#but i've chosen not to carry on with this life and the girl who was recently euthanized since she wanted to inspired me

[forgotten-daydreamer]

knowing im going to die very young somehow doesnt make the psychological violence any easier to bear

[idiopathicsmile]

School Gymnastics: A Tragicomedy

So one day when we were in third grade, our P.E. teacher divided us into girls and boys. (I don’t remember what the boys had to do. Wrestling? Tackle football? I don’t know, probably not at age nine, but that’s not the point. Gladiatorial combat? I still don’t really understand kids’ sports.)

What matters for this story is that all the girls had to do gymnastics. Now—and I suspect this won’t surprise you if you know literally anything about me—I was always terrible at any form of school athletics. I am intensely, almost impressively uncoordinated. This doesn’t affect my life much at 36, but it was often a miserable way to be a kid. The only playground game I liked was playing pretend, because when you are playing pretend, you don’t have a bunch of people ostensibly on your side screaming in your ear, “Pretend faster! Pretend over there! Pretend with greater accuracy!”

Anyway, gymnastics and my clumsy, doughy little body. I couldn’t do a cartwheel. I couldn’t do a backwards somersault. I couldn't do any of it. We had an entire unit on this business and I literally did not learn how to even safely attempt a single move besides the log roll (lie flat and roll sideways on your belly). In retrospect, this seems like maybe it was in part a teaching problem, not a me problem, but that’s actually not the point either.

The point is, at the end of the unit, we were told to divide ourselves into little teams and choreograph a group gymnastics routine. My group, faced with my long list of limitations (more limitation than girl, really) decide my role will be to just forwards-somersault around the rest of the group as they do their moves. (This is itself kind of embarrassing but trust me, it is but the appetizer.) My friend Ashley has the Lion King soundtrack and we all agree that it is a great choice. The movie has only come out a couple of years earlier, and it of course features some funny, peppy options. 'Hakuna Matata'? 'I Just Can't Wait to Be King'? It's all coming together.

Carried on a wave of youthful enthusiasm, none of us even think to double-check which track Ashley has picked. Foreshadowing!

So the day of the performance comes. Another group goes right before us. They had picked “Wannabe” by the Spice Girls, which was a huge hit at the time. I mean, it still is because it’s a classic, but then it was big and new. They step onto the mat and immediately begin to do choreographed dance moves, which they have worked into their routine. We had not thought of this. Oops. Dance moves, of course! So they incorporate the necessary gymnastics, it goes over really well, the energy is high, and now it’s my group’s turn.

I take my place at the edge of the mat, the mat we are required to stay on for the length of the piece. Ashley cues up the track she’d chosen.

A song starts up. Instantly, I recognize it from the movie. It is the very slow instrumental music that plays when Simba realizes his dad is dead.

‘Well, this is not optimal,’ I think. I've been on this planet for nine years; I can see that much. But it’s too late to change the track, and so I tell myself, ‘It’s okay. I’m a performer. I can sell this.’ I put on an extremely solemn face and begin to execute a series of the world’s saddest somersaults.

Friends, when I say “sad” I mean it, in every possible sense of the word. Picture a nine year old with the gravest possible affect, determinedly doing somersaults to the slowest, most serious music she can imagine, in a careful ring around her friends who have actually learned any gymnastics whatsoever. Okay, now as the music starts to pick up and get more hopeful, imagine she gets real dizzy and in front of everyone, she rolls all the way directly off the mat, careening dangerously towards the assembled students.

Somehow, I roll myself back onto the mat, we survive what feels like hours of humiliation, we stagger away, and I blessedly avoid adding “puking my guts out in front of all of my peers” to my very short list of gymnastics tricks.

Later, I asked Ashley what in the world possessed her to choose that song.

“It didn’t have any words,” she said.

(There was absolutely no rule against using songs that had lyrics.)

Anyway, that’s why being an adult is better than being a kid.

I may have to do laundry and make my own dinner and wrestle with more complex existential angst, but you know what I haven’t been asked to do in like 26 years? Somersault for three minutes straight to the musical shorthand for “this cartoon lion cub has no choice but to process the weight of unimaginable grief for his dead dad.” And you know what? If I live another 50 years, I can be pretty confident nobody will ask me to do it then, either.

[thethirdfrogbrother]

A Short Simon Snow Character Analysis:

"Simon needed time. He needed care. He still startled at bright lights and sudden noises. And prolonged eye contact. He'd get jumpy when we were alone together." (Any Way The Wind Blows pg 85)

"On the worst days, on the even worse nights, I used to think about all the bad things that have happened to Simon– just the ones I know about. And then I'd wonder about all the terrible things that have happened to him that I DON'T know about. Twenty years of bad things. How long would it take for those painful memories to die back?" (Any Way The Wind Blows pg 86)

Simon is genuinely one of the saddest chosen ones I've ever read about, and I feel like its ignored by the fandom a lot. Like the book series is always portrayed as funny and light hearted and it is sometimes but at the root it's sad and heart wrenching. However, it's also really creative and has a tone of parallels and connections and like the whole concept of the chosen one fulfilling his purpose and no longer being needed anymore isn't used often. A lot of the times the Chosen one's issues aren't even addressed at ALL its just "Oh he went through a lot as a child but the bad guy is dead now and he got the girl (or guy) so it's fine, he's happy"

Simon was used by everyone his whole life. The Mage, the rest if the world of mages, even Penny and Agatha a bit too, (which Penny realizes and admits in AWTWB). Simon was left as a child at an orphanage where we really don't know much about his life, because he doesn't know much either. In Wayward Son, Simon talks to his therapist about not remembering a lot before he was 11 and she says the brain blocks out things that have traumatized or hurt us in the past. When Simon is 11 and comes to Watford, he speaks so little the teachers have to give him private lessons, and when that doesn't work he gets a speech therapist. A few other details a are given as well such as how Simon jumped from orphanages and Foster homes. All these allow us to infer that he didn't have a good childhood, and stuff probably happened to him.

The Mage becomes Simon's only father figure, and even then Simon says he never felt like a father. The Mage treated Simon like a weapon, and even lied to him about being his father. The Mage could have made things much easier for himself by raising Simon, but he chose to just leave him till he was 11 because he didn't feel like raising his own kid. "Maybe it's part of what the Mage did to me. He said he got me wrong, that I was a cracked vessel. I can't hold on to anything good." (AWTWB pg 65) the Mage only payed attention to Simon when it benefited him. Simon was an object to him, and if you remember in Carry On, it was obvious to literally everyone but Simon, who didn't want to believe he was being manipulated. It turned him into a killing machine.

Often times I feel as if the fandom portrays Simon as some talkative goofball, but that's completely ignoring his character. Simon says in Carry On that he doesn't think because in the end he just does what people tell him too. But that's not true. He does think, all the time, he just pushes away the stuff he doesn't want to think about, thinking about other things to muffle out these unwanted thoughts. Baz also says in Carry On that most conversations with Simon are just Simon shrugging. We feel as though Simon talks a lot because when it's his POV he's always rambling, but this is because Simon has a strong inner monolouge.

Simon had no adult figures in his life to lean on. Every character had someone, despite their maybe complex relationships. Baz has Fiona, and the two are close despite the tension and arguing. Penny has her mom and dad, despite their differences, they all love each other a ton. And Agatha has her parents, who do care about her. Simon never has a firm foundation. Not the Mage, Penny's mom barley likes him, Agatha's family only treats him well because he's the chosen one and dating Agatha, and Baz's family straight up despises him. Everyone else also has friends to lean on too, once you get later into the series. Agatha has a Ginger and even Penny, Penny has Baz and Shepard, Baz has Dev and Niall whom he chooses to sort of ghost, but also Penny. And they all have Simon. But I couldn't help but notice that whenever Simon tried to communicate, he was shut down.

Simon is bad at communicating. They all address this multiple times. But it's the fact that his friends don't even have faith that he'll survive. Multiple times from all POVS it talks about how everyone expected Simon to die, and they're all talking about how they would feel and how it affects them knowing that, but no one ever asked Simon. And Simon is aware of this too, but he just once again ignores it. No one wants a hero who's scared to die for his cause. Simon is shit at communication, but he has his own ways of showing that at least something IS wrong, that Penny and Baz have learned how to read, yet ignore when it's not convenient. Baz and Penny take Simon on a trip out to America, but it wasn't about Simon. Penny had ulterior motives, to see Micah and Agatha. Then the whole situation happened there, and though obviously Baz had nothing going on with Lamb, it clearly made Simon insecure and upset. But Baz just gets annoyed at him for it instead of trying to figure out the root of the issue.

A scene that always irked me in WS is the one where Simon comes back with his hair cut, after months of neglecting it because of his depression. And Baz says nothing, because he's too busy feeling sorry for himself. This may have seemed like a small thing but Simon literally couldn't leave the couch, for almost a year. His self hatred and issues were so bad he couldn't get up. So he finally makes this step, cutting his hair, trying to get better...and Baz basically ignores it.

Another thing is the end if WS when they're on the beach. Simon is trying to say how he feels, in his own way. That he isn't good enough for Baz, Baz should find someone else. And Baz just shuts him down, like he always does. Like he always does when Simon tries to communicate his feelings about being the chosen one, and what happened with the Mage. Then they get back to England, and Baz just acts like nothing happened. Simon shouldn't have ignored all his texts, and shouldn't have moved out leaving just a note, but he doesn't know how to communicate. No one taught him how to do this, all he knows is he needs to figure his shit out and no one currently in that situation, was really helping him.

I see a lot of people hating on AWTWB because Simon and Baz break up, because their relationship is admittedly toxic, and then get together the next day. But I think it makes perfect sense. They both love each other so so much, and they have an unhealthy attachment. Often with toxic relationships, especially when we love each other and want them to work out, we keep coming back in hopes of fixing things. Both boys have severe abandonment issues, and they don't want to loose each other.

I also see people hating on WS and AWTWB because Baz and Simon aren't all happy. Like legit, that is why I see those books getting the most hate. But it makes sense. People's pasts have an effect on them and how they behave. Simon killed the only father figure really he'd ever had. And he still doesn't understand the extent of abuse said man put him through. Simon doesn't know how to put himself first. Like when they're fighting the vampire's in WS, and simon is on the brink of death, he STILL stands up because that's what people have expected him to do all his life. Baz wants everything to be okay and happy and ignore their issues, because that's what they've done his whole life in his family, ignoring problems like him being a vampire. And what Simon desperately needs is to approach his, but he doesn't know how deep his issues run, except that he's a broken, fucked up, mess. He has ptsd, depression, and anxiety, and doesn't know how to help himself.

