#cries in monarchy

[black-leather-sketchbook]

silly boys

[thelastharbinger]

what is the hold that the royal family has on the british general public that i have to see prince fecking william trending on tumblr of all sites

[youmustfixyourheartt]

banging on the glass of my enrichment inclosure the enlightenment was genuienly such an interesting time for the rising middle class and it was an experimental time that eventualy lead to some of the amendments in the US constituion, the women's rights movements, and the justice system in america DO YOU HEAR ME DO YOU-

[jolenes-doppelganger]

hiii!! i just read your works about ilsa and rose. could you possibly write about lady jessica x fem! corrino reader? where they meet at the final scene of the movie…

xx

[Hi Anon! Thank you for the request. I had some fun ideas with this one, enjoy. :3]

Phantom Frequency

Reverend Mother Jessica x Fem! Corrino Reader

Summary: Following the overthrow of House Corrino’s monarchy, few things are certain. The Bene Gesserit’s power over the throne, political stability and spice production seem to be uncertain, but on a more personal level, the Corrino household can only fear for their lives. But not all is lost for the two eldest daughters of the former Emperor Shaddam. With Irulan married to Paul and the Reader secured as her primary advisor, a third party strikes a bargain to maintain her security.

Warnings: Drugging, abduction, dub-con ‘arrangement’, dub-con medical examination, Jessica being Jessica

A/N: I know I said this might have been spicy… So I hope you’re hungry! For nothing.

Word Count: 2.8k

You’d heard the whispers before you stepped foot off of the ship onto Arrakis. You were the middle Corrino princess. Your sister, Irulan, deciphered truth, your younger sister wielded the Voice, and you had mastered complete control over your body. Each of you played a key role in the Corrino household. Irulan and your younger sister Addsham played direct roles in controlling the affairs of the household. You held a different purpose. While the two of them occupied the Bene Gesserit with their development and tasks, you lay in the shadows, collecting information and rumors out of the mouths of those around you with uncanny accuracy. But the whispers hadn’t helped you to prepare for the direct interest of the Reverend Mother Atreides.

“Abomination!” the sisters of the Bene Gesserit cried, all momentarily caught up in hysterics as Paul Atreides commanded Reverend Mohiam to silence.

The Fremen warriors stood clustered around the Muad’Dib, the Lisan al Gaib of their fables. But from your perspective, they were really clustered around her. Of all the people she could have fixed her eyes upon, she’d chosen you. Not your frightened sister Irulan, not the pale face of your father, Emperor Shaddam, but you. Small, unassuming, clustered and partially veiled amidst the throng of Bene Gesserit sisters. Quiet, resolutely collected and observant. Jessica Atreides had picked you to focus on. Why?

“... All these years, and I have the pleasure of finally meeting Lady Anirul’s successor.” a voice squirmed through your head. “You don’t carry her name, or her features like your older sister, but you do have her eyes, and her bearing.”

Jessica’s blue eyes bore into yours as the voice drew uncomfortable waves through your ears. You weren’t really hearing her voice. Her lips were barely moving… This was the Voice. Jessica was using some ventriloquy variant of the Voice to talk to you, and you alone.

“How?” you whispered, your brief murmur coming out like a soft gasp, indiscernible from the rest of the Bene Gesserit gasps.

“When you’re my pupil, I’ll teach you.” Jessica eerily stared, eyes sliding off of you and back onto whoever her next victim would be.

<——————->

Paul Atreides had won. The way Irulan clutched your arm as you exited into the safety of the Emperor’s ship made that clear. You’d watched your father kiss the ring of the boy warrior in a haze of disbelief and fear, your emotions scrambled alongside that of the women surrounding you. Walking into Irulan’s private chambers aboard the ship was like walking behind a stage curtain. She broke down, clutching at your shoulders, burying her face in your neck and sobbing.

“No, I can’t do it.” Irulan cried, chest heaving and voice cracking. “I can’t do it (Reader), I can’t face him again. Or his mother.”

You were numb. The kind of numb that slid into your bones whenever trouble struck. It left you with a clarity that was always sort of peculiar; an emotionless outlook on the problems you faced, the ability to tackle dilemmas with the unfeeling scalpel of logical next steps rather than the blunt phalanges of emotional wallowing. You cupped your sister’s head, resting your foreheads together.

“Who said you have to face him right now? No, you have time. You get three days to sob and sit in your self-pity, behind closed doors naturally, but then you will not cry any longer.” you found yourself instructing.

