#are they arrogant? clever? lucky?

[serene-cinders]

A vampire trainer Whumper who is crazy good at their job. They’re a perfectionist. A neurotic megalomaniac with a 99.9% success rate. They’ve had an incredibly successful career, all things considered. So much so that they can enjoy a cushy leadership position, when their joints don’t work like they used to. But that missing percent still drives them crazy. The vampire who got away. The wily, wretched little parasite who’s so far inferior… rivalled the Whumper’s own cunning, all those years ago. So when the Whumper, up in their fort of bloody riches, hears about a shadowy bloodsucker picking off members of the clan, they mobilise all agents, and order them to be taken alive.

[lovinglokilaufeyson]

That’s What I Call Repressed Sexual Tension - A.A.

Pairings: Astarion x Fem!Reader (Paladin)

Warnings: 18+, Pining, Baldur’s Gate 3 Act I spoilers (I’ve only just now gotten to Act II), Smut (Sub!Reader x Dom!Astarion) – Fingering, P-in-V, Breast Fondling, NOT proofread, Astarion’s a bit of a perv – but still gentle, Fluff, Astarion is whipped (and calls you sickeningly sweet pet names), you’re kind of oblivious; I tried to make this as body-inclusive as I could, but still Fem!Reader

Wordcount: 4,230

Summary: You were nearly certain that you hated Astarion and Astarion hated you. Until one day, after battle, you decide to partake in a wash. So does Astarion, much to your surprise. The truth of yours and Astarion’s true feelings towards one another is revealed.

A/N: Hey guys, welcome to the new hyperfixation! Right now I’m doing a playthrough of BG3 and I’m OBSESSED with Astarion. I’ve also read quite a few stories on here, and felt the need to provide my own as well. Please let me know what you think! Expect to see more Astarion in the future on this page!

God, you loathed Astarion. Or so you thought.

He was a selfish, reckless, devious pig. And he knew it too.

Little did you know, Astarion’s behaviors were exacerbated due to, well, you. Obviously his aura of cocky arrogancy radiated regardless of who was around, but around you he felt the need to… cover, more. Secretly, he was quite smitten for you. But obviously, he didn’t need you to know that. You had just finished battling it out against the goblins, which had been a tiring battle. Now, you were headed back to Emerald Grove. “Darling, you know, you didn’t have to smite him. That was kind of a waste of energy for you” Astarion sauntered over, making a quip at you. “You know, Ass, we won, didn’t we? Does it even matter? We’re going back to camp now; I’ll be resting soon.”

Ass was the nickname that you had so lovingly given him one night after he had drunk from you for the first time. You woke up to find him leaning over you, fangs exposed, ready to press them against your neck. After you had willingly allowed him to continue, you woke up woozy and drowsy, almost unable to walk. He came to check on you, making fun of your trembling. “Wow, darling. Apparently I wasn’t the only one who got lucky last night.” He winked.

“Shove it, you ass.” You snapped back. “Eh, I’ve been called worse, I assure you.” “Well, say hello to your new nickname, Ass.” “Quite clever darling, it’s almost as if it’s a shortened ver-“ you cut him off. “You ever want a taste of my blood again, you shut your mouth.” He clamped his mouth shut almost instantaneously, his lips forming into an impressive pout.

Since that day, Astarion had been relatively whipped by you. The sight of you trembling, the actual kindness that you displayed towards him in allowing him his first taste of “thinking” blood. God, he would trade all of his meals just for a taste of your blood again. He hadn’t gotten a taste again, but he frequently inquired about the subject and whether or not you’d be willing to allow him to indulge yet again. The real reason he had even said anything about your energy level post-battle was due to the fact that he would prefer you to save your energy for other circumstances, namely him drinking your blood – or other things. Other, dirtier things.

The trek back to camp was long and tiring. But you were alive, and that was all that mattered. You had Karlach and Gale along with you as well, thankfully. So you weren’t alone with the vampire. Although, he would have preferred it that way. He was hoping that he would have a chance alone with you later in the evening. Typically, other members of the group would jump at the chance to simply be in your presence, so he rarely got the opportunity. Tonight would be different, he reassured himself.

You decided that this late afternoon would be a prime opportunity for a wash. You had slept for about an hour to regain your strength, and Shadowheart had used her magic to mend you. Of course, Astarion had kept a close eye on you to make sure you were alright. So, when you wandered off, Astarion followed. “She needs supervision” he had told the rest of the group. Then, he sauntered off after you, careful not to make his presence known. He was a stealthy one, that’s for sure, and it came in quite handy in situations like these.

The nearby pond was mostly still water, despite the glorious waterfall that fell from the rocks that formed above it, clearly streaming from a larger body of water nearby. The rocks were all fairly dark and gray. The pond itself had strikingly blue-green water, that was still clear mostly. There were spots where algae had developed and broken off, but the water still cleaned better than the majority that you had witnessed in your travels. This place had become your own personal spa, in a sense.

He watched from afar as you began to strip your clothing off. He hadn’t been able to make a full assessment on you yet, as he had only seen slivers of your bare skin between the top and the bottoms of your pajamas, although he always hoped to see more. And now, he was going to. Finally.

You began at the top, peeling the shirt from your bodice, revealing your bra underneath. It was a translucent-white, which effectively made Astarion’s breath hitch in his chest. He could have taken red, black, blue, whatever other color you desired. But – white? Gods, it made his mind wander. And his cock harden. He couldn’t help the way that you made him feel. He had spent too many nights alone in his tent, at least for his liking. Next to be revealed were your legs, which looked beautiful despite various scrapes, bruises and cuts scattered about them. His only wish now was to have them wrapped around him – anywhere and everywhere. Around his head, around his pelvis, around his legs as he cuddled you softly to sleep in his tent. Ran his hands through your locks. Kept on high alert – just in case. He always did, but it would feel more important if he had something so precious to protect.

Astarion’s daydreaming almost tore him from the sight in front of him. Almost. The next time he looked, you began removing your bra. “Oh Gods…” Astarion spoke, thankfully quietly enough to maintain the secrecy of his presence. Your breasts were no longer under their cover, and Astarion could hardly contain himself any longer. He cupped the bulge in his pants gently, he needed the slightest bit of friction in that area. The next to be revealed was your glorious heat, not entirely cleanly shaven, but clearly well-maintained.

It was within the next few minutes that you decided to indulge in the water, laying a towel out on a nearby rock for after your dip. He noticed you head towards the waterfall, your hips swaying generously for his eyes, and he almost let his focus falter.  Astarion then made the decision to make his move, sliding his shoes off, then stripping himself of his pants, shirt, and underwear. He also made the conscious decision to sneak your own clothes away from the towel you had to delicately laid out, perfectly upon the rock. Just because he was mildly infatuated with you, didn’t mean he would play nice. In fact, it made him want to play even rougher.

You were fairly oblivious to the rogue in the shade, currently your only focus was relishing in the waterfall and running your hands through your hair, combing it out gently with your fingernails. It was the most relaxed you had felt in the past 24 hours. Little did you know, a certain rogue had set his sights on you – hoping to relax you even further.

The water was lukewarm from basking in the sun for the majority of the day. Exotic flora surrounded the pond, making it look inviting and tropical. However, some of the plants could be deadly, which kept both yourself and Astarion from getting close to them. Astarion glided himself into the water, careful to maintain quiet and stealthy as to not alert you to his presence – yet. He glanced at your bottom again, taking it all in. Soon, he hoped you’d be all his. If everything went as planned.

The water barely covered Astarion’s pelvis as he floated over to you. His fingertips played along the surface of the water, taking in the beautiful scenery. It wasn’t often that Astarion was able to do so. But now, he felt relaxed, yet almost – nervous? For what was to come ahead. It wasn’t often that Astarion felt unnerved in this way. You just meant so much to him. And he didn’t want to lose that. He began to contemplate his current choices and whether or not this would end poorly for you both. Perhaps you would be enraged, forcing him out of the party and never to speak to you again. Perhaps you would denounce his desires and state that you longed for someone else.

To his surprise, you yelped and jumped, trying to cover yourself as much as possible. You had seen him. You hid behind the waterfall, sinking further and further into the wall of stone. You covered your bosom with your arms, much to Astarion’s disappointment. Astarion’s confidence rose again, approaching your form behind the waterfall. “No need to hide away, darling. It’s just me, after all” he tutted. By the time he had crept fully into the other, more secluded side of the waterfall, you had sunk into the water, on your knees now, merely your head poking out of the water. Your eyes looked up at him almost submissively, which nearly made his knees buckle in excitement.

“What are you doing here, Ass? How long have you been here?”

“Long enough, my sweet. Just out admiring the view, washing up, you know.” As much as Astarion longed to tower over you, he needed to get down to your level. He sank down himself, until his eyes were meeting yours, just above the surface of the water. You were always quick to spit back at Astarion, but given the nature of the situation, you simply couldn’t. Any thoughts that you had about snipping at him were completely and entirely blocked out of your consciousness. Instead, you uncertainly inquired “how much did you see?”

“Oh Gods, dear. I’ve seen everything.” His response made you shutter, although the smirk placed upon his lips led you to believe that he was indeed happy about this fact. You wondered why. “Let me help wash you, petal?” You shifted for a moment, pondering the possibility. Astarion had already seen all of you, hadn’t he? You wondered for a moment whether or not to decline. Maybe he was just trying to be helpful, you thought. Your mind raced through a variety of complex and simple possibilities, trying to track each one. Astarion caught on to this, merely catching your attention with a “dove?” “I- uhm- oo-kay” you responded slowly beginning to rise out of the water, and Astarion followed. You kept your arms firmly planted around your breasts, careful not to reveal yourself too much.

Astarion stood behind you, washing your back with handfuls of the waterfall that he so gently placed on your neck, shoulder blades, and spine. “Darling, you do know I have seen those breathtaking breasts of yours, correct?” You nodded hesitantly in response, still in moderate shock from the present situation. You thought you absolutely detested Astarion, and he you. But, here he was, helping you wash blood and dirt off of your back, so – intimately. You had been intimate with people before, however, this felt slightly different. And it felt different to Astarion as well, unbeknownst to you. Good different. Slowly, you began to drop your arms from your breasts. Astarion watched intently as your nipples were freed once more, it was pertinent that they were chilled from their prominence. “You know,” he whispered into your ear from behind “if you are scared of anyone happening to see them – I could hold them on your behalf.” Astarion’s voice sounded as if it was winking at you. Truthfully, now that Astarion was aware of how shell shocked you were, he knew he needed to be gentle with you. At least at first.

“Uhm – well I – uhm well sure” you managed to stutter out. “Good girl” Astarion whispered into your ear once more, bringing his hands to play with your nipples. You let out a soft mewl at the sensation. “Ooh, you like that, don’t you love?” Astarion teased, tutting his tongue again. You nodded feverishly, although this did not seem to please him. “Use your words, beautiful.” “Yes, I do Astarion. I-It feels g-good.”

Astarion’s hand molded and palmed your breasts, and he went to speak. However, you had beaten him to it. “Pl-lease m-more” you begged. He took one of his hands, bringing it down to your heat. You were nervous, as you were fairly sure you were embarrassingly wet down there, and your body began to reflect that. “Darling, why are you shaking? Please, don’t give in for my sake, I want you to want this.” Astarion spoke with more care than he ever had with you. You turned to face him “Ass, you fool, of course I want this…” you had built up confidence to divert back to his nickname, which he was glad for. But then you remembered the reasoning for your timidness. You were dripping. “I- just- well- I- I am really wet.” Your cheeks reddened as you spoke, you felt yourself sinking back into timidness in front of him, but you had nowhere to hide “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize for your desires, doll. I’m more than thrilled that I have been able to bring this out of you. That I have this effect on you. I was terrified of your rejection, darling girl.” Given Astarion’s newfound openness his emotions with you drove your desire for him to new heights. Your next move was to pull him into your lips, your hand wrapped around his neck as you did so. As your lips landed on his, you felt a rush of adrenaline surge through your body. Your confidence built once more, using your teeth to pull on Astarion’s bottom lip before finally releasing it. You winked, while Astarion stood in awe of your previous actions, finally stating “you cheeky little pup.” He took this opportunity to grab your waist, picking you up and lifting you out of the water. You yelped, surprised at his action. You instinctively wrapped your legs around his waist. Astarion carried you over to where your towel lay, gently placing you down on it, then allowing himself to follow.