Overall, Simon's character holds a complexity that often times I see ignored. The story is romantic, and cute. I love Snowbaz as much as the next person. But you can't fully appreciate the story until you actually understand the depth of the characters, especially starting with Simon Snow.

Thank you, have a nice day <3

[deadboyfriendd]

Mele Kalikimaka

Summary: Just a little blurb I wrote to try and break myself of this awful rut I've been in for months! I even made a cute graphic! You accompany The Harringtons on their yearly Hawaiian Christmas extravaganza.

Content Warnings: Despite a lack of smut, all of my content is 18+, minors and ageless blogs DNI, Steve'd dad is a creep and inappropriate on a plane, Steve's mom is on substances, Steve feels bad about it, suggestive content but no smut.

To put it bluntly, the Harrington Family Christmas Extravaganza was a vapid and obnoxious display of money and status. Steve aptly apologized for this a seventh time this week. 

The head of the Harrington household pressed a crisp hundred into the hand of the mousy flight attendant, “For your troubles, honey.” He’d said to her, boldly, and in the presence of his wife– who had dosed herself well before the plane ride and followed the flow of the crowd with glossy eyes. 

“I’m sorry.” Their son would whisper, both to you and the girl on the plane. Eight. 

Honey sounded much different coming out of John Harrington’s lips than it did Steve’s– saccharine sweet and in abundance. You had learned this in the few times you had spent with Steve’s family, their rotating door of involvement in his life, even as an adult, still left an unease stirring in your chest. But they would never dream of missing the holiday extravaganza, especially not without their son. 

Hawaii was pleasantly warm this time of year, the blankets of snow that fell in heavy sheets back home replaced by humid air and soft white sand. The hotel was grand, you had expected nothing less from John and Martha Harrington. Creamy white tile artisanally chosen to match the sand surrounding the hotel expanded from the lobby to the outside curve of the grand entrance, where pretty women with olive complexions and long dark hair and pearlescent smiles waited for you with thick leis. 

Hawaii seemed like a far away dream. To Steve, this was just another year away from home. 

“Mele Kalikimaka.” The woman would say to you as she placed the lei over your head. 

“That means Merry Christmas.” He whispered through a kiss pressed to your temple, arm finding itself firmly around your shoulders. 

“I’ve also heard that song, Steven.” 

“I’m sorry, that was pretentious.” Nine.

It was an accepted fact that Steve Harrington was inherently beautiful, moreso in the presence of the beach. However, there was something about him, be it the remnants of sun bleached caramel in his hair a reminder of this past boating season, the soft petals of the lei pressed into the course curly fur that escaped the open buttons of his floral patterned shirt, or the almost unreal dew that formed on his skin and his skin alone, that stirred the silt that settled in the bottom of your stomach once more. 

The hotel room door clicked behind you, the flat plane of your back pressed against the cool composite. You watched Steve carry the bags in without exerting much effort, and you tried to picture the way his skin stretched over his back with each movement— even beneath his shirt it was so clear in your memory. 

“I’m sorry about them again. My mom is just so—” 

You rolled your eyes, pushing yourself off of the door with your own weight, arms folded in front of you, “Stop apologizing, Steve.” 

“They’re just weird and it's so embarrassing to be with them sometimes.” He closed the gap that existed between your bodies, pleasant heat radiating off of him even in this humid weather. He pressed his forehead to your shoulder, pulling your body into a tight embrace. 

You rested your forearms across his shoulders, twirling the overgrown lock of hair at the nape of his neck around your finger in a half-hearted figure eight, “Steve, their weirdness doesn’t mean I love you any less.” 

He pulled his head from your shoulder to look at you, hands still affixed firmly around your waist, “Do you think I’m weird too?”

“Yes.” You chimed, your faces growing closer. 

“Oh, really?” The smile grew quick and wide across his face, the early essence of crows feet creasing the delicate skin of his cheeks. 

“An absolute freakshow.”

[wonryllis]

ENHYPEN AS TO ALL THE BOYS I'VE LOVED BEOFRE.

────𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗍𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝗋𝗈𝗆𝖺𝗇𝖼𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝗍𝗋𝗎𝖾.

𓋜 maknae line as lara jean and peter ㅤ. .ㅤ𝑣𝑖𝑜𝑙𝑒𝑡ㅤㅤ𓍼ㅤㅤ𝑔𝑎𝑟𝑑𝑒𝑛 & fluff ࣪  ㅤ˖ ㅤ𝖆𝖓𝖌𝖊𝖑ㅤㅤ৲ lowercase intended ㅤ. ⠀𓈃 ๋ ㅤ𝐍𝐄𝐖 峠

( yeonie.notes ) xo, kitty will have another post as kitty song covey ships you know the dae yuri and minho situations. 408wc. gn!centered.

꒰⠀ri⠀⠀⎯⎯ ⠀⠀ki.⠀꒱⠀⠀ 🖇️ 𝄒⠀⠀ ﹙𝑣𝑖𝑒.﹚ as episode one: to all the boys i've loved before . . . as the start of a something you both are unaware of. a fake come true. feelings grown and contract broken. drives you to school and back everyday, puts his hand in the back pocket of your jean, pulls you close when anyone comes nearby. runs to the bleachers to kiss you after every single match. spends the weekends and celebrations over at your house. sticks to you like glue. the boy who agrees to fake date you for mutual benefit but ends up falling so hard he can't get you out of his head. the boy who doesn't know much about love but he knows he loves you. i like you and it's not in a fake way.

꒰⠀sun⠀⠀⎯⎯ ⠀⠀woo.⠀꒱⠀⠀ 🖇️ 𝄒⠀⠀ ﹙𝑣𝑖𝑒.﹚ as episode two: p.s. i still love you . . . as the test of love and the test of trust. a promise not to break each other's heart. tries to make time for you no matter how busy he is, even if it's in the middle of the night, even if it's from the window into your room and under the bed. apologizes for his mistakes. carries your bag, puts on your coat, pays for everything, you don't have to lift a finger. cotton candy selfies and kisses on the lips selfies. brings beautiful flowers for his beautiful girl. the boy who is willing for his heart to be broken by you into a thousand pieces. the boy who is crazy about you, ready to risk it all. if i could do it over i wouldn't change a thing.

꒰⠀jung⠀⠀⎯⎯ ⠀⠀won.⠀꒱⠀⠀ 🖇️ 𝄒⠀⠀ ﹙𝑣𝑖𝑒.﹚ as episode three: always and forever . . . as the vow to last till the end of time. a circle back to the starting point. always tells you how lucky he is to be chosen by you. dreams about his entire life with you. takes you out on surprise date nights. spends every college trip exploring the city with you. steals kisses at every chance his gets. cuddles and morning hugs. picks you up and twirls you around all the time. writes you love letters. the romeo to your juliet. the boy who has loved you since the very beginning, from your smile to your eyes. the boy who is prepared to fight through any obstacle because you are worth everything. will you be my beginning, my middle, my end?

TAGLIST ( open. )

[coraniaid]

Top five Fuffy fics (written by authors other than yourself)

Well, I'm not sure the restriction's necessary: I don't think I'm being unduly modest in saying there are a lot more than five Fuffy fics out there that are much better than anything I've ever written (or even come close to writing, frankly).

Uh. Limiting myself to one per author and to completed works only, and not trying to sort the top five in any way, without thinking about it too hard my top five would be:

To Live In The World by IvorySteel92. There are lots of Season 6 Fuffy fics, lots of which are really, really good, but this is the only one that made me cry twice, so it must be the best. Faith comes to Sunnydale after Buffy dies to try to do the right thing and take over as the Slayer, but then Buffy comes back to life. Only this time, unlike in canon, Buffy really does come back wrong...

Je me souviens by zulu. A classic, from all the way back in 2005. Again, there are lots of Season 4 Fuffy fics -- including at least one more that I love and that almost made this list -- but I don't see how I could not include this one. Faith wakes up from her coma, not knowing where she is, struggling to remember the fading details of a dream in which somebody she can't remember is chasing her with a knife. To the extent there is a single Fuffy fic any fan of the ship should be familiar with, I think this must be it.

147 Days by TigerDragon. Another relatively older fic -- this time from 2012 -- but one which doesn't seem to have gotten quite as much recognition as I think it deserves. It's part nine of a fourteen part series (starting all the way back in Season 3 and carrying on well past canon), but you don't really need to know much more than that this is -- technically -- canon-compliant, and that it covers the time Faith spends in prison while Buffy is dead. I think it's amazing and that far more people should read it.

Flowers For A Ghost / The Girl From Away by aliceinwonderbra. I'm cheating a little bit here, as these are technically two separate stories, though you could read them in either order and both have the same starting premise. Buffy wakes up in hospital surrounded by her friends after jumping into Glory's inter-dimensional portal to save Dawn. Only, she isn't waking up surrounded by exactly who she thinks she is. While the main reason I got into Fuffy a few years ago was rewatching Buffy during lockdown and finally having the pieces click, I genuinely think this series runs it a close second. I don't think I would have started writing anything Buffy related myself if -- having finished that rewatch -- I hadn't thought "huh, I wonder if anybody has ever written Faith/Buffy fanfiction?" and eventually stumbled onto these stories.

Body Language by explosionshark. As a rule, and despite my many complaints about Season 7 itself, I think Chosen was pretty close to the perfect way to end the show, which makes me a little wary of post-canon fics. But this one is so good it makes a mockery of any reservations I had: I cannot imagine a happier, more faithful-to-the-characters continuation to Buffy and Faith's story. (Oh, and as the tags make clear -- and as I think Faith would insist my previous description already strongly implies -- Buffy and Faith have a lot of sex in this one.)

[perspectivestarters]

Perspective's Sentence Starters; The Tortured Poets Department by Taylor Swift (Part I)

FORTNIGHT

I was supposed to be sent away.

They forgot to come and get me.

I was a functioning alcoholic.

Nobody noticed my new aesthetic.

All of this to say, I hope you're okay.

No one here's to blame.

What about your quiet treason?

For a fortnight there we were forever running.

You're in my backyard turned into good neighbors.

I want to kill her.

All my mornings are Monday stuck in an endless February.

The effects were temporary.

I love you, it's ruining my life.

I touched you for only a fortnight.

My husband is cheating.

I want to kill him.

I call you up but you won't pick up.

Another fortnight lost in America.

Buy the car you want.

THE TORTURED POETS DEPARTMENT

You left your typewriter at my apartment.

Who uses typewriters anyway?

You're in self-sabotage mode.

Who else decodes you?

Who's gonna hold you like me?

Who's gonna know you if not me?

We'rе modern idiots.

You smokеd then ate seven bars of chocolate.