“I hate him.” Irulan whispered. “I fucking hate him.”

The very concept of Irulan swearing was a bit funny. She didn’t use these words. You’d doubted if she ever had them in her vocabulary.

“I believe it was you who held me against the bathroom wall and scrubbed my tongue with soap when I used those words.” you joked.

Irulan let out a tearful laugh, wiping her eyes and nodding.

“Sorry. You were twelve. And someone could have heard you.”

You nodded. It was a funny memory in hindsight. It had caused no lasting harm, quite unlike the predicament Irulan faced. All of the potential marital arrangements she’d been discerning for years, all of the suitors with varying levels of financial and diplomatic aptitude stripped from her in one fell swoop. She’d been damned to a sandpit with the worms and the Fremen. No respite from the Bene Gesserit would be given. No safety net should things go awry.

“I’m staying with you.”

“No.” Irulan shook her head. “What about Daddy?”

“Daddy has Addsham. You have no one. You need my skills, you need my council. You need someone to bear the burden with you.” you said, clutching your sister’s hands. “I’m not asking. I will stay. And you will not be alone.”

Irulan’s eyes filled with tears all over again, and so did your eyes. But you didn’t let them fall. You’d never cried since the night your mother had died. Now would not be the day the six year dam broke. An attendant broke you away from your sister, urgently vibrating in the way most servants did when they carried important news.

“The Reverend Mother Jessica Atreides requests your presence in meeting room six.”

No time was given. It was a direct order. Veiling yourself once more, you walked towards the specified meeting room.

<——————->

The room was empty. To your eyes, at least. A cup of tea, a Gom Jabbar needle. A test of some sort, or perhaps a warning. You kept your distance from the objects, breathing in the smell of stale incense. A large tapestry hung from the wall, a beloved favorite of yours. Lady Anirul seated alongside a younger Emperor Shaddam. Three little girls that bore varying ratios of similarity to the two parents. You smiled, observing your family. Something was off, however. You knew something about it was off. It wasn’t Emperor Shaddam, or any of the three little princesses, it was your mother, Lady Anirul. Was it her hands? No. The neck… Not that either. Her face was odd. Maybe it was seeing her countenance in the format of the tapestry. Maybe it was just seeing her again. But the more you looked, the more you realized that it was her face. All blended together, all seamlessly woven, except for the life-like eyes. The blue, glistening, life-like eyes of someone that was not your mother, that had never been your-

Hands sprung out from the tapestry, encircling your neck and pushing you backward into the table. The slits of the tapestry, the slits in your mother’s eyes went blank, and the face that replaced your mother’s sent chills up your spine.

“Let this be your first lesson.” Mother Jessica whispered, grip tight over your windpipe. “When the gut screams that something is wrong, you listen.”

She released your neck, and the fright combined with the released pressure on your airpipe made you dizzy. You slid to the floor, head spinning in shock and fear. Tears collected in your eyes, and your hands shook. All of these reactions were without your consent, and you couldn’t gather the necessary strength needed to reverse these processes, to engage the parasympathetic nervous system to undo the shock of the deceitfully devised strangulation attempt.

“Oh, child.” Jessica scoffed. “You grow too comfortable in your house.”

“You cut out my mother’s eyes!” you found yourself whimpering, like a scared child.

Jessica laughed at this, a cruel sound mixed with a certain degree of disdain.

“You have thirty seconds to collect yourself.” she ordered.

You found yourself rising, turning away from her to collect yourself. You stopped breathing like a hysterical adolescent, instead forcing slow breaths in through your nose. You gripped the edge of the table, righting the dam against your conflicting emotions. Then you turned, making eye-contact with the woman behind them all.

“I am not a traditional mentor. Your mother never was, hence why she was never allowed to mentor another following me.” Jessica coldly recounted. “But she taught me more in six months than the rest of them did in sixteen years. Still, she teaches me. From beyond the grave she sends me lessons, ones that hurt to learn. And now, she’s sent me you. The middle child, the forgotten one, the little rebel that bides her time in the shadows. You.”

Jessica adjusted her loose veil, grabbing the Gom Jabbar needle.

“What would this be used for?”

“The Gom Jabbar test. I passed it at fourteen.”

Jessica nodded, setting the needle down. But then she fixed her piercing gaze on you once more.

“But that’s not the only way you know it.”

Anger flashed through your veins. How dare she!

“My mother was a strong woman, she was sick. And no one helped her, so don’t you dare throw her death in my face-”

“Silence.”