His leg hooked underneath you, and you willingly allowed it to push your legs apart so that he could hover between them. He leant down to place a gentle kiss upon your lips, which you welcomed. His lips were breathtakingly sweet and supple, you had felt them on your neck before, but that hardly amounted to the feeling you had now. Although his lips on your neck certainly did have the capacity to drive you mad. “Please Astarion, take me.” He wasn’t used to hearing the entirety of his name spoken from your lips. But it was a welcome thing to hear his full name fall from your lips. To know the full extent that you wanted him. Because he wanted you too. Desperately.

“Patience, my sweet.” He spoke, retreating from your form. You immediately tried to grab at him to pull him back, but then realized where he was headed. He tutted in response, speaking the word again “patience. Allow me to indulge in you.” Astarion’s lips peppered kisses along your upper thighs, before reaching his hands to assess the state of your heat. He used one hand to pull the folds of your labia apart, and the other to bring a finger to your clit. You were right, you were very, extremely wet. You whimper as his fingernail flicks across your clit. You tense, but his words bring you back down “relax, my dear.”

He spoke once more, this time with a proposition rather than a demand. “You can say no to this darling. But I would love to taste you, while I taste you.” “Huh?” For the first time, you were confused by Astarion’s words. “I would just place a little bite ‘here’ and ‘here’” he pressed into your inner thigh with two fingers, displaying where his fangs would penetrate your skin and release your sweet blood. “Then, I would drink from you while also sipping on your sweet nectar.” You nodded feverishly in response, eager for this stimulation that this would bring you. “Use your words, love.” Deviously, he placed his finger upon your clit, humming in contentment as he watched your body convulse in ecstasy in front of his eyes. “P-p-ple-ee-a-se.” You moaned out, barely able to make a single word out at this point. “I’m sorry, what was that dear? I couldn’t make that out.” “F-fuck y-you… t-te-ase.” “Oh, you will darling. You will. All in good time.”

“Bite me, Astarion. Plea-.” You finally gathered yourself together enough to state it, and you felt his fangs sink into you before you could even finish your sentence. You whimpered as he fed from your thigh, holding it down with one hand, the other arm resting on your opposite hip. Gods, you were delectable. You had brought your hands to tangle within his hair, gently massaging as he began. He suckled your skin, allowing him to intake more blood, but also causing your skin to latch closely to his tongue, where hundreds of blood vessels burst and petechiae formed, leaving a carmine-tinged love mark. A small “hmm” of pleasure left his lips as he pulled away, the circular marks that his teeth left were prominent, and bound to leave a mark. You felt woozy, similarly to the other times he had fed from you, but almost blissfully so this time. “Mmmm” the moan left your lips easily, flooding Astarion’s ears with pleasure. “You alright my love?” He peaked up at you, and you nodded. “Just a little lightheaded is all.”

“Alright, my sweet. If you need me to stop, just say the word.” You nodded as he brought his tongue to your clitoris, circling around it in a perfect spiral, suckling on it whilst savoring the taste of your sweetness. “Mmmm” you whimpered, which made Astarion’s instincts nearly feral in nature. He brought a hand to play inside of your heat, which was still rapturously wet for him. He started with one initially, and nearly moaned himself as he felt your walls clamp around just one finger. He began to imagine what it would be like to have your core wrapped around his throbbing member. Even though he had released it from his undergarments, he was still desperate from the friction only you could provide him with, the only thing that could give him relief. But right now wasn’t about him. It was very much about you, and him providing pleasure for you.

As if you could read his mind, you used his hair to pull him away from you. “Astarion, please, get inside me. Now.” You demanded. “Although you are in no position to make demands here, my sweet, I wholeheartedly agree with you.” “Yes, sir.” You agreed with him. In this particular position, Astarion was completely and utterly in control. And you think you liked it that way.

Astarion towered over you for a moment, analyzing every bit of your form. He let his eyes roam over your breasts, stomach, thighs, and then back to your slick core that ached for his entrance. And who was he to deny you such pleasure? He hovered over you once more, placing a quick yet compassionate kiss on your lips. His penis sat in between the folds of your labia, the member wettened from the contact. He grinded down ever so slightly, allowing pressure to be placed on your clitoris yet again. Then, with one swift movement, he slid back, and then within the muscular cavern of your vagina. “Fuck” you responded, you were ready for him, or so you thought. He was huge, and you weren’t sure the last time you had taken a lover. He held himself inside of you, his tip nestled against your cervix, waiting until he could proceed. “Gods darling, you’re so tight.” Astarion prompted. His pelvis pressed perfectly against yours, your thighs spread to make room for his shape.

Once your muscles had accommodated him, you looked up at him with dangerously innocent eyes and simply nodded. He took this as his sign to continue, sliding his length out of you slowly at first, and then pressing into you once again. “Mhhm” you moaned wantonly, writhing in delight. Astarion’s movements became more fluid, rocking his hips so that he moved in and out of you with ease.

You moaned over and over with his rhythm, and he pulled your legs over his shoulders, somehow enabling him to pound into you even deeper. Your core quenched around him, tightening around him even further. “Oh, sweetness. Can you take me inside of you?” He asked, and your response was a ferocious nod. “Please do” you whimpered. “Are you close, my love?” he asked, seemingly very concerned about you reaching climax together. “Mhmm love.” Astarion’s heart fluttered, knowing that you too, were close, and that the pet name he so loved throwing out could also be received.

After several more pumps inside of you, your muscles began to convulse, writhing around Astarion’s member, holding him more tightly than before. Your shaking released Astarion’s own pleasure, and he flooded your cavern with ropes of cum as you finished together. You moaned wantonly.

Astarion pulled out, allowing his fluids to begin dripping out of you. He placed a swift peck on your lips, then sliding next to you on the towel. “Gods, Astarion, that was phenomenal.”  You spoke as you were finally able to catch your breath. You turned to face him. He placed a hand on your cheek, using his thumb to rub gently. “Thank you darling. That was… amazing.” His crimson eyes stared into yours, analyzing every breath, every possible thought going through that beautiful mind of yours.

“Tell me, what’s on your mind, my sweet?” Astarion inquired softly. Even though the intimacy you two had shared was incredible, he was still scared of the feelings – or lack thereof – that you may harbor for him. “Gods, I just- I didn’t think that would ever happen.” Astarion looked at you with a puzzled face, so you clarified, responding “I thought you hated me, and to be honest, I thought I hated you too, from how much we bickered.” “Ohhh, darling” Astarion sounded exasperated. “That’s what I call ‘repressed sexual tension.’” You smacked your face into your hands out of embarrassment. “I suppose you’re probably right” you mumbled. Astarion pulled you back upwards, placing a kiss on your forehead. “You’re just fine, my love.”

Your stomach rumbled, indicating to you that it would be desiring to eat soon. Astarion pulled you towards him, wrapping an arm around your bodice so as to keep you warm. That, and he knew that your time, for now, would be coming to an end soon. “Someone’s famished from battle today?” He asked, and you nodded. “I am quite much so, yes.” He savored himself in one final kiss on your lips. “Well darling, as much as I would love to lay here forever with you, I know you need nourishment to recover from today.” He winked.

“Yeah, yeah. One last thing before we go?” Astarion nodded, ushering you for your question. “What exactly are we?” You inquired. Your feelings were so jumbled you didn’t know what to think regarding the whole situation and where you were to stand with Astarion now. Was this just a once-off? What did he want from this? “Well, I had hoped that me marking you as mine would assert where I stand on the subject. I want you, in every sense of the word, my dear.” As he finished speaking, you had a giddy grin placed upon your mouth. “Really?”

“Yes, really.” You almost shrieked in excitement, but then decided to restrain yourself. You were adorable. Truly. “Will you come to my tent tonight, after everyone has fallen into slumber?” Astarion asked. “As much as I would love that, I’m really worn out from today, and I don’t know if I could-“ he cut you off “just for a cuddle, my love.” You nodded in response to this.

You began to rise, moving your hands around you, trying to find your clothing that was scattered by your towel. “Ass, where the hell are my clothes?” You turned to look at him, and he merely looked at you with a cheeky, blushed look on his face. “I can’t tell you it wasn’t me.” He winked. “Come on, please…” you begged. “They’re by mine, over by that rock over there.” He gestured to the rock that he had hidden behind. Astarion got up as well, grabbing the towel and wrapping it around your figures as you waltzed over to the rock and began to dress yourselves, Astarion taking extra time to admire you.

You walked back to camp, and Astarion shortly after. You didn’t want to make things so dreadfully obvious to your companions. The regular bickering commenced shortly after. But only you two knew what truly happened behind closed doors. Astarion finally had you, and that was like a dream to him. As he was unwinding for the night, and the stars had settled in the sky, he heard footsteps approaching his tent and your whisper, stating “Hey, love, I think everyone’s gone off to bed.” He eagerly approached the curtain, revealing your beauty behind it. “Come in, please, my darling.” Astarion was happier than he had been in 200 years, as long as he was with you.

[astrosky33]

The Zodiac Sign Traits

Where do the Zodiac Signs traits come from?

The signs traits come from the planet/s that they’re ruled by; Ex: Aries is ruled by Mars so whatever Mars rules over will show the traits that the zodiac sign Aries takes on

They may also have traits from their symbol; Ex: Leo’s symbol being the Lion could indicate thick or pretty hair if in a prominent placement

All Zodiac Traits:

♈︎ ARIES: Passionate, bold, competitive, confident, ambitious, courageous, motivated, energetic, enthusiastic, assertive, dominant, masculine, athletic, lustful, aggressive, and/or impulsive

♉︎ TAURUS: Determined, strong values, dependable, pretty, laid-back/relaxed, go with the flow, self loving, sensual, patient, sloth, materialistic, possessive, and/or stubborn

♊︎ GEMINI: Communicative, intelligent, witty, playful, multi-tasker, curious, youthful spirit, adaptable, strong mind, comical, forgetful, clumsy, and/or nosy

♋︎ CANCER: Nurturing, emotionally intelligent, empathetic/emotionally intuitive, feminine, cautious, family oriented, tender/emotionally sensitive, and/or defensive

♌︎ LEO: Natural leader, loyal, creative, entertaining, generous, self-reliant, determination, strong drive, dramatic, and/or prideful

♍︎ VIRGO: Reliable, humble, enterprising, giving, innocent, organized, perfectionist, logical/practical, analytical, and/or judgmental

♎︎ LIBRA: Loving, romantic, charming, attractive, fashionable, artsy, peace-maker, cooperative, fair-minded, and/or indecisive

♏︎ SCORPIO: Loyal, powerful, passionate, brave, strong, magnetic/enticing, secretive, seductive, sexual, temperamental, obsessive/controlling, and/or manipulative

♐︎ SAGITTARIUS: Optimistic, adventurous, humorous, popular, wise/knowledgeable, lucky, wealthy, philosophical, devoted, successful, honest, unreliable, arrogant, and/or blunt/straightforward

♑︎ CAPRICORN: Mature/serious, responsible, self-disciplined, strong work-ethic/hard-working, consistent, pessimistic, unforgiving, fearful/anxious, and/or detached from emotions

♒︎ AQUARIUS: Friendly, humanitarian, intellectual/clever, innovative, unique/original, independent, progressive, risk-taking, unpredictable, and/or rebellious

♓︎ PISCES: Kind, compassionate, inspiring, glamorous, spiritual, creative, selfless, intuitive, hypnotic, sensitive, idealistic/delusional, and/or deceiving

[These are the MAIN traits of each sign]

𝗠𝗢𝗥𝗘 𝗕𝗔𝗦𝗜𝗖 𝗔𝗦𝗧𝗥𝗢𝗟𝗢𝗚𝗬

𝗠𝗔𝗦𝗧𝗘𝗥𝗟𝗜𝗦𝗧

© 𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐤𝐲 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟑 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝

[kitkat238984]

Goddess Of Your Dreams (soulmate au)

Summary: In an alternate universe where soulmates are determined by unique marks, you do everything you can to hide your matching soul mark from the cold-hearted handsome devil, Hook.

But when a match with "Timeless" Toni Storm causes your secret to be revealed to the whole world, you have many awkward encounters that leave you both mesmerised and breathless.

TW: Mentions of sexual themes, normal wrestling violence.

The crowd roared as The Chairman’s Intent played through the speakers and Hook entered through the tunnel and made his way down the ramp towards his hungry-for-violence opponent, Wheeler Yuta. Excalibur’s voice fed through the TV screens in the homes of thousands. 

“And we see the cold-hearted handsome devil walk down the ramp, so confident and expressionless, a complete contrast to that sunflower soulmark he’s sporting there, wouldn’t you say Taz?” 