I chose this cyclone with you.

Sometimes I wonder if you're gonna screw this up with me.

Everyone we know understands why it's meant to be.

Because we're crazy.

That's the closest I've come to my heart exploding.

MY BOY ONLY BREAKS HIS FAVORITE TOYS

Here we go again.

You should've seen him when he first got me.

My boy only breaks his favorite toys.

I should've known it was a matter of time.

There was a litany of reasons why we could've playеd for keeps this time.

I know I'm just repeating mysеlf.

He runs because he loves me.

'Cause you should've seen him when he first saw me

I knew too much.

There was danger in the heat of my touch.

He saw forever so he smashed it up.

Once I fix me, he's gonna miss me

He was my best friend.

I felt more when we played pretend.

He took me out of my box, stole my tortured heart

Told me I'm better off, but I'm not.

DOWN BAD

Did you really beam me up?

Tell me I was the chosen one.

For a moment I knew cosmic love.

Now I'm down bad, crying at the gym.

Everything comes out teenage petulance.

Fuck it if I can't have him

I might just die, it would make no difference.

Come back and pick me up.

Fuck it if I can't have us.

I might just not get up.

I might stay down bad.

Did you take all my old clothes?

They'll say I'm nuts if I talk about the existence of you.

For a moment, I was heavenstruck.

I loved your hostile take-overs.

I'll build you a fort on some planet where they can all understand it.

How dare you think it's romantic leaving me safe and stranded?

Cause fuck it, I was in love.

Fuck you if I can't have us.

SO LONG, LONDON

Pulled him in tighter each time he was drifting away.

My spine split from carrying us up the hill.

I stopped trying to make him laugh.

How much sad did you think I had?

Did you think I had in me?

You'll find someone.

I didn't opt in to be your odd man out..

I founded the club she's heard great things about.

I left all I knew.

I stopped CPR.

Thе spirit was gone.

We would never come to.

I'm pissed off you let me give you all that youth for free.

Two graves, one gun.

I'll find someone.

You say I abandoned the ship, but I was going down with it.

My white knuckle dying grip holding tight to your quiet resentment.

My friends said it isn't right to be scared.

Every breath feels like rarest air.

Just how low did you think I'd go before I'd self implode?

You swore that you loved me but where were the clues?

I died on the altar waiting for the proof.

You sacrificed us to the gods of your bluest days.

I'm just getting color back into my face.

I'm just mad as hell cause I loved this place for.

But I'm not the one

BUT DADDY I LOVE HIM

I forget how the west was won.

I forget if this was ever fun.

I just learned these people only raise you to cage you.

What a mess.

I just learned these people try and save you 'cause they hate you.

Too high a horse for a simple girl to rise above it.

They slammed the door on my whole world.

But, daddy, I love him.

I'm having his baby.

No, I'm not, but you should see your faces

No, I'm not coming to my senses.

I know it's crazy, but he's the one I want.

Growing up precocious sometimes means not growing up at all.

You're this chaos, he was revelry.

Stay away from her.

Lord knows the words we never heard.

I'd rather burn my whole life down than listen to one more second of all this bitchin' and moanin'.

I'll tell you something 'bout my good name, it's mine along with all the disgrace.

God save the most judgmental creeps who say they want what's best for me.

Sanctimoniously performing soliloquies I'll never see.

You ain't gotta pray for me.

It's just my choice.

There's a lot of people in town that I bestow upon my fakest smiles.

Scandal does funny things to pride but brings lovers closer.

We came back when the heat died down.

Went to my parents and they came around.

All the wine moms are still holding out.

Fuck 'em, it's over.

Even my daddy just loves him.

I'm his lady.

Oh my god, you should see your faces.

I know it's crazy but he's the one I love.

FRESH OUT OF THE SLAMMER

I'm running back home to you.

I know who my first call will be to.

He don't understand me.

Handcuffed to the spell I was under.

But it's gonna be alright.

I did my time.

Toss the ashes off the ledge.

I will never lose my baby again.

My friends tried, but I wouldn't hear it.

Watched me daily disappearing for just one glimpse of his smile.

All those nights you kept me goin'.

Swirled you into all of my poems.

Now we're at the starting line.

No matter what I've done, it wouldn't matter anyway.

Ain't no way I'm gonna screw up, now that I know what's at stake here.

FLORIDA!!!

You can beat the heat if you beat the charges too.

They said I was a cheat, I guess it must be true.

My friends all smell like weed or little babies.

The city reeks of driving myself crazy.

Your home's really only a town you're just a guest in.

Can I use you up?

I got drunk and I dared it to wash me away.

Well, mе and my ghosts, we had a hell of a time.

Yеs, I'm haunted, but I'm feeling just fine.

Well, no one asks any questions here.

So I did my best to lay to rest all of the bodies that have ever been on my body.

Is that a bad thing to say in a song?

I need to forget.

I've got some regrets.

Tell me I'm despicable, say it's unforgivable.

At least the dolls are beautiful, fuck me up, Florida

I need to forget, so take me to Florida

What a crash, what a rush.

It's one hell of a drug

Love left me like this.

I don't want to exist.

[separatist-apologist]

Calling the IC nepo-babies is the most hilarious thing I've ever heard because what do you have?

The High Lord, who is the product of a lesser fae woman and the magically chosen High Lord that doesn't get a say in if he's chosen by the gods to rule or not, who is also discriminated against by his own court (and the people outside it) for not being full High Fae

A bastard-born general who never knew his father and whose mother was murdered for being sexually assaulted, and was raised in a war camp for the first decade of his life

A shadowsinger who was likely also the product of sexual assault at the hands of his powerful father, who then punished Azriel for his OWN discretion by locking him in total darkness for 11 years and allowed his two older sons to torture the Azriel so severely he still carries the scars

An ancient god that spent 1000 years trapped in a prison

A woman whose only value to her family was her reproductive organs and when she no longer served that function, had a note nailed to her body before she was dumped over a foreign border where, lets be real, they expected her to be killed

And a badly neglected human girl who literally died at the altar of freeing a land that she'd been terrified of her entire life.

But like. Hell yeah. Go off, overthrow those nepo-baby rulers which DEFINITELY isn't it's own illiterate take of the reading.

[brf-rumortrackinganon]

Timeline: Part 5 - August 2017

Previously:

2015 - April 2017 | An Update

May 2017 - June 2017

July 2017

This piece features events, press, and PR from the summer of 2017. You will see competing narratives - the Daily Mail leaking Meghan's dossier drip by drip by drip and Meghan's team counterattacking with engagement rumors.

There are two main stories in the royal sphere during this time that we know Meghan is paying attention to, as these most definitely shape her understanding of what it means to be royal: royals taking glamorous summer vacations and daily coverage of Diana's life, the impact of her death, and her lasting legacy to the world.

Fasten your seatbelts!

(Note - this was initially meant to be in the same post as the July 2017 events but Tumblr was having problems saving the post.)

August 2017: Throughout the month, there are frequent articles about the various royal families having glamorous vacations in luxurious tropical resorts. Here is a selection of them:

Charles and Camilla vacationing in Greece on a superyacht.

Felipe and Letizia vacationing in Mallorca.

Prince and Princess Michael of Kent vacationing in St. Tropez.

Mary and Frederik vacationing in Greece on a private yacht.

Princes Caroline of Monaco vacationing with Karl Lagerfield in St. Tropez.

August 2017: Throughout the month, there are tons of articles about Diana as it is the twentieth anniversary of her death. Here's a selection of them. (Most of the ones I've chosen to list here are ones that Meghan most likely paid attention to.)

Diana speaks from the grave to say she loves Kate but doesn't think Meghan is right for Harry. (August 2)

Diana was into alternative medicine and was worried about the royal family taking her children. (August 4; in hindsight, it reads like a Meghan plant.)

Mohamed Fayed still mourns Dodi and Diana, still believes the BRF ordered their deaths to keep Diana from marrying a Muslim. (August 4)

How Diana worked with the paparazzi and knew how to take a good picture. (August 6)

Diana's jewelry collection (August 6)

Diana's Kensington Palace apartment (August 7)

Diana's iconic hairstyles (August 13)

How Diana's shoes charted her happiness in marriage (August 14)

Media preview/announcement of the new Diana documentary, which has footage from/about William and Harry. Their footage in the documentary includes them discussing Philip's "If you walk, I'll walk" promise.

Diana's parenting practices (August 19)

The Queen cried for Diana (August 25)

August 2, 2017: E News (a confirmed Meghan mouthpiece) publishes a timeline of the Harkle relationship, hinting something big is coming for her birthday.

August 3, 2017: Daily Mail begins recapping Suits; in today's episode, Rachel Zane has trouble planning her wedding and her father tells her "Whatever Rachel wants, Rachel gets."

August 4, 2017: Meghan's 36th birthday and she gets the full-court press coverage of her dreams:

Meghan tells E News that she and Doria have been visiting London. They stayed for a week at the end of July when she had a break from filming Suits.

Meghan hints to People that they're engaged, and People speculates about the royal engagement ring.

A timeline is published of how Meghan's celebrity evolved to the sophisticated fashionist she is now.

Harry whisks Meghan away to Africa. She calls the paps, who takes photos of Harry and Meghan being escorted by airport security as they walk on the runway. In the photos, Meghan is carrying two hats and a large paper-wrapped gift. She hints to friendly publications that the wrapped gift is her birthday present from Harry. Speculation begins that Meghan, who is almost always papped carrying a hat or wearing one, uses the hats to signal to the paps where she is (it's a common tactic in Hollywood).

August 5, 2017: Daily Mail publishes a story about all the girls Harry has taken to Africa.

August 6, 2017: It's revealed Harry attended a three-day Google "summer camp" in Italy earlier in the summer. (I couldn't find specific dates for Google Camp, but I found several other articles that suggested Google Camp was the week of July 30, 2017. Also, Oprah Winfrey and Gayle King were at the very same Google Camp that Harry attended...)

Also on August 6, 2017, Penny Junor waxes poetic on how much Harry hs changed since dating Meghan and everything the couple has in common. including how much 'at home' they are in Africa where their celebrity doesn't matter.

August 7, 2017: Dan Wooten advises Meghan to learn from Diana's mistake and not confirm to the firm; she should be unapologetically herself. Meghan gets the cover of Hello Magazine and the Harkles merch their houseboat safari to the Mirror.

August 8, 2017: Laine has the scoop on Harry and Meghan's African holiday and she "speculates" on the timing of their engagement and when they would announce it. Paul Burrell, Diana's infamous ex-butler, says Kate doesn't have Diana's magic star quality and immediately the mainstream British press rises to Kate's defense.

August 11, 2017:

The British public wants William to be King next, not Charles.

The Daily Mail publishes another expose of Meghan and includes the revelation that Trevor thinks she cheated on him in Toronto. This leads to more rumors that Meghan isn't a good fit to the royal family and that she's hiding many more skeletons.

August 12, 2017: Gossip gets printed that Meghan doesn't want to marry Harry and she is only using him to boost her career prospects.

August 13, 2017:

It's confirmed that the ratings for Suits have increased enormously since the Harkle relationship was revealed.

Later, Hollywood industry gossip hints that Suits was "on the bubble" (i.e., in danger of being cancelled) due to poor ratings but the new blockbuster ratings following the Harkle relationship reveal stayed their execution.

The Daily Mail calls Meghan a "princess in waiting," all but confirming an engagement, and continues to drip more information about Meghan in another expose, this one about her relationship with Cory.

Harry gets a 'Hero Harry' PR piece published about his work in mental health.

Meghan leaks to the Daily Star that Harry proposed and she has accepted.

Also on August 13, 2017, Mike Tindall gives an interview in which he speaks about Meghan. He gives her the stamp of approval and says they (he and Zara, but probably all of the Phillipses, including Anne) haven't met her yet. The Daily Mail's story about Mike's comments also includes the first reporting that Harry treated Meghan to a weekend stay at a friend's house in the Hollywood Hills at some point in Fall 2016 (we know now this to be the Beckhams' house, but there some split of opinion on when this visit took place - some say Thanksgiving, some say Christmas, others say it wasn't tied to a holiday). The article also shares some details about the relationship that are inconsistent with their narrative as we know now (and knew back then).

Harry and Meghan had a date at Wimbledon and sat together in the royal box. (Didn't happen, becuase it would've been all over the papers if it did.)

Harry and Meghan spent all of July 2016 and August 2016 apart because Harry was in Africa. Meghan flew to London in September 2016 because she missed him too much. (This debunks the Harkles's own claim that they met in July and that Meghan went to Africa with Harry in August.)

August 14, 2017: The Daily Mail discusses Meghan's ancestry and geneaology; her father's family is Irish and Dutch, her mother is descended from American slaves.

Also on August 14th, the Daily Mail publishes an article about whether it's appropriate to ask someone if they're pregnant. It has nothing to do with Meghan, but it does cause some speculation that the press knows something they're not telling (i.e., Meghan's so insistent pushing Harry to the altar because of a bun in the oven). It's probably a coincidence, but I'll let you decide.

August 15, 2017: The mother of a childhood friend of Meghan revealed that Meghan was obsessed with her video recording of Charles and Diana's 1981 wedding and that Meghan was inspired by Diana's humanitarian work. Serena Williams does an interview and photoshoot with Vogue Magazine, and Meghan is asked for quotes about Serena to use in the story.

Also on August 15, Meghan publishes the "10 Women Who Changed My Life" essay for Glamour Magazine. #7 on her list is the actress Julia Roberts. Later in 2023, it's speculated that Meghan uses Julia Roberts for style inspiration when she wants to appear relatable or is doing an "America's Sweetheart" PR campaign because many of her outfits are copies of Julia Roberts' costumes.

August 16, 2017: British oddsmakers have opened bets for Harry and Meghan getting engaged and when the wedding would take place. The article says Meghan hasn't yet met The Queen.

August 17, 2017: The Daily Mail continues to recap Suits. In today's episode, Rachel Zane rows with Mike Ross over his lies.

August 18, 2017: It's confirmed that William and Harry have cameos as stormtroopers in the new Star Wars film.

August 20, 2017: The royal family is papped at Balmoral going to church. Plant does a three-part feature on how Meghan's PR has completely torpedoed Harry's "Hero Harry" PR and turned him into a rich celebrity.

August 21, 2017: Harry leaks to Camilla Tominey that he picks Meghan up from the airport all the time because he's worried about her security and privacy. The Daily Mail writes that Kate's jewelry collection is a tribute to Diana.

Also on August 21st, a royal blogger writes about Meghan's faith and religious history following conversations she had with Samantha Markle. She concludes that Meghan has never been a faithful person (the Markles aren't a religious sort) and that Meghan has never been baptized or confirmed into any faith, not even Judaism as Meghan claimed she was when she was married to Trevor. Her research indicates that Meghan needs to be baptized and confirmed into the Church of England per royal protocol to marry Harry. This causes discussion in the royal fandom about whether The Queen could withhold consent unless Meghan is baptized and confirmed.

August 24, 2017: Meghan hints to Harper's Bazaar that she and Harry are engaged.

August 25, 2017: Meghan leaks that the African holiday is over and that the trip ended at Victoria Falls.

August 28, 2017: Well-wishers begin leaving flowers outside the Kensington Palace gates for the anniversary of Diana's death. William and Harry later view the tributes (on August 30th).

August 29, 2017: The Cambridges have officially moved back to London and Kensington Palace. William and Kate to be full-time royals as George goes off to school. The Express continues hyping up an engagement.

August 30, 2017

The 100th episode of Suits airs. According to the Daily Mail recaps, Rachel Zane and Mike row again. (They're not a very happy couple, are they?)

The royal family uses the Balmoral Test against prospective new family members. Wallis Simpson bombed it.

William, Kate, and Harry visit the new Diana memorial garden at Kensington Palace. It's Harry's first Court Circular appearance since July 28, 2017, and Kate's last appearance before her third pregnancy is announced.

***********

A couple of things about Botswana in response to some of the royal-watching commentary that I rediscovered on the Botswana airport pap pics:

There was a great deal of special treatment by the airport because they were escorted by airport workers across the tarmac. This is standard practice in most of the smaller African airports. I went to Africa for vacation in June this past year and traveled between several countries. All of the airports we went through (in Johannesburg, Botswana, Zambia, and Zimbabwe), we had to walk on the tarmac to embark and disembark and each time, we were escorted by airport workers for security reasons. The only thing "unique" about Harry and Meghan's security escort was that it was just the two of them on their flight, rather than the 30/40/50-person larger group most of us fly in. (In fact, the only airport where we didn't have to exit the facilities was Johannesburg when we arrived from the US and were departing back to the US.)

There was a lot of "they can't possibly be in Africa now because they're wearing summer clothes and it's winter!" commentary because in the pap pics, Meghan and Harry are in summery casual clothing - shorts, flip-flops, tank top/t-shirt. Botswana doesn't get winter the way we do; their winter feels more like our spring, with temperatures in the 50s/60s. Someone who was used to harsh Canadian winters, like Meghan was at the time, would have thought a Botswanan winter was absolutely balmy and would have been perfectly comfortable in a tank top and flip-flops.

[hamartiologic]

Pandora Oración Ylaya (she/he) —

An amicable but distant student who prides himself on opportunities afforded to him through his work and effort. Known to be strict but otherwise reliable, Pandora's earned herself a campus image of a studious academic with no ill sentiments towards others, so long as they carry their fair? share of responsibilities. In actuality, Pandora fosters connections with others for the sake of getting ahead and deliberately keeps his more harsh tendencies tempered to make sure his wide array of opportunities isn't extinguished by fraught interpersonal relationships, even if he thinks the upkeep a chore. Even still, she is a social butterfly at heart and is especially more open and honest with those close to her or those who already know too much.

Harbors a guilt complex towards certain behaviors she has around Milo, trying to will away her compulsion to b̶͍̙͌r̵̘͎̋e̸̡̅̏a̷̺̓͊k̸͎̮̀̍ him, even though the rush she gets from seeing him follow her around and seemingly caring for only her is a high she never wants to rid herself of. In his mind, Pandora calls this a sinful schadenfreude. Despite her internal conflict, she wants Milo to be able to save himself. Though being a savior with such a devout believer wouldn't be so bad either, right...?

Within Pandora's box lies many secrets and contradictions. She'll try and try to keep it closed for the sake of herself, but the extrication of the contents inside is but an inevitability.

Pandora was chosen as the name with consideration of his role as an Eris-adjacent character, and thus, I wanted to keep the mythology inspiration. Other options included Eros, Apollo, and Psyche. I think the myth offers a fun amount of symbolism. Like the myth, this Pandora is essentially artificial, at least in terms of the image she builds. His namesake is also described as a "beautiful evil" and carrying "sheer guile." She's also given a deceitful nature and power of speech, among other gifts. I think the box in the mythos represents this Pandora's capacity as an individual—for both the negative traits that attempt to escape and manifest in his daily life and for the good that rests within the vessel. An expansive array of possibilities making themselves known once the box is opened. (I'm cooking up parallels wink wink nudge nudge.) I find the other readings of the box's symbolism just as curious and just as fitting as well—that being of curiosity and pursuit of knowledge in opening the box, as well as the trials of life and the hope and tenacity that is required to overcome it kept safely within.

Oración means prayer. Pandora is not particularly religious, though she was raised to be. She answers to no god but herself—though acknowledging herself as such makes her guilt complex kick in. He'll try to deny it, but the idea of Milo being his one and only believer is one that he entertains every now and then...

Ylaya is from ilaya, which, among other things, means to set something free in Tagalog. Fitting for the mythology of Pandora, but it can also refer to his own desire to live freely. Additionally, allowing Milo to go his own way despite her desires.

Though I'm still working out details, I've pretty much decided that V!Milo is a veeeery miniscule possibility for Pandora. She's very much focused on puppeteering social interactions to make things go her way when the need arises—I'm sure you can see where I'm going with this. I'll have to think about this more, but it's safe to say that all Pandomilos I am to talk about are with either Pre-Milo or M!Milo(-adjacent) in mind.

Other tidbits

4'11". It's the Filipino genes.

Pursuing a degree in the arts.

Genderfluid and bisexual, though she presents herself as a girl just so she doesn't have to explain herself.

Though he's had a fair share of admirers, he's rejected each one—of which includes Ryan. Pandora makes fun of Ryan on the regular and regards him as someone entertaining as a result of his reactions towards her.

Despite his academic standing, he actually has an incredibly hard time focusing on what he needs to do. Additionally, he is cursed with being sleepy all the time.

She takes charge in group projects but always aims to do less work. He isn't as reliable as everyone thinks he is, but his way of getting away with it scot-free is by always being there to pester her groupmates and offering to help them out—which is to say, they'll do all the heavylifting while she just pretties it up. Work smarter, not harder.

She is always looking for an excuse to karaoke. It's one of her favorite things in the world.

ACG nerd. His room has manga and limited editions of games. Not like he'll let his classmates know.

She is self-absorbed, self-important, and self-obsessed. Loving herself is one of her hobbies. If loving yourself was a job, she'd be employee of the year.

[honeybeezgobzzzzz]

Ψ M is for Maraclea: Chapter Thirteen

M is for Maraclea: Following an accident you had over summer break, you find yourself in limbo after being legally dead for several minutes. Now an outcast at boarding school, you end up finding comfort in a strange boy named Nigel. As winter draws near and tragedy strikes, your only reprieve from madness comes from a mind much like your own.

Warnings: Explicit Language, Explicit Material.

To Note: Nigel Colbie x Fem!Reader, NAMED Reader for Plot Reasons, There Are A Lot of DARK Themes.

Word Count: ~3.5k

Previous | Masterlist | Next

The bustling chaos of the train station surrounds you, a cacophony of voices, footsteps, and the distant whistle of departing trains. Your luggage, a collection of worn-out suitcases filled with the remnants of your past life, is loaded onto the train bound for Cambridge. You stand on the platform, the late afternoon sun casting a warm glow on your skin, a stark contrast to the chill that lingers within you.

Your father's hand rests on your shoulder, a heavy, possessive weight. He's speaking to you, his words laced with caution and concern, but you're only half-listening. Instead, you focus on the sensation of the cool breeze as it dances through your hair, pulling strands free from the loose bun at the nape of your neck.

The sundress you've chosen for the journey is light and airy, the fabric soft against your skin. It's a gentle reminder of the warmth Nigel provides to chase away the cold. The dress flutters around your knees, gently draping around your belly in a rather flattering pattern that somewhat obscures your condition. If you are looking head on at your stomach.

Your father's voice breaks through your thoughts. "Mary, are you listening?" he asks, his brow furrowed with worry. "You must be careful. It's a big city, and you're... you're in a delicate condition."

You offer him a small, placating smile. "I'll be fine, Father," you assure him, though the words feel hollow. "I can take care of myself."

He seems unconvinced but nods regardless, his eyes roaming over your face as if memorizing every detail. "I've arranged for a car to pick you up from the station," he continues, his tone businesslike. "And I've spoken with the dean at Cambridge. They're aware of your... situation."

You bite back the retort that threatens to escape. Instead, you nod, letting him believe he still has some semblance of control over your life. The truth is, you're eager to escape the confines of your father's world, to start anew, to be with Nigel.

The train's conductor announces the final boarding call, and your heart skips a beat. It's time to leave, to shed the skin of the girl who drowned and rose again, to become something—someone else entirely.

Your father pulls you into a stiff embrace, his hands patting your back awkwardly. "I love you, Mary," he says, his voice uncharacteristically soft. "Please, take care of yourself... and the baby."

"I will," you reply, extricating yourself from his grasp. You turn away before he can see the tears of relief within your eyes.

As you step onto the train, you cast one last glance over your shoulder. Your father stands alone on the platform, a figure of authority and control, slowly disappearing as the train begins to move. You find a seat by the window, watching as the world you've known blurs into streaks of color and light.

Settling into the worn fabric of the seat, you close your eyes and let out a long, slow breath. The rhythm of the train lulls you into a state of calm, the steady click-clack of the wheels on the tracks a soothing lullaby for the child within you.

You allow yourself to drift, to imagine the life waiting for you in Cambridge. It won't be easy, and it certainly won't be what your father envisioned, but it will be yours. A fresh start, a chance to redefine yourself, to be more than the girl who died and came back to life. With Nigel to support and cocoon you within his warmth.

As the train carries you away from your past, you place a hand over your belly, feeling the gentle flutter of your baby's movements. A new life, a new beginning—for all of you. With each passing mile, the weight on your chest feels a little lighter, the future a little less daunting.

The sun dips below the horizon, casting the train car in shadows as night begins to fall. You open your eyes, a sense of resolve settling within you. You are Mary Colbie, soon to be a mother and a university student. Something you'd never thought to achieve.

The train screeches to a halt at the station, and you step out into the cool evening air. Cambridge greets you with a mix of ancient charm and bustling energy. The cab your father arranged waits just beyond the platform, the driver—a stout man with graying hair—leans against the hood, scanning the crowd. When he spots you, he straightens and tips his cap.

“Mrs. Colbie?” he asks, moving to take your bags.

You nod, handing over the worn-out suitcases. The driver places them in the trunk and gestures for you to get in. You settle into the backseat, the leather cool against your legs. As the cab navigates through winding streets lined with ivy-covered buildings and cobblestone paths, you feel a mixture of anticipation and unease.

Finally, the cab pulls up to a modest yet inviting house. Its brick facade and neatly trimmed hedges seem almost too perfect, like something out of a storybook. The driver gets out and starts unloading your trunks from the boot. You step onto the pavement, taking in your new surroundings with cautious curiosity.

The front door swings open and Nigel strides out. His eyes light up when he sees you, a grin spreading across his face. He crosses the distance between you in a few long strides and pulls you into his arms, pressing his lips to yours in a kiss that speaks volumes.

“Welcome home,” he murmurs against your lips before pulling back slightly to look at you.

Nigel's arms around you feel like a shield, a barrier against everything that’s haunted you. He steps back slightly, taking your hand before drinking in the sight of you standing before him. Beautifully dresses and plum with his child. He can see the tiredness within your eyes.

“You look tired,” he says, his voice soft but steady. “Long journey?”

You nod, the weariness of the day catching up with you. “Somewhat, I've simply missed you and fear that it has taken to my face.”

Nigel’s eyes hold a depth of emotion you can’t quite read, but his grip on your hand is firm and reassuring. You feel a sense of relief wash over you as he leads you inside the house. The warmth envelops you immediately, a stark contrast to the chill that has become your constant companion.

The living room is cozy, with soft lighting and comfortable furniture. A fire crackles in the fireplace, casting flickering shadows on the walls. Nigel guides you to the sofa and helps you sit down, his concern palpable.

“Are you hungry?” he asks, his voice gentle. “I can make us something to eat.”

You shake your head, feeling a sudden wave of exhaustion. “No, I’m fine, I had dinner on the train. I just—I really missed you."

You sink into the sofa, feeling the soft cushions embrace you. The room smells faintly of firewood and something else, something familiar. Nigel must have remembered your favorite scent.

He sits down beside you, close but not crowding. His presence is soothing, easing the tightness in your chest. "I've missed you too," he says, his voice low and soothing. "More than you know."

You reach for his hand, needing the connection. His fingers intertwine with yours, warm and solid. You take a deep breath, trying to absorb the calm that seems to radiate from him.

The fire crackles in the hearth, casting dancing shadows on the walls. The room feels almost too perfect, like a scene from a dream. You look around, taking in the cozy space that will be your home for now. Bookshelves line one wall, filled with an eclectic mix of titles. A piano stands in one corner, its polished surface gleaming in the firelight.

"You bought me a piano?" You whispered, your swelled fingers twitching at the thought of playing the piano.

Nigel’s face lights up with a smile. “Yes, I did,” he says, glancing at the piano. “I thought it might help you settle in. I know how much you love playing and with you starting university in the fall, I thought you would like a chance to maintain your practice at home.”

Nigel helps you up from the sofa, guiding you toward the corner where the piano stands. You run your fingers over the polished surface, marveling at the craftsmanship. It's a grand piano, its sleek black exterior gleaming in the firelight. The keys feel cool and smooth beneath your fingertips, inviting you to play.

You press a key, and the note rings out clear and true. "It's beautiful," you say, your voice tinged with awe.

Nigel's smile broadens. "I knew you'd like it," he says. "Go on, try it out."

You sit down on the bench and place your hands on the keys. Closing your eyes, you let your fingers dance across the keyboard, playing a melody that's been haunting your thoughts. The music fills the room, rich and resonant, wrapping around you like a warm embrace.

When you finish, Nigel claps softly. "That was incredible," he says. "I can't wait to hear more."

You smile, feeling a sense of contentment that’s been elusive for so long. Standing up from the bench, you take Nigel's hand once more. He leads you through the house and up a flight of stairs.

"We've got one more surprise for you," he says as he opens a door at the end of the hallway.

The room is bathed in soft, natural light from a large window that overlooks a garden below. It's a nursery, painted in gentle shades of green and yellow. A crib stands against one wall, adorned with soft blankets and stuffed animals. A changing table and rocking chair complete the cozy setup.

Nigel looks at you with pride. "Our neighbor to the left was a great help in setting this up," he explains. "She's excited to have a new baby on the street."

You walk into the room, touching the edge of the crib with reverence. It's perfect—every detail thought out with care and love. The mobile hanging above the crib features tiny animals that spin slowly in a gentle breeze from the open window.

"It's wonderful," you whisper, emotion swelling within you.

Nigel steps behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his chin on your shoulder. "I'm glad you like it," he murmurs against your ear. "We’re going to make a great home here."

You turn in Nigel's arms, looking up at him with a soft smile. "What about our bedroom?" you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

Nigel's eyes flicker with understanding. He takes your hand and leads you out of the nursery and down the hall to another door. Pushing it open, he steps aside to let you enter first.

The room is spacious, yet intimate. Soft light from a pair of bedside lamps bathes the room in a warm glow. A large bed, adorned with plush pillows and a cozy duvet, takes up the center of the space. The walls are painted a soothing shade of blue, and the scent of fresh linens fills the air.

Nigel watches you closely as you take in the room. "Are you tired?" he asks gently, concern etched into his features.

You shake your head, stepping closer to him. "It's not sleep that's on my mind," you say, your voice steady and sure.

A slow smile spreads across Nigel's face as he closes the distance between you. His hands find your waist, pulling you against him. The warmth of his body seeps into yours, chasing away the lingering chill.

Your fingers trace the line of his jaw before threading through his hair. "I've missed you so much,” you murmur, your lips brushing against his.

Nigel's grip tightens slightly as he leans in, capturing your mouth in a deep, lingering kiss. His hands move to cup your face, holding you close as if he's afraid you'll disappear.

The kiss ignites something within you—a need that has been simmering just below the surface. You pour all your emotions into it—love, longing, and a desire for connection.

When you finally pull back for air, Nigel's eyes are dark with intensity. "Mary," he whispers, his voice rough with emotion. You can feel the heat of Nigel's gaze on you as he steps back, his fingers lightly tracing the hem of your sundress. The gesture sends a shiver of anticipation coursing through you, igniting a fire that has been smoldering within you since the moment you stepped off the train.

With deft fingers, Nigel unbuttons the front of your dress, his knuckles grazing the swell of your breasts, making your breath hitch in your throat. The fabric parts, revealing the delicate lace of your bra, the material stretched tight over your fuller chest. He hooks his fingers under the straps and slides them off your shoulders, his eyes never leaving yours.

The dress pools at your feet, leaving you standing before him in nothing but your underwear and the soft glow of the bedside lamps. Nigel's gaze rakes over you, appreciation shining in his eyes. He reaches out to trace the curve of your belly, his touch gentle yet possessive.

"You are so beautiful," he murmurs, his voice thick with desire.

You step forward, your hands moving to the front of his shirt. Your fingers fumble with the buttons, eager to feel the warmth of his skin against yours. Once undone, you push the fabric off his shoulders, revealing the taut muscles of his chest and abdomen.

Nigel's hands move to the waistband of his trousers, making quick work of the belt and zipper. He steps out of them, standing before you completely naked, his arousal evident. You reach out to touch him, your fingers wrapping around his cock, feeling him pulse beneath your touch.

He groans at your touch, his hips bucking forward slightly. Nigel's hands find your hips, pulling you close as he captures your mouth in a searing kiss. His tongue traces the seam of your lips, seeking entry, and you willingly oblige, deepening the kiss.

His hands slide down to cup your bottom, lifting you off the ground with ease. You wrap your legs around his waist, feeling the heat of his erection pressing against you. Nigel carries you to the bed, setting you down gently before stepping back to admire you perched on the edge of the bed.

He kneels on the floor between your legs, his fingers hooking into the waistband of your panties. He pulls them down slowly, revealing the slick evidence of your arousal. Nigel leans in, his tongue darting out to taste you, the sensation making you gasp and arch your back.

His fingers join his tongue, sliding inside you with precision. He strokes you from the inside, his thumb circling your clit, drawing you closer and closer to the edge. You can feel the pressure building within you, your body coiling like a spring, ready to release at any moment.

Just as you're about to fall over the edge, Nigel withdraws his fingers, leaving you breathless and wanting. He rises to his feet, his erection bobbing against his stomach as he moves to climb onto the bed. He positions himself against the headboard, his eyes on you as he beckons you closer.

"I want you to ride me," he says, his voice low and commanding. "We mustn’t put any pressure on our child."

You move with care, feeling the weight of your body shift as you climb onto the bed. Nigel's eyes follow your every movement, dark with desire and something deeper, more primal. You straddle his hips, the heat of his cock pressing against your cunt, making you softly moan. The sensation sends a shiver of anticipation through you, igniting a fire that burns hotter with each passing second. Rather than immediately sating the throb in your cunt, you lean forwards.

Your lips meet Nigel’s with a hunger that’s been simmering beneath the surface for far too long. His mouth is hot and demanding, his tongue delving into yours, tasting and exploring. The kiss is deep, erotic, sending jolts of electricity through your body.

Nigel's hands grip your hips firmly as you hover above him, your arousal slick against his length. You feel the head of his cock press against your entrance, and you lower yourself slowly onto him. The stretch burns slightly; it’s been so long since your first time. You pause, gasping and breathing heavier, feeling every inch of him filling you completely.

“Take your time,” Nigel murmurs against your lips, his voice rough with desire.

You nod, your breath coming in shallow gasps as you slowly begin to move. The burn gives way to a deep pleasure as you find a rhythm, riding him with increasing passion. Nigel's hands slide up to cup your growing breasts, his thumbs brushing over your sensitive nipples. The sensation sends a wave of pleasure crashing through you, making you moan softly.

Nigel's mouth leaves yours to trail hot kisses down your neck, nipping and sucking at the delicate skin. His hands move to caress your swollen belly, fingers splaying out to feel the life growing inside you. The connection between the two of you feels almost sacred in this moment—intense and raw.

You whine as the pleasure builds, your body moving in sync with Nigel's. Each thrust sends a jolt of electricity through you, making you moan softly. His hands grip your hips firmly, guiding you as you ride him. The connection between you feels almost sacred, intense and raw.

Nigel's lips leave yours to trail hot kisses down your neck, nipping and sucking at the delicate skin. His hands move to caress your swollen belly, fingers splaying out to feel the life growing inside you. The sensation sends waves of pleasure radiating through you.

“God, Mary,” he rumbles against your skin, his hips thrusting up to meet yours in a synchronized dance of need and desire.

You tilt your head back, eyes closed as you ride him harder, each movement sending you closer to the edge. Nigel’s lips find the curve of your breast, his tongue swirling around the peak before taking it into his mouth. He suckles gently, the sensation making you cry out in ecstasy.

His hands continue their worship of your body, sliding down to grip your hips once more as he guides you in a rhythm that has both of you teetering on the edge of bliss. You can feel every muscle in his body tensing beneath you, every touch igniting another spark within you.

The heat between you builds to an unbearable peak. You cry out as waves of pleasure crash over you, your body trembling with the force of your orgasm. Nigel follows soon after, his grip on your hips tightening as he spills into you with a deep groan.

You collapse onto his chest, wrapping your arms around his neck as you breathe heavily. The warmth of his body contrasts sharply with the cold air around you, a reminder of the life growing inside you and the connection you both share. Nigel’s hand moves gently up and down your back, offering comfort and grounding in the aftermath of your shared intensity.

"Mary," he whispers, his breath warm against your ear. "Are you okay?"

You nod against his shoulder, too spent to form words. You feel the rise and fall of his chest beneath your cheek, a soothing rhythm that lulls you into a sense of calm.

The room is quiet, save for the soft sounds of your breathing and the faint rustle of leaves outside the window. You close your eyes, letting the peace wash over you. Nigel's fingers continue their gentle caress on your back, tracing patterns that leave a trail of warmth in their wake.

After a while, you shift slightly, propping yourself up on one elbow to look at him. His eyes are soft and full of affection as he gazes up at you. "I love you," he says simply, his voice steady and sure.

You smile faintly, feeling the weight of those words settle into your heart. "I love you too," you reply, your voice barely above a whisper.

Nigel's hand comes up to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing away a stray strand of hair. "I cannot wait to meet our child, my lovely Maraclea."

Date Published: 8/4/24

Last Edit: 8/4/24

Previous | Masterlist | Next

[samepisodebracket]

justice for sam

If the spnepisodebracket craze has shown us anything, it's that the supernatural fanbase is extremely divided, with the lowly sam stan seemingly at the bottom of the pile. sam is always last in polls, so this is a bracket for the 10% or so who always votes for him. because yeah, there's 327 episodes of Supernatural, but how many are popular because of a dean or destiel moment? how many good episodes are drowned out because they focus on sam?

i've chosen, with some crowdsourced peer review (special thanks to @spneveryseason, @suncaptor, and @ambersock!) 125 episodes that are Sam Relevant. Some are extremely sam-centric, some just have a shot where sam looks like he's being crucified that gives me brain worms -- i tried to be generous about it to keep a relatively even seasons distribution! matchups will be random and polls will last 24 hours each. in the tradition of @spnepisodebracket (who this is obviously inspired by and would not be possible without!) i'll try to rb a gifset for every episode in the poll!

a final note: no this is not that serious but the criteria for voting here should be how good the episode is as a SAM episode, not as anything else, so please vote accordingly! i am making this for people who actually enjoy sam and if that is not you, then this is not the poll for you!

with that out of the way, here is the compiled list of episodes! voting starts this sammy sunday, 3/26!

Season 1 Pilot (1x01) Bloody Mary (1x05) Home (1x09) Asylum (1x10) Scarecrow (1x11) Nightmare (1x14) Shadow (1x16) Provenance (1x19) Salvation (1x21) Devil's Trap (1x22) Season 2 Simon Said (2x05) Croatoan (2x09) Hunted (2x10) Playthings (2x11) Houses of the Holy (2x13) Born Under a Bad Sign (2x14) Heart (2x17) All Hell Breaks Loose Part 1 (2x21) All Hell Breaks Loose Part 2 (2x22) Season 3 Bad Day at Black Rock (3x03) A Very Supernatural Christmas (3x08) Mystery Spot (3x11) Jus In Bello (3x12) Time is On My Side (3x15) Season 4 Metamorphosis (4x04) It's the Great Pumpkin, Sam Winchester (4x07) I Know What You Did Last Summer (4x09) After School Special (4x13) On the Head of a Pin (4x16) It's a Terrible Life (4x17) Jump the Shark (4x19) When the Levee Breaks (4x21) Lucifer Rising (4x22) Season 5 Good God, Y'all! (5x02) Free to be You and Me (5x03) Changing Channels (5x08) Sam, Interrupted (5x11) Swap Meat (5x12) The Song Remains the Same (5x13) My Bloody Valentine (5x14) Dark Side of the Moon (5x16) 99 Problems (5x17) Two Minutes to Midnight (5x21) Swan Song (5x22) Season 6 Exile on Main St. (6x01) You Can't Handle the Truth (6x06) Family Matters (6x07) Clap Your Hands if You Believe (6x09) Caged Heat (6x10) Appointment in Samarra (6x11) Like a Virgin (6x12) Unforgiven (6x13) The French Mistake (6x15) The Man Who Knew Too Much (6x22) Season 7 Meet the New Boss (7x01) Hello, Cruel World (7x02) The Girl Next Door (7x03) Season 7, Time for a Wedding! (7x08) Plucky Pennywhistle's Magic Menagerie (7x14) Repo Man (7x15) Out with the Old (7x16) The Born-Again Identity (7x17) Season 8 We Need to Talk About Kevin (8x01) Hunteri Heroici (8x08) Trial and Error (8x14) Taxi Driver (8x19) Pac-Man Fever (8x20) The Great Escapist (8x21) Clip Show (8x21) Sacrifice (8x23) Season 9 Holy Terror (9x09) Road Trip (9x10) First Born (9x11) The Purge (9x13) Meta Fiction (9x18) Season 10 Black (10x01) Soul Survivor (10x03) Fan Fiction (10x05) Inside Man (10x17) Book of the Damned (10x18) The Werther Project (10x19) The Prisoner (10x22) Brother's Keeper (10x23) Season 11 Form and Void (11x02) Baby (11x04) Just My Imagination (11x08) Oh Brother Where Art Thou (11x09) The Devil in the Details (11x10) Into the Mystic (11x11) Ouroborus (11x14) Red Meat (11x17) Don't Call Me Shurley (11x20) Season 12 Keep Calm and Carry On (12x01) Mamma Mia (12x02) American Nightmare (12x04) Rock Never Dies (12x07) The Raid (12x14) Who We Are (12x22) Season 13 Lost and Found (13x01) Patience (13x03) The Big Empty (13x04) Various & Sundry Villains (13x12) A Most Holy Man (13x15) Funeralia (13x19) Beat the Devil (13x21) Exodus (13x22) Let the Good Times Roll (13x23) Season 14 Stranger in a Strange Land (14x01) Mint Condition (14x04) Nightmare Logic (14x05) Byzantium (14x08) Prophet and Loss (14x12) Lebanon (14x13) Peace of Mind (14x15) Game Night (14x17) Moriah (14x20) Season 15 Back and to the Future (15x01) Atomic Monsters (15x04) The Rupture (15x03) Golden Time (15x06) The Gamblers (15x11) Unity (15x17) Inherit the Earth (15x19) Finale: Carry On (15x20)

Edits: Bugs (1x08) will be added, polls will not be completely random bc im not doing this for science im doing this to see a good episode win and my randomizer pit when the levee breaks against swan song in round 1

[aletterinthenameofsanity]

This Rotten Work Has Been Published!

Do you like Carry On or NBC's Community? Do you like messy lesbians in an enemies-to-lovers dynamic? Do you want to know what happens to Chosen Ones after they defeat their villain? Do you wish for a version of Harry Potter that isn't transphobic, homophobic, antisemitic, and racist? (Did you enjoy the seventy million fics I wrote about the mentors coping with the aftermath of the Hunger Games?) Do you like messy background poly bisexuals?

Well, here it is, y'all: all of the edits are done and my book baby has been published! Rachel and Daiyu are finally here for y'all to meet! I'm ordering my own copies now (and will definitely update y'all with photos when they arrive, especially now that I can get a photo with BOTH of my books), but for now, I just wanted to give y'all the link so you can check it out. I'm going to put the blurb below to those who are confused as to what this might be!

Amazon.com: This Rotten Work: 9798879537734: Jenkins, Kenna: Books

The moment Chosen One Rachel Barsky finally kills her magical high school’s evil Headmaster, she’s out. No pressure, no politics, and certainly no more death tournaments for her. She ditches the Magical Realm for a far more chill Normie community college with her two best friends, determined to finally get some blessed peace and quiet—maybe even a good nap. It’s what she deserves after giving up her teenage years to a prophecy that nearly killed her more times than she can count.

But of course Rachel can’t catch a break. Her first day of classes, tragedy arrives on campus in the form of Daiyu Nightbane, Rachel’s archrival and the annoyingly attractive daughter of the now-dead Headmaster. Daiyu’s acting suspiciously normal, Rachel is pissed, and her friends are preaching forgiveness and peace. What gives?

Rachel expects to have to grit her teeth and soldier through the annoyance of her rival haunting her early retirement, but she quickly learns that expectations are never made to last. After an explosive duel that ends up with one of them knocked off of their feet, Rachel is forced to see a kinder side of Daiyu than she ever glimpsed during high school.

Over a school year filled with Shakespeare, lightning magic, and quite a lot of kosher BBQ, Rachel finds herself toppling head-over-heels into an unlikely romance with her rival while she struggles with nightmares, grief, and lingering questions from her high school years. Is it possible to finally make a life for herself? Can the Chosen One really have a happy ending with the golden girl that ruled the school?

---

And to all those who have been following this saga (or liked my fics with similar premises/themes), I think I've managed to gather all of your usernames here for the official publishing!

[remidyal]

Au where the Abernants are all a different class besides wizards?

Oooh, okay! I've had a few thoughts along these lines, but let's go for something a little bit weirder:

The Abernant adults are, to all outside appearances, a boring diplomatic family of non-adventuring civilians from Fallinel who have enrolled their elder daughter at Mumple. However, their younger daughter, while attending the middle school near their house, breaks a bully's nose with one punch to the face.

This is because, of course, all of the Abernants are actually Monks, and Adaine and Aelwyn have been raised with strict and most importantly secret martial training. Specifically, Angwyn, Arianwen, and Aelwyn are all Shadow monks, and the parents have been carrying out assassination plots on behalf of some faction within the Fallinel government for the entire time they've been in Solace. They're getting Aelwyn into the family business, too, but Adaine's been slow in her training and they don't trust her to know anything important beyond her own training yet.

They are EXTREMELY displeased by Adaine blowing her cover because she couldn't keep her temper and be a good and meek girl in public the way Aelwyn has, but with that cover blown they're forced to allow her to attend Aguefort - after all, she showed such potential, and completely untrained! She would be wasted on a civilian path at Mumple!

The elder Abernants refuse to share their deeper secrets with Adaine until she can prove her trustworthiness, and she starts to pick up another subclass from Aguefort - the Way of Mercy. This makes them distrust her MORE because the philosophy is anathema to their own beliefs, and Adaine finds herself more and more frozen out by her family; meanwhile, more pressure gets put on Aelwyn to make up for her disappointing sister.

Adaine and Aelwyn have a dramatic fistfight eventually when Adaine interrupts her first solo assassination mission; the target (an agent of the council of chosen who was on to the older Abernants) ends up arresting both of them after the fight, not realizing that Adaine actually saved her life. Aelwyn gets broken out by their parents but disavowed by Fallinel's government; Adaine gets eventually released under a severe set of unfair parole conditions.

[aerysamultifandom]

𝐒𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐬, 𝐚 𝐥𝐢𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐡𝐢𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐭𝐡.

Plot: your lover is back after so many year,how would you react? ( sequel to "I've fallen for a lie")

Characters: Daemon Targaryen x reader

type: idk

Warning: Minor DNI, if you're under 18, don't read.

numbers of words: 2.6k

┊

The months following Daemon’s departure were complicated. You missed him more than anything, when you met him, you really thought you’d marry him. But now he was married to a Veleryon, for political reasons according to him. Only,a thought did not leave you, did he really love her? How long has this marriage been planned? Why didn’t he tell you about it? Why you? Why was it with your love that the prince decided to play? did he really love you or did he pretend?

┊

Although these thoughts poison your mind, you also had obligations to fulfill. As Otto Hightower’s second daughter, you had to marry a rich lord, of course, the reasons for this marriage were once again purely political. Your father had been clear, you will not marry a man for love, you will marry a man he has chosen.

┊

So it was on this terms that you ended up making your wedding vows. The man you were going to marry was not mean or evil, however, he was much older than you. You sigh when you kissed him on the cheeks,your eyes full of tears. Deamon should have been the one to receive the kiss,not him. You were sad when he taked you to your shared room, for the wedding night.

┊

You lived with this man for over three years, giving him a beautiful little girl named Victoria, even if she was born of a loveless marriage, you loved her very much. But a event happened and destroy your calm life.

┊

You and your husband were invited by the king to a tournament, to celebrate the birth of his child. Even after all these years have passed you were staying close to the king and Rhaenyra, who you now consider as your "almost" sister.

┊

You arrived early this morning with your husband, a smile on your face as you noticed Rhaenyra,even after all this years,she was still beautiful. You quickly join her at the table, sitting down next to her,both of you quickly started to chat about everything that heppened since the last time you saw each other, she told you abou t wedding,he children...You explained to her your relationship with your husband, how many times you caught him with another woman, in short, that you were not happy with him. She rassured you with sweet words and a hug.

┊

You finished eating with her, and you slowly made your way back to the room you shared with your husband. Unexpectedly, as you were walking down a corridor, you felt you were being pulled back, and quickly,a hand were on your mouth. You tried to scream but a voice made you stop, "My sunshine,do not scream, it's only me." You recognize this voice quickly, he was here, Daemon was here.

┊

You froze when you felt sweet kisses in your neck. How dare he ? how dare he after leaving you for three years in a unhappy wedding ?you had to carry a child for this man, your husband, a cheater. you quickly got out of his grip, turned to him...and slapped his arrogant face. All you could felt, were anger, " How fucking dare you,Daemon Targaryen ? " He seemed surprised by your action, he slowly put his hand n his face,where you slapped him. "How dare I ? What do you mean ?" Okay, so this man was really stupid, you sigh and looked at him, anger irradiated from you as fire irradiated from a dragon. " I mean that you left me alone in a unhappy wedding, with a cheater ! while you were away with this velaryon, tell me, Is she pregnant with your child ?" You already knew the answer,you saw her belly. You didn't let him time to answer as you walked away.

┊

You spended the next days with your husband, and even if he was surprised, he said nothing,acting like a perfect gentleman with you,helping you,kissing you...Rhaenyra also noticed but said nothing. FInally, one evening, you met her in her room, to talk about Daemon, she opened the door and you entered, both of you sat on the bed and she encouraged you to talk. "It's Daemon, he's back." you said as if this sentence would explain why you were here, with her. Rhaenyra noded slowly. " How do you feel about that ?", "Angry, of course ! he left me for political reasons ! and he didn't even tell me! " you said with a annoyed voice, at the moment, you hated him more than your husband.

┊

You spend evening with Rhaenyra, until it was time for you to went to your room, even if you knew that your husband won't be here. He’d rather share a prostitute’s bed for the night than sleep with you. This thought made you sick, why did you married him ? you already knew why,because you thought he might replace Daemon. You quickly drove that thought out of your head, no, even if your husband didn’t love you, it wasn’t a reason to fall back into the arms of Daemon, you had to be a good wife, and let nothing appear.

┊

The next few days were...weird,at least, for you. The world around you keep moving, but you, you were stuck,stuck with your thoughts. One night as you were walking back to your room,you saw Daemon. He was waiting for you, a smile on his perfect face, and you hugged him, as if your life depended on him,only to woke up in your bed, your sheets soaked with tears that finally flowed after three years, everything you had retained, thanks to this simple dream, was free. You spent the night crying, since you saw him again, you missed him more than anything.

┊

The next day, it seemed that the gods heard your cries because Deamon came to you. You greet him without smiling, the memory from the last night was still in your head. "Can we talk?" he asked you with a calm voice. "If you want" you said as you followed him in a empty office. He started speaking, as he was walking to you "I can't, I can't pretend that I didn't miss you. Every time I saw you with your husband, my heart is full of anger-" you stopped him "How do you think I feel when I see you with Leana? I feel the same as you". He frowned and said with a sad voice, almost begging you. "So why don't you come back? Everything could be like before. Please, come back, I need you." you sigh. "You have a wife now Daemon, that you chose to marry." You left the room without looking behind, after all, if he really wants you, he’ll do anything to get your love, right?

┊

And that’s what he did, everyday, when you came back to your room after breakfast you'll find some beautiful flowers. Every time he saw you in a corridor, he'll smile to you. Sometimes you'll receive a beautiful necklace, or he'll buy you a beautiful ring. He knew how to seduce you, especially with the letters he left in your room. In those letters, he told you how much he love you and how much he missed you. He left them in the room you shared with your husband, because your husband was more seen in the city than in the dungeon. Daemon therefore assumed that you were safe.

┊

But one night, when you came back from the garden, and you arrived at your room,you were surprised to see your husband. You froze when you saw the letters that Daemon wrote you. "I think you have something to explain to your husband, y/n" he said with a angry voice. "What do you mean?" you asked with a soft voice. He’s getting up from his seat, getting close to you with a menacing face. "You know what I mean. This letters, from the prince Targaryen." he pointed the letters, and he took your chin in his hand to force you to look at him. "I didn't know you were a whore-", you started to speak, feeling angry, "Why does it bother you? You’ve been fucking with them every night since we got here instead of being with me." Now, you knew he was really angry. He slowly approached you, and then, slapped you. "Ungrateful woman! I have given you everything since we got married! Even a child!"

┊

"You were drunk!" you screamed as a answer. "I got pregnant because you fucked me without my consent! " He seemed to realised what he did, but suddenly, you saw a smile on his horrible face. He was happy? "and I swear that if you don't go now, I will do it again. I don't want to see you again and I'll send a letter to your father, explaining how you cheated on me with the prince." he said proud of himself. You leaved the room without saying a word, was that really happening? Your husband was throwing you away like you were worthless.

┊

You stayed outside the room, Where could you go? you sigh, you knew where you could go. You slowly made your way to Daemon's room, praying the gods that he'll be here,you knocked the door. You were happy when you saw the head of Deamon, he frowned but he let you in. He offered you a glass of wine before sitting in front of you. "So, why are you here so late in the night?" he asked you with a concerned voice. "My husband saw the letters, Daemon. He slapped me and clearly said that he didn't want to see me again, and he'll write a letter to my father to cancel the wedding."

┊

He listened to you, slowly nodding. "He really dare to slap you? Is he still in your room?" you shaked your head "no, I think he join a prostitue."; He stayed silent for a few minutes before looking at you "Can I kiss you? Please." you felt your heart start racing, did he really asked you that? You thought about your husband, if he could share the bed of a prostitue, why can’t you accept the prince’s kisses? "Yes, you can Daemon." As soon as the words left your mouth, the prince’s lips were on yours. He gently pushed you to be below him while his mouth did not leave yours. You gasp when you felt his hand behind your head. God, you missed his kisses, you missed his touch.

┊

The prince didn't seem to wanted to stopped his kisses. He bit your neck gently, leaving marks, he also gave you many kisses. You moan softly, passing your hand through his hair, making him growl. "Daemon, please stop, if you keep going, I don't know what I would do." You said with a desperate voice, "Do you want to discover it, my sunshine?" he asked you softly as he makes you sit on his lap. You felt chills coming down your back, it won't be your first time, but...with Daemon, it will be something new.

┊

You turned to have your legs spread out on each side of his legs. He kissed your neck again, placing his hands on your sides. He asked for permission to take your top off with one look. When you nodded, you felt your top being taken off. He exposed your breasts, his gaze filled with desire as he watched your breasts. He began by taking your right nipple and playing with it, making you moan, then he came to take the other nipple in his mouth, passing his tongue on the sensitive tip. You threw your head back, giving him more access to your neck, enjoying the attention he gave to your breasts.

┊

Leaving your breasts, his mouth rose to your mouth, leaving kisses on your skin. You kissed her back, feeling a gentle warmth in your lower abdomen, it was not unpleasant, you focused only on the blond man’s kisses. Ready?" he asked you gently, and you noticed that his eyes had darkened. You nodded keenly, impatient, he smiled at you and he laid you on the bed. He gently removed your trousers before he threw them out of bed. Without taking his eyes off you, he squeezed kisses on the inside of your thighs, gently moving towards your centre. Finally, he took off your underwear, letting out a sound of contentment when he saw how wet you were and he smiled feeling the heat coming from you.

┊

You let out a moan when he started to lick your pussy, putting his tongue inside you, you moaned again, feeling how deep his tongue could go. He take your hand in his own, trying to rassure you as he slowly start to accelerated his movements. "Your doing so well for me darling, you're so lovely and tasty" His praises only make you cum quicker. And even though your orgasm, he didn't stop his kitten lick against your clit, you had to step away from his tongue, you were over-stimulated.

┊

While you came down from your orgasm, Daemon undressed. You gasp when you saw how beautiful he was, with his muscles, his perfect chest, he even had abs and-Oh, his dick, he's so big. You knew what would happen next, he planned to fucked you. He came to kiss you, his hips against yours. He slowly entered inside of you, aware that you could feel pain, he put his tomb on your clit, doing small circles on it. "You're doing so well for me sweetheart, taking my dick like that". You only could moan as a answer, you were full with his dick inside of you, your walls tighten around him. He let you adjust to his size before starting to move, you felt pain at first but it slowly disappeared and soon, the only thing you could feel was pure pleasure.

┊

He fucked you until the sun start to rise in the morning sky. You both reached your orgasm at the same time, and it was the best time of your life. You woke up before lunch, feeling tired, and your body hurts, Daemon have been rough,but you knew that he love you, he was like this and you love him. You feel lazy, but you needed to woke up, Daemon leaved you in the morning. You dressed quickly before going out of Daemon's room. As you was walking down the corridor, a maid stopped you nervously "The king want to see you, lady y/n" he said before leading you to the throne room.

┊

You had bow in front of the king, surprised to see a sad look on his face. What happened? Before you could think more, the king spoke to you. "The guards find your husband dead in your room, with a dagger in the chest. I'm sorry for your loss lady, y/n, your husband was a great lord, we will miss him." You froze, your husband ? Dead? Who could hate him enough to kill him? You stayed silent as you walked out of the room. The cheater was dead, now you were free to be with Daemon. You sigh as you walked though the corridors, wanting to find your lover.

┊

The months have passed, finally your relationship with Daemon was revealed to the royal family who approved it, you kissed Daemon, you had just married. He had kept his promise after all, sometimes a lie is a hidden truth.

End of the story

Thanks you for reading! I hope you liked reading this, it was a real pleasure for me to write this. For my birthday, I gave you the second and last part 💕

Have a beautiful day

[flowerflamestars]

Another alternative Effloresce pov. Azriel, as the slow moving shitshow train wreck his life is is quickly becoming a fast moving shit show train wreck.

I cannot tell you how much I love this one!

So, I would say across all my fics Azriel is a character who is the most consistent? Especially since almost all of them were written before acosf TERRIBLY let us in his actually creepy little headspace, and I've additionally chosen to keep my made up shadowman as he is.

Effloresce Az is basically Starlight Az but SADDER. He's Daylight Az without a kiddo and husband, Shoreless Sea Az without the absolutely beneficial retirement, and man is he TIRED.

You're Azriel, and your job sucks. Your inborn skillset leaves you zero other options, and you know this. It's better to be the left hand of power than in a cell for life, but you know what? Sometimes you can only do so goddamn much.

You're Azriel and that's kind of all you've got. You're one of a kind, literally. Alone forever in that. But you love Cassian. You play the little games with Mor for harmony. You respect- alien, ancient, different, probably what you'll feel like in a thousand goddamn years if you live that long- Amren.

You see the good in Rhysand, limited as it is to personal things, but you also see the vast potential for failure.

You see him listening to this CHILD OF A GIRL- who seems nice, yeah. You're worried about her, frankly. The Courts of Prythian revived her and will not just let that go- but that doesn't mean you think she has, shall we say, good ideas.

You watch Cassian spend days arguing against this.

You rock up over the wall and realize these two mortal, innocent women have probably been taken captive by Spring. Your orders are a mistake, you have a war to fight that has nothing to do with these people, but you're here, and you might as well do some good.

You move to neutralize the threat.

Lucien Vanserra does not act like a vassal of Spring. No, not even at Autumn prince. You can drown fire in the dark, but you can't swallow the sun or an ocean of flame without end.

That doesn't matter either, because this determined little slip of blond sunshine just fucking stabbed you. And for the first time in maybe decades, you just want to laugh. You've fucked up, clearly, but you're okay. (You can live through so much worse than letting a human woman stab you to feel safe.)

You hear Cassian coming, and you know.

It doesn't matter what Feyre is saying. Has said. You're Azriel and you can't not know or not hear- she's wrong or she lied. You have a High Lord sweating blood to protect a stunningly, dangerously charming woman and you have her sister, who feels less like delight and more like a dream.

You're a shadowsinger, whose providence is secrets and these two woman are shrouded.

You're fucked, essentially.

You know they're not really human.

You know they're hiding, and Feyre is going to break that right open if Rhysand has his way, no matter how many times you point out that the Queens want nothing to do with Prythian's fae.

You're Azriel, and you've always been smart enough to stay quiet when you have no orders forcing you to do otherwise. You're polite. You're frankly, horrified. You have no idea what to do with the Archeron sisters acting like you're nothing to be afraid of.

You know, before Cassian knows, that every wind that has ever carried him had lead him right here.

(You remember what that felt like. The fear, the euphoria. You were young and stupid enough to consider it simple rightness, your extra senses on your side, pulling you toward the correct choice in fealty. You didn't know what it was until too late. You didn't know and you never even got to know or got to mourn. You didn't have the right to mourn a girl dead too soon, who would have never been anything but your queen had she grown old enough to wear a crown.)

(Dead before the start, just like you.)

You decide, immediately, you cannot let what happened to you happen to Cassian. Nesta Archeron might be a compelling power, might be a fighter with ash in her hair and a cunning mind, but Shahar was a High Lady born. Not even that could save her.

You understand the instant way you like Elain is magic, whether she knows it or not. (She does not). Real affection follows quickly, you are, despite all magic to the contrary, as Illyrian as Cassian. You cannot not know. You like Nesta too- if only for her ferocity. Her bleeding, present fury.

They treat you like a person.

Fearlessly.

Easily.

You watch as their sister breaks their hearts, cracks already laid. You watch Rhysand act more and more territorial, and of course you know why too. You watch Lucien Vanserra safeguard the lives and livelihoods of hundreds of humans and you understand this, here, is a Court too.

A better one.

You quietly, a secret, kill their father.

You bind yourself in blood to a favor, and use it to unshackle the Archeron bloodline and their vassals from the Queens.

You watch Nesta Archeron kneel in the snow, watch Elain Archeron pull a knife on a High Lord of Prythian over human lives, and think, with dread and barren exhaustion, you're making the right choice.

The hard choice.

(How many noncombatants died in Sangravah? In every city Amarantha occupied? How many servants in the Hewn City every year? How many Illyrian children in the starving north? How many deaths were Azriel's fault, because Rhysand didn't care?)

(The Archerons would rather die with their people than live. Were educating their maids. Sending their kitchen boys to university. Taking in the orphans of other estates, having never forgotten what it was to be forgotten, hungry and alone.)

You're Azriel, and you can't not know how badly this is going to hurt.