Your teeth clacked shut, clipping your tongue in the process. The taste of iron filled your mouth

“Did your mother kill herself with the Gom Jabbar or not?”

You reached behind you, gripping the table with ferocious intensity, channeling the rising tide of emotions into another action other than crying.

“She did.” you croaked out, breathing in through your nose so fast the air whistled.

Jessica nodded, picking up the cup of tea. It was still hot, you noticed. A product of the heat conducting coil at the base of the cup.

“Do you know what this tea is?” Jessica asked, a rhetorical question. “It was the only thing found in your mother’s system following the autopsy. And you’re going to drink it.”

You screwed your eyes shut, silently praying to any higher power that would dare listen to make this nightmare stop. But then you opened them, not allowing yourself to succumb to despair.

“Take it. Before I make you.”

The cup was hot in your hands. The liquid a murky brown. It was a derivative of spice, notes of chamomile and citrus laced in with the pungent scent of spice. You swallowed down the beverage, doing so with mechanical detachment.

“Close your eyes.” Jessica murmured, taking the cup from you.

Her fingers grazed your with startling gentleness. It was a tad bit sensual, but perhaps you were making that bit up.

“Feel.”

The pregnant bump of Jessica brushed against your stomach, her hands resting on your lower face. Her nose brushed yours, a brief motion. Then her lips rested on your left ear, her breath tickling the hollow cavern of your ear canal.

“Your mother drank a spice cocktail, a depressant based blend to promote bliss and a sense of euphoria. She died happy.”

It was too much for you to bear, and in between the soft caresses of her hands, in between the stress of the last twelve hours, in between all of the emotional heartache you’d experienced, a sad, neglected child sat crouched in a corner, wondering where her mother went. You broke down, hands fisted in the Reverend Mother’s robes as she collected every stray tear you cried with her lips, collecting the water of your body and storing it in hers.

<—————->

Distant voices blurred together the longer you were in that room. You called it ‘that room’ because you were unsure of where it was. Your routine was set. When you came out of the drug coma, you were fed and given water, and then the bitter drink was administered. As you came out of the coma again, more voices were clear.

“Leave me with her.” a raspy voice.

“But Reverend Mother, you gave birth only three days ago-”

“Leave me.”

The voice. Quick footsteps, silence. Hands encircled your face, sweet smelling breath ghosting over your nose.

“I’ve had you inspected.” she murmured. “You are in perfect health, fertile and strong. A strong vessel, this is important.”

You opened your eyes, meeting the tired, slightly bloodshot eyes of the Reverend Mother.

“I cannot teach someone weak. I will not teach someone weak. But you are not weak, daughter of Anirul. No, you are good stock.”

Her hands crept over you, exposing your skin, pulling off your robe.

“Still… I do not necessarily trust the Imperial physicians I had brought to you. I need to see for myself.”

Jessica started at your lymph nodes in your neck, checking pulse, fingers prodding the skin. She pressed over your belly button, your appendix, watching your face for signs of discomfort. Her touch slid down to your feet, your ankles. She carefully checked all the joints of your arms and legs, paying special attention to your hips.

“Strong body, good heart, your lungs sound clear and full. But are you suitable for breeding?” Jessica asked herself.

Both of her hands encircled your breasts, probing and caressing, checking for any potential defects.

“Not as vessel filled as they should be. You need more blood flow to the glands. Daily massages should help with that.”

It was humiliating, being touched so callously. It was medical, sure. And the Reverend Mother was a sister of the Bene Gesserit, but this was hardly protocol.

“The womb…”

Her hands slid down to your pubic area, probing and prodding just above the pubic bone. She did this for sometime, more carefully examining this area than anywhere else.

“It’s safe to say that you are fertile. Not as fertile as you should be, however. Estrogen rich foods, daily boric acid suppositories to help with pH balance… Yes, most certainly.”

Jessica gripped your thighs without warning, pulling them apart, exposing your vulva to her view. It was a quick look, she merely skimmed over you with her gaze.

“Aesthetically pleasing. Hmm.”

The Reverend Mother dropped her grip, tying the robe over you once more. To say that you were shocked was an understatement. Humiliation, confusion and flattery all brewed together in a jumbled mix, and you found that every possible response you had to the examination dried up in your throat.

“What?” Jessica smirked bemusedly. “You are very aesthetically pleasing, not just there, but everywhere.”