The father of the heart-throb in the wrestling world had to stay neutral in his job as a commentator, but never hid how proud he was of his son and his achievements. “Of course. But if there’s one thing I’m sure about is that he will make some lucky girl very happy”. 

“Hook, doing his ritual of circling around the ring. And I think the soul marks make you realise just how human we all are, showing almost the vulnerability in people as stone cold as Hook”. 

The match between Hook and Wheeler wasn’t for any title, only to settle a score when Yuta began cussing out Hook’s arrogance and the friends he “strings along”, and - as he usually does - Hook shoved those words where the sun don’t shine and had him caught in a redrum within minutes. After all, cursing is Danhausen’s thing. 

— 

A couple of weeks later, you were backstage, preparing for your upcoming fight against ‘Timeless’ Toni Storm for the Women’s World Championship. This was quite frankly the biggest match of your life, and against a wrestler who was far more experienced than yourself, even though you had been in AEW for a year now and had made quite the spectacle of yourself with your alluring character. You couldn’t count the number of times male fans of AEW had approached you with their clever but awkward pick-up lines. 

“You’re ready for this” , the voice of your ringside and friend, Kris Statlander, told you whilst patting your shoulder. “You’ve studied every one of her moves and trained for weeks on end. How are you nervous about this?” 

You ignored her question with no real answer to give her. You were ready, more than you had ever been for a match, let alone already being a decent wrestler. 

You continued to watch yourself in the mirror. You really did look like a goddess. And that wasn’t you trying to be conceited because your whole gimmick was that you were Venus, the Roman goddess of love and beauty and sex and more. You wore waist high blue shorts with decorative white buttons and drawstring with a matching plaid sporting bra which cupped your breasts and made your cleavage visible for all to see. 

You didn’t mind being used as sex appeal to be honest as it made you feel a lot more confident in your self. You’d hardly had any confidence before AEW until one day you decided to be brave, wearing very little sportswear at the gym which happened to be the day you were recognised as a potential for professional wrestling. Coincidence? Who knows, but you didn’t care. Everyone appreciated you as a good sportswoman. You were here and you were proud your dream came true whilst also being one of the best female wrestlers in the company. 

“You know why I’m nervous”, you said, timidly, glancing to the right of the mirror to meet the gaze of Kris. 

“We go through this every time, no one’s going to see it. They never do! That choker is very secure. You might as well be strangling yourself”. 

You hummed, instinctively slipping your hand under the large braid that snaked down the right side of your neck and swept your fingers under the choker, touching where you knew your soul mark to be. 

“I don’t even know why you bother hiding it. It’ll come out eventually. One of your hookups are going to piece it together”. 

You smiled and chuckled lightly at her comment and turned around, tiptoeing to lean closer to her ear. 

You whispered, “Daniel Garcia didn’t say anything when he had his hands wrapped round my throat”. 

With a hearty laugh, you went to leave the room you used as a dressing room hearing her dramatically gasp, saying “Y/N, you’re such a slut!” 

The door was half open with you facing inside. “I may be a slut but I still have morals. My soulmate is more important than any of those floozies”, you laughed again and opened the door fully, but almost crashed into a figure who was walking past and most likely heard the last of your conversation. 

You looked up at the tall man wearing a white hoodie and black sweatpants and immediately cleared your throat and glanced back down when you made quick eye contact when he glanced at you with a raised eyebrow and continued on his way, not stopping once to question what he just heard. 

“Awkward”. You turned your head to glare before nodding your head towards the hallway so you can get ready to go on, not before taking one last look at the cold-hearted Hook who had his hood covering that damned mark that matched yours. 

Why, of all people, him? 

You’d never even spoken to each other and you always thought that your personalities would clash. That is, if you even knew his personality. His cool exterior was only an act after all - or at least most of it. You had no clue where to even start with him. 

Your ‘quick look back’ must have lasted a little longer than you anticipated because you found yourself being pushed through the dimly lit hallway towards the stage. 

Toni Storm was already out there making her extravagant entrance as usual and the nerves suddenly hit you again like a continuous stabbing to the gut. 

Kris must have read you like a book because she began roughly massaging your shoulders and shaking you, waking you out of the depths of your own mind. 

“You got this", she told you. “Rip out the feathers of her boa and you’ll have her crumbling on the spot”. 

“Or that would just make her even more angry?" 

“Just beat her senseless and bring back that belt. Come on, we’re on”. 

You heard the guitar riff you’d heard so many times which was your entrance song, 'Venus' by Shocking Blue - ironically not such a shocking song for your character. 

Holding your best flirty face, you walked through the tunnel and stood centre stage, eyeing the crowd and blowing kisses at certain men on the front row, contributing to your act. You made eye contact with Toni Storm and gracefully travelled down the ramp with Kris tailing behind you, riling up the crowd a bit before walking around ringside. 

Entering the ring you saw she had a mic in her hand and so you thought you’d wait to attack and have a little fun first. 

“Any words before I banish you off the screen?” 

You motioned for the mic and she willingly let you have it. “First off, that belt clashes with your outfit. And secondly… I’m about to knock you into the 1800s, showgirl”. 

You throw the mic to the side and headed straight for the attack which Storm skilfully dodges but you bounce back on the ropes and high kick her in the face which makes her stumble back. 

You go back and forth with the attacks and a few minutes in it’s still difficult to predict a winner as you both fight through the pain, eager to get your hands on that belt. 

You let her swing you around the ring before stranding you in the middle where she kicked your back and you fell forward, face first into the canvas. Blood was most likely pouring from your nose at this point and you felt pretty helpless but, your arms the only thing keeping you up, even when she had your legs bent and leaning on your back you still wouldn’t budge so the referee never started counting. 

Everything from that point felt like slow-motion. Storm yanked up your hair and grabbed a hold of the precious choker that you felt the need to guard with your life. However, you couldn’t stop her as your arms were still in use to hold you up. 

You thought you could hear the voices of Excalibur, Tony, and Taz commenting on this scene when your oxygen privileges were taken away from you for a brief couple of seconds. 

“Dramatic as ever! Toni Storm ripping that choker from Venus, breaks the chain, and still has her-” 

“Wait a minute there, Tony”, Excalibur interrupts. “What’s that? On her neck?” 

“Why, it’s a sunflower!” He was quick to reply. “Oh, my god! Now, for anyone who doesn’t remember, that’s the exact same soul mark as our very own Hook! Taz, how are you feeling about this?” 

A few seconds passed before Taz responded to that question, bewildered by this realisation that millions of people in the fanbase had just come to terms with. “For the first time ever, I-I have no words. I’m utterly speechless”. 

You couldn’t believe what had just happened. You were in such shock that the one thing you were trying to hide was revealed that you lost control of your arms and they gave in to both the weight of yourself and Toni - who was still laying over your back - and the recoil of your head after the breakage of your choker. 

You acted fast when the referee began smacking his hand on the canvas and you swung your elbow back into Storm’s side, rolling her onto her front in place of you, pulling her legs back and holding down her upper back with your knees so she couldn’t escape. 

Within three seconds, you heard the ring of the bell indicating your victory and had secured yourself the WWC. You carefully got off your opponent and used your large braid which was still somehow intact to cover the sunflower mark. You knew it was all too late but perhaps you could save yourself at least a little dignity for now. 

You allowed your hand to be raised in the air and for the Women’s World Championship belt to be slung over your shoulder. You decided to not let your revealed secret take away your triumph and you gladly stood on the ropes of the ring and held up the belt for the world to see. Most of the crowd were cheering which you were relieved at. 

Jumping out of the ring you picked up a mic and yelled out, “Checkmate, bitch!” before Kris attacked you with a hug which you happily embraced, knocking the microphone out of your hand. 

With smiles strewn across your faces, you limped up the ramp and gave the camera a wink and blew a kiss before heading through the tunnel. 

You were greeted with “well done”s and “congratulations”’s, and you didn’t fail to notice every one of them look at where your soul mark was. 

“I can’t believe I just did that”, you said to them all, still breathless. 

“We thought you were a goner when she had you pinned like that. Such a turn around”. 

“Saw it in the viewing room. Could’ve gone either way”. 

“Y/N…” a stern voice called to you. You turned to see who it was and came face-to-face with the one and only Tony Khan. 

Ah shit. 

“I hate to cut this celebration short but could I speak with you for a moment?” 

You stared in shock. “Uh yeah of course”. 

He couldn’t fire you, could he? It was just a soul mark. Even though the scenario that he would get rid of you was unlikely, the fear plagued your mind. 

— 

“I first want to say well done for securing the Women’s World Championship. You deserve it after all the effort you’ve put in this year”. 

“Thank you”, is all you managed to say. 

“I’m going to be straight with you. It was very irresponsible to keep something like a soul mark matched with another wrestler away from myself and the team. We would have understood if you wanted to keep that a secret from the public but not us. We could have helped you and prevented a situation like this from happening". 

You sighed, knowing he was completely right and you should have at least told someone about it so you could get help to cover it rather than taking it upon yourself to hide it from everyone. 

“We can’t do much about it now. The public already knows and we’ll just have to go with it”. 

“Are you saying what I think you’re saying, sir?” 

“If what you’re thinking is incorporating it into a story line, then yes”. 

You had such mixed emotions coursing through your veins at this moment. You were relieved that you weren’t in trouble, excited you were part of a new story line, thrilled that you’d just won your match against Toni Storm, and scared as to what your soulmate would say to you after this. 

He continued. “But I have to ask. Did Hook know?” 

You shook your head lightly in shame and looked down at the hands that sat fidgety on your lap. 

“Well I’ll give you time to sort out a few personal things, and I’ll make sure promos are recorded regarding your new on-screen romance first before there’s any action in the ring. Thank you”. 

You nodded in appreciation and left his makeshift office, now bubbling in anticipation at this new opportunity. You practically ran to your dressing room where Kris said she’d meet you and you’d get changed and party until dawn, drinking to celebrate your success and to also forget about the future encounter with Hook, well… Tyler is what you’d found out his name was, but you weren’t ready to be so casual with someone you'd never spoken to before. 

— 

When you were back at work, you expected Hook to approach you straight away, however, the most you got out of him was a mere glance your way or sometimes you’d catch him staring at your back, not that he seemed even the slightest bit embarrassed to turn away. 

You couldn’t possibly start any conversation with him. In fact, when you were told what was happening for one of the promos, introducing your on-screen romance, you never spoke to him about it and had to improvise when the cameras were placed on you both. 

“Danhausen, tell us how you’re feeling about the upcoming trios match?” The interviewer asked him. Danhausen being himself, he had this scary yet amusing pose with clawed fingers in front of him. 

“Very good. I have cursed all three of them so they may die before then”, he said in his freaky accent. 

“And of course you’re teaming with Hook and Orange Cassidy - a pretty strong team formed there if you ask me - how do you think they’re coping with the pressure of this match?” 

“I fear they are frozen”. 

“Uh frozen? What do you mean by that?” 

“Some powerful sorcery has frozen them in time. Look!”. 

The camera first focused on Orange Cassidy who was leaning up against a wall, both arms and legs crossed and slowly chewing on a piece of gum. 

The camera then turned to you and Hook who were told to stand opposite one another, simply staring into the other’s eyes, your soul mark being the one to show the camera. 

Although it was only acting, you still felt butterflies floating around your stomach since this was technically the most you’ve ever interacted with him, your soulmate. No one else’s soulmate. None of his adoring female fans had the same mark as him on their necks. The thought of you being the special one almost brought a smile to your face, but you had to stop yourself when you remembered the cameras. 

You used this time to really appreciate his facial features. How had you not realised how attractive he was sooner? His jawline was well-defined yet looked so soft to touch. And his eyes… so dark but so… intriguing… and… and… what were you saying? 

You’d got so lost in the moment that you hadn’t even realised that the cameras were no longer on your faces. It was only when the clicking of Danhausen’s fingers in between you both that you were brought out of your trance. 

“I fixed them! I didn’t know I could uncurse someone…” 

You saw Orange Cassidy on the other side of the room, peeking over the top of his sunglasses with his suggestive look at you. Hook hadn’t once flinched or maybe even blinked and still continued staring your way. The fear and self-consciousness struck you like it had done a thousand times before and you awkwardly walked past him towards catering where you were to meet Kris and Willow. 

You were smitten alright. Unmistakably. And you did not want to make yourself feel even more flustered than that situation had already made you. 

— 

The plan was simple. "Timeless" Toni Storm and her husband and AEW wrestler, Juice Robinson, would talk shit about you in the ring, daring you to come out with the belt. You’d go out, say something snarky, they’d beat the crap out of you, and Hook comes out to save you. Easy. Simple. 

Except it really wasn’t that simple. Not when Hook was involved. You couldn’t bring yourself to confront him again. Danhausen’s promo was only the beginning and you only just managed to hold yourself together then. 

It took you a few laps around your hotel room that morning to clear your mind of the worries. Once all of this was over and everything made sense in the world, there would be nothing left to worry about and you would actually be able to get on with your life and career in peace. 

You were backstage, ready for your entrance. Hook stood only a couple metres away, eating a bag of chips. If there was one thing you definitely knew about Hook as Tyler, it was that he loved chips. Even when the cameras were nowhere in sight you always saw him with chips to hand. 

“...so what I want to say to Venus is that if you want to disrespect my beautiful wife, then you can come out here and say it to me as well. Come on! What are you afraid of? Everyone knows your dirty little secret now so you might as well show it to the world!” 

You took that as your cue and motioned for the sound and visuals manager to play your into. When it began, you wasted no time strutting out on stage, with no bother sending kisses to the crowd. After all, you were meant to be angry at them. 

You were given a mic at the end of the ramp and when you entered the ring, the power couple before you stood tall and confident, looking down at you who stood alone with your newly won belt you felt the need to protect. 

“Let us not dither with such a minor dispute. I don’t want to waste my time with an extra”, Storm laughed, and you heard a few boos in the crowd. Thank you. “You have stolen what is mine and I want it back. Now”. 

You smirked to the crowd and back at her who had her hand out expectedly. 

“It’s actually my belt now. My belt, my championship, my title. If you want it, you’ll have to come and take it from me. Mr. Loverboy over here don’t scare me”. 

An impulsive thought suddenly came to you whilst saying that. Where were their soul marks? Were they matching? People get into relationships, but normally they wait for their soulmates for marriage. Perhaps you just couldn’t see their marks, you thought, but then inwardly grimaced at where it might be as Robinson wasn’t exactly hiding much of himself with the amount of clothing he was wearing. 

“And where’s yours?” she asked. “Are you done staring at each other or are you still both lost little puppies, looking for their owners?” The teasing began to infuriate you. She must have been told to make the most of how she was the one to shed the light on your soul mark. 

“It’s… none of your business…” you awkwardly stated, glancing off to the side. 

“I’ll tell you what is my business. That championship. Darling?” 

Within seconds, the mic flung out of your hands for goddess knows how many times now and before you knew it, your hands were pinned behind your back and you had fallen to your knees, hair pulled to look up the 1920s star, officially at the mercy of the couple. 

As always, Storm dramatised the entire scenario, acting as if the belt was an Oscar she’d won for a picture show, and suddenly flung it to the side of the ring before striking your face with her forearm several times and you could do nothing but endure it. 

At one point you decided to test the waters and spat at her, who gasped disgustingly and kicked you to the side and you dropped on the floor. 

As if on cue, the arena darkened and Action Bronson played through the speakers, notifying you that Hook had entered the scene, and the butterflies yet again fluttered in your chest. 

Don’t get nervous now with millions of people watching you, Y/N. 

At the sight of Hook striding down the ramp with his cold-hearted yet handsome, sort of devilish expression - oh you got why they called him that now - Robinson and Storm ran past him towards the tunnel, Hook intimidatingly puffing out his chest through his hoodie as they crossed. 

The crowd went absolutely wild when they saw that Hook hadn’t stopped there and fought, but climbed through the ring and stood over your feeble state. As expected and without any exchange of words, he offered you a hand which you looked to the audience for approval before accepting gratefully. 

Ahhh it hurts so much. I didn’t realise the soulmate bond was this powerful. Was he feeling the same as me? How was he so cool about this all? 

You smiled as you both walked up the ramp in style, a couple that were quite frankly unstoppable to AEW. 

You didn’t bother lingering backstage, hoping that maybe Hook would finally approach you since you still couldn’t gather the courage to do it yourself. It was rather hypocritical of you seeing as you had an entire year to say something, but you just wanted to know if he was interested in you or not before making a fool out of yourself. 

A small gasp escaped your lips when a strong hand gripped your arm and spun you around where you faced the devil himself. He stared at you like he had all those other times, although you noticed the subtle desperation in his expression as his nose twitched and eyebrows furrowed, adjusting his jaw. 

His eyes shifted and you followed his gaze to where your mark was and self-consciously reached up to touch it but his hand gently took hold of your wrist, stopping you, and his head leaned closer toward your neck. 

Was this a chapter out of Fifty Shades of Grey or something? 

You couldn’t tell if your heart had stopped or if it was beating so furiously that it would burst out of your chest. A shiver sent down your spine and a shaky breath left your lips when you felt his own brush over the mark you shared, giving you the perfect angle to see his own soul mark. 

It really was a replica of the one you had which was a given. 

His head lifted out of your neck and he met your eyes again, this time exhibiting a sly smirk telling you that he knew exactly what he was doing to you. 

How devious… but you couldn’t deny that you were loving every second of it. 

“Why were you ignoring me?” you finally managed to ask after weeks since your mark was first shown in the ring. His obvious attraction and reveal of his need for you as well fuelled confidence within you, and you were glad that this encounter had turned out the way it had. 

“Why did you hide this from me?” He placed a hand on the side of your neck which now filled you with warmth and comfort. 

You kept quiet and bit your bottom lip as you didn’t really have a good explanation for why you did what you did. 

He chuckled lightly and quickly looked over your body, licking his lips - a small detail that only someone as close to him as you were in that moment would have noticed. 

“Well now I know we’re soulbound, it’d be rude not to ask the lady for a drink after the show. So how about it?” 

A large, mischievous grin swept across your face. “I’d love to. But you should know that I don’t commit on the first date. Not to anyone”. 

“Not even to your soulmate? Aren’t you meant to be the goddess of love?” 

“Are you saying you’re already in love with me?” 

You had both found yourselves gradually getting closer and closer. You didn’t even realise when your chests had come into contact, breath tickling each other’s faces. 

“Can’t argue with the soulmate bond”. 

Almost in desperation, your lips crashed into Hook’s who’s hands travelled to your waist to somehow pull you even closer than you already were, your arms snaking around his neck, fingers sliding through the hair at the top of the nape of his neck. 

“...I thought these videos were meant to be about me…” a voice broke you out of your kiss and you felt Hook huff and pout like he usually does, making you giggle at his childishness. 

You turned and saw Danhausen standing, watching you both in confusion with the camera crew situated behind him, pointing towards you. 

This was undoubtedly going to be aired in a promo but you couldn’t care less in that special moment of yours. The crew left once they realised that you both weren’t going to budge from where you were. You’d just been thrown in the arms of your soulmate after a year of knowing the truth and over a month of incredible attraction. 

Your attention was very quickly back on the man securely holding you in place, and you decided to tease him a little if that was the game you were going to be playing. “I’m not just the goddess of love. I’m the goddess of beauty… desire… sex…” 

Knowing exactly where you were going with this, his smirk returned, bigger than before. “Well let’s see. Beauty? Check. Desire?” He told a hold of your hand before guiding it towards the bulge that stuck out of his sweatpants. You squeezed his length gently, earning a soft groan before pulling your hand away again. “Check. Sex? Well I guess I’ll be the judge of that”. 

His hands slid down, cupping your ass and lifting you up with ease as you instinctively wrapped your legs around his waist. You felt yourself being carried through the halls backstage and you used this time to entangle your hands back through his hair which caused him to squeeze where his hands were placed on your backside. 

You lightly nibbled on his neck where the mark was and breathed in all of him. 

Ugh. Did he always smell this fucking good? 

You didn’t care if the people you passed were judging you or not; you only cared that all this tension was finally about to be released. 

“You’ll be turning full heel after the night is over, baby. I’m about the fuck all that gracefulness out of you”. 

You giggled and leaned in close to his ear and whispered, “You just try me”. 

THE END. 

[bookshelf-in-progress]

A Wise Pair of Fools: A Retelling of “The Farmer’s Clever Daughter”

For the Four Loves Fairy Tale Challenge at @inklings-challenge.

Faith

I wish you could have known my husband when he was a young man. How you would have laughed at him! He was so wonderfully pompous—oh, you’d have no idea unless you’d seen him then. He’s weathered beautifully, but back then, his beauty was bright and new, all bronze and ebony. He tried to pretend he didn’t care for personal appearances, but you could tell he felt his beauty. How could a man not be proud when he looked like one of creation’s freshly polished masterpieces every time he stepped out among his dirty, sweaty peasantry?

But his pride in his face was nothing compared to the pride he felt over his mind. He was clever, even then, and he knew it. He’d grown up with an army of nursemaids to exclaim, “What a clever boy!” over every mildly witty observation he made. He’d been tutored by some of the greatest scholars on the continent, attended the great universities, traveled further than most people think the world extends. He could converse like a native in fifteen living languages and at least three dead ones.

And books! Never a man like him for reading! His library was nothing to what it is now, of course, but he was making a heroic start. Always a book in his hand, written by some dusty old man who never said in plain language what he could dress up in words that brought four times the work to some lucky printer. Every second breath he took came out as a quotation. It fairly baffled his poor servants—I’m certain to this day some of them assume Plato and Socrates were college friends of his.

Well, at any rate, take a man like that—beautiful and over-educated—and make him king over an entire nation—however small—before he turns twenty-five, and you’ve united all earthly blessings into one impossibly arrogant being.

Unfortunately, Alistair’s pomposity didn’t keep him properly aloof in his palace. He’d picked up an idea from one of his old books that he should be like one of the judge-kings of old, walking out among his people to pass judgment on their problems, giving the inferior masses the benefit of all his twenty-four years of wisdom. It’s all right to have a royal patron, but he was so patronizing. Just as if we were all children and he was our benevolent father. It wasn’t strange to see him walking through the markets or looking over the fields—he always managed to look like he floated a step or two above the common ground the rest of us walked on—and we heard stories upon stories of his judgments. He was decisive, opinionated. Always thought he had a better way of doing things. Was always thinking two and ten and twelve steps ahead until a poor man’s head would be spinning from all the ways the king found to see through him. Half the time, I wasn’t sure whether to fear the man or laugh at him. I usually laughed.

So then you can see how the story of the mortar—what do you mean you’ve never heard it? You could hear it ten times a night in any tavern in the country. I tell it myself at least once a week! Everyone in the palace is sick to death of it!

Oh, this is going to be a treat! Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve had a fresh audience?

It happened like this. It was spring of the year I turned twenty-one. Father plowed up a field that had lain fallow for some years, with some new-fangled deep-cutting plow that our book-learned king had inflicted upon a peasantry that was baffled by his scientific talk. Father was plowing near a river when he uncovered a mortar made of solid gold. You know, a mortar—the thing with the pestle, for grinding things up. Don’t ask me why on earth a goldsmith would make such a thing—the world’s full of men with too much money and not enough sense, and housefuls of servants willing to take too-valuable trinkets off their hands. Someone decades ago had swiped this one and apparently found my father’s farm so good a hiding place that they forgot to come back for it.

Anyhow, my father, like the good tenant he was, understood that as he’d found a treasure on the king’s land, the right thing to do was to give it to the king. He was all aglow with his noble purpose, ready to rush to the palace at first light to do his duty by his liege lord.

I hope you can see the flaw in his plan. A man like Alistair, certain of his own cleverness, careful never to be outwitted by his peasantry? Come to a man like that with a solid gold mortar, and his first question’s going to be…?

That’s right. “Where’s the pestle?”

I tried to tell Father as much, but he—dear, sweet, innocent man—saw only his simple duty and went forth to fulfill it. He trotted into the king’s throne room—it was his public day—all smiles and eagerness.

Alistair took one look at him and saw a peasant tickled to death that he was pulling a fast one on the king—giving up half the king’s rightful treasure in the hopes of keeping the other half and getting a fat reward besides.

Alistair tore into my father—his tongue was much sharper then—taking his argument to pieces until Father half-believed he had hidden away the pestle somewhere, probably after stealing both pieces himself. In his confusion, Father looked even guiltier, and Alistair ordered his guard to drag Father off to the dungeons until they could arrange a proper hearing—and, inevitably, a hanging.

As they dragged him to his doom, my father had the good sense to say one coherent phrase, loud enough for the entire palace to hear. “If only I had listened to my daughter!”

Alistair, for all his brains, hadn’t expected him to say something like that. He had Father brought before him, and questioned him until he learned the whole story of how I’d urged Father to bury the mortar again and not say a word about it, so as to prevent this very scene from occurring.

About five minutes after that, I knocked over a butter churn when four soldiers burst into my father’s farmhouse and demanded I go with them to the castle. I made them clean up the mess, then put on my best dress and did up my hair—in those days, it was thick and golden, and fell to my ankles when unbound—and after traveling to the castle, I went, trembling, up the aisle of the throne room.

Alistair had made an effort that morning to look extra handsome and extra kingly. He still has robes like those, all purple and gold, but the way they set off his black hair and sharp cheekbones that day—I’ve never seen anything like it. He looked half-divine, the spirit of judgment in human form. At the moment, I didn’t feel like laughing at him.

Looming on his throne, he asked me, “Is it true that you advised this man to hide the king’s rightful property from him?” (Alistair hates it when I imitate his voice—but isn’t it a good impression?)

I said yes, it was true, and Alistair asked me why I’d done such a thing, and I said I had known this disaster would result, and he asked how I knew, and I said (and I think it’s quite good), that this is what happens when you have a king who’s too clever to be anything but stupid.

Naturally, Alistair didn’t like that answer a bit, but I’d gotten on a roll, and it was my turn to give him a good tongue-lashing. What kind of king did he think he was, who could look at a man as sweet and honest as my father and suspect him of a crime? Alistair was so busy trying to see hidden lies that he couldn’t see the truth in front of his face. So determined not to be made a fool of that he was making himself into one. If he persisted in suspecting everyone who tried to do him a good turn, no one would be willing to do much of anything for him. And so on and so forth.

You might be surprised at my boldness, but I had come into that room not expecting to leave it without a rope around my neck, so I intended to speak my mind while I had the chance. The strangest thing was that Alistair listened, and as he listened, he lost some of that righteous arrogance until he looked almost human. And the end of it all was that he apologized to me!

Well, you could have knocked me over with a feather at that! I didn’t faint, but I came darn close. That arrogant, determined young king, admitting to a simple farmer’s daughter that he’d been wrong?

He did more than admit it—he made amends. He let Father keep the mortar, and then bought it from him at its full value. Then he gifted Father the farm where we lived, making us outright landowners. After the close of the day’s hearings, he even invited us to supper with him, and I found that King Alistair wasn’t a half-bad conversational partner. Some of those books he read sounded almost interesting.

For a year after that, Alistair kept finding excuses to come by the farm. He would check on Father’s progress and baffle him with advice. We ran into each other in the street so often that I began to expect it wasn’t mere chance. We’d talk books, and farming, and sharpen our wits on each other. We’d do wordplay, puzzles, tongue-twisters. A game, but somehow, I always thought, some strange sort of test.

Would you believe, even his proposal was a riddle? Yes, an actual riddle! One spring morning, I came across Alistair on a corner of my father's land, and he got down on one knee, confessed his love for me, and set me a riddle. He had the audacity to look into the face of the woman he loved—me!—and tell me that if I wanted to accept his proposal, I would come to him at his palace, not walking and not riding, not naked and not dressed, not on the road and not off it.

Do you know, I think he actually intended to stump me with it? For all his claim to love me, he looked forward to baffling me! He looked so sure of himself—as if all his book-learning couldn’t be beat by just a bit of common sense.

If I’d really been smart, I suppose I’d have run in the other direction, but, oh, I wanted to beat him so badly. I spent about half a minute solving the riddle and then went off to make my preparations.

The next morning, I came to the castle just like he asked. Neither walking nor riding—I tied myself to the old farm mule and let him half-drag me. Neither on the road nor off it—only one foot dragging in a wheel rut at the end. Neither naked nor dressed—merely wrapped in a fishing net. Oh, don’t look so shocked! There was so much rope around me that you could see less skin than I’m showing now.

If I’d hoped to disappoint Alistair, well, I was disappointed. He radiated joy. I’d never seen him truly smile before that moment—it was incandescent delight. He swept me in his arms, gave me a kiss without a hint of calculation in it, then had me taken off to be properly dressed, and we were married within a week.

It was a wonderful marriage. We got along beautifully—at least until the next time I outwitted him. But I won’t bore you with that story again—

You don’t know that one either? Where have you been hiding yourself?

Oh, I couldn’t possibly tell you that one. Not if it’s your first time. It’s much better the way Alistair tells it.

What time is it?

Perfect! He’s in his library just now. Go there and ask him to tell you the whole thing.

Yes, right now! What are you waiting for?

Alistair

Faith told you all that, did she? And sent you to me for the rest? That woman! It’s just like her! She thinks I have nothing better to do than sit around all day and gossip about our courtship!

Where are you going? I never said I wouldn’t tell the story! Honestly, does no one have brains these days? Sit down!

Yes, yes, anywhere you like. One chair’s as good as another—I built this room for comfort. Do you take tea? I can ring for a tray—the story tends to run long.

Well, I’ll ring for the usual, and you can help yourself to whatever you like.

I’m sure Faith has given you a colorful picture of what I was like as a young man, and she’s not totally inaccurate. I’d had wealth and power and too much education thrown on me far too young, and I thought my blessings made me better than other men. My own father had been the type of man who could be fooled by every silver-tongued charlatan in the land, so I was sensitive and suspicious, determined to never let another man outwit me.

When Faith came to her father’s defense, it was like my entire self came crumbling down. Suddenly, I wasn’t the wise king; I was a cruel and foolish boy—but Faith made me want to be better. That day was the start of my fascination with her, and my courtship started in earnest not long after.

The riddle? Yes, I can see how that would be confusing. Faith tends to skip over the explanations there. A riddle’s an odd proposal, but I thought it was brilliant at the time, and I still think it wasn’t totally wrong-headed. I wasn’t just finding a wife, you see, but a queen. Riddles have a long history in royal courtships. I spent weeks laboring over mine. I had some idea of a symbolic proposal—each element indicating how she’d straddle two worlds to be with me. But more than that, I wanted to see if Faith could move beyond binary thinking—look beyond two opposites to see the third option between. Kings and queens have to do that more often than you’d think…

No, I’m sorry, it is a bit dull, isn’t it? I guess there’s a reason Faith skips over the explanations.

So to return to the point: no matter what Faith tells you, I always intended for her to solve the riddle. I wouldn’t have married her if she hadn’t—but I wouldn’t have asked if I’d had the least doubt she’d succeed. The moment she came up that road was the most ridiculous spectacle you’d ever hope to see, but I had never known such ecstasy. She’d solved every piece of my riddle, in just the way I’d intended. She understood my mind and gained my heart. Oh, it was glorious.

Those first weeks of marriage were glorious, too. You’d think it’d be an adjustment, turning a farmer’s daughter into a queen, but it was like Faith had been born to the role. Manners are just a set of rules, and Faith has a sharp mind for memorization, and it’s not as though we’re a large kingdom or a very formal court. She had a good mind for politics, and was always willing to listen and learn. I was immensely proud of myself for finding and catching the perfect wife.

You’re smarter than I was—you can see where I was going wrong. But back then, I didn’t see a cloud in the sky of our perfect happiness until the storm struck.

It seemed like such a small thing at the time. I was looking over the fields of some nearby villages—farming innovations were my chief interest at the time. There were so many fascinating developments in those days. I’ve an entire shelf full of texts if you’re interested—

The story, yes. My apologies. The offer still stands.

Anyway, I was out in the fields, and it was well past the midday hour. I was starving, and more than a little overheated, so we were on our way to a local inn for a bit of food and rest. Just as I was at my most irritable, these farmers’ wives show up, shrilly demanding judgment in a case of theirs. I’d become known for making those on-the-spot decisions. I’d thought it was an efficient use of government resources—as long as I was out with the people, I could save them the trouble of complicated procedures with the courts—but I’d never regretted taking up the practice as heartily as I did in this moment.

The case was like this: one farmer’s horse had recently given birth, and the foal had wandered away from its mother and onto the neighbor’s property, where it laid down underneath an ox that was at pasture, and the second farmer thought this gave him a right to keep it. There were questions of fences and boundaries and who-owed-who for different trades going back at least a couple of decades—those women were determined to bring every past grievance to light in settling this case.

Well, it didn’t take long for me to lose what little patience I had. I snapped at both women and told them that my decision was that the foal could very well stay where it was.

Not my most reasoned decision, but it wasn’t totally baseless. I had common law going back centuries that supported such a ruling. Possession is nine-tenths of the law and all. It wasn't as though a single foal was worth so much fuss. I went off to my meal and thought that was the end of it.

I’d forgotten all about it by the time I returned to the same village the next week. My man and I were crossing the bridge leading into the town when we found the road covered by a fishing net. An old man sat by the side of the road, shaking and casting the net just as if he were laying it out for a catch.

“What do you think you’re doing, obstructing a public road like this?” I asked him.

The man smiled genially at me and replied, “Fishing, majesty.”

I thought perhaps the man had a touch of sunstroke, so I was really rather kind when I explained to him how impossible it was to catch fish in the roadway.

The man just replied, “It’s no more impossible than an ox giving birth to a foal, majesty.”

He said it like he’d been coached, and it didn’t take long for me to learn that my wife was behind it all. The farmer’s wife who’d lost the foal had come to Faith for help, and my wife had advised the farmer to make the scene I’d described.

Oh, was I livid! Instead of coming to me in private to discuss her concerns about the ruling, Faith had made a public spectacle of me. She encouraged my own subjects to mock me! This was what came of making a farm girl into a queen! She’d live in my house and wear my jewels, and all the time she was laughing up her sleeve at me while she incited my citizens to insurrection! Before long, none of my subjects would respect me. I’d lose my crown, and the kingdom would fall to pieces—

I worked myself into a fine frenzy, thinking such things. At the time, I thought myself perfectly reasonable. I had identified a threat to the kingdom’s stability, and I would deal with it. The moment I came home, I found Faith and declared that the marriage was dissolved. “If you prefer to side with the farmers against your own husband,” I told her, “you can go back to your father’s house and live with them!”

It was quite the tantrum. I’m proud to say I’ve never done anything so shameful since.

To my surprise, Faith took it all silently. None of the fire that she showed in defending her father against me. Faith had this way, back then, where she could look at a man and make him feel like an utter fool. At that moment, she made me feel like a monster. I was already beginning to regret what I was doing, but it was buried under so much anger that I barely realized it, and my pride wouldn’t allow me to back down so easily from another decision.

After I said my piece, Faith quietly asked if she was to leave the palace with nothing.

I couldn’t reverse what I’d decided, but I could soften it a bit.

“You may take one keepsake,” I told her. “Take the one thing you love best from our chambers.”

I thought I was clever to make the stipulation. Knowing Faith, she’d have found some way to move the entire palace and count it as a single item. I had no doubt she’d take the most expensive and inconvenient thing she could, but there was nothing in that set of rooms I couldn’t afford to lose.

Or so I thought. No doubt you’re beginning to see that Faith always gets the upper hand in a battle of wits.

I kept my distance that evening—let myself stew in resentment so I couldn’t regret what I’d done. I kept to my library—not this one, the little one upstairs in our suite—trying to distract myself with all manner of books, and getting frustrated when I found I wanted to share pieces of them with Faith. I was downright relieved when a maid came by with a tea tray. I drank my usual three cups so quickly I barely tasted them—and I passed out atop my desk five minutes later.

Yes, Faith had arranged for the tea—and she’d drugged me!

I came to in the pink light of early dawn, my head feeling like it had been run over by a military caravan. My wits were never as slow as they were that morning. I laid stupidly for what felt like hours, wondering why my bed was so narrow and lumpy, and why the walls of the room were so rough and bare, and why those infernal birds were screaming half an inch from my open window.

By the time I had enough strength to sit up, I could see that I was in the bedroom of a farmer’s cottage. Faith was standing by the window, looking out at the sunrise, wearing the dress she’d worn the first day I met her. Her hair was unbound, tumbling in golden waves all the way to her ankles. My heart leapt at the sight—her hair was one of the wonders of the world in those days, and I was so glad to see her when I felt so ill—until I remembered the events of the previous day, and was too confused and ashamed to have room for any other thoughts or feelings.

“Faith?” I asked. “Why are you here? Where am I?”

“My father’s home,” Faith replied, her eyes downcast—I think it’s the only time in her life she was ever bashful. “You told me I could take the one thing I loved best.”

Can I explain to you how my heart leapt at those words? There had never been a mind or a heart like my wife’s! It was like the moment she’d come to save her father—she made me feel a fool and feel glad for the reminder. I’d made the same mistake both times—let my head get in the way of my heart. She never made that mistake, thank heaven, and it saved us both.

Do you have something you want to add, Faith, darling? Don’t pretend I can’t see you lurking in the stacks and laughing at me! I’ll get as sappy as I like! If you think you can do it better, come out in the open and finish this story properly!

Faith

You tell it so beautifully, my darling fool boy, but if you insist—

I was forever grateful Dinah took that tea to Alistair. I couldn’t believe he hadn’t seen the loophole in his words—I was so afraid he’d see my ploy coming and stop me. But his wits were so blessedly dull that day. It was like outwitting a child.

When at last he came to, I was terrified. He had cast me out because I’d outwitted him, and now here I was again, thinking another clever trick would make everything well.

Fortunately, Alistair was marvelous—saw my meaning in an instant. Sometimes he can be almost clever.

After that, what’s there to tell? We made up our quarrel, and then some. Alistair brought me back to the palace in high honors—it was wonderful, the way he praised me and took so much blame on himself.

(You were really rather too hard on yourself, darling—I’d done more than enough to make any man rightfully angry. Taking you to Father’s house was my chance to apologize.)

Alistair paid the farmer for the loss of his foal, paid for the mending of the fence that had led to the trouble in the first place, and straightened out the legal tangles that had the neighbors at each others’ throats.

After that, things returned much to the way they’d been before, except that Alistair was careful never to think himself into such troubles again. We’ve gotten older, and I hope wiser, and between our quarrels and our reconciliations, we’ve grown into quite the wise pair of lovestruck fools. Take heed from it, whenever you marry—it’s good to have a clever spouse, but make sure you have one who’s willing to be the fool every once in a while.

Trust me. It works out for the best.

[bambi-kinos]

loved ur recent post on paul whump !! besides the linked one(which I've never read so thanks!) do you have👀👀 any recommendations👀👀👀👀

tl;dr - it's slim pickins out there.

First let's bring back an old differentiation: there's physical whump and then emotional whump, and that was an important distinction back in the day. I have looked for both and while there are some good emotional whump pieces, there is no readable physical whump besides the su!c!d3 fic. Physical whump is more of an action movie thing and in general Beatles fandom is not terribly interested in action and adventure so they don't write it. And the thing is, that's fine, that's a valid choice that anyone can make and we should write about the things we enjoy and not what we think others expect. But it also means that Paul whump fics basically don't exist in modern fandom as we know it. There are probably some on LJ or in the Google Docs McLennon archive since Stargate and Smallville were so big on LJ at the time and there was more x-fandom pollination but I don't want to Snipe hunt right now.

(For the record, I do have something in the works to fix this hole but it won't come out until next year if we're lucky.)

Emotional whump is more plentiful and there's well written stuff out there for sure. Most of the emotional whump I've enjoyed is centered around John's suffering and while Paul's misery is apparent it's not the focus of those pieces. So this took some digging into my bookmarks and memory. What I like in a good Paul whump fic is how his own arrogance and narcissist tendencies come back to bite him OR he's having to put up with John's shit when John is being horrible.

In that spirit, here are my recommendations for decent emotional whump focused on Paul:

Barcelona - Selena. I enjoy this one because Selena let's Paul be a whole person here. It's not just John and Brian bothering him, it's the fact that he's trapped with someone who reminds him of what he's lacking and how this hurts him, both now and in the past. Parallels to the Barcelona situation are subtle and well drawn so you get all of the agony without being hit over the head with it. John is opaque to Paul who doesn't understand why he's acting like this which is a nice change from what we often see in fanfic where John just blurts out what he's feeling. Here we see how much Paul suffers when John is trying too hard to be clever.

A Hole in the World - RosalindBeatrice. Linda bears witness to the aftermath of John's murder in Paul. Easily the absolute best fanfiction on this list.

Birthday - Selene. Love this one because Selene writes Paul as an actual character instead of the heteronormative girly thing he often gets slapped with. Paul is once again bitter, angry and unhappy because the boy he fell in love with has already disappeared. He is forced to be the adult in a room full of manchildren and he hates it...but he also sucks it up and does it anyway. Because he is Paul McCartney and being the foundation of The Beatles and cleaning up John's messes is exactly what he signed up for and he will do it because no one else can. I think of this one all the time. It lives rent free in my head.

Red Sky - thinkpink20. What I appreciate about thinkpink20 is that she is brave enough to let John be absolutely awful but she also humanizes him so you can see his inner pain and confusion driving that horribleness. This is a nice one where John is no where near to figuring himself out but Paul is, and then when Stuart's living shadow gets into the mix, no one is happy.

From Barcelona To Santa Cruz - thinkpink20. Another post-Spain fic but this time John articulates his defense well which of course humiliates and angers Paul even further because John proves he is human and capable of empathy, which Paul didn't want to write into the equation.

the crane wife - mynamesbetty. Betty was showing me the first drafts of this one and all I could say was: "Paul is a horrible person. He's a fucking homewrecker. He deserves this." That's what I like best about this story. Paul is a selfish asshole and he hurts everyone and himself by being self centered, petulant, and cowardly. Every single awful thing that happens to him is strictly the result of his own actions. He manages to make himself the Coyote in a Looney Tunes cartoon including the bit where he runs straight off the cliff, doesn't realize it, and then looks down just as he starts falling before he shoots the viewer a look asking for help. And then the ACME anvil falls on him.

So those are my recommendations on Paul whump. It ended up being a longer list than I expected so that's something. Hope you enjoy the recommendations and please check out the other fanfics by these authors, they're all great.

[saintsenara]

thank you very much for the ask, anon! it turned out that questions 1 and 2 sent me a bit feral, so they're queued up in a separate post... allowing this one to focus on the unhinged and deranged potential of ronius.

which - i'll be honest - is not quite as unhinged and deranged as one might think...

although my answer about it as a pure crackship would be influenced by a headcanon i remain committed to purely for my own amusement that harry is the only person who believes sirius to be unfathomably good-looking pre-azkaban [the girl in the defence against the dark arts exam was actually checking out lily! harry saw what he wanted to see!] and still retaining vestiges of these magnificent looks after it.

i like the idea of ron - canonically a real hottie himself - not being entirely sure what all the fuss is about, not least because sirius hasn't seen a dentist in fifteen years. harry's sighing every night about how lucky ron is while everyone else pats sirius on the back for bagging himself a tall and sporty legend with great hair, a chill personality, and a fourteen-inch wand.

but my more serious response to this ship would be that it joins the pile - with snon and ronmort - which are made plausible by the fact that ron is, at heart, someone who cares.

in goblet of fire, harry, ron, and hermione all have broadly similar views of sirius - that he's a clever, sensible adult who can be trusted to help them with the mystery they find themselves in. ron is reassured that harry tells sirius about his scar hurting, for example, because he thinks it's a given that sirius will know what to do about it - and he believes that any information sirius gives harry throughout this book is completely above reproach.

ron also clearly thinks that sirius is cool - him trying to get sirius to agree with him that hermione's passion for house elf rights is ridiculous very much has the vibe of him wanting sirius to acknowledge him as a sophisticated man-of-the-world; which him being pissed-off when sirius suggests the trio are too young to understand what things were like in the first war also illustrates.

[which i think sirius respects him for - he obviously admires a bit of bolshiness, and he also obviously adores the loyalty ron and hermione have for harry.]

and so i think that you can absolutely imagine ron developing a little crush on sirius - to go with his broader bisexual awakening over viktor krum - during his fourth year.

more interestingly, though, is that the trio's view of sirius diverges in order of the phoenix.

in harry's case, there is a reversal of the reasonably uncomplicated parent-child dynamic of goblet of fire, as sirius' depression - as well as the regression he feels from being stuck in his childhood home - robs him of the capacity to provide harry with the paternal emotional support he needs. instead, harry ends up being the one taking the adult role in their relationship - viewing it as his responsibility to be the sensible one in order to keep sirius safe.

hermione notices this role-reversal, but her view is broadly that sirius would be able to restrain his emotional instability if he simply tried hard enough. she's the one of the three who thinks that sirius' grimmauld-place-induced regression is accompanied by a desire to relive his glory days with harry standing in for james - and while both she and harry find sirius' more reckless behaviour [such as his suggestion that he might come to hogsmeade to see them] frightening, hermione evidently regards it as reckless arrogance, while harry sees it as reckless desperation.

ron - on the other hand - approaches order-era sirius not from the adult position in an adult-child dynamic, but as a peer.

he's the member of the trio who best understands the impact feeling useless to the war effort, lonely, and trapped has on sirius, without adding the qualification that he should be an adult and deal with it [which has the negative result that he's easily convinced that harry's vision of sirius in the department of mysteries is real, because he thinks it's completely plausible that sirius would have left the house and been captured].

he has no time for the idea that sirius views harry as indistinguishable from james, or that sirius is deliberately or childishly reckless. he's the only one of the three to give sirius the credit of listening to dumbledore and working to keep himself and harry safe - even if he doesn't like what he has to endure in order to do this. he treats sirius as someone who deserves to not be condescended to and to be acknowledged as having authority in his own house - for example, when he tells hermione that she needs to respect sirius' justification for why kreacher can't be manumitted when he thinks she intends to give him clothes for christmas [that hermione is completely right that slaves should be freed is by-the-by here].

he also understands harry's grief over sirius' death - and what sirius meant to harry - far more instinctively than hermione. but he's also the only one of the trio who really gets how sirius was understood by the order more widely - for example, he's the only one of the three who correctly points out that tonks didn't actually know sirius well enough for the intensity of grief harry and hermione are ascribing to her to be plausible. while harry - completely understandably - sees sirius as so important in his own life that he can't help but imagine him as the central figure in the life of everyone he encounters [which is unrelatedly interesting in that it's how each of the three marauders saw james], ron has a more pragmatic, big-picture view of him as a man. a good man - absolutely - and a fun and clever and admirable one, but still a man like any other.

ron understanding sirius - but not idolising him - creates a pretty strong potential for a relationship between them in a world in which sirius survives into the trio's adulthoods. this is especially the case when this understanding is combined with the fact that ron is shown - throughout the series - to be very good at providing comfort.

sirius survives azkaban and his time on the run through sheer, desperate resilience - but, as his collapse when he's back at grimmauld place shows, this resilience can't keep his demons at bay when he's not just fighting, at the most basic level, to stay alive.

if he survives the war, then he - like his narrative mirror, snape - is going to find himself feeling terrified and unmoored and completely unsure about who he is and what he'll do in a world in which voldemort is dead - and i suspect that his self-destruction would be extraordinary.

ron - alone of the trio - has the capacity to understand how sirius would end up in a place where "all was well" is more frightening to him than the potential of dying any minute. and he also has the capacity to provide an anchoring force through cups of tea and chit-chat which makes sirius think it might be possible to survive the day... and then the week... and then the month - which can then transition into him having the capacity to understand the big questions of guilt and grief and love and loyalty which define sirius' adult life.

so yes. i back it entirely.

[gale-gentlepenguin]

What is your opinion on the comments from the writers about the season 5 finale and the finale itself?

So I should say that the only comments I’ve seen (from the translation ) and this ( post )

My opinion on the writers and their commentary regarding the finale.

I do understand why they did the things they did.

Limited resources and wanting to utilize what they had.

I totally agree with their use of Piano Lucky Charm.

I think the fight the physical fight with Monarch and Bug Noire is phenomenal.

I can tell a Lot of effort went into planning this season out.

And as a Writer I can respect the references, nods, foreshadowing and jokes that were put in.

Fang using Kung fu is a hilarious image and it’s my favorite shot outside of monarch having a piano dropped on him.

People can say they like the ending, and if they do, awesome. I’m glad that you can enjoy this ending that I don’t.

So let’s have that put at the forefront

That is everything positive I have to say regarding the commentary and I will be going into detail on my ‘Problems’ below. And yes I will be getting angry.

(You have been warned)

I absolutely LOATHE their explanation on how they justify their ending.

Everything about it makes them sound pretentious and arrogant. They sound like they think they are being so clever with an ending when the ending is actually a fucking punch to the face of ANYONE that cared about having a resolution to this arc.

If the writers were so keen on having us CARE for Gabriel’s little arc. Why not take that Kwami’s choice special and replace it with a two episode arc of Gabriel, Emilie and co getting the miraculous? They can’t say budget because they could use flashbacks or the re-enactment from Representation.

And my goodness, the mental gymnastics it takes to say “Gabriel put down his other rings which means he lost” NO IT DOESNT. He is making his wish, he won. Why the heck would he need them after?!

“His wish is vague, so we don’t know what he wished for.” I DONT CARE IF HE WISHED FOR FREE ICE CREAM FOR EVERYONE ON EARTH! HE WON BY EVERY METRIC! It’s unsatisfying, it’s gross, and it feels all kinds of wrong to the point that my soul as a writer feels personally insulted.

The arrogant pretentious Pricks don’t even realize they left Ladybug in the losing position once again! She’s going to have to suffer the consequences of the wish. Not the person who died VINDICATED.

In the words of Brooke from one piece

“Death is never an apology.”

But she got the miraculous back? Yea, AFTER the villain got what he wanted. Adrien never finds out about any of this, Marinette is left gaslighting and hiding things from him, just like usual but now MORE people are keeping things from him.

All of this writing just end up with a cool final battle scene and then take a metaphorical dump all over it because their peak in character development is outfit changes.

The ending isn’t unsatisfying because it’s meant to be. It’s unsatisfying because it made 5 seasons of watching ML pointless.

And I didn’t think I could hate the finale more than I do. BUT THE COMMENTARY somehow made it Worse!? I don’t know how the f*** they did it.

But knowing their intent and knowing this ending was always intended makes VOLTRON’s ending SEEM serviceable. And yes I know how bad that sounds and I FUCKING MEAN IT.

[titanicfreija]

Reckless

"Guardian."

"What did I do?! Why are you mad?!"

"You are reckless!"

".... I'm an undead warrior graced with magic from a conscious star-faring machine-moon-thing that might be older than time, I don't really have a reckless to be?"

"You are graced this magic via a small machine that can be destroyed. You risk her when you risk yourself."

"It's harder to break me than you think. There was a reason the traitors used a nullifier instead of a normal projectile on Targe."

"I am certain you would not withstand my hammer, and it would only take some effort to catch you in the moments of resurrection."

"I don't think you could hit me with your hammer no matter how fast you are..."

"This is about that Gladiator."

"Yes. You anger and insult me with this attitude, Guardian. You did not and do not respect the threat posed by my warrior and you put my friend at risk with this disregard!"

"We've had this talk, I take the immortality for granted--"

"You took your Ghost for granted!"

"A little, like that, but she's really really good at handling it when I die. I trust her to take care of that part, and she's always been really good at it. That Knight scared us early on, we're real careful."

"I really am."

"You are too accustomed to this lack of fear, and you lose respect for danger! You are hardly the first Guardian to fall prey to such thinking. Sunny will hardly be the first Ghost to find an unrealistic sense of security in a strong Guardian. None of you are so powerful that you cannot be brought down. No Ghost is so clever that it can hide indefinitely, especially in the face of what I've learned about your drive to resurrect your Guardians. You, Guardian, are certainly strong, you are certainly tough, and I am not calling your ability into question. Sunny, your wit is almost as agile as you are. But I am warning you both now that all your strengths and skills will not always be enough. If this behavior continues, there will come a day when you are cut off and completely surrounded by an army you failed to destroy. And there will be no mercy."

"...."

"...."

".... Sorry..."

"... I accept this apology. I will forgive the mistake when I decide you have learned from it. I'll return the sword at that time."

"Oh, c--"

"You sacrificed it. You are fortunate he did not want to keep it as a trophy. Instead, he liked the other gift and gave this to me to return to the Vanguard. You are lucky I recognized your description, or else you would not be getting it back at all. A near-beheading normally costs much more than a sword."

"I know. Shit hurt. Caught me right along the helmet edge, we saw the gash."

"I recommend you do not speak so flippantly about a fight you lost."

"It was that or kill he--him and I didn't want to. Sorry, I default to her when I don't know, especially since I learned many of you guys file down the tusks."

"Hmmmmmph."

"But I was having fun and I didn't want to quit. I knew he was yours, so I didn't want to kill him, but he was a lot of fun to fight, he was really fast and strong and stuff, and I really do like sword fighting, so the gladiators are always great fun on the field, and he was really good."

"....."

"I agree that it was stupid, though. And I was being an arrogant ass for sure, I did think I could win even without trying to kill him for real. So I'm sorry for that. But we aren't on equal ground, it's not fair to anyone but other Guardians. And I trust Sunny to live for a while without me, she did it for nearly a millennium. It feels kinda shitty to go around killing people who only have one life when I know a loss for me is about as devastating as losing a gun I like. You can't get better if you die for good."

".... High praise to you is a mortifying insult amongst my people. He would not have spoken of it had he not won. He expected a trap, and thus did he stop, or else you would have been killed and collected and your Ghost captured, as that has been my standing order since the "incident" on Mars."

"... Didn't know that..."

"You are reckless, Guardian. This behavior is unacceptable. If you will not rein yourself in or if you cannot allow better reason and your Ghost to guide you to better decisions, I will find a way to teach you myself. Do not test me."

" ...Yes, ma'am."

"You will not disregard threats to my friend in his manner. And you will not treat my soldiers as toys."

"Yes, ma'am. I'm sorry."

"You will learn or I will find a way to teach you. Most things I can currently think of would cause grevious harm to one or both of you. I recommend staying on your best behavior until I find alternatives."

"You don't have to threaten us."

"Clearly, I do. You are still failing to respect the threat, Sunny."

".... I respected it at the time..."

"You will both learn."

"....Yes, ma'am..."

[thegreymoon]

The Story of Minglan

Ah, so we get Minglan's age, finally!

I was not too far off, I assumed 15 or 16.

Also, yikes at this marriage age... 😬😬 My brain was definitely still mush at 15.

***

Ooh! Finally, some power for Minglan!

I did not see this coming but I like where it's going!

***

LOL, what adult, at 14 😅

***

Xiaodie is back!!

I know she's a minor character, but I loved her a lot! I had hoped she'd be back, especially since Madam Wei gave her that bracelet, it seemed so symbolic and important. I'm glad to see that she's back sooner rather than later.

***

Oh? Together? WITH HER MOTHER'S PAINTING?

SO THAT SHE DOESN'T FORGET?

Is she plotting revenge? 👀

I must say, I did not see that coming! She seems so meek! I thought that we'd have to go through so much more bs before she grows a spine!

BUT SHE ALREADY HAS A SPINE, SHE'S JUST HIDING IT!

***

LMAO, eat your heart out, Molan! 🤣🤣

***

LOL, Minglan was so right when she said that additional maids are coming soon 🤣🤣

Just watch when Madam Lin sends her own spies as well!

***

LMAO, the way she handled her 🤣🤣

Molan may be book-smart, but she is neither clever nor wise. She is lacking in almost every other way! Just look at her smug face!

She was so easily fooled and misled and she's too arrogant to even suspect it because if somebody is flattering her, of course it must be the truth!

***

LMAOOOOOO, SHE IS ALREADY DIGGING YOUR GRAVES AND YOU DON'T EVEN KNOW IT!

***

LMAO, more servants for Minglan 🤣🤣

***

OMGGGGGGGGG, WHAT A MORON

SIS, IF YOU WERE IN THE QI HOUSEHOLD, YOU'D BE DEAD BY NOW! COUNT YOUR LUCKY STARS!

***

LOL, at this rate, all the servants will move to Minglan's courtyard 🤣🤣

***

You'll do what, exactly? 🤨

***

LMAO, Granny remains the best 🙏

Get her out of that hell house, at least temporarily.

***

LMAO, please don't tell me that the grannies are matchmaking here 🤣🤣

This is more awkward than Darcy trying to court Elizabeth at Rosings Park 🤣🤣

***

HUALAN, NO 😱😱

BABYGIRL, WHAT ARE YOU DOINGGGGGGGGGGGGG

***

And here she is, striving to bring more children into this hell 😔

[l-egionaire]

Boiling Isles Angels- Wings

Angel wings on the Floating Seas are usually the classic dove white color seen in most depictions. But some angels are born with wings that are different colors. And each one has their own meaning in the Floating Seas society.

The colors and their meanings are as follows:

Red- Angels with red wings are seen as passionate and spirited. They're usually determined, driven people who put their all into the things that they care about. Sometimes, in a good way, sometimes in a bad way, as red winged Angels are also prone to being somewhat arrogant and a bit stubborn. They work hard but can also be hard-headed.

Blue- Blue Winged Angels are usually thought of as "nice guys". They're kind, caring, compassionate, and always willing to lend an ear to listen to someone else's problems or help if someone needs it. Blue Wings are also rumored to be more skilled at healing magic than regular Angels, but there's never been any actual proof of that. That being said, many Blue wings do go into healing as a profession, partly due to their nice personalities.

Green- Green wings are usually seen as a sign of intelligence. But not just in a sense of "knowing lots of things way". Green wings can be clever, tricky, strategic and even savants in a field. Green wings are smart but knowledge takes many forms.

Gold- Golden wings aren't exactly related to a type of personality, but to luck in general. Golden winged Angels are seen as being born under a lucky star and in most cases, Angel's with gold wings go on to have great fortune in life.

Black- Black Wings are....the opposite of Gold. Black Winged Angels have been looked on for years with suspicion and distaste. They're seen as untrustworthy, unlucky, troublemakers, and just bad omens in general. And the reason for that relates all the way back to the original war between the Boiling Isles and the Floating Seas. Back then, it was thought that black wings were a sign that an angel had demon realm blood, so those born with them were thought to be working with the enemy and were shunned by their communities. By around the time that Luz comes to the Boiling Isles, on the Floating Seas superstition like that has mostly worn off and black winged Angels have had some success in ditching their poor reputations, though still get the unfortunate bits of bullying or mistrust. There are Black Winged teachers, guild leaders, writers, actors and even members of the Archangels (the closest Angel equivalent to the Emperor's Coven) but never yet to the ruling council of the Floating Seas. As a side note, some historians theorize that the color black was the original color of Angels wings when they lived below the clouds in the Boiling Isles and they turned white after living in the sky and eating food created by the Elder Dragon's magic. But that's just considered a theory.

[roalinda]

A small something for @prongsfoot-microfic

I have two months prompts worth to fill but let us pretend it's still May. 🙈

****

May 9 : Royalty

Potter and Black were disgusting. 

Potter, too spoiled and arrogant and Black, too haughty and elegant were disasters in disguise, always glued together like conjoined twins. They were two halves of one, a puzzle with only two pieces. No intruders were allowed in their glass globe. It was a private dimension closed to all but the two of them, a galaxy for the brightest star of the sky and his sun to settle. 

They were the most infuriating migraine, an infectious disease, one that could kill agonizingly slow and painful. They were stupidly clever with strings of advanced sorcery and secrets wrapped around their wands, heavy magic pouring from their fingers to dazzle all. A unique bundle of charms they were, a raw force of nature, a breeze and a hurricane. They were dangerous and unhinged.

But in reality, James Potter and Sirius black were nothing without each other. James was just a lonely little boy before Hogwarts, wishing for fuel to his fire and Sirius Black was nothing but a dreamer, longing for a moth to his flame. The moment they saw each other, they were one. 

Dressed in Gryffindor's gold and red, they were royalty, kings with invisible crowns, blessed with cruelty and courtesy. They were between the few lucky ones who had found their soulmate early with no struggle or suffering. 

At least that was what Severus Snape thought until the royal castle fell into ruin, regicide and betrayal burning everything into ashes. The tyrant kings lost their heads to the guillotine, one slaughtered ruthlessly by the enemy and the other locked away in the most terrific exile. 

He should have been happy. He should have been content. Then why was he crying? 

'He has Lily's eyes.'

[liliththunder]

Review on "A Girl Like Me 我就是这般女子" 2021

After watching the drama for the third time (first when it came out, somewhen in the year after and now)

Anyway just because it is soooooooooooo good, I could sit through the 40 episodes without having a second of boredom or cringe.

The drama has a rating of 8.1 on MDL, and an episode average of 9,0 (yes, I calculated this).

What makes it great? Everything.

It has chemistry, between the main couple, between family members, between enemies, between like everyone.

It has a natural flow and consistency of the story of the main couples relationship.

YOU KNOW IT'S WITHOUT MISUNDERSTANDINGS!!!! Tbh I feel like it is very trope free in general. (except for the I fall, you catch, but it gets a revenge, so it's fine)

The characters act naturally, consequetical and reasonable!

So let's go into more details:

Description The beautiful baroness, duchess, princess (She gets promoted a lot!) Ban Hua has skirted marital bliss three times. Her straight-shooting manner and explosive temper ensured that each relationship ended in disaster – for the potential grooms! Despite her awful reputation, she is quite well-meaning and thoughtful deep down. Of late, her dreams have been forecasting danger around every corner. She has interpreted them quickly in order to keep her family safe and to protect those around her. Her life changes forever when she meets Count Rong Xia, a young gentleman scholar whose family suffered a tragic fate. Rong Xia is on the hunt for answers regarding the past, namely the true identity of those responsible for his family’s demise, a secret long-kept from him. A friendship is formed, with Ban Hua determined to help Rong Xia learn the truth. As their alliance deepens, could this be a case of ´fourth time lucky’ for Ban Hua? (Source: MDL)

Characters: Ban Hua: - not educated in classical women arts (which is seen as her fault) - therefore trained in martial arts by her grandfather - has a high moral compass and sense of justice - is short tempered and likes complements - she comes of as arrogant at first - cares about nothing more than her family - likes fashion and wears several dresses throughout the series, like it seems natural? Rong Xia: - Daye's first gentlement, as he is first in all of the literature - he's very intelegent and sees through a lot things - his family got murdered and he's investigating to get revenge - upright and noble, calm character - quite inexperienced in love and sometimes acts silly Ban Heng & and the rest of the Ban family: - Ban Heng (younger brother), Lady Yin (mother), Ban Huai (father), Rocky and Softy (housemaids) - you have never witnessed such a wholesome family Shi Feixian: - fairest lady of Daye, Nr. 1 Lady in women's arts - has a crush on Rong Xia - believes in fate Ban Hua's younger cousin, Jiang Luo: - black sheep of the royal family Ban Hua's older cousin and crown prince, Jiang Zhang: - coward of the royal family The emperor (Jiang Rui): - rough but good guy Royal Princess (Ban Hua's and Ban Heng's grandmother, Ban Huai's mother, the emperor's aunt): - wise lady, widow of the late emperor - with clever wits and in younger years great resembles to Ban Hua in character Characters that are later revealed in the plot to be a certain way, I don't to reveal, except an honorable mention, because I love them: Du Jiu, Xie Wanyue, Xie Qinlin, Shi Jin, the empress, Father Xie, Akeqi

plot (spoilerfree) what I love about it the most, is the consistency, plot boxes that get opened get closed at different times. There does not exist an arc-sequencial plot the plot is woven into it from ending to beginning. Different factions do have different goals and agenda's at the same time, even though naturally sometimes those interests overlap. The story has a good moral and treasures characters as humans. Have I mentioned that there's NO "plot" caused by MISUNDERSTANDINGS???!!! It's amazing, even though they have to go different ways at some point due to lack of time to communicate, the FL trusts what she knows and loves about her partner. It's amazing.

actors from top to bottom the cast is great. Like really it is!!! It has Neo Hu and the less known Guan Xiaotong, who does an amazing job.

NOW GO WATCH IT. I WANT IT TO GET THE ATTENTION IT DESERVES!!!!!

I sincerely promise you it's a drama that wont leave you easily in a good way. It's like a warm blanket and makes you believe that maybe the world is not as bad.

(If you want use the messages space to tell me what your opinion about it is, also congrats you made it to the end)

[missanthropicprinciple]

miss anthro’s film recs: May 2021

Jurassic Park 1993: Watched this for the third time in a month today to celebrate it's release 28 years ago. Like most excellent films, it was created by a lucky intersection of talent. The remarkable premise was crafted into a brilliant script by David Koepp and author Michael Crichton; it was tight, clean, fast-paced - no plot holes and unnecessary scenes. Steven Spielberg really did a fantastic job of making a cohesive production and giving it a kind of emotional continuity. The cast is outstanding. I could write an essay about each one. Richard Attenborough brings pathos to John Hammond, the delusional tycoon. Sam Neill is perfect as Alan Grant, a jaded paleontologist who finds deeper compassion. Laura Dern gives a raw performance as the resolute and charming paleo-botanist Ellie Sattler. Jeff Goldblum stars as Ian Malcolm, chaotician and prototype "rock-star scientist." Bob Peck is wonderful as the sensible game warden Robert Muldoon. Samuel L. Jackson works his magic as sardonic chief engineer Ray Arnold. And of course, excellent performances from Martin Ferrero, Wayne Knight, Joseph Mazzello, and Ariana Richards. The special and physical effects are remarkable and most of them remain so nearly three decades later, including the life-sized animatronic Tyrannosaurus rex and just the right amount of CGI. Cinematography by Dean Cundey features god-tier-level use of scale framing. Not to mention great use of color, blocking, sound, costume, John Williams' beautiful score - you name it, this film really has everything going for it. Is this a perfect film? No, but it gets bloody close. Unmissable science-fiction that examines the horror unleashed by the arrogance of mankind. 

The Birdcage 1996: This 25* year old film is a real gem. While the modern viewer (myself included) could find fault with some stereotypes, etc., the classic comedy has aged quite well. There’s a lot of slapstick and hysterically funny and clever dialogue. Williams and Lane are outstanding. There’s a very touching scene between the two of them which is very romantic and sweet. And of course the whole cast is perfect. I’m always impressed by this film when I haven’t seen it in a while.

The Moon-Spinners 1964: You don’t need to be a Disney fan to love this incredible classic. Hayley Mills is well loved but I don’t think she’s given enough credit for being not only a brilliant child actor but also a great actor as she aged. Her performance is stellar. The whole movie is fun and tense, bringing Mary Stewart’s novel to life in the great and beautiful country of Greece. It’s a fun adventure from start to finish with humor and romance.

Fairytale: A True Story 1997: Want to cry your eyes out about the Cottingley fairy hoax of 1917? You may not trust me but I recommend this experience. Honestly, this movie is life-changing. This is a depiction of a real life story involving historical figures. Usually no one gets that quite right but this movie kinda does. Peter O’Toole looks nothing like Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, but Harvey Keitel looks remarkably like Harry Houdini. Something about the music and what they do with this story gets into your bloodstream. I couldn’t possibly spoil for anyone who knows nothing about it, but I can say that there is some incredible CGI and a scene where someone faces retribution from an unexpected and shocking source.

edit 2023:

*now 27

I found this in my drafts. Clearly, life got in the way and I didn’t continue my recommendation posts (I have the templates drafted in text form.) Also, while drafting this edit I was attacked by a small beetle. I remain unharmed and have released the beetle into its natural environment.

[motherodysseus]

Ptolemaea - A Chapter One Preview

Note: I am hard at work on this next chapter! There's a lot to set up, and it is shaping up to be a bit of a behemoth (potentially around 9-10k words). I'm close to halfway there... I think, lol. But I thought I'd whet your appetites with a dialogue-heavy sneak peek. Enjoy!

“Is there not a chance that they might be impressed by me?” Alys asks after righting herself. “For winning back mine own hand, which was already supposed to be mine by rights?” She knows the answer, in truth, but feels desperate enough to ask.

“I suppose a small one,” Lymon considers. “Several houses have, or have had, ladies lead them, both in battle and as heads of house. And nearly all the Great Houses still recognize your father’s word as, if not law, then bond. But – whether we agree with them or not – most still see a lady’s place as in the home. Wedded, producing heirs, keeping house; not besting boys in the art of war. Or, one of the arts, at least. We will have to count ourselves lucky if they perceive it as a rebellion against your uncle –”

“Which it is,” she counters.

“Aye, but it is as likely, if not more so, that they will take offense, viewing it as a rejection of their house. We can’t presume that they will see it for what it truly is: a disavowal of your Uncle’s grasp for power,” he concludes.

Frustrated, Alys drops her head into her hands, fingers digging into her scalp. She wishes to growl, to scream, to rip at her hair or slam her fists on the table. To do anything to act upon her feelings. Instead, she takes a deep breath, then another, working to calm the tumult in her mind. Perhaps one more breath would do. Once she collects herself, she sets her hands back on the table, folding them together as her fingers continue to twist the signet. “Is there any other option?” she asks. “Any possibility of getting through this unscathed?” And unwed?

“There is one. You will not like it,” says the Maester, lips drawn thin. 

“Tell me.”

“You run. No, do not interrupt. I know you have been in near constant contact with your Velaryon kin, the Lady Laena and your Aunt, the Princess Rhaenys, since your mother’s passing. I am the one who sends your letters, after all,” he says. “I took the liberty of sending a raven to your Uncle, Lord Corlys, making him aware of your plight – something you neglected to share with him, or any of them, it would seem.” 

Aye, because until this moment, I assumed that I had this in hand. Arrogant, mayhaps, but it is the truth. Lymon takes her silence as encouragement to continue.

“He and the Princess Rhaenys have agreed to take you in as their ward. It is not customary, I know, but they are one of the most powerful houses in the Seven Kingdoms; soon to be made even more so with the wedding of your cousin Laenor to the Princess of Dragonstone a moon’s turn from now. They will have the security of the Crown behind them, and they can protect you until Cregan secures his seat. You may even be able to advocate for aid, if not from the Crown, then from your Uncles. Docking the Velaryon fleet at White Harbor would be a show of force, and could serve to discourage the lords that back Bennard against this coup.”

Alys quietly absorbs Lymon’s counsel. My Maester has been hard at work, it seems. It is a clever, nay, brilliant plan; but it is an unacceptable one.

“If I abandon my house, and my brother, what message does that send? And, should I run, as you suggest, what is to stop Bennard from closing the gates to us? A few hundred men can hold Winterfell, even if ten thousand set upon its gates. Winter is Coming, and all he’ll need to do is wait us out.” Alys sighs. “It is tempting to call upon the Velaryons for aid, I admit; but to ask for interference from a Southern house, kin or no, is tantamount to admitting Creg cannot hold the North. It would bolster Bennard’s claim that he is untried, unfit, unready. My brother would never allow it, nor can I. No, Maester. I cannot leave; for there must always be a Stark in Winterfell, a true one.”

[nonwal]

👀?

shadowgast miscommunication angst meets lifespan angst?

Caleb sighs. “I know that you and I have a certain…affinity, for each other. We have not acknowledged it. There has not been time to do so.” “There is time, now,” Essek ventures, a small hope blooming in his chest. “There is,” Caleb agrees, but his mouth has drawn into a thin line. “I will—I will try to keep this straightforward, to save us any misunderstandings. You are a very attractive man, and a very dear friend. And I have formed the beginnings of…romantic feelings, for you, which I suspect are reciprocated to some extent.” He says this all in a very matter-of-fact tone. Clinical. Distant. Essek has imagined a conversation like this, but not—like this. Essek tries to ignore the uncertain flutter of his heartbeat, like a flower wilting in the cold. Swallows. Says, “You are correct in that assumption.” Caleb nods, gives a smile that lands somewhere between wistful and grim. “It is a nice thought, ja? That what we have could grow to be something more. But—what does the future look like for you, Essek? What are your plans?” “I need to return to the outpost, soon. And eventually to Rosohna, though that may be dangerous. I will attempt to erase any remaining evidence, but—“ Essek is past believing that he can successfully cover his tracks. “I will likely have to fake my own death and go into hiding. I may have to keep on the move.” Caleb nods again. “If all goes well with Trent, I would like to stay in Rexxentrum, and perhaps teach at Soltryce eventually. Beau and I have thoughts on dealing with the Assembly, but that will take time. It won’t exactly be a quiet retirement from adventuring, but—I think I would like to stay in Rexxentrum. And I will grow old, and one day die in Rexxentrum, and you will still be out there, exactly the same as you are now.” “Most likely, yes,” Essek admits. “Assuming that I am not captured before then.” Perhaps if Caleb is successful with the Assembly he will rest a little easier, but the Dynasty holds grudges well, and will not forget about him after a mere century or two. Essek will not be able to settle down for a very long time. “You are a very clever individual,” Caleb says. “I do not need to bore you with the math. We would not have much time together, were we to pursue a relationship. I have, if I am lucky, seven decades. It would not be worth it, to spend a mere fraction of a lifetime together, only to cause more heartache when we must part. I know this is not easy to acknowledge, but—do you understand? It is not worth it, Essek.” Essek wants to argue. Wants to say that he can stay in Rexxentrum with Caleb, that he could be enough—but he knows that Caleb would not agree. He’d refuse to let Essek endanger himself like that. And—perhaps it is arrogant, to assume that merely staying would be enough, that giving Caleb more of his time will change his mind. Essek has never been enough, not once in his entire miserable life, and a few months of wringing his hands over his crimes does not suddenly make him worthy. If Caleb has decided he isn’t interested enough, then it is not his place to argue. Caleb is correct. Essek is not worth it. “I understand,” he says, schooling his face into neutrality. “Yes. Of course. I am not particularly happy with it, but—I am sure that you will find someone else who is, ah—a better match, for you.” There is a flicker of something like disappointment on Caleb's face, but it's gone too quickly for Essek to determine what it means.

Caleb: let's avoid any miscommunication. I'm gonna die in like seventy years-- Essek: so you want to maximize that time with a partner who won't be traveling constantly. I see. yes.