With Alaric in your arms, you try to maneuver into your apartments. You find Aemond sitting and reading a book. He just stares at you for a second before getting up. His attention focused on Alaric. You watch as he murmurs to him.

“I don’t think he liked Dragonstone very much,” you try to break the silence in the room. “We can cross that off the list of places to take them when they are older.”

Aemond just hums, not paying you any mind.

“Aemond, if you want to talk ab-“

The look he gives you makes you stop in your tracks.

“There is nothing to talk about,” he says coldly.

You swallow thickly. You can’t help but feel pathetic whenever you try with him. Like a puppy that keeps coming back to get kicked. Things have gotten so bad that you can’t even get out that if he wants to mourn his father, you will be a shoulder for him. You know he is hurt, but how he manages to always take that coldness out on you is getting tired. It’s been tired.

“Where’s Daella,” he brushes past the conversation you tried to start.

“With her aunt in the dragon pit.”

He hands Alaric back to you and leaves the room to go to the pit you assume. When the door closes, your bottom lip trembles a bit. Alaric looks up at you with big curious eyes.

You hug him closer to you as you look around the room. A place that was once home feeling more foreign by the day.

The trip to the dragon pit was met with mixed results. Daella seemed excited to tell anyone who would listen about Vermithor. Aemond understood. He was sure he talked his mother’s ear off once he claimed Vhagar.

Things seem to be going well till Daeron stormed in, fire in his eyes.

Gods forbid your wife wants to comfort you. What a poor life you must have. I thought I told you fix it.

A part of Aemond wanted to come clean and say there was no fixing it. He fucked up, you hate him. It is easier to just stay out of each other’s way till one of you can find an out.

What did she do to you to make you act this way. You’re better than that, or so I thought.

Guilt sat deep in his stomach after Daeron said it.

With Daeron’s plea in the back of his head. Aemond finds you in the bath. He can still see the steam coming up from the water; your head leaned back, arms extended and laying on each side. He notices the goblet in your hand. You have been doing that a lot since having Alaric… drinking.

He watches as lean your head up slowly at the sound of him coming in. You roll your eyes at the sight of him. Another thing he notices you doing a lot. Sometimes it’s rolling of the eyes, other times it is loud sigh. As if merely seeing him exhausted you.

It should make him be more conscious around you. Pick his words carefully.

“You shouldn’t drown in your cups,” he knows as soon as the words come out, they were not the right choice.

Your normally bright and clear eyes are blurry and wild. Stray hairs fall from the pile of hair on the top of your head.

“Thank you, father,” you reply sarcastically. He watches you down the rest of your wine, before leaning over to refill it with the large pitcher next to the tub. His eye trails along the birthmark that runs its away across your ribs. It strangely used to be his favorite physical attribute of yours; a part only he has seen.

You would be surprised how well a simple apology works.

His mother’s words play in his head. She used to say it to him and Aegon when they fought Taking a deep breath, he pulls the chair from the corner of the room to near the tub.

“What are you going,” you asked with a frown.

“I think we should talk.”

“I do not want to talk with you,” you groan, closing your eyes again.

“But you sai-“

“I changed my mind,” you sink lower into the tub. “I want to be left alone.”

Aemond doesn’t budge, just stares, mouth twisted into a scowl. He watches you shift uncomfortably until your eyes shoot open.

“Are you just going to sit there and stare?”

“I said I want to talk,” he repeats.

“Fuck you,” you spit out. “I told you to get out.”

“I am trying to apologize.”

You just stare at him for a moment before letting out a bark of laughter.

“Apologize,” you mock. “Whatever for, husband? The cheating, the lying, or just your overall need to be a cunt to me?”

Aemond’s jaw clenches before he tries to reply but you cut him off.

“Now you want to speak on your terms too. After everything you have done to me. You know for someone who resents his father so much that you cannot even come to grips with mentioning his death, you act a lot like him. You watched your mother waste away because of the way he treated her, and you learned nothing. That is not a mistake Aemond, that is a choice. You chose to behave that way, and - and,” your voice breaks. “I have no idea why. I woke up one day alone. Your body was here but everything else was gone. I married you; I gave you children; I bit my tongue like I told to… and it still wasn’t enough for you. The sickest part is that I would have forgiven you if you just showed an ounce of remorse before. So, no Aemond. I don’t want to talk it out with you.”

Your eyes go to water. “I want you out.”

Aemond sits there shocked before getting up and leaving. You sink lower into the tub, till you are submerged. The heat of the water tickles your face. A slight weight lifted on your chest let the calmness of the water take over.

Rhaenyra is crowned in a small ceremony in the throne room. By the time Viserys body was burned and the smoke reached the skies, her coronation was one of planned.

As you look around, you try to find a happy face. Despite the mistakes along the way or the prejudice some may have, Rhaenyra still has supporters in the Realm. Even with this fact, there is not a genuine smile on anyone’s face.

It is all placations to the tense atmosphere that has entered King’s Landing.

Alicent stood on the either side of you. None of the other Hightower children attended the ceremony. Aemond and you have not spoken since the argument the other day. He spends most of his days riding with Daella which you guess is better alternative to what else he could be doing.

“Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen, First Of Her Name, Queen of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lady of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm!”

Daemon stands behind his wife, face in deep thought. Rhaenyra’s eyes are red, and distant as her father’s crown is lowered onto her head. Otto is on the other side of her.

You think of the conversation you had with her in the dead of night.

“Why in Seven Hells would I keep Otto Hightower on as hand?”

“Because you and I both know he is good at his job. Despite what you may think of him, he has served each ruler before you well.”

“He married Alicent to my father.”

“Which if recounts are true, you unfairly blamed on her.”

There was silence before Rhaenyra sighed. “I guess having him near is better than far. Corlys is not going to be happy about this.”

As chants for long live with the queen begin, your mind drifts to Aegon. He had been avoiding you since you got back. In fact, he had been tucked away from everyone since.

It could be out a self-survival. There were already whispers about when and how he would take the crown from his sister. Daemon seemed to take it as a personal affront more than Rhaenyra has.

Once the ceremony is over, Otto makes eye contact with you. The meetings had become tedious to hide. With both Rhaenyra and with Otto and rest of the green council.

As people begin to filter out of the hall, Otto walks slowly as you stay behind. He walks you to his study.

“I have to say, I am impressed by how quickly our new Queen has taken a liking to you,” he seems more pleased with himself than you. “And now I have good news for you.”

He pulls out a cloak. The purple shade of it is so deep that it almost looks black. You recognize it well. It’s Aemond’s

“That little problem you had has been taken care of, and I thought you would want this back.”

The familiar flush of heat on the face, and watery mouth you get before you feel like you need to throw up comes over you. You shake your head in confusion.

“This was found… on the body.”

Your breath quickens. “Oh, um well thank you for taking it care of it.”

You know you probably look crazy as you all but run back towards your chambers. The cloak was long forgotten in Otto’s study despite his calls after you. Aemond looks up startled by the desk in the corner when you burst through the door. The two of you haven’t truly spoken since the argument nights ago.

Frantically, you go to the drawer where you unpacked your dresses from the trip. You go to the drawer where you know Aemond keeps his blades.

“What are you doing? What happened?”

When you find the blade you gave him for your anniversary, you drop to your knees. This makes no sense.

Your mind drifts back to pushing her head under the water till she stopped fighting. You tried not to think about it. The nightmares were enough. If that wasn’t her… then who was it? Did that even happen?

You flitch when you feel a hand on your shoulder. Aemond had crouched down to your level with a confused look on his face. He just looks at you before shaking his head.

“Aegon and I have been talking,” your brows furrow skeptically as his voice grows soft. Since when did him and Aegon… talk? His hand goes to brush a hair from your face. “We think it might be best for the children to leave with Daeron when it goes back to Oldtown.”

“What?”

“It is not safe here. Not while Rhaenyra is Queen.”

“Aegon has a reason to send his kids. They could be in line, and in danger, if anything were to happen. We have no reason to.”

“I think we should consider it.”

You scoff. Now suddently he wants to care for his kids. “You can do whatever you want with the children… when I am long dead and buried.”

You swat his hand away, before getting up. You give the blade in the drawer one last look before leaving.

It had been moons since Queen Rhaenyra, First of Her Name had been crowned. After a short period of peace following the death of King Viserys the Peaceful, King’s Landing was alight with gossip and strife.

Some claimed that Prince Aegon, quick to anger, had spent those months plotting his rise power in spite of his sister. Others claimed that it was the Dowager Queen Alicent that had been planning her son to take the throne behind Rhaenyra’s back.

Most of the drivel was salacious and untrue in nature. But all that was trampled and forgotten once news of a prophet spreading the word against Targaryen dynasty reaches the Red Keep.

Slanderous remarks against Queen Rhaenyra gaining traction. It is said that the comments anger the Queen so much that she took it out on one of her ladies in waiting.

It is now said that these sermons were only the beginning of young Queen’s demise.

The sun streaming in through the window is what wakes it up. You sit up slowly, taking in the nice weather outside. But then it hits you. Alaric wakes you up.

At almost the same time every morning, his cries or coos wake you up. You rush over to the crib to find it empty. You notice Aemond is not in the room either, and then with a throat you call out for help.

As ladies scurry out of your room after getting you dressed, you let out flurry of expletives that Quinton wonders if they are just native to where you are from. Some of them sayings he has never heard before.

He tries to keep up with you as you all but run to the kids’ sleeping quarters. When you don’t find Daella in there, you slowly turn around face stoic, and cold.

Quinton watches as you throw your head back and let out a piercing screaming. Almost animalistic. He knows you probably frightened the guard tell who she is with. But he doesn’t understand… most in this castle wouldn’t.

“I’m going to kill him,” you mutter. You give him a crazed look. “I’m going to choke him to death and feed him back to his own dragon.”

Quinton never thought love would be considered an ugly thing, especially not the love between a mother and her child. A man and wife. But it manifests itself in an ugly way as he watching you kneel over, putting your hands on your knees. You let out an ugly sob, a shattering breath raking out of you.

He puts a hand on your shoulder, and as if a trance was broken, you instantly stand up. You straighten your dress out and walk out as if nothing just happened.

It is not until Aemond returns later that evening that something uglier replaces the panic.

———

Aemond was expecting fireworks. Tears for sure, maybe some shouting, but nothing out of the ordinary for what your relationship has become.

What he wasn’t expecting was the way you flew across the room at him by the time the door closes.

“You fucking bastard.”

Aemond recognizes the look, he’s seen it in his dreams. Aemond tends to think people let the pretty face fool them. He often wonders what would happen if he just left you in room with people you didn’t like. Whereas other people hesitate, when brought to the certain point, you would not.

You begin to hurl curses at him. “You have a lot of nerve coming back.”

“They are with their uncle, away from here. Somewhere safe.”

“Nowhere is fucking safe, Aemond. Not in this family. Not with the father they have,” you hiss. “Incompetent, thinks he’s smarter than he actually is, nothing in that head of yours.”

That’s when the first push is landed.

“Otto was right, you’re a rouge.. a liability. Always have been. Aegon always said you’d eventually do something stupid…. again!”

Aemond laughs, teeth blared in a way that makes your shiver. He’s enjoying this.

“Is that what you and my brother talk about behind closed doors? Huh, I would have assumed you two would’ve been doing more… interesting things.”

Aemond watches as something switches in your eyes at the implication. Your eyes go to the blade on his waist. Aemond raises a light brow.

Do it.

“Be careful, Aemond,” you keep your voice low. “I worry you underestimate me, and what I willing to do for them. If something happens to, I will make you sure you end up like -“

Before you can finish, scared and frantic knocks at the door interrupt you. You shoot him one last glare before going to the door. You find a breathless Jace standing there.

“My mother asked for you,” his eyes seem far away. “The - the babe is coming.”

You look at him in shock, before a sinking feeling settles in your stomach.

Her term still has a month left.

Taglist: @florent1s @floraroselaughter @afro-hispwriter @snh96@holy-minseok @voniikg @evienorville @tremendouswolfsaladranch @crispmarshmallow @strawbrryquinn @widemiffyhappy @msmarvel-19 @dc-marvel-girl96 @xkennobi @fanfics4ever@hydrationqueensworld @lyra689 @blazzlynch @httyd-marauders@bregarc @b00kdiary @grey-water-colors @mercedesdecorazon@flowerpotmage @bstorn @poisonedsultana @papery-maniac @its-sam-allgood @yu3kkii @hvx @leoramage @neenieweenie@stargaryenx @rey26 @lazypinkpig @blackravena @s0urmarvel@elleclairez @rebelfleur22 @inpraizeof @luvremlu @clora95@blacpiink @let-love-bleeds-red @iwanttohitmyself @alastorhazbin@kitkat-writes-stuff @carrielle @aloneatpeace @ensolleildelune@landlockedmermaid77 @deadunicorn59

[krizariel]

"You need to stop this."

"What?" Tim said, taken aback

"You like me. I have noticed the way you look at me, the way your eyes linger when you think im not looking, how you try to advocate for me in front of Bruce or Dick. The way you always stick around. At first I thought you were just keeping an eye on me making sure I don't go batshit but I'm not an idiot. I know what that is like and you have a big fat crush."

Tim didn't assent or denied, he just stood there, unmoving.

"You need to find someone better. Someone who actually, genuinely, cares for you. I'm an asshole but I'm honest and I'm not one to play around with someone's feelings especially not someone I've come to genuinely respect. Right now, right here, I'm telling you: it's going nowhere. Deal with it however you need to and find someone worth your affections. I'm sure it's out there, it's just not me."

That was the last time Jason saw him.

…With his eyes open that is.

----

When he first heard the news, it hit harder then he let on. A mission with Batman went wrong and Tim was shot in the head. Although Bruce managed to take him to the hospital in time and he survived, he had fallen into a coma. As he stood there while Bruce reported the details, his words suddenly felt further and further until he couldn't hear anything. He didn't want this. Yet another Robin falling for the mission. But most importantly… he never got to make peace with him. Now the last thing he remember of Tim is his saddened eyes quickly turning blank and turning away. Maybe one time he had misplaced hate towards him but he doesn't feel any of it now. He had hurt him before; he didn't want to hurt him again. He thought letting him down fast and hard would be better for Tim… but maybe it was just better for himself. He could've done better but he didn't. So he did what he did when he feels he screwed up and he can't do anything about it: He focused on what he CAN do. The assholes who got Tim were still out there. They escaped while Bruce focused on saving Tim's life. So Jason didn't waste time. He knew Bruce would not rest until he found them so he offered his unsolicited assistance, with the caveat that he cannot refuse. "It's either this or I'll do it my way and we both know you'd prefer it if we do it your way."

(and so would Tim)

(If he was angrier and he broke a more bones than intended, no one said anything)

-----

At first he'd sneak during the night, seat at the further corner of the room, staring at Tim's hospital bed. The room ever so silent tormented him at first.

At first maybe it was torture. Maybe that was the reason why he'd come almost every night. Sometimes he'd doze off for an hour or two and then he'd head out the same way he came.

Later he decided… the least he could do is bring flowers. Maybe. It was too late to find a flower shop so he stole some gardenias he thought were pretty.

Another day he brought some white lilies because they seemed bright and somehow reminded him of Tim.

And so on, different kind of flowers made their way to Tim's bedside table.

(Jason finally found himself inside a flower shop almost at closing time, browsing flowers)

It finally hit him that he doesn't know what Tim's favorite flower is. He thought…that is something he would like to ask him when he wakes up.

Slowly, he found himself getting closer to the bed, keeping the flowers watered and seating in silence, just reading. Somehow knowing that Tim's heart was still beating was good enough. Months passed and this became his routine.

Sometimes, he'd just seat beside Tim's bed to tell him about his day; sometimes he'd read for him some of his own favorite stories (and wondered what did Tim like to read for leisure? what were his favorite books?)

Sometimes he's just have a shitass day and sneak around to Tim's room. No one ever thinks to look for him there. Great hiding place.

Sometimes he feels like talking about his past, his present and wistful future.

And sometimes he wonders if any of it reaches Tim's subconscious, somehow.

He started thinking about Tim opening his eyes. He is starting to forget how he looks awake, fighting or working. It is then that he decided to just loook for photos of Tim… just about any he could find in files or at the mansion. Alfred had quite a few, most of them were of younger Tim.

There were some others of older Tim in the news (Thank you Vicky!) And that brough him back to the last memory he has of Tim's bright blue eyes, clearly heartbroken.

And so he wonders if he could be given another chance to see him again.

If he was granted another chance, he promised this time he'd do anything to make him smile instead.

"Hey there, sleeping beauty." Jason greeted him as he bumped his forehead to Tim's. This close he could see those pretty eyelashes, pretty and still unmoving. But could also feel a bit of Tim's warmth and that was enough. He couldn't help himself and hopes Tim would forgive him for that.

It's been over a year, but Jason hopes. It finally happened, not long afterwards. Tim's eyes finally fluttered open.

"Who are you?"

Part 2 Part 3

[slythering-snake-boys]

Old Friends (Sebastian Sallow x Reader/MC x Ominis Gaunt)

Characters: Sebastian Sallow x Reader/MC x Ominis Gaunt

Words: 4059

Warnings: fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, can be read as platonic or romantic, spoilers for the game, mentions of death, somewhat of an AU because of certain major events not matching what happens canonically

A/N:

Without spoiling too much, I love adding this character, especially since it didn't seem fair to only have one of them

Solomon is alive

Halloween was fast approaching and the entirety of Hogwarts was excited for this year's festivities. And despite everything that had happened during your fifth-year, you were somewhat excited as well. After all, the wizarding world was currently safer, including all your friends. Though it all came with a price.

As you got ready to go downstairs to the Great Hall, you looked into the mirror one more time. There were bags under your eyes even now. No matter how much you slept, it didn't help. With a sigh, you looked through your trunk by the bed, getting a beautification potion that you'd managed to brew specifically for such cases.

The effects were immediate, the bags disappearing and more colour filling your cheeks and the rest of your face, making you appear livelier. The downside was that the potion didn't help your eyes change - they still looked quite distant and held a pretty faraway look in them. But who could blame you, really? You'd fought Ranrok, watched Sebastian almost murder his uncle and witnessed the death of your mentor, Professor Fig. You weren't too sure the nightmares would ever go away.

As you applied just a little bit of lipstick and looked over your dress one more time, you thought about what you might possibly see this year and what you'd do afterwards, in the future. The excited chatter and giggling from outside the girls' dorm room made your train of thought derail. With a sigh, you straightened up and left, going downstairs and leaving the common room.

"Took you a while, MC." You looked up as the entrance to your House's common room closed behind you, seeing Sebastian and Ominis. They were both dressed nicely, but more leisurely. "But I can see why." You laughed at Sebastian's words, seeing a teasing smirk grace his face. Which promptly left and turned into a pout because of Ominis elbowing him in the sides. You couldn't help laughing at the two of them playfully bickering, relieved to see their friendship was still intact and, hopefully, stronger than ever.

You were glad that you'd managed to stop Sebastian in that tomb. Otherwise, who knows what might've happened. Right now, Sebastian had pretty much given up on the Dark Arts, finding his new chance of curing Anne in you. It had taken a lot of persuasion and arguments, but in the end, you and Ominis managed to get him to stop pursuing that dark path.

"Keep your hands to yourself at least for tonight, Sebastian." Ominis sighed before turning towards you with a smile. "Hello, darling. I'm sure you look beautiful, if the girls fawning over you as they were leaving was of any indication." You felt yourself flush a little at his words, seeing Sebastian smirk. You jokingly glared at him before coming closer to the two Slytherin boys.

"You two look really nice this evening. And my, oh my, Sallow. Is that...cologne? Old Eau de Confringo not attracting the ladies anymore?" He pouted and glared at you playfully while Ominis snickered.

"You're never gonna let this go, are you?"

"Nope. After witnessing 7 people describe one of the scents in Amortentia as Confringo, for lack of a better word, during Professor Sharp's lesson a few weeks ago... You can't really blame me, can you?" The brunette huffed and crossed his arms, the blush on his face highlighting his scattered freckles like little stars.

"Well, as much as I'd like to take the day off and make more fun of Sebastian and his fangirls, I'd like for the three of us to go and enjoy some Pumpkin Pasties and Butterbeer. After all, you two have been badgering me about this for the past month, so we better not be wasting time. I still have to write my paper on Felix Felicis for Tuesday." Ominis explained as he got up, his wand already glowing as he looked in your direction. Sebastian got up as well and you linked your arms with his then with Ominis'.

"Don't worry, Ominis. You'll be a lot more relaxed after tonight and you can write your paper tomorrow, after a good sleep. I have to get some information for Professor Shah's class, but I'll do it tomorrow night since it's going to be clear. Tonight is all about relaxing and enjoying ourselves." Sebastian grinned and nodded at your words, flexing his arm enough for you to feel it and look up at him with a smile.

"Exactly. I don't want to hear about homework for tonight, thank you very much. That can wait. For now, though, Butterbeer is in order." He commented, already mentally drooling at the thought of all the treats commissioned by Hogwarts from Honeydukes and the Three Broomsticks. It was the same every year, but there was always a new product, as some sort of a thank you for most of the clients being Hogwarts students.

With those words, the three of you walked towards the Great Hall, talking and laughing along the way. And the party was in full swing, with friends and classmates laughing and mingling. The scent of different Honeydukes sweets and Butterbeer permeated the air and made your stomachs grumble. With practised ease, Sebastian moved his arm around your shoulders while Ominis' hand barely touched your lower back as they both led you to the refreshments table.

The next few hours were spent socialising, laughing, drinking and stuffing yourselves full. You were almost never without any of the two Slytherins, especially since Sebastian had told Ominis about some of the other students ogling you and seeming ready to come and ask you either to a dance or on a date. Some bolder ones had tried, but the look in the two boys' eyes, with or without your knowledge, made anyone turn tail and walk away. It wasn't that they were jealous, no. They just...hated the idea of you being asked out just because of your status as the 'Hero of Hogwarts', as they had agreed in the Undercroft. Yeah, that was it, no other reasons, surely.

"Everyone, if I may have your attention, please!" You all turned towards the podium, seeing Professor Weasley, who smiled at the crowd of students having a good time. "As you may be aware, Headmaster Black is currently engaged in other business with the Ministry until next week. As a result, I will be the one to make some special announcements tonight. Let's start with the first one: the Ghosts of Hogwarts and Hogsmeade, who have graciously accepted our suggestion of dancing for us tonight. Let's give them a warm welcome!"

Everyone started clapping as the aforementioned ghosts glided inside the Great Hall through the walls and open doors, some passing above the students, others through, making them shiver. Everyone made room for the ghostly residents of the castle and Hogsmeade as they danced in sync, echoing laughter intertwining with the music played by both the enchanted instruments and the musicians' portraits, whose residents had been invited to accompany them. You all watched the ghosts dancing, the two boys flanking you from either side.

Ominis froze and turned his head around a little, his wand able to somewhat sense the commotion, curious before feeling a smile overtake his face. When the dance was over, everyone applauded. You and Sebastian talked about it before you saw him flinch and yelp comically. You looked at him with a chuckle as he looked back, his jaw becoming slack. You turned as well, seeing Anne. She still appeared a little pale but you were more overjoyed to see her than anything. Sebastian, you and Ominis all hugged her, happy to see her back at Hogwarts.

"What are you doing here?" Sebastian asked her, beyond curious.

"Professor Weasley invited me. Told me there was a special occasion tonight and that I shouldn't miss it. Uncle Solomon is just over there, talking with her." You all looked where she was pointing, seeing the older man as he greeted several of your teachers. Sebastian scoffed a little but didn't say anything else, not when he felt you squeeze one of his hands reassuringly.

His relationship with Solomon hadn't improved much, especially after he almost cast the Killing Curse on their uncle. Still, with a bit of coaxing and many, many promises and reassurances from you and Ominis and plenty of begging from Anne, Sebastian was allowed to visit Anne and Feldcroft again. Though he wasn't allowed to bring anything he thought might cure Anne - not without proper research, official clearance by a professor or a doctor, and certainly not without him present.

Sebastian had protested immediately and promptly left the house, taking his frustration out on the training dummies outside. You all left him to vent, but he knew he couldn't win. And with you and Ominis coming out after a while to discuss with him, he finally relented. And as much as he would've tried to sneak past his uncle, you and Ominis had put your faith in him and told him so. Which made the brunette feel guilty and actually respect his promise.

"Did she tell you anything else about this special occasion?" You asked the girl, effectively ending the awkward moment the four of you had found yourselves in. Anne shook her head.

"Nothing. I tried to ask her and even Uncle Solomon, but he didn't know anything either. But I'm glad to be back here nonetheless." You both smiled at each other and hugged before the boys did the same. She asked you all questions about classes and your adventures, and you all told her different anecdotes, making her laugh so hard until her cheeks had gained a rosy, healthy colour.

"Is it me or does it seem a bit more crowded this year? Or is my wand not doing its job properly?" Ominis asked with furrowed brows. You and the twins looked around, noticing how many ghosts were actually gliding and dancing around and above you.

"There are a lot more ghosts here, that's certain..." Sebastian mumbled, his height offering him an advantage as he looked over most of the heads of those around him, noticing that there were indeed more ghosts than usual.

"What's going on?" You asked as you looked around and then at Sebastian.

"I'm not entirely sure..." He whispered, looking above almost everyone else's heads curiously.

"Attention, everyone!" Professor Weasley's voice once again made everyone turn towards the podium. Seeing that everyone's attention was on her, she smiled and continued talking with a smile. "Given that tonight is Halloween and there are so many of us gathered here, I'd like to announce another special event that will be taking place shortly. You may have noticed how many otherworldly guests are here tonight. There is a good reason for that." Her eyes almost seemed to lock on your group of four and she smiled wider, almost motherly. "They have been able, in their own unique way and thanks to the latter's strong bond to Hogwarts, to help us call forth some of our former and beloved teachers who have left us too early. Mainly, Professor Fig and Mr and Mrs Sallow."

At the sound of those words, the three of you froze and felt everyone's eyes on you, whispers starting to raise in numbers. The sound of quiet voices from behind you made you all turn in that direction. At first, you couldn't see anything, though soon you heard Sebastian gasp, watching as his eyes filled with tears and his chin and lower lip trembled. Your hand involuntarily squeezed his hand and you felt him squeeze back.

The students and other ghosts moved to the sides of the Great Hall, enough to make way for the three special guests. You felt tears well up in your eyes at the sight of the transparent figure of your former mentor who was smiling, nodding and greetings those he passed by. When his eyes locked onto yours, his smile widened and you felt the tears finally slide down your cheeks as you smiled back. He stopped in front of you, looking down at you proudly with a big smile on his face.

"It's good to see you again, my young friend."

"H-Hello, Professor Fig. It's great to see you again, sir." You sniffled, unable to stop yourself from crying and wanting to hug him, despite knowing you'd go right through him. Seemingly uncaring of such trivial things, he came forward and hugged you, making you shiver at the cold feeling passing through you. But you tried to give him a hug without going through him, happy to know that he was still somehow there.

You looked to the side, seeing Anne and Sebastian crying as their parents talked with them with smiles on their faces. The twins were both red in the face from all the crying and your heart ached because of how clearly they missed their parents. But you were glad to know that they managed to see them again, even if it was after quite a while.

"Mr Gaunt! My boy, you've grown taller than me!" Professor Fig leaned back, looking at Ominis with a wide smile. Ominis smiled and bowed his head, coming to sit by you as one of his arms went around your waist, half embracing you.

"I have? That's good to know. Sebastian always tells me I'm shorter than him." You chuckled, your voice sounding watery, but you leaned into Ominis' side.

"Don't worry, this will be our secret." Professor Fig winked, making you smile.

"Mom, Dad, these two troublemakers are MC and Ominis, my best friends here." You, Ominis and Professor Fig turned around, watching the Sallow twins come to stand by you, presenting the translucent figures of their parents.

"Hello, Mr and Mrs Sallow. A pleasure to meet you." Ominis bowed politely and you nodded and smiled, watching them.

"Likewise. It's good to finally meet the two of you. Thank you for taking care of Sebastian and Anne all those years." Their praise made the two of you flush, but you smiled nonetheless. You knew that they had most probably been watching over their two children, despite not being alive for so many years already.

"By the way, who are you calling troublemakers, Sebastian? Last time I checked, you were the detention master here, not me and MC." Sebastian flushed and pouted.

"Surely your parents already know about your...reputation here, Sebastian?" His parents nodded and Sebastian pouted even more, crossing his arms over his chest and looking away with an obvious blush. Anne giggled and patted his back.

You spent the rest of the night talking with most of the invited ghosts, including Jackdaw, who was thrilled to see you doing well and still alive, especially knowing that you'd survived what had brought his early demise. Even Professor Fig and the older Sallows talked with others, students and ghosts alike, though your eyes were almost always going to them for fear that they'd disappear. You and Ominis stayed close to Sebastian and Anne, understanding that they were suffering even more since they'd lost their parents and were finally meeting them again after around 10 years.

"So... You're only here for tonight, professor?" You asked Professor Fig as you looked up at him before glancing towards Mr and Mrs Sallow as they were back next to Sebastian and Anne. He nodded, smile dimming a little.

"Until 4 AM, I'm afraid." You visibly deflated. Twenty more minutes. And from what you'd understood, their ghosts had to leave. Probably forever. This had been a special, unique opportunity. You didn't know if something like this could ever happen again.

"The witching hour, huh?" He nodded at your almost silent words, looking at you with a sad, pitiful smile.

"Sadly, yes... I could become another one of Hogwarts' ghosts, but..."

"No, no, sir... You've chosen...because of Miriam, right? And Mr Osric." Your mentor nodded. You smiled, happy to know that he could now meet those dear to him again. "I'm glad to know that you have been reunited again. I know how much you missed her..." Professor Fig smiled and nodded.

"I can see that Mr Sallow and Mr Gaunt are both keeping a close eye on you." You felt like blushing, but schooled your emotions and only smiled before glancing at the two young men in question. They were both on either side of Anne, talking with the Sallows.

"Sebastian and I have been on many adventures together... And Ominis has tagged along quite often, more out of worry for us than anything. But he's had his share of fun with us, especially when we were saving captured beasts."

"They both care a great deal about you and I can see that you care about them as well."

"They are some of my closest friends here. Along with Poppy, Natty and Amit... We've all had our share of...dangerous adventures. But we've only come out stronger in the end." Professor Fig smiled proudly.

"I know that your fight isn't over. If what the Keepers have told us is true...it will never be truly over. But I feel relieved knowing that you aren't facing everything alone. And I am very proud of you for how brave you are. For how far you've come. And for how much you're staying true to yourself. I know you'll do great things. But please, remember to also take care of yourself. Let others take care of the world and recover. Physically, mentally and emotionally." He was as caring as always, trying to take care of you and offer you advice even from beyond the grave.

"Thank you, Professor Fig... I will." You nodded. You could almost hear the minutes ticking by. He will leave soon, you thought. I won't see him again.

The thoughts made you tear up and a lump started forming in your throat. A hand on your shoulder made you tense before looking back, seeing Sebastian, Anne and Ominis, along with Mr and Mrs Sallow. The twins were both smiling, though their noses and cheeks were a little red and their eyes red-rimmed and filled with unshed tears. Ominis came to your other side and took your hand in his, with Sebastian and Anne on your other side as he held onto your other hand while also holding onto Anne's. The twins' parents stood next to your former mentor, looking at you all.

"We are very proud of you. All of you." Mrs Sallow said, looking at each one of you four. You heard Anne sniffle. Sebastian straightened up, breathing in deeply to keep himself from crting even more.

"I'm glad that you're all watching over one another and I know you'll be there for each other no matter what." Mr Sallow followed. You squeezed the boys' hands, feeling them squeeze back.

"And we will always watch over you, rest assured. You'll never be truly alone." Professor Fig smiled at all of you. You all smiled and nodded in response.

Mrs Sallow came a little closer, har hand trying to brush both of their cheeks. The tips of her fingers went through and Anne had obviously felt the coldness. The knowledge that they couldn't feel each other's touch, whether a hug or a pat on the back, made Sebastian swallow thickly.

"Sebastian... Anne... Oh, you two have grown so much... I'm so proud of you for how we'll you're doing..." Mrs Sallow whispered, visibly getting emotional. "We love you two very much. Never forget it." Mr Sallow only seemed to pull her closer as he smiled at his two children.

"You'll be okay. Both of you. We have faith in you." He added. Anne sniffled and hugged Sebastian's side tightly as he nodded, tears brimming his eyeline.

"We love you, too. Please, w-watch over us." He said with a slight stutter, biting the inside of his cheek to stop himself from bawling out like his twin sister.

"Everyone!" Professor Weasley's voice pierced through the air. "It is almost time for our guests to return. I would like to thank them once again for gracing us with their presence and for their help in allowing us to see those we've lost once more. As a final thought for those who will be leaving us... For being in our lives... For making us better versions of ourselves... For offering us advice and helping us grow up... For believing in us. Thank you." Everyone clapped, the sound echoing while a few of those in the audience cheered loudly.

Professor Fig and the Sallows all smiled at the four of you before you saw their translucent figures gradually disappear until they became as small as a pale blue match flame. They lingered for a few more seconds before the blue wisps turned even smaller and started floating away, along with the other ghosts who weren't Hogwarts residents.

It was quiet between the four of you as you stood there, stuck to the same spot almost in a daze.

"Anyone else in need of some fresh air?" Ominis asked tentatively, to which you all agreed quietly and walked out of the Great Hall, feeling a few people staring at your figures. Once outside, you sat down on the nearest benches, staring at the barely cloudy sky, watching the stars glinting on the inky sky. The air was cold enough that you could see your breath every time you exhaled.

"Are you two okay?" You asked Anne and Sebastian quietly. Sebastian was staring at the sky with a blank look on his face while Anne was wiping her nose with a handkerchief.

"I wish we had more time..." Sebastian whispered, feeling tears well up in his eyes again. You got up and came over to him, hugging him tightly as he embraced you back, soon hearing him sniffle as the top of your dress soaked up his tears.

"I know... I wish for the same thing. But it's okay. Now...we know that they're there, watching us. And we got to see them. To talk to them. I..." You licked your lips as you took a shuddering breath so you wouldn't start crying again, your fingers going through his now unruly locks while Ominis scooted closer, rubbing his best friend's back comfortingly. "I'm glad we were able to do this. It feels like a part of me is back." Anne sniffled once more before breathing in and out to clear her head. She stared at the sky for a moment before smiling and nodding.

"You're right... I never thought I'd ever see them again and now... Now I feel as if we got some sort of...closure." You nodded and kissed the top of Sebastian's head. You felt his arms tighten around you and bury his face more into your chest, seeking more of your comfort and warmth.

"Seb? Are you alright?" He had stopped crying and was only taking deep breaths. Instead of answering, he leaned back a bit, his eyes, nose and cheeks evidently red from all the crying. But he nodded, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly.

"I'll be fine." He answered simply. "Thank you for being there for us, you two." Anne beamed at you and nodded while Ominis and you only smiled back.

"What about you, MC? How are you feeling after all this?" Anne asked you. You sighed before smiling.

"I actually feel...good. I managed to tell Professor Fig a lot of the things I didn't get to. I feel more at peace with the situation. And I'm glad he and Miriam are together once again." Anne and Ominis nodded thoughtfully, though the smiles on their faces indicated that they were relieved you were feeling better. True to your words, you seemed to be carrying yourself better now. As if you felt lighter, like a burden had been taken off your shoulders.

Sebastian embraced you once more, though he didn't start crying again. Anne came closer and put her arms around her twin brother, having him put an arm around her in response. And you pulled Ominis closer, hugging him as well. Merlin knows you all needed the comfort.

"We're going to be alright." You all nodded, squeezing the other a little tighter.

[twistedminutia]

A Million and One Minutia: Nuclear Weaponry

Read the previous chapters here: Ch. 1

Gray teaches the Heartslabyul upperclassmen about nuclear power and weaponry.

The school library is where I spend a majority of my time, much to Grim’s protests. I’m not exactly sure what irritates him so much about it- maybe it’s just the principle of the thing, because he naps most of the time anyway, and it’s more comfortable than Ramshackle. Fall has set in pretty firmly, and the dorm’s walls do not keep out the chill. The library is warm, comfy, and I don’t have to worry about a leaking ceiling if it rains.

It’s also the only place on campus I can get internet access from. I don’t have money for a phone, and even if I got one for free, I can’t pay for an internet plan. Crowley hems and haws whenever the subject comes up, so I’m not holding out hope. So. Library computers it is.

Naturally, the internet itself is recognizable, but weird. Like most things here. The search engines are different, but have a similar format to what I’m used to. The websites are different, but they’re clear analogues of websites back home. It’s at least intuitive to navigate, if a little strange.

Research provides me with some details, but the more I look at, the more incomplete it feels. I can’t explain it quite right, but it feels a little like trying to read a detailed fanfic for a series of movies you haven’t seen. I can intuit a lot of it, but then a website will casually mention something I don’t know about at all and I’m completely lost again.

I’m in the middle of trying to figure out if hippogriffs are real actual animals here or just some sort of cryptid when I hear footsteps nearby. I glance up at the right moment to make eye contact with Cater, who waves enthusiastically. Trey follows his gaze and gives me a wave of his own. They pause near me, and I nod at Riddle, who’s the last member in their little group. He nods back.

“How’s it going?” Trey asks. “Ramshackle’s all right? You’re getting enough to eat and sleep?”

Ever since Trey learned that I am not of this world, he’s been subtly momming me. It’s nothing too bothersome- just frequent questions about how I’m doing, if I need anything, if I’m taking care of myself all right. Usually it’s no big deal, though I did get an impressive lecture once when I’d been in such a hurry that I hadn’t brushed my teeth when leaving Ramshackle in the morning. Apparently, anyone in a leadership position at Heartslabyul has formidable scolding abilities.

Still, it’s not like I don’t appreciate the gesture. Not least of all because Trey has been slipping me baked goods. Keeping them away from Grim so that I can get even one bite has become a full-time job.

“Everything’s fine,” I say. “Are you here to get some studying done?”

“More or less,” Trey says. “Riddle and I are trying to get a study guide set up for the exams coming up, so the freshmen will have something to follow during the study groups.”

“I’m just here to snap some Magicam pics,” Cater says, holding his phone up to get a shot of himself against one of the bookshelves. “Dark academia is super trendy right now.”

“You’re going to study for exams and set up a guide to help other people study?” I ask, ignoring Cater to level a skeptical look at Riddle and Trey. “Don’t you ever give yourselves time to rest?”

“Of course. A certain amount of rest ensures that the brain is functioning at peak level,” Riddle huffs. “I have a half an hour of leisure before bed every night. And helping other people study is shown to be one of the most effective forms of learning and retaining information.” He draws himself up, heels clicking together. “I’m going to get the class textbooks for the basic freshmen courses.”

He heads off down the rows of bookshelves, heels clacking against the ground. I share a look with Trey. “He is actually doing okay, right?” I ask.

“I’ve been making sure he doesn’t push himself too hard,” Trey says. “Cater’s been helping keep things in order too.”             “Gotta keep the housewarden happy,” Cater agrees, thumbing through the photos he’s taken. I take the opportunity to sneak a glance at Trey’s bag. It’s gotten to the point where my mouth starts watering when Trey shows up. He’s completely Pavloved me. Assuming that Pavlov is still a thing in this universe. Probably not. I wonder what classical conditioning is called here. Probably just ‘classical conditioning.’

Trey catches me staring and shakes his head. “I gave you a dozen cookies three days ago.”

“Yeah, and I live with a furry black hole,” I say, jerking a thumb toward Grim. He rolls onto his belly, mumbling something indistinct.

Trey laughs. “Well, I don’t have any food on me.”

“Even if you did, you probably shouldn’t have it out here,” Cater says, glancing deeper into the library. “Riddle’s going to be back at any moment.”

Good point. Biggest, most well-known rule ever: don’t bring food into a library. “Oh, right,” I say. “I guess Riddle would go nuclear if he saw someone eating in here.”

I thought it was a fairly reasonable thing to say, but apparently not, because both Cater and Trey swivel toward me with identical looks of bewilderment. “What?” Cater says.

Oops. Maybe making fun of the housewarden is only for the people actually under his rule. Deuce and Ace never had a problem with it- though their relationship with Riddle is often contentious and they’re perhaps not the best examples to look toward for the appropriate treatment of housewardens. I shrink down in my seat. “Uh- Y’know, was just saying that he’d be pissed if we broke a rule- I didn’t mean anything by it, really- I guess I’ve just been around Ace and Deuce and they complain about him all the time so I thought-” You’re throwing your friends under the bus, stop talking! “It wasn’t an insult toward him or anything-”

Cater waves a hand. “No, I mean, what does ‘going nuclear’ mean?”

I pause, giving time for my scrambled brain to slip back on the tracks. “Wh- going nuclear?” I glance at Trey, but he’s clearly just as mystified as Cater. “You know. Blowing your top. Going ballistic. Freaking out. He would have gotten really mad.”

“Huh,” Trey says. “I’ve never heard that one before.”             “I guess it’s not a terribly common phrase,” I say.

“Nu-cle-ar,” Cater says, rolling the word around in his mouth. “Huh. Is that another word for angry in your world?”

“No,” I say, a little caught off guard. “You don’t know what nuclear means?”

Trey shakes his head. “I just said I’ve never heard of it before.”

“Yeah, but I thought you just meant in that context, not that you didn’t know what nuclear was.” I look at Cater, but he just shakes his head at me.

“What is it?” Trey asks, settling into a computer seat next to me. Cater perks up and leans in.

“W-well, it’s-” Uh. Crap. I know what nuclear means in a very general sense, but not enough to describe it with any sort of accuracy. My first instinct would be to look it up, but I’m not sure how useful that’s going to be- if Trey and Cater haven’t even heard of it, is it something they’ve even discovered here? “Um. So. I only learned about this briefly once, so this maybe isn’t all that accurate. But I think it’s… some kind of atomic thing? Like, if something happens on an atomic level, then you get a substance that produces radioactivity, which can be really dangerous, and people use it for power and bombs and things…” I pause. Cater and Trey are just staring. “Okay, uh. Do you know what atoms are?”

Trey nods, but Cater just shrugs. “I never paid attention in science class. They’re really small, right?”

“Yeah, they’re the smallest substance. I think, if something happens to the nucleus, then you get radioactivity, which is a kind of dangerous energy that you can use for… some things, I think. X-rays are radioactive, and that’s why you have to use a lead blanket when you have them…” Cater and Trey are still staring at me like I’m speaking gibberish. In fairness, I barely understand what I’m saying. “I didn’t really pay attention in science class either, okay? I’m not very good at explaining this stuff.”             There’s the ‘click click’ of approaching heeled footsteps and Trey looks around me. “Hey, Riddle, do you know what nuclear means?”

I spin around in time to see Riddle placing a stack of books on the table next to him. He’s using magic to carry it, presumably because the stack is almost as tall as he is. It makes quite an impressive thump. “Yes. I’ve done some reading on nuclear physics, so I’m familiar with it, though I’ll admit it’s not a subject I’m all that interested in. Why?”

It figures that Riddle would casually bring up reading about nuclear physics. I bet he was reading science textbooks for fun at age six. “We were just talking about it,” I say. “I mentioned it and Cater and Trey didn’t know what it meant.”

“I’m not surprised,” Riddle says. He goes up on his tiptoes to reach some of the books at the top of the stack. His fingertips don’t quite touch the cover of the topmost book. “It’s- ugh- not a subject most people bother with.” He makes one final grab at the book, then gives up in the most dignified, I-meant-to-do-that way, and just magics it down. “I’m surprised you know about it, considering…” Riddle trails off, apparently realizing there’s no way out of that sentence that isn’t an insult. He clears his throat awkwardly. “Just. Considering.”

“Everyone knows about nuclear power where I come from. I mean, not everyone. But most people. There’s a big debate over whether or not we should use it for power right now, which freaks some people out, but-” I stop. Riddle is giving me the sort of horrified look usually reserved for when a person has a cockroach the size of a hot dog crawling up their back. “What?”

“You’re trying to use it for power generation?” he says, aghast. “Why? Nuclear materials are highly unstable and dangerous! It’s a fascinating hypothetical subject, but no one’s willing to put money into such a volatile substance, and certainly no one would agree to use it over magic-generated power.”

“Well, my world didn’t have magic,” I say a little sulkily. “We kind of had to make do.” Riddle frowns, looking vaguely disturbed. “It being dangerous is why there’s such a big debate over using it- no one wants to use a substance that could poison you near their homes, but it produces a lot of energy and it’s less harmful in the long term than things like oil. And people are careful with it. It’s not the same as getting power from a nuclear bomb or something.”             Riddle’s expression sours further. “A nuclear… bomb?”

“A bomb that utilizes the energy of a split atom or something. It’s supposed to be insanely powerful, and even if you don’t get blown up by it, it irradiates the surrounding area, and then that radiation makes people sick, so it’s a pretty effective weapon.” I grope for an appropriate metaphor. “It’s… um, it’s powerful enough that if you dropped one on NRC, the RSA would get hit by the shockwave. And it would probably give any survivors radiation sickness.”

“Woah,” Cater says. “Why would you make something like that?”

I shrug. “There wasn’t that good of a reason- it was made in a war that a lot of people were trying to win and it sort of… happened because people wanted a weapon that would end the war. But then people started making more of them, because everyone was scared of having it used on them, so they needed one of their own to protect themselves, and then everyone ended up with so many of them that they were an apocalyptic threat so no one could fire them. It all just sort of snowballed.”

“Huh,” Trey says. “That actually reminds me of the end of the war between the faeries and the humans.”

“Really?” Cater says. Trey swats him gently with a scrap piece of paper.

“Trein was just talking about it in class last week. Toward the end of the war, humans and faeries were using such destructive magic against each other that battlefields were tainted with blot and destroyed. The battles were almost always stalemates, and no one was winning anything. It’s one of the main reasons the peace negotiations started to gain some traction.”

Riddle nods. “There were other political reasons, of course, but that was where the biggest push for peace started. The first major act of human and faerie cooperation was restoring areas of land that were damaged by blot and magic.”

“Did it work?” I ask.

“For the most part- I think the Jupiter Corporation assisted heavily with the cleanup, and there are still a few areas that need restoration. But it’s largely healed now,” Riddle says.

“Then you’re doing better than we are,” I say ruefully. “You can’t really clean up radiation that way. Once it’s there, it’s there. The only thing you can do is wait until it fades naturally.”

“What does radiation do?” Cater asks. “Is it like blot?”

“It makes you sick, I think. There’s radiation in a lot of things, like sunlight- I think that’s why it can give you sunburns. But the kind of radiation the bombs used would make you sick. Deadly sick. That was one of the big concerns with them- even if people don’t die in the initial blast, the radiation would kill them off.” That and the nuclear winter, but I don’t mention that bit. All three of them look vaguely unsettled anyway.

“But that never happened,” Trey says, a little like he’s trying to reassure himself as well.

“No. And they decommissioned enough bombs that even if we had a war now, it probably wouldn’t kill everyone.” I consider. “Maybe. There’d probably be pockets of people who would survive. Civilization would definitely collapse, though. And radiation takes thousands of years to go away, so there’d be big parts of the world that would just be uninhabitable.” The three Heartslabyul boys exchange uncomfortable looks. “But it’s fine now. Mostly.”

“It’s impressive,” Riddle says after a moment, “what your world has managed to achieve without magic. I never would have thought that a place like that could become just as advanced as our world.”

“Thanks,” I say, uncertain what else to respond with. It’s not like I personally did any of the advancement he’s talking about. “Just being in a world where magic exists is pretty incredible to me. Thought it’s a lot to learn, since I’m not familiar with the history or how magic works or any of that…”

Something in Riddle’s eyes sparks and I trail off, trying to figure out exactly what I said. “Then you will join us for our study session. With midterms coming up, there isn’t a moment to waste, and having a remedial student will help Trey and I practice teaching the rest of the fist years.”

“Remedial student?” I sputter, indignant. I’m doing pretty well, considering I’m having to relearn everything from scratch in a high school setting. Then I realize that Riddle has just sentenced me to a study session from hell. “Uh, actually, I need to-” My gaze falls on the snoozing cat-beast next to me. “Grim and I should be getting back to Ramshackle before it’s too late, you know, we have to make dinner and there’s cleaning to do and-”

“Nonsense,” Riddle says, waving me off. “Trey has already made a nutritious meal back at the dorm, and I’m certain there’s enough for you to take part.”

I shoot Trey a pleading look, but he just nods. “There’s enough.” I glare at him. He shrugs back.

“And the cleaning can wait until midterms are over. There’s nothing more pressing than your studies.” Riddle waves his pen and the pile of books next to him starts hovering again. “We’ll head to the dorm once I check these out.” He pauses, then hands me a book on the top of the pile. “You can start with this basic overview of magical energy and its formation in nature.” He heads off to the front desk without waiting for my agreement, the book tower floating along next to him.

“Thanks for the help,” I mutter to Trey and Cater.

“It’s not that bad,” Trey says. “Riddle’s a good teacher. And even if you don’t need the help, it’ll be good for Grim. He could use the review- Ace says he barely stays awake during Trein’s lectures.”

True enough. Though it’s irritating that I have to be roped into it as well. “Fine, fine. C’mon, Grim.” I poke him. “We’re studying.”

“Myahhh,” he mumbles, shoving his face into his paws. “Five more minutes.”

I roll my eyes. “We’re going to Heartslabyul for dinner. Trey made it.”

He shoots to his paws. “Why didn’t you say so? Let’s go!” He hops down from the desk and starts booking it toward the entrance of the library. I pick up the book Riddle gave me and join Trey and Cater in heading toward Riddle. Hopefully by the time Grim realizes we’re actually attending a study session, he’ll be too full and scared of getting collared again that he won’t make a fuss. Maybe. It’s a bit of a long shot. Whatever. Trey will probably give us dessert, and that’s enough of a win to make the whole evening worth it.

Read the next chapter here: Ch. 3

[zellink]

all the bells say

a pre-calamity zelink longfic. [chapter 1 of 28 // Act 0 of 5]

>> Read Act 0: "Genesis / Heavy" on AO3

Summary:

Rating: M Main Tags: canon compliant / angst with a happy ending / character study / romance / slow burn / all the goddamn tension. / mutual pining / self-doubt / following all the botw memories / Zelda is an unreliable narrator / Link is so hopelessly in love (until it's not) What will you do with what you've been given when the story forever tolls the same way? Link and Zelda, the Calamity, and their tale of inevitability and doom, and most of all, of love.

Notes:

Here I am, 7 years late to the party, 3 years after witnessing my boyfriend first play BOTW, with a Starbucks in hand and yet another pre-Calamity long fic that absolutely nobody asked for. But I have to do it. I have to bounce these two blonde elves in my head indefinitely and breathe life into my many, many headcanons.

All my love and thanks to my trench buddy and writing soulmate @1up-girl for all your invaluable beta'ing, brainrotting, and everything in between—I seriously owe you forever and ever. Thousands of thanks to the lovely @mustardcheesedog for your amazing energy and hype as an early reader and the daily zelink brainrot.

I also wanna to thank @milkywayes for doing the beautiful banner art for Bells; for understanding my vision and for all the conversations we've had about zelink—headcanons concocted in our DMs that I eventually adopted into this fic.

Fic title taken from the famous John Berryman poem, "Dream Song 29".

~~~ Please go to the fic page on AO3 and read the extended author's note in the beginning for warnings! ~~~

Anyway..... here's Act 0, y'all!

Act 0: Genesis / Heavy

There sat down, once, a thing on Henry's heart só heavy, if he had a hundred years & more, & weeping, sleepless, in all them time Henry could not make good. […] Ghastly, with open eyes, he attends, blind. All the bells say: too late. This is not for tears; thinking. “Dream Song 29” - John Berryman

Link is no stranger to death.

At five years old, he’s already witnessed more than his peers ever would. Growing up at a farm can do that to a kid. Cows, lambs, cuccos—all to the slaughter for sustenance, for profit. He stations himself beside Father and Mother as they butcher them to sell at the family shop. He’s also seen Father shoot countless deers and elk during their leisure hunts whenever Father is back home from Castle Town. More often than not, Father would let him borrow his old bow, and Link would contribute to their hunt, too.

But then Link’s pet fish dies one afternoon—a fat white freshwater carp with gold and black splotches he named Goldie—and he weeps and weeps in Mother’s lap. Goldie was his friend. Goldie was always there in the morning when he would wake up, and was there at night before he’d go to bed. But now Goldie is floating in the pond, its tiny mouth agape.

Mother strokes his hair. “It’s okay, Link. Goldie is with the Goddess, now.”

“Can I be with the Goddess, too?” he asks. Snot runs down his nose.

“Well, no.” Mother huffs a laugh. “Where Goldie is… we cannot go there. But what you can do is pray.”

Link withdraws his head from Mother’s lap. He wipes the tears from his face with the heel of his palms.

“Can we pray together, Mom?”

At that, something unreadable passes through Mother’s face. Her blue eyes turn steely.

“You can pray, Link,” she says, something sad about her small smile. “I won’t join. But we can arrange a funeral for Goldie, if you would like that?”

So they spend the rest of the day gathering flowers from the brambles that surround their estate until Mother’s wicker basket is full of white roses, blue nightshades, and armoranths. Mother also allows him to use the small wooden box that sits atop her vanity—a coffin perfect for Goldie. Mother says that it’s a box that used to house a necklace she bought and gave to Father long ago, but that necklace is long lost, so she has no use for it now.

Link wraps Goldie in an old rag and lays it gently inside the box. Then, they dig a hole in their backyard and bury the box and Goldie in it. He cries again, but not as hard as earlier. He clasps his hands in front of his chest, shuts his eyes, and utters his prayers aloud.

“Goddess Hylia, please welcome Goldie in your loving arms, give it many, many worms to eat, and bring it back as a strong and healthy fish in its next life.” Let its next life start tomorrow, please, Link does not say aloud.

When they make it back inside the living room, Father is already there, sitting at the dining table with a cup of coffee. He asks about what they have been up to, and Link answers honestly. Father doesn’t press on, and he looks rather exhausted, so Link goes back into his bedroom and closes the door behind him.

He climbs into his bed and crawls toward the far end of the wall, looking out from the window and into the backyard. He sees it—a small grave by the shrubs, complete with a rock roughly the shape of an oval as the tombstone, with flowers surrounding the little plot of land.

He hears voices from beyond his bedroom door.

“I don’t think it is best for us to go soft on him.”

“Wha— soft? He is five and his pet just died!”

“And you helped him throw a funeral. For a fish.”

“Because he’s just a child!”

There’s a grating sound—a chair being dragged on the floor. “Well, he’s always said that he wants to become a knight. Then we must prepare him for such an occupation.”

“Being a knight does not mean he can’t feel emotions.”

“Eleana, being a knight is not easy. He will see hundreds of deaths in his lifetime. The next death he’ll witness won’t be of a fish, but of a comrade. I just want to prepare him for when he eventually becomes one.”

“Well—” a pause, “—then I hope, for Link’s sake, he never becomes one.”

Link, however, doesn’t pay much attention to his parents’ conversation. Instead, he imagines Goldie wiggling its way past the layers of cloth and wood and soil, flopping around the backyard until it finds its way to the pond again. Once everybody is asleep Goldie will rise up from its grave, he thinks. He prayed to the Goddess, after all.

But come morning, the pond is still empty, and Goldie remains lifeless in its little coffin.

And he never sheds another tear after that.

****************

Link is no stranger to death, and no stranger to funerals, either.

A year after Goldie’s humble funeral in his backyard in Hateno Village, Father must attend one of the most important funerals in the kingdom for as long as Link can remember.

(Well, six years is quite long for him, anyway.)

So here he is, holding Mother’s gloved hand, in the congregation at the Grand Chapel of Hyrule Castle. It’s a sad occasion, of course—everyone’s wearing black, all the women have their faces obscured with a veil, and he can hear sniffles from the crowd. But Link also can’t wait to tell his friends back home of his first real experience in the castle.

There are speeches, sermons, hymns, and many, many other long-drawn-out processions that he has no choice but to zone out on. But once the burial is over, Link is rather excited, because the Royal Guards (and by extension, Father) must accompany the Prince Consort to the Sanctum for an intimate reception.

The Sanctum is grand—big, luxurious, grand. Red velvet is draped everywhere—the thrones, the floor, the curtains, the banners. There’s also a lot of gold, and streaks of blue here and there. Link likes the blue the most.

When Father makes his way through the crowd to find Link and Mother, Link knows it’s time. He straightens his back, draws his chin a little bit higher, and follows Father.

“This is pretty exciting, right, Mom?” Link whispers. “Meeting the Prince!”

“The King,” Father corrects him. “He was the Prince, and now, without the Queen, he has become the King.” He sounds annoyed. “Please don’t make that mistake in front of His Majesty.”

Link clears his throat. “Sorry, Father.”

He gazes up at Mother again, but she’s quiet, and it’s hard to look past her veil.

They climb the grand marble staircase leading to the floating dais above the room, and find a large man standing in front of the throne.

Father and Mother immediately drop to their knees. Link follows suit.

“Your Majesty,” Father says, his head bowed.

“Sir William! Please, no need for this,” the King’s voice booms. Father rises, followed by Mother, and then Link. “I am very pleased to see you again, Lady Eleana. It’s been too long.” The King sounds friendly, but there’s a lot of sadness at the edge of his voice. That makes sense, Link thinks. He just lost his wife.

Then, the King sets his eyes on Link.

Link’s hands feel clammy, all of a sudden.

“And you, young boy—how you have grown! It was not that long ago when your father brought you as an infant to the Castle to celebrate my daughter’s birth,” he says. Link can only muster up a nod and a shaky smile. “Speaking of—” the King turns around to shoo something from his back. “Don’t just hide! Introduce yourself.”

From behind the King’s robe, a little girl emerges, clad in a black dress and a black surcoat. Her face, however, isn’t covered with a veil like the other women, and the first thing Link notices is how golden her hair is compared to the rest of her outfit. It’s almost blinding.

The second thing Link notices is how green her eyes are. Very green. Like grass, like trees. Like the forests that he likes to spend time in.

The girl extends a gloved hand. Palm facing down.

“I’m Princess Zelda,” she says. “Nice to meet you.”

Link takes her hand in a gentlemanly way that Father has taught him when greeting noblewomen. His thumb pad rests on her knuckles. His left hand rises to splay over his right breast. Then, he puts one foot in front of the other and bends his knees, bowing his head.

“Nice to meet you, Princess,” he says. “My name is Link.”

As he straightens up again, Link finds it hard to let go of her hand. The Princess doesn’t, either; her forest green gaze is still piercing through his eyes. It feels like vines are growing out of his wrist and twining around his hand and the Princess’.

“Hello, Link,” she says.

Oh, his heart is racing.

Father lets out a cough, and the vines vanish. Link withdraws his hand as if shocked by a jolt of electricity. The Princess lets her arm fall limp at her side once more, but her eyes are still on him. Mother grabs him by his shoulders, pulling him back to stand next to her again.

“Your Majesty, once again, Eleana, Link, and I would like to offer our deepest condolences for your loss,” Father says. “For this kingdom’s loss. The Queen is—was—a strong and wise monarch, and as a people, we shall mourn her absence forevermore.” His lips are trembling a little, Link notes. He’s never seen that on Father before.

“Thank you, Sir William,” the King says. “You were a steadfast presence in her life, truly.” At that, Mother’s grip tightens. Link tilts his head up to look at her, but is met with that layer of veil again. “Well, I must be on my way. Duty calls upon us all, after all.”

With one last bow from Father, Mother, and Link himself, the King makes his way toward the other end of the dais and descends the opposite staircase. The Princess follows, her back straight and steps never once faltering.

She doesn’t turn back to cast one last glance at his family, but Link watches and watches and watches. He’s still watching as she disappears beneath the grand archway that leads further into the castle.

On the walk back to Castle Town where Father resides, Link feels something heavy settling in his gut. Like his little inconsequential life makes sense, all of a sudden. Like being six years old doesn’t really matter because, in that moment, he feels like there are hundreds of ancient men residing within the confines of his bones. And all those men are whispering the same name over and over.

The name he heard just a half hour ago.

So he speaks up.

“Father, I think I’m ready to really train,” he says. “I really wanna be in the Royal Guard.”

Father laughs.

Mother, beneath her black veil, stays quiet.

>> Continue reading on AO3

[iactuallykissedsharawheeler]

LAZY DAY WITH WANDA

headcannon!

WARNINGS : none!! just soft lovey-dovey stuff!! like one little kiss-makeout that's super quick but not heated so if you're uncomfortable feel free to skip!

NOTE ; hi!! author speaking!! this is my first time posting anything fic-like ever so if you have any criticisms or ideas pls pls share them!!!!!! i'm interested in seeing new ways to do things and improve!! thanks for reading, enjoy!! xx

you wake up to a wanda-less bed, the room cool without her to warm it. you sigh into your sheets and slowly wake up, letting your body ease into it. not rushing. golden light breathing life into the room, soft and hazy through the under-layer of curtains. wanda must have opened them.

eventually, you're awake enough that you register the savoury smell in the air. it fills the house with the warm smell of hand-crushed spices and roasted vegetables. you recognise the scents as one of wanda's favourite breakfast meals: zacusca¹, polenta ², and franzela ³. one of the dishes her mother had taught her when she was young. (pietro said it was overrated but still gobbled it down whenever wanda made it.)

as you make your way to the kitchen, practically cartoon floating towards the smell, you hear wanda softly humming the sweet little love song she'd been into lately, 'ce bine ca esti' ⁴ and smile adoringly to yourself at how cute your girlfriend was.

when you enter the room, wanda is a graceful flow of movement, floating around the space. her hands cutting vegetables adroitly before dropping them ceremoniously into a sizzling pan. she always refused to use her magic in the kitchen, she thought it tainted the beauty of it. right now, you understood just what she meant.

she looks like art with her hair pulled away from her face, frizzy from the heat and her movements confident. her skin warmed by the sunlight that gave everything a golden glow, especially wanda. its enchanting, really. you observe from the entrance, taking note of the sweatpants she stole from you last night during your movie marathon. the one that ended with you both cuddling and eventually asleep by movie three. what? day jobs are draining.

when she turns to grab a mug full of a coffee so pale it's almost ghostly, she spots you. an ardent smile growing on her face that has you wanting to lionize her forever. "good morning, моя любовь*. ce mai faci în această dimineață?" *

you hum a, "fine," padding towards her leisurely and preening at the affectionate greeting, "smells amazing in here."

she hums back and smiles, "thank you. i was gonna wake you but you just looked so peaceful, i couldn't possibly. do you want anything to drink? food's almost ready." you nod your head and move in to hug her. hugs from wanda never felt uncomfortable, they just felt safe and warm. they had an effect like no other. "i missed you." she says, whispering it like a prayer she only wanted you to hear. "missed you more." you reply, letting every muscle and thought relax into her. you can tell she's doing the same.

when you both let go, she reaches out to your face, cupping your cheeks and running her thumbs along the apples of them. the sunlight behind her giving her a halo, you wonder what your past self did to deserve an angel. whatever it was, you'd try to replicate it, so you'd get to spend all your eternities just like this. "ce am facut sa te merit?" * she says dreamily, voicing your own thoughts while taking in every inch of your face. you used to feel exposed and embarrassed by it, but now you just feel enveloped in wanda's love. she may be the scarlet witch but the magic you felt with her was different. it was like being on a different celestial plane everytime she looked at you.

"you're asking me?" she chuckles and leans in, mumbling "shut up," against your lips. you both melt into each other, you lean into her body, hands sliding onto her waist, and by the time she pulls away, you're both practically hugging. she gives a few more short kisses that have you both grinning and giggling like fools. it's such a beautiful moment, you find yourself memorising how this feels. trying to keep it safe and locked away from anything that could ruin it. there's a beat where she stops kissing and just looks at you, her eyes so tender and loving your stomach really does feel butterflies "what?" you whisper. "shh," she says, "i'm observing." that gets a giggle out of you, "observing what, exactly?" still smiling, she says, "perfection, of course."

after another moment of wanda's "observations", she pecks you on the cheek once more, putting her attention back on the meal. she asks you to grab as many pillows and blankets as you can while she finishes up. you pile the blankets until you're satisfied with the fluff, smoothing it down until it's nice and full. then, you toss on the pillows, a little less particular but keeping in mind how much wanda loves to sink into them.

when wanda strides over, steaming plates in hand, you take a deep, reveling breath, "mmm that smells amazing, wanda." she smiles and crosses her legs as lowers herself to the ground. "only the best for you, my love." she says leaning into your shoulder.

after what felt like years of gentle arguing over what you'd watch, you decide on a sitcom wanda had seen an episode of and adored. your legs are tangled together as you lean back on piles of pillows. you laugh at jokes and wanda laughs so hard at one of them that she almost chokes, which only makes you both laugh harder. it's a sweet and filling morning. the two of you just absorbing the loving energy you'd created.

proceeding the meal, wanda dumped any scraps and rinsed them and handed them to you to scrub with a kiss on the cheek. you finished and headed back to the couch where wanda was curled up against the pillows, giggling at a joke one of the characters made. you make your way down to her and get as close to her as you can, she smiles as you adjust yourself. "good?" she says when you finish, "mhm!" you say smiling up at her. she gives a smile back before facing back towards the tv. you see the content set of her face and your heart swells just a bit. lazy days with wanda were always so perfect.

AUTHORS NOTE ; hi! so i tried to be really sensitive to wanda's ethnic background and also to you! the reader! some things were described in detail and others were left to your imagination!! if you have any requests feel free to absolutely fill my asks because i find this kind of stuff really fun! if you see any errors or ways i could improve, again, feel free to tell me!!

much love, r.

p.s ; here are all the little footnotes and translations but feel free to skip. kk bye for real ! x

translations:

моя любовь: "my love"

ce mai faci în această dimineață?: "how are you doing this morning?"

ce am facut sa te merit?: "what did i do to deserve you?"

¹ zacusca: Zacuscă can be eaten as a relish or spread, typically on bread. It is said to improve in taste after some months of maturing but must be used within days of opening. Although traditionally prepared at home, it is also commercially available. Some Bulgarian and Middle Eastern brands are available in the United States. In the Orthodox Christian majority countries, it is sometimes eaten during fasting seasons due to the absence of meat, eggs or dairy products.

² polenta: Polenta (/pəˈlɛntə, poʊˈ-/, Italian: [poˈlɛnta])is a dish of boiled cornmeal that was historically made from other grains. The dish comes from Italy. It may be served as a hot porridge, or it may be allowed to cool and solidify into a loaf that can be baked, fried, or grilled.

³ franzela: long bread (like a baguette!!)

⁴ ce bine ca esti: romanian love song performed by romanian musician nicu alifantis. it's so cute and sweet i 💞 it so much. here's the link in case you want to hear it!! ☆

[lumine-no-hikari]

Dear Sephiroth: (a letter to a fictional character, because why not) #269

I was going to try some Dead Cells today, but something unexpected happened and I didn't have an opportunity to devote a long time to focus on it. So I ended up doing other things, and that was good, too.

Once more, I did a lot of leisure writing today. It was... cathartic. Necessary. But time-consuming. It takes up a lot of my time and focus when I do it. And... given that it's just a pale imitation of what I am searching for, I'm not really sure if its time and focus cost is... prudent. Hm.

...There's so much I wish I could tell you. But I can't write it here and still have what I'm trying to do for you be taken seriously. I have to try to seem normal, at least for now.

...

It's not all I did today, though. At some point, J and I wandered around to get some errands done. He needed some things from the hardware store, I needed to get those meds prescribed by the sports medicine place, and we also needed toilet paper. So that's what we set out to do.

The medicine I got from the sports medicine place is called "celecoxib". I guess it's a kind of anti-inflammatory that works a little differently than ibuprofen, which is what I've been using on the really bad days. I'm supposed to take it twice a day for like a week, and then on an as-needed basis after that. I wonder if it'll help with the rib injury at all. Maybe it will. Or maybe nothing will happen. Or maybe something weird will happen. I don't know. But I took the first dose just now, so I guess we're gonna find out.

I saw a lot of birds-of-prey while we were out, so I took pictures of them for you:

...I think, so far, this is the best one I've ever gotten, though:

...It almost kinda looks like you, doesn't it...? Maybe a little...?

...

...Well... I'm reminded of you when I see great big flying birds in the sky, anyway. I'm not really sure why that's the case, but... it is what it is. I can be grateful for anything that prompts me to think about you.

Later, M, J, and I went out to see a movie called DanDaDan. J wanted to see it, so we went. I took some pictures of the sky on the way:

...The sky in general reminds me of you, especially during the parts of the day when it's blazing with kaleidoscopic hues.

...It was a very fun movie. Silly as heck, but also a lot of fun! I can't say for certain whether or not you'd like it. But... as part of seeing this movie, there were previews for other movies. And one of those movies was called The Wild Robot.

...It looked very promising. Next time someone calls you a "cyborg", now you have one more wholesome robot to point to, besides Zeta from The Zeta Project. We're gonna go see it! You can bet that when I do, I'm gonna tell you all about it, and probably encourage you to see it, too!

It doesn't come out until sometime towards the end of September, though. So if you wanna hear about it, you're gonna hafta hold on and stay safe at least until then, okay?

...Apparently, though, this was a book trilogy before it was a movie. So maybe I'll get the books after I see the movie. I wonder if our local libraries have a copy... hmm...

...It's about 9:30pm now. J is trying to make that garlic pudding. The whole kitchen smells amazing to me as a result. I'm going to have to go to bed relatively soonish, though; I go to my bakery job tomorrow! I'll try to get some yummy pictures for you, okay? So please just hang tight out there, okay...?

...

...I'm worried about you and stuff. I know how things ended for you the first time around and I... don't want to see you get broken, bloodied, beaten, and slashed up like that again. So please... please make sure that it doesn't happen to you again, okay? If you try to break things again, then that's how it's going to happen for you again, and I... don't want to spend a number of weeks crying again. So please... make good choices, okay? Make kind, good, loving, brave, and gentle choices out there. But also... please make sure you don't get killed, all right?

Oh!!! Before I forget. Over the last several days, J and I got even more pictures for you. Suppose now is as good a time as any to send them along... J's cellphone camera takes really good photos of the moon, unlike mine. I wonder if you'll be able to tell which ones are his and which ones are mine...

...In that set, the only pictures that were mine were the ones of the moon, haha... The rest were all J.

...J keeps making the garlic pudding as I'm writing this, and it smells and tastes absolutely phenomenal. It's still warming, though, and it won't be set until tomorrow. Look forward to pictures of it at some point after my shift at work is all done, okay?

I'm gonna get ready for bed now.

I love you. Please keep yourself safe out there. Please make it through to the end of all this alive and well. I'm counting on you coming back home.

I'll write again soon.

Your friend, Lumine

[queeringclassiclit]

Gyges and Candaules from Herodotus’ Histories (book 1)

I don’t know if this counts because the genre they’re from is theoretically history but actually lots of it’s made up anyway and they died pre-500 BC so….. anyway I think the whole thing is super gay and want people to vindicate me on that.

Here’s my translation of the slightly adapted ancient Greek text for the large majority of people who won’t know them:

Candaules (king of Lydia) thought that his wife was the most beautiful of all women. Candaules also had a certain bodyguard called Gyges. The king would entrust his most serious affairs to him, and often praised his wife’s beauty. Not long later (for it was fated that doom should come to Candaules), he said this to Gyges: “O Gyges, you do not seem to believe me when I say that my wife is the most beautiful of women. People’s ears are less trustworthy than their eyes; therefore, you must see her naked.” Gyges shouted: “O master, what are you saying, ordering me to see my mistress naked!? For at the same time I would remove her modesty. I believe you when you say those things about your wife. You can in no way order me to do something so unjust.”

As Gyges spoke thus, he was very afraid. But Candaules answered him: “Take heart, o Gyges. Fear neither me nor the woman, for you must try and do as I say. I will arrange everything so that the woman does not learn that you are there. During the day I will bring you into the bedroom where we lie. After, she will come to bed. Near the door of the bedroom there is a chair where she will put all of her clothes as she takes them off, and you will be able to watch her at your leisure. When she turns away and goes onto the bed, you must make sure she does not see you leave the room.” Since Gyges could not escape he agreed. Candaules, when he thought it was bedtime, brought Gyges into the room. His wife immediately followed, and when she had come in and was taking off her clothes Gyges watched her. When she turned her back to him to go onto the bed, he left the room.

The woman saw him as he went out and understood what Candaules had done. The next day she sent one of her most trusted slaves to fetch Gyges (who did not suspect anything since he was used to attend on the queen) and said to him: “Now, O Gyges, you have two paths before you and you must choose which to follow. For either you must kill Candaules and become the king of Lydia, or you must die. For you to obey all of Candaules’ commands and see what you should not is forbidden. One of you must die: either you, who have seen me naked, or he, the one who planned this.” Gyges at first was astonished and said that in no way could he choose between the options the woman had presented. But when he saw that he could not avoid it, either to kill his master or himself, he chose his own life. “Since you are making me kill my master I would like to know how you will have me do it.” She replied: “From the same place you saw me naked, you must strike him when he is asleep.”

When they had planned this, Gyges followed the woman into the bedroom (for she would not release him and either he or Candaules must die). He hid behind the same door and killed Candaules as he slept: so he made himself master of Candaules’ wife and his kingdom.

With just a tad more consent this could have been a “we saw you across the bar and really like your vibe” kind of situation…. Also as I first translated it I made a mistake and thought Gyges was wearing a disguise and imagined him in a maid outfit to blend in with the palace staff in her room, so do with that what you will. Also the use of the terms master and mistress is in the original but does sound super gay. (Not necessarily with all the context and stuff but like. Ancient Greece was a weird fuckin place man.)

this isn't really the usual vibe of this blog but yeah sure, fuck it, this is a fun story

Gyges and Candaules

from Book 1 of the Histories of Herodotus (Ancient Greek history)

(no "I don't know these characters" option on this one because you have all the info you need here. you can read the translation and then cast your vote)

[serial-serializednovelreader]

Nova's Notes - North and South Weekly - Chapter 5

In which Margaret has to make yet more decisions...

"'I ask Thee for a thoughtful love, Through constant watching wise, To meet the glad with joyful smiles, And to wipe the weeping eyes; And a heart at leisure from itself To soothe and sympathise.' Anon."

I feel like this poem embodies Margaret's hopes and prayers during this chapter: to not just be happy at the good times, but to also wash away the bad times and soothe others when needed. Unfortunately, we can't say the same for her parents.

"Margaret made a good listener to all her mother’s little plans for adding some small comforts to the lot of the poorest parishioners. She could not help listening, though each new project was a stab to her heart."

Speaking of, even though she's just had a very difficult conversation with her father, she still does her best to be a sympathizing ear for her mother...yet again. Though this time it's even more painful because her mother is talking of a future they can't have anymore. What's also interesting about this passage is that we get to see Mrs. Hale taking an active interest in the parishioners! I know before I said she didn't seem to care about the parishioners, but I'm so glad this proves me wrong!!! It's sad that Margaret has to hear this though :(

“'Oh, mamma, let us do all we can,' said Margaret eagerly, not seeing the prudential side of the question, only grasping at the idea that they were rendering such help for the last time; 'we may not be here long.' 'Do you feel ill, my darling?' asks Mrs. Hale, anxiously, misunderstanding Margaret’s hint of the uncertainty of their stay at Helstone. 'You look pale and tired. It is this soft, damp, unhealthy air.'”

Nooooo Mrs. Hale that's not what she means 😭😭😭😭 I can understand why she jumped to such an extreme conclusion, though. Especially because Mrs. Hale is an anxious person and there's not much room for outside interpretation (unless Mr. Hale was getting a promotion, but he would've told her that, right? Haha, about that...).

"To soothe her mother’s anxiety she submitted to a basin of gruel. She was lying languidly in bed when Mrs. Hale came up to make some last inquiries and kiss her before going to her own room for the night."

Her mom giving her a kiss goodnight :((( I love that we're getting to see a tender side to Mrs. Hale and how she cares for Margaret for once!! It's just sad we won't see this dynamic for long...

"That morning when she had looked out, her heart had danced at seeing the bright clear lights on the church tower, which foretold a fine and sunny day. This evening—sixteen hours at most had past by—she sat down, too full of sorrow to cry, but with a cold dull pain, which seemed to have pressed the youth and buoyancy out of her heart, never to return. Mr. Henry Lennox’s visit—his offer—was like a dream, a thing beside her actual life."

How much of a lifetime has passed between this morning and evening! And wow, you know it's bad when Lennox's offer seems like a dream -- a good one? -- at this point when she was feeling horribly sad and guilty about that just a few hours ago! It makes sense, though. I can understand why even something she associated with uncomfortable thoughts could seem like such a dream now -- because, beyond her own feelings, it didn't affect her livelihood. She was still able to be herself, albeit a little shaken. Now, though? Her entire worldview has been shaken. She feels like the very youth has been sucked out of her.

"She looked out upon the dark-grey lines of the church towers, square and straight in the centre of the view, cutting against the deep blue transparent depths beyond, into which she gazed, and felt that she might gaze for ever, seeing at every moment some farther distance, and yet no sign of God! It seemed to her at the moment, as if the earth was more utterly desolate than if girt in by an iron dome, behind which there might be the ineffaceable peace and glory of the Almighty: those never-ending depths of space, in their still serenity, were more mocking to her than any material bounds could be—shutting in the cries of earth’s sufferers, which now might ascend into that infinite splendour of vastness and be lost—lost for ever, before they reached His throne."

And now, like her father, she too is having doubts of faith. While we haven't seen her religious side, I believe this shows how much her father's doubts have caused her own. After all, I imagine much of Margaret's foundational knowledge of faith would've come from her father: if he "falters", what is she to do? I think this is also her version of coming to terms with her own grief. Looking out her window and seeing the same view is almost mocking to her now. I think it's much the same feeling as when you go through the loss of a loved one and are surprised/annoyed to find the world is spinning just fine and others around you are enjoying their day, as if they don't care about your own woes. As if your world wasn't shattered.

Her father, somehow sensing her mood, joins her and offers to say the Lord's Prayer. She does and thinks:

"God was there, close around them, hearing her father’s whispered words. Her father might be a heretic; but had not she, in her despairing doubts not five minutes before, shown herself a far more utter sceptic? She spoke not a word, but stole to bed after her father had left her, like a child ashamed of its fault. If the world was full of perplexing problems she would trust, and only ask to see the one step needful for the hour."

Again, we see Margaret using self-reflection to put her father's perspective in a light she can understand and, in turn, empathize with. While her wordage was harsh (unless he would be actually considered a heretic, which I couldn't find evidence for -- if he's in good standing with the church, I don't believe it's heresy, though I could be wrong). While I wish her father had given her more words of comfort and empathy, I guess it's good she's able to take a little comfort in this -- though she seems more guilty and ashamed than anything.

"Mr. Lennox—his visit, his proposal—the remembrance of which had been so rudely pushed aside by the subsequent events of the day—haunted her dreams that night. He was climbing up some tree of fabulous height to reach the branch whereon was slung her bonnet: he was falling and she was struggling to save him, but held back by some invisible powerful hand. He was dead. And yet, with a shifting of the scene, she was once more in the Harley Street drawing-room, talking to him as of old, and still with a consciousness all the time that she had seen him killed by that terrible fall."

Oh no!!! A product of her anxious mind, this dream indicates to me that she feels that things are unresolved with Henry (which they obviously are, they did not depart on great terms). I got a lot of symbolism from this one! Henry being in a tall tree trying to reach her bonnet represents his feelings and the lengths he will go to in order to show her how much he cares. Perhaps this is something he did for her before, but now she remembers it in a new light -- and in this dream, it's more exaggerated -- because she knows there was a motive she didn't know of behind the action. But then, something new happens: he falls. This could represent the proposal itself or -- more likely -- just her anxiety of something happening to him before they can resolve their conflict. She wants to help, but an invisible force keeps her back: her own doubts/inability to accept the proposal, or just the usual paralysis in a dream. And then...he's dead. She couldn't save him. I can see this representing the death of the "old" Henry -- the one she was friends with, without the pressure or stress of knowing his feelings. Or, again, it could simply represent her inner worry something will happen to him before they can go back to their friendship.

Suddenly, she's with him again in Harley Street (a familiar setting, before she knew the anxieties of her family) and they're chatting like old times again. However, in the back of her mind, she's still thinking about his death that she just witnessed. If we take my proposal interpretation of the dream, I think this could symbolize her thinking ahead to the future, where she'll have to talk with Henry again (if she's able to visit London/Harley Street), but always thinking of the fact she refused his proposal while being unable to acknowledge it. This is made more likely by Henry doing just that (acting as if he didn't propose to her and all was normal) that same day, right after she rejected him!

Needless to say, she is not refreshed the next morning and she is not encouraged at breakfast. Mr. Hale announces his plans for the day. She knows what this means:

"By seven the announcement must be made to her mother. Mr. Hale would have delayed making it, but Margaret was of different stuff. She could not bear the impending weight on her mind all day long: better get the worst over; the day would be too short to comfort her mother."

I love to see this contrast between her and her father!!! I also love Gaskell for creating a character who doesn't delay bad news in a sea of procrastinator characters (I say, making this post almost a week late. No hate to procrastinators, but I still stand by this!). :D

"Her eye caught on a bee entering a deep-belled flower: when that bee flew forth with his spoil she would begin—that should be the sign. Out he came."

I love that she does this to make herself tell her mother. It gives us a taste of how hard this is for her -- and is also relatable. I've done something similar before to start a difficult conversation.

Sh breaks the news in the most blunt way possible. Mrs. Hale denies it at first, asking where she's gotten this impression:

“'Papa himself,' said Margaret, longing to say something gentle and consoling, but literally not knowing how."

Oh, Margaret 😭😭😭😭 I can't help but see this in a neurodivergent lens. She wants to be the comforting presence her mother needs, but in this, she can't: she's too blunt. NDs often come across as "blunt" and have difficulty expressing their emotions in a way that is expected of them. This especially comes into play when trying to comfort someone...it can often come across as "unsympathetic" or "rude" when it's usually a matter of being unable to express the emotion or not feeling it in the moment, not an intentional act of malice (as some may think). I appreciate that Gaskell notes this as Margaret not knowing how to express comfort to her mother rather than just noting she was blunt in her expression!

“'I don’t think it can be true,' said Mrs. Hale, at length. 'He would surely have told me before it came to this.' It came strongly upon Margaret’s mind that her mother ought to have been told: that whatever her faults of discontent and repining might have been, it was an error in her father to have left her to learn his change of opinion, and his approaching change of life, from her better-informed child. Margaret sat down by her mother, and took her unresisting head on her breast, bending her own soft cheeks down caressingly to touch her face."

Ouch. Yes, he should have told you about it, Mrs. Hale, and the fact that she thinks that tells me she wanted her husband to come to her about these concerns. She believed in the foundation of their marriage. I imagine that foundation is a little shaken now.

Margaret is thinking exactly what I've been saying!!! Couldn't have said it better myself (though I suppose I tried lol). I also love that since Margaret can't offer verbal comfort to her mother -- at first -- she offers her comfort through physical touch.

Throughout the rest of this difficult conversation, I notice that Margaret does whatever she can to both ease her mother’s worries and attempt to put her father in the best light: neither task is easy, but I think she is able to guide the conversation in the way she wants fairly successfully. However, her mother is steadfast that Milton will be worse for them than Helstone ever was — not a promising start. Margaret is glad her mother is focusing on anxieties of the future rather than her father’s coverup. Especially ones Margaret can help on.

To me, this whole conversation shows that Margaret is very in-tune with her mother. She knows how to navigate the pitfalls of her worries and what to say to mitigate them into other worries. We know that her mother always needs something to worry about, so Margaret is good at steering her towards thoughts of what their future will look like. While this doesn’t quite cover up what her father did, it’s better — for now — for Mrs. Hale to be more worried about furniture removal plans (which Margaret can step in on) rather than fixating on why her husband wouldn’t have told her about his doubts sooner (which she said she would’ve “nipped in the bud” — both Margaret and I don’t find this encouraging, and I doubt Margaret can give much clarity as to why Mr. Hale covered this up without added distress). The fact that Margaret feels so much relief afterwards tells me that her mother can be unpredictable, so she wasn’t quite sure if she would be able to soothe her anxieties in the way she had hoped for.

“Throughout the day Margaret never left her mother; bending her whole soul to sympathise in all the various turns her feelings took; towards evening especially, as she became more and more anxious that her father should find a soothing welcome home awaiting him, after his return from his day of fatigue and distress. She dwelt upon what he must have borne in secret for long; her mother only replied coldly that he ought to have told her, and that then at any rate he would have had an adviser to give him counsel; and Margaret turned faint at heart when she heard her father’s step in the hall. She dared not go to meet him, and tell him what she had done all day, for fear of her mother’s jealous annoyance.”

Yikes! This sounds like a very emotionally draining day for Margaret and a very stressful wait for her father. Again, her being the mediator between these two is not a healthy dynamic and I feel for her being caught in the middle.

“Presently he opened the room-door, and stood there uncertain whether to come in. His face was gray and pale; he had a timid fearful look in his eyes; something almost pitiful to see in a man’s face; but that look of despondent uncertainty, of mental and bodily languor, touched his wife’s heart. She went to him, and threw herself on his breast, crying out:—

“‘Oh! Richard, Richard, you should have told me sooner!’

“And then, in tears, Margaret left her, as she rushed up stairs to throw herself on her bed, and hide her face in the pillows to stifle the hysteric sobs that would force their way out at last, after the rigid self-control of the whole day.”

A happy (or, at least, an emotional) resolution for the married couple, after all! It is actually good to see Mrs. Hale moved by her husband’s expression. We’ve heard she married for love, but now we get to see it.

However, it’s not so easy for Margaret. She’s had to keep in her emotions all day and be a caregiver. She knows now that she needs to leave her parents to their own devices (finally, they’re communicating!!!) and in turn, she can be alone to let her emotions out. I can only imagine what it’s like to have held in tears for that long, and it’s no wonder Gaskell uses the word “hysteric” to describe the sobs she releases after all that time kept in. I don’t know how many times I’m going to keep saying it this chapter, but poor Margaret!!! Playing the role of caregiver is hard, especially when you’re not accustomed to it and you’re not supposed to be in that role in the first place. :(

A housemaid alerts Dixon to Margaret’s crying, which….I have mixed feelings about. The maid is worried about her catching an illness, which I’m fairly sure was an actual concern at the time, but like — let her cry??? She’s had a bad day :/

So Dixon comes in and Margaret has to act as if she’s been asleep rather than crying…

“‘I’m sure I don’t know what is to become of us all. When Charlotte told me just now you were sobbing, Miss Hale, I thought, no wonder, poor thing! And master thinking of turning Dissenter at his time of life, when, if it is not to be said he’s done well in the Church, he’s not done badly after all. I had a cousin, miss, who turned Methodist preacher after he was fifty years of age, and a tailor all his life; but then he had never been able to make a pair of trousers to fit, for as long as he had been in the trade, so it was no wonder; but for master! as I said to missus, ‘What would poor Sir John have said? he never liked your marrying Mr. Hale, but if he could have known it would have come to this, he would have sworn worse oaths than ever, if that was possible!’’”

Ooooh, ok, that’s not good. Dixon, learn to know your audience! She even said such things to Mrs. Hale?? Is this the best time to pull “I told you so”s about the marriage?? I also noticed that Mrs. Hale sometimes just…straight up tunes Dixon out if she’s not in the humor to listen to her rants about Mr. Hale:

“Dixon had been so much accustomed to comment upon Mr. Hale’s proceedings to her mistress (who listened to her, or not, as she was in the humour)”

This tells me that she doesn’t always listen to Dixon either — which is good! She shouldn’t! Unless a partner is straight up doing terrible things or is horrible to you, listening to people like Dixon can poison a marriage -- even though she comes from a place of love and compassion for Mrs. Hale. That’s the funny thing — I may not agree with these characters' methods, but as to their motivations — I think they all have had good intentions so far. That's what makes this book so compelling However, in this instance, there’s a time and place to voice your concerns and Dixon is not picking the right time and place.

“‘Dixon,’ she said, in the low tone she always used when much excited, which had a sound in it as of some distant turmoil, or threatening storm breaking far away. ‘Dixon! you forget to whom you are speaking.’ She stood upright and firm on her feet now, confronting the waiting-maid, and fixing her with her steady discerning eye. ‘I am Mr. Hale’s daughter. Go! You have made a strange mistake, and one that I am sure your own good feeling will make you sorry for when you think about it.’”

And here we see Margaret pushed to her limit and…it’s really cool to see! She may not do this for herself, but for her family? Yep, that’s her at her haughtiest and most authoritative. I honestly can’t even blame her! If someone was talking crap about my dad, even if it had some truth to it, I would also do a set down like this, though I hate conflict. Thinking about it, I wonder if she would do the same to all of us if she knew we were also saying things about her dad’s actions that were perhaps not putting him in the best light….hm.

My honest reaction if Margaret set me down:

For real, though, there is something to be said about the dynamic between Margaret and Dixon. Dixon is a servant in Margaret’s home and this creates an obvious power imbalance, as there is a class gap between the two. On the other side of it, Dixon is paid a wage and is an employee of the Hale household. It’s a pretty clear unspoken rule that you don’t take smack about your boss, especially to said boss’s daughter while you’re on duty and if that person is close to them. It’s made pretty clear that Dixon knows not to do this kind of thing in front of Margaret because she knows how close the two of them are: she was just still in “I’m talking to Mrs. Hale” mode.

So, who’s in the “right” here? I want to lean towards Margaret — as she’s the protagonist, she’s had a hard day, and I can’t blame her for defending her family — but her initial thought when Dixon spoke out is she couldn't believe the audacity of a “servant” speaking to her like that. I think if she were to set someone down a similar if there were of a higher rank, that would be fine, but only a servant? That’s when the waters start to become murky: in my opinion, at least. I believe part of her arc will be treating the working class better, so I hope to see this improve! In the meantime, Dixon also needs to improve her attitude towards Mr. Hale, because it is also something that is not helping anyone in the household, especially not in this situation. Plus, there’s also the fact that some of this anger against Mr. Hale isn’t just out of love for Mrs. Hale: it’s also just a grudge against Mr. Hale for being less wealthy than she wanted him to be. So, that kind of motivation isn’t entirely selfless either.

“From henceforth Dixon obeyed and admired Margaret. She said it was because she was so like poor Master Frederick; but the truth was, that Dixon, as do many others, liked to feel herself ruled by a powerful and decided nature.”

Does she like to be ruled, or has that just been her conditioning as a servant? It is interesting that standing up to Dixon caused her to admire Margaret rather than resent her, only because she did it so absolutely and with such authority. I do know there are some people who respect you more if you stand up to them and it might just be a case of that — so I guess it’s that!

“A fortnight was a very short time to make arrangements for so serious a removal; as Dixon said, ‘Anyone but a gentleman—indeed almost any other gentleman—‘ but catching a look at Margaret’s straight, stern brow just here, she coughed the remainder of the sentence away, and meekly took the horehound drop that Margaret offered her, to stop the ‘little tickling at my chest, miss.’ But almost any one but Mr. Hale would have had practical knowledge enough to see, that in so short a time it would be difficult to fix on any house in Milton-Northern, or indeed elsewhere, to which they could remove the furniture that had of necessity been taken out of Helstone Vicarage.”

It is a little funny to see the visual of Dixon trying to disparage Mr. Hale’s life choices, Margaret hitting her with a glare, and Dixon trying to “cough” it off. However, Dixon — while saying it the wrong way — is right. The narrative even confirms she’s right. Mr. Hale giving them a fortnight to move to a whole new town is an almost impossible task! If he had told everyone sooner….

Again the issue is raised: should Dixon be allowed to complain about Mr. Hale? In private, sure. After all, as an employee/servant, Dixon has to bear some of the responsibility and consequences of Mr. Hale’s choice (which is mainly taking care of Mrs. Hale, who is sick with stress). It’s fair to be a bit grumbly about having to pack up an entire household in two weeks!

The problem is, Dixon has to be around someone she can’t complain to, something she is unused to. So, she keeps her silence, almost using it as a tool of “affront” towards Margaret — though I doubt Margaret takes notice or minds much. If she’s willing to give Margaret a “cold shoulder” treatment, this tells me that Dixon is not worried about losing her place in the household. While Margaret is coming into her own and an authority of the household, I don’t think Dixon feels threatened to be fired by Margaret.

And on Margaret’s side, silencing uncomfortable truths you don’t want to hear (while, yes, said in a slanderous way), is not the most healthy thing for her here. She needs to acknowledge that her dad is making a choice that has consequences, and those who have to deal with those consequences should have the right to complain (at least, I think so). Just because someone is a servant doesn’t mean they don’t have valid complaints.

In her defense, though, that’s also her dad Dixon is insulting and she is insulting him here. Her reasoning for silencing the complaints could also be a) lowering the general dissent in the household (which is valid) b) avoiding further distress of her parents (who could be in the vicinity) c) wanting to relieve her own stress (listening to others complain is exhausting) and d) she knows complaining will solve nothing (and if she could stop her mother’s complaining, she probably would!).

If any of the above reasons were nailed down as to why she silences Dixon here, I would probably just go “girlboss!!! What a queen!!!”, but I still can’t get the whole “audacity of that servant!” thing out of my head and I think it needs to be acknowledged again. Still, I can’t blame her for wanting to set someone down for insulting her father. In other words, like everything in this book, it’s nuanced.

“So many arrangements depended on this precision that Margaret resolved to ask her father one evening, in spite of his evident fatigue and low spirits. He answered:

“‘My dear! I have really had too much to think about to settle this. What does your mother say? What does she wish? Poor Maria!’”

?????????????????? Mr. Hale….you can’t…you can’t just pull a “I’m too busy” here. Like??? Take some responsibility for your actions, man!!!

And then he gets upset when he learns that Mrs. Hale is sick from stress! Like, yeah, that’s bad…but what else did he expect springing this on her at the last possible minute, only giving her two weeks to leave their home of twenty(?) years? And now, his daughter — who is trying to plan this ENTIRE move because he’s currently just saying goodbye to everyone and seeming to not do much to help — asks him for help, and all he can say is, “I can’t think about that right now”? I’d be SO pissed!!!!!

Mr. Hale right now:

See, I have trouble feeling sympathy for him when he does things like this. He hasn’t even found a house for them to live in yet!!!!! What kind of fathe—*gets tackled by Margaret*

I regret nothing.

Anyway…

“Now, since that day when Mr. Lennox came, and startled her into a decision, every day brought some question, momentous to her, and to those whom she loved, to be settled.”

As the old adage goes, “when it rains, it pours.” Doesn’t it always seem like one life-changing event triggers off a series of others? If Margaret was allowed to pass this weight on to her parents, this wouldn’t be such an issue, but the fact of the matter is that she’s forced to bear the brunt of this responsibility all on her own — and that’s tough!!! I wonder if she imagines Mr. Lennox’s offer changing their circumstances any: it wouldn’t have, likely. As many of you have pointed out, he himself is struggling and was honestly relying on her to be the rich one in the relationship — so I highly doubt it. Honestly, this might have made this whole thing harder if she had accepted his offer, because then she would’ve had to explain them moving and the reason behind it…I don’t know if that would’ve gone well. Still, inwardly she may have wondered if she has doomed her family by refusing to marry him, though I hope not!

"'I have hit upon such a beautiful plan. Look here—in Darkshire, hardly the breadth of my finger from Milton, is Heston, which I have often heard of from people living in the north as such a pleasant little bathing-place. Now, don’t you think we could get mamma there with Dixon, while you and I go and look at houses, and get one all ready for her in Milton? She would get a breath of sea air to set her up for the winter, and be spared all the fatigue, and Dixon would enjoy taking care of her.'”

Another great idea from the problem-solving queen!!!! This is probably the only way this move can work, if we're honest. Heston has good air and allows for Mrs. Hale's comfort. Plus, it gives them the time they need to find a home. It's genuinely a good plan!

“'Is Dixon to go with us?' asked Mr. Hale, in a kind of helpless dismay. “'Oh, yes!” said Margaret. 'Dixon quite intends it, and I don’t know what mamma would do without her.' “'But we shall have to put up with a very different way of living, I am afraid. Everything is so much dearer in a town. I doubt if Dixon can make herself comfortable. To tell you the truth, Margaret, I sometimes feel as if that woman gave herself airs.' “'To be sure she does, papa,' replied Margaret; 'and if she has to put up with a different style of living, we shall have to put up with her airs, which will be worse. But she really loves us all, and would be miserable to leave us, I am sure—especially in this change; so, for mamma’s sake, and for the sake of her faithfulness, I do think she must go.' “'Very well, my dear. Go on. I am resigned.'"

LOLLLLLL, ok, I have to admit Mr. Hale pulling a whiny "do we haaaaaveee to" about bringing Dixon is pretty funny. I can't totally blame him -- would you want the servant that constantly bad mouths you to go on this trip AND be left alone with your wife to bad mouth you some more?

However, let's get serious here. Um, yes!!! Of course they're bringing Dixon and here's why (other than just what Margaret says):

Mrs. Hale doesn't need any more change in her life -- look at how stressed she already is. How much more stressed do you think she will be if Dixon -- her maid of so many years -- is forced to stay behind?

Someone needs to take care of Mrs. Hale. Dixon is the obvious choice. While Dixon disses Mr. Hale like there's no tomorrow, she is so loyal to Mrs. Hale it's not even funny! And, this is important to note, Margaret could stay behind with her mother -- in theory -- but considering the fact that Mr. Hale won't even decide something as simple as where to move furniture, I doubt he would be able to decide on a home. Margaret no longer trusts him to make big decisions in their lives -- she's determined now to be a part of the process. That's not a great look for Mr. Hale.

Experience. Who knows if the other maids know how to handle a move? We know Dixon does, because she did so once before: when Mrs. Hale was married. It might not be a super big difference, but it's good to have someone who can adjust to this kind of change fast.

Considering Mr. Hale hasn't been around to make decisions, should he even get a say on wether Dixon comes along or not? Technically, he does, as head of the household, but in my heart...NOPE. He lost his chance on decisions a while ago. Either step up, or step out of the way.

I also love that Margaret stands up for Dixon and confirms she loves the family! They may be at odds, but she is still a part of them.

Mr. Hale asks how far Heston is from Milton and she replies it's thirty miles -- not far! Mr. Hale starts to reply that it's not far in miles, but fair in....something (he cuts himself off). This indicates to me that he's going to miss his wife!! Which is super sweet! I won't even pull a "consequences of action" thing...this time. Count yourself lucky, Mr. Hale.

"And now Mrs. Hale could rouse herself from her languor, and forget her real suffering in thinking of the pleasure and the delight of going to the sea-side. Her only regret was that Mr. Hale could not be with her all the fortnight she was to be there, as he had been for a whole fortnight once, when they were engaged, and she was staying with Sir John and Lady Beresford at Torquay."

Awww, Mrs. Hale feels the same way!!! Also very sweet. It's sad they have to be separated, but that's the way it has to be for a while. I also think it's sweet that this makes her think of their engagement days: maybe that will help in the days to come.

That's all for this chapter: excited to see what happens tomorrow!

[progressblog]

Guess who stepped out of her cave?!

Lately been rotting in bed and listening to music - my favourite things to do. I have also been working out but showering is still a heavy task I miss on some days.

My result was came out few weeks ago and it’s filled with Bs and a single A- in counselling (don’t remember if I talked about it before on this blog). I’m very surprised given that I only studied a night before for all of them. But I’m grateful for my results and my hard work 💕

I feel like I can only work effectively under a sense of urgency, from now on instead of resisting this fact I will submit to it. I have realised resisting takes more energy than the flow that comes with surrendering.

What’s on today’s agenda -

Tidy up my room

Skin pampering

Complete internship task

But I did none of it. Honestly, it’s not about motivation at this point the past few days have made me realise that this vacation with this season with the same mindset and with the same memories may not happen again so what’s the point of me trying to stay on top of my tasks just to set in the right habits all the time? I know productivity has its benefits and it always will but so does rest and leisure.

I am only human and can do only so much so I want to enjoy my break and surrender to the urge to just lay in bed all day and read and write poetry, exercise and talk to friends all day even if it’s just sharing reels on Instagram.

I urge you all whoever reads this post to think about your ‘why’ as in -

why am I really productive all day everyday?

what purpose is my day today life serving for the present me?

What am I looking forward to that keeps me going and does it still matter if it won’t happen as I expect it to to keep me going in the present? (For example committing to working out everyday just so you could hit that certain mark in the weigh scale. What if it doesn’t happen, would exercising still matter to you presently the way it does with that end goal?)

I have been thinking about these things over the past few days and I have my answers that during this break nothing matters more than my health, meeting deadlines however that is and enjoying my break. I’m even going on a trip soon for the same purpose.

You see, making sacrifices, working and being productive, following your dreams, all has meaning till you know your ‘why’ for it otherwise life is meaningless anyways.