Propping yourself up on your elbows felt like the only correct de-escalatory measure. Tightening the robe over you felt necessary, covering yourself from her gaze. Jessica eyed you carefully, her hands cupping your cheeks and jaw.

“Let me make one thing clear. I do not explain my methods. I will not explain my methods. Once the desired outcome is made, there will be no room for discussion over my methods. I am the teacher, you are the pupil. Criticism will not be tolerated, neither will disobedience.”

A thousand questions raced through your head. Who had given her this authority over you? Why had she drugged you? How long had you stayed in a timeless state of unconscious bliss while the world worked around you? What if Irulan had needed your help while you were gone? What if your father had left with the rest of the Bene Gesserit, and you’d never gotten to say goodbye?

“I have questions.” you rasped, voice crackly and hoarse from not speaking for several days.

“I don’t have the patience to answer them. The only thing you need to know at this point is that you are not permitted to leave my side without my consent. That means you eat with me, you attend all meetings alongside me, you tend to my affairs when instruction is given and you sit quietly when I have nothing for you.” Jessica listed, getting closer, cupping your face more forcefully. “You sleep alongside me, you dress alongside me, and you most certainly do not hide yourself from me.”

Jessica slid a hand down your back, her other hand gripping the back of your head. Her lips pressed right against her ear, wet, hot air tickling at the sensitive flesh.

“And what we do when it is just us, what we do in those quiet hours once I am healed from labor, that you will never speak of.”

You looked up at her, eyes wide and troubled. Was she… Propositioning you for sex? Was this even a proposition or just a straight up demand. You wanted to open your mouth to protest, but Jessica was faster.

“Get up.” Jessica said, exerting control over you using the Voice.

Your body obeyed unwillingly, standing before her.

“Kneel.”

Your knees buckled, and her hands were quick to jerk your face up, glaring at you with intent.

“Never, ever attempt to speak without being spoken to again. Especially to tell me what I can and cannot do. Arrakis is under Emperor Paul’s jurisdiction now. What I do to ensure House Corrino remains subjected will be none of his concern.”

The fire in her eyes died down, replaced by a soft amusement.

“It won’t be bad, dear. None of it will be bad. You won’t ever worry about being forced into a diplomatic marriage without good warning. And if you do well, if you are a good student, I will have very little incentive to send you away.”

Jessica finished her lecture, amusing herself with the soft baby hairs that clung to your forehead.

“And from now on,” she continued, voice soft, “You call me Jessica.”

[xlovelybluebellex]

Little!Angel Dust? I think he'd regress involuntarily as a response to his work

You’re absolutely right and it breaks my heart

Little!Angel Dust Would…

🕷️As we’ve said, this poor boy regresses involuntarily. He doesn’t hate his regression, doesn’t like it either. The main reason to this is while it’s nice to feel small once in a while, he normally regresses in bad situations

🕷️He’s about 1-4 I’d say. However, when regressing, I think that he’ll either stick to exactly 1 or exactly 4. Like, either he’s in baby space, or he’s at young kid age.

🕷️He hates and I mean HATES anything that reminds him of a moth. So Vaggie makes sure he can’t see her wings when little.

🕷️Angel Dust loves cuddles, but only from a select few at a time. Normally it’s Husk, Charlie, and sometimes Cherri Bomb. However, other than them, he doesn’t like physical touch.

🕷️He’s the sassiest little guy. He’ll give the judgements looks, pretend not to hear when it’s bedtime, or tell you how you’re playing his game wrong without hesitation.

🕷️So while he’s a sassy boy, he’s also really sensitive. He’s terrified one day his friends just won’t like him anymore and get rid of him. This means he needs a lot of reassurances.

🕷️Dress up is one of his favorite games. He loves forcing Husk into the poofiest, pinkest dress he can find. And then the others will get a tiara or something, but Husk is normally the main victim in that.

🕷️Angel Dust is very talented in make up skills and that doesn’t stop when little! He loves to make Husk ‘beautiful’ with his little make up kit Charlie got him. Husk just deals with it too.

🕷️Husk is his caregiver. He’s the only who really knows how bad Angels situation is, so he makes sure Angel regresses around him at least once every two weeks.

🕷️He is SO clingy. Like, Husk can’t even go to the bathroom without this little baby spider toddling along and babbling about who knows what.

🕷️Angel sometimes speaks in Italian when little, so Husk learned a little for him. Now he calls Angel his “piccolo ragno” and “bambino”. Angel, in response, calls him “Gattino”

🕷️He loves anything that’s pink or glittery when little. Like, all his little gear? Pink. His pacifier? Both, with bambino written across the handle.

🕷️Still quite the prankster when little. But a bit more tame, as he’s not allowed to touch anything dangerous. He may just swipe something of Charlie’s or Husks, maybe even set a whoopie cushion underneath Vaggie when she sits.

🕷️Angel is very prone to tantrums. It’s not out of brattiness, but more so not wanting to regress. He just doesn’t want to be vulnerable with anyone.

🕷️However, once he’s all cried out, he’s good. He’ll even probably mumble out a little ‘sorry’.

🕷️Husk lets him try to play cards. Of course, Angel just ends up playing dolls with them. He loves pretending it’s a little monarchy with the kings and queens.

🕷️Angel makes drawings out of appreciation for everyone. He knows he can be a little tough, so he tries his best to be nice when he’s in a good mood. Normally these drawings are covered in paint and, you guessed it, glitter. However, they’re made with love.

🕷️Angel Dust still loves Fat Nuggets when little. He likes to cuddle the pig and freaks out if anyone’s ever rough with him.

Hope that was alright! Baby Angel is so sweet 🩷. Also I just need five minutes of Niffty alone with Val after Adam, just five.

[theroyalsims]

BREAKING: PRINCE NICKY QUITS!

That was fast!

Prince Nicky has officially ended his extremely short-lived military career, after quitting merely two months and three days into his basic training course with the Brindleton Royal Navy.

The Prince's premature "retirement" from the military is a first in the monarchy's entire history. Royal Princes are traditionally expected to enter and serve in the armed forces.

The late King Leopold trained and served with the Royal Air Force. Prince Jacques served in Rennaux's Army and even saw active duty. Prince Alistair trained with both the Royal Army and Navy, and was even deployed abroad. Even the Queen, as heir to the throne, trained for three years, after reaching the age of majority, with the Brindleton Royal Military Academy. Similarly, Crown Princess Anya went through the same course. Crown Princess Anya also volunteered to undergo the Army's Basic Citizen Military Training, to help encourage young female citizens to enter the program.

The news of Prince Nicky's departure from his training was announced via a palace press release:

"His Royal Highness The Prince Nicholas, with much regret, has decided to resign from his military course with the Brindleton Royal Navy due to personal reasons. The Prince is looking forward to returning to his royal duties, to serve the Crown and the people of Brindleton."

As to what those "personal reasons" are, we can only guess. The outcome is, perhaps, not a surprise given that Prince Nicky didn't really want to enter the military in the first place. A source shares:

"He really, really hated the idea but he was coaxed, or should I say bullied into it. The immense pressure of being a Prince and having your entire family - even your mum and sister - be a part of this tradition... it just got to him. Everyone encouraged him to do it, so he relented. But he's hated it since day one. He even cried over it and shared his frustrations with his friends and his girlfriend."

The Prince reportedly called it quits as early as now in order to avoid continuing into the year-long officers training course. The Prince was just a few weeks shy of finishing his basic training. His Royal Highness was reportedly warned by his own father that quitting would "ruin him."

The source further shares:

"When he told his family that he wanted out, they were so disappointed. Prince Jacques even warned him that if he were to quit, it would ruin him. They royals feel that Nicky's background in sports, his discipline, strength, and perseverance would make him a shoo-in for military life, but they were wrong."

Well, we can't say we're not a wee bit disappointed, but if this is the path Prince Nicky wants, who are we to question him? Still, we can't help but wonder how HRH's decision will affect him and his relationship with his family?

[newtonsheffield]

Okay. So I’ve finally read all of the snippets for the Bodyguard au and as always, chef’s kiss. I just really love the idea that even after Kate and Ant admit they love one another, not everything is magically fixed. Particularly with Anthony’s injury after getting shot.

Like, who’s in the room with him when the doctors tell him? Is this yet another moment when Violet blows up at Kate? What are Anthony’s thoughts immediately after he hears the news? What are Kate’s?

The angst is so real and I love it so much.

Oh it’s a rough day for all of them. It’s the day after Kate and Anthony have decided to let the palace officially announce their relationship and Violet is still feeling very anti-Monarchy. One particular member of the monarchy to be specific so there was already a lot of tension in the hospital room before Anthony got the news.

“Well, look on the bright side.” Anthony cleared his throat and Kate’s chest ached. “You can finally sleep on my left arm without me complaining about getting pins and needles.”

Kate bit back tears, guilt welling in her chest. “That’s not funny, Anthony. This isn’t funny.”

“No. It’s not.” Anthony sighed and Kate could have sworn she could see the beginnings of what terrified her. He’d resent her one day, for this. He’d resent her for the life they were living and all the sacrifices he’d have to make and most of all for the price he’d paid for saving her life. But this wasn’t about her. It wasn’t about how she was feeling.

“I’m sorry.”

Anthony shook his head, leaning his forehead against hers. “Don’t do that. Don’t. This is not your fault.”

“You shouldn’t be worried about me.”

“I would do it again. Even if I knew what would happen, I would do it again, Kate. And sure, my life’s going to be different and it might be a bit harder but please don’t think I blame you for this.”

Kate took a deep breath, swiping at her tears, “I just… I’m sorry. You’re dealing with this huge thing and I’m such a spoiled brat I’ve made it all about me.”

Anthony sighed, pulling his arm tighter around her waist, “I’m okay. I’m a little bit scared and this is going to mean changes for me but I’m going to recover. I’m going to get better. I have you, I have my family and I’m not sorry. I’m going to have a pretty amazing life. Your Dad basically told me yesterday I better marry you. He was very scary, but I’m excited.”

“We;;, he didn’t have to wear the crown.” Kate sighed, leaning her chin against his shoulder. “Even if it was just the small one. I’m excited to start our life together, we can go out to eat in restaurants now. We can share one iced coffee like people on instagram do. Oat milk obviously, your tummy gets sore.”

Anthony smiled, “You’re looking after me already.”

“I intend to take very good care of you during this recovery. You’re going to heal too fast. The doctors will be shocked.”

“Can’t wait, baby.”

Even so, Kate can’t stop the guilt in her chest when she goes outside to get Anthony a snack from the vending machine and she sees Anthony’s mother who’d left to update his brothers and sisters hours ago, her stare hard on Kate. Mrs Bridgerton had tears streaming down her cheeks and her shoulders are shuddering with her gasps.

“Mrs Bridgerton?”

“Of course you’re still here.”

Kate hated how small she felt taking the seat beside Anthony’s mother, the worst things she’d thought about herself and their relationship reflected back at her. “Mrs Bridgerton. This is a very difficult time, and-”

“And you’re looking for an excuse to leave him, now? You want me to tell him? Is that it?”

Kate stared at her, crossing her arms over her chest. “You don’t have a very good opinion of me do you?”

“It’s not about you. I’m scared for my son.” She said sharply, “I waited every day for him to come home when he was in the army. I cried, and I waited by the phone and I was relieved when he came back. And then he took that job and I was still a little relieved because I thought how dangerous is it really? How bad could it be. And now he’s nearly died. He’s lost the use of his arm and all for a woman who could break him even more. He nearly died for you. What else would he do?”

Kate nodded slowly, “I’m sorry this happened to him. I never wanted him to- I would rather he let me get shot. You don’t have to believe me now but I love your son. I want to marry him, I want us to have children together, I want an entire life with him. Like I said earlier: I’d never ask him to choose between me and your family. I’d let him go long before that. I hope you won’t ask him not to pick me.”

“I…” She trailed off. “I hope you’re telling the truth, about loving him. He’s not the kind of person who gets over things like this.”

“Neither am I.” Kate said firmly, “You’ll believe me someday. I’m going to be by his side as long as he wants me. We royals don’t really do anything anyway do we?”

Mrs Bridgerton chuckled a little, swiping at her tears, “I respect you just a little for standing up to me. Just don’t let him eat too much dairy, he pretends it doesn’t but it gives him a tummy ache.”

“I know it does.” Kate hummed, leaning back in her chair. “I’ve had to buy oat milk for him. It’s a rich person trend I’d hoped never to get into honestly.”

“If you hurt him I’ll hurt you. I don’t care who you are.”

“I respect that.”

“Good. At least we can respect one another.”

[blues824]

Child!GN!Lilia Vanrouge!Reader in the Remarried Empress

I decided to do GN!Child!Lilia Vanrouge!Reader. Requested by @spritofthesea​

Preface: I know nothing about Lilia as a child, but I assume that he was most likely raised to serve the monarchy of Briar Valley. Thus, that behavior (as well as a bit of childishness) reflects itself when you get isekai’d to this world.

Sovieshu

Upon finding out that his wife had found a lost child near the palace, he was very concerned. After all, you would most likely steal the Empress’s attention from him. We all know how jealous he gets after he realizes that Navier gives him a taste of his own medicine.

But, you wouldn’t be yourself if you didn’t start playing pranks every now and then. So, you would often mix up Sovieshu’s papers so that he can’t find the one he needs. You’ve also spilled an inkwell or two and blamed it on the mistress.

Eventually, the Emperor had enough and sent you to be trained by the army. He didn’t feel bad when he saw his wife crying and begging him not to, and he even said that it would do her some good as well. Jokes on him though because in just a few months you were running the army as a child because of your advanced military experience. 

This made him even angrier, but he couldn’t do much about it. He couldn’t banish you anywhere without proper justification. He once sent you on a merchant ship so that you might learn some discipline, but that didn’t work. Sure, you got more cultural experience, but you weren’t easily broken.

Rashta

She first thought you were adorable, until the whole inkwell incident. Rashta could be petty if she wanted to, so you could say that you met your match. While she would go to Sovieshu for comfort, you would go to Navier. That caused an even bigger rift between the two.

However, you weren’t one to cause harm through your pranks. You were aware that there was a child within the young mistress (thanks to your hearing abilities, you were able to hear the baby’s heartbeat), so your pranks would only cause slight annoyances rather than fear. A few times, you did bring up her first child.

When the Emperor sent you off to join the army, Rashta hated to admit that she was glad you were gone. That means that she had more time to deal with her old owner before you went telling on her. But when you came back, you were still the troublemaker you always were, just with the title of General.

A child had more power than her, and she was genuinely terrified. Because you had worked your way up to the top, and because you had magic, she felt as though the life of herself and her baby were in danger. But, the Emperor sent you on the merchant ship for a cultural experience.

Navier

She found you in her hiding spot, and she immediately took you in. She made sure that you had a proper bath and a change of clothes as well as a room that you could stay in. Through all this, she found herself getting attached rather quickly. Within a few weeks, she considered you her own.

Whenever you pull a prank, she has trouble trying not to laugh. But she will have a talk with you and treat you as a good parent would. She would take away some privileges and ‘ground’ you by making sure you attend behavioral classes.

But, her husband had enough and sent you to the army. She cried and begged him not to, but he was putting his foot down. Navier wept each night, feeling as though she was missing her child. Then, she got a letter from one of the generals saying that you were now a general as well because of your military expertise. 

Then, her husband had sent you on the merchant ship, and she was actually in support of this idea. It will help you in the future. She herself made connections in Luipt because she knew some of the language, so she was setting you up for success.

Heinrey

He saw you at the New Year’s Ball, and he saw how you stuck close to Navier. He doesn’t blame you, and by the looks of it she really cared about you. So, as he got closer to her, he made sure that you knew he accepted you.

It got to a point where he became a kind of step-father figure whenever you saw him in his bird form. You could understand what his squawks meant, and he often enjoyed your silly personality. As well as sending letters to your adoptive mother, he sent letters to you.

When he found out that Sovieshu had sent you into the army, he was there to comfort Navier. But what he didn’t tell her is that he felt her loss as well. He also felt like his child was gone. If he wasn’t angry before, he was definitely angry now. He was proud when the Empress told him that you were quickly rising through the ranks, though.

Then the merchant trip, but Heinrey wasn’t as angry. In fact, he was there in time to receive you in the Western Kingdom. There, he made sure you and the rest of the crew were comfortable during your stay. He listened to any stories you had to tell him, and he did so by paying all of his attention to you. Great step-father material.

[jeanbie]

WAYS TO SAY I LOVE YOU #5 ★ masterlist.

pairing: levi x reader

genre: royal guard au | warnings: mature language, fantasy worlds, violence, blood, character death, battle violence, decapitation, game of thrones inspired violence | wc: 3.4k

note: one of my fave works ever :')

⏤ Imagine the way they say I love you. Imagine the words shouted at top volume, in the middle of an argument, never meant to come out that way.

Growing up, Levi had rarely thought of anybody other than himself. He was selfish, arrogant, cold and standoffish to his friends and family, brooding in his chambers and isolated from children his age. And so, really, he can’t complain about the fact that his father got fed up by his antics and sent him to a facility outside of his village, grooming boys into men, men into Gods who would later serve Lords and Ladies. Levi had never expected to go up in the world, but he did; quite possibly, Levi had the biggest task on hand after his graduation- like every great Kingdom, there was a monarchy. And, as it so happened, their princess was in need of a protector.

He’d been doing that since he was nineteen, standing like a shadow behind the young princess and watching without judgement as she cried, as she obeyed, as she writhed under the stares of suitors and yells from the monarchy behind closed doors. Levi was still selfish, despising the King and Queen and at the same time, needing every moment of his life to be by your side, making sure nobody hurt you or even thought of touching you. Princess Y/N, the only daughter and heir to this Kingdom; his Princess and his life, who he’d do anything for.

Should the city fall, Levi had a conditioned procedure and a network of exits to take, including a well-known passage out of the city towards the Sacred Temple of the Anders, where he had trained meticulously for eight years of his life. Naturally, Levi had never felt the need to practise this with you- this Kingdom was safe and secure, and would never fall under siege. 

Of course, now, he curses himself; outside the window, Levi can see turrets of thick grey smoke rising to the sky and glimpses of flames inside shop windows, the screams of the people- by extension, his people- as they fled on foot, on horse, on all fours, escaping the flames and the gunshots and the arrows that were being shot from trees and dugouts, men on horseback.

“Your Grace, it is of paramount importance that we leave right this instant.”

Behind him, Levi can hear the grand maester shouting at you from the door to your keep, his chains clinking nervously as a thud sends bricks from a nearby avenue crashing through the castle walls. He gasps with horror and has the nerve to grab at your arm, as Levi sees when he turns around. Before he can intervene, you yank yourself out of his grasp with a scowl.

“I will leave when I please, and I will leave when Levi says so. If you have anything against my judgement, I would enjoy hearing it at a trial for your head. Now, if you don’t mind,” you huff, finally looking at Levi and as you turn, your expression falls. 

There’s no word from the King or Queen, or any other royal council member for that matter. As the world comes crumbling down, there’s only you and him, and the withering old maester who eventually loses nerve, treasonously scoffing in your direction before finally fleeing down the swirling staircase towards, presumably, the next best exit.

Levi follows his body as he leaves before looking back at you, feeling his heart wrench at your fallen expression, eyes filling with tears and skin glassy. He takes several steps forward, because Levi is the only person authorised to be within inches of you without asking beforehand, and takes your forearms in his hands gently.

“Princess, I believe it is time to go,” he says.

“My parents- the King, the Queen-”

“Should have already left, your Grace,” Levi finishes. Your bottom lip quivers with the threat of a cry, and Levi without thinking cups your face with his hands, his thumb smoothing a fallen tear away. “It’s okay. I’ve got you and I’m not going to let a single thing happen to you, okay?”

You nod around a sniffle, gently stepping away and placing your crown down onto the bed, on a pillow where you hope it will remain. If not, somebody else can wear it with pleasure; if there’s a chance your family are alive, they might even look for you once this is all over. Otherwise…

You look back at Levi, whilst he’s busy taking another glance out of the window as if analysing the outside damage. Levi was undeniably one of the strongest, bravest and most selfless people you thought you had ever met. He put you before anything, even if it meant danger for himself, and absolutely anybody in the world would be lucky to have him in their service. While he stares away, you catch your breath and slip your hand into his, wanting the safety of his touch, his presence, to physically feel him there with you.

When your hand slots into his, Levi snaps his head away from the damage and stares at them, intertwined. He sniffs and inhales the smell of dust and brings your hand to his mouth, kissing your knuckles and finally looking at you with a scared, yet composed breath of air: “Okay. Stay as close to me as you can, okay?”

“Yes,” you reply quietly, immediately doing as he says and gluing yourself to his body. He welcomes it, embracing it, as he hurriedly begins a descent down the staircase and onwards with his pre-planned escape route. 

It’s simple, and easy to navigate, made up of stairways and corridors that only he knows about, lefts and rights down walkways that hadn’t been dusted in years. With every grumble of damage above your head, you whimper, following Levi further down the castle before finally reaching the dungeon doors. It could be easy for Levi, if he were the type, to kill you in here, or hand you over to the invaders as a welcome present, but he doesn’t; he pushes the door open and pulls you inside, setting off towards the back entrance that just occurs to you is open and untouched, revealing out towards the back of the castle near the creek, and the open passage you both used on evenings to explore the city and the fields, catch frogs in the spring in the pools, watch fireflies and lanterns on summer evenings.

Levi has you halfway down the corridor when suddenly he pushes you into an alcove, the sound of spraying bullets echoing in the corridor. A torn cry of horror leaves your throat as Levi pushes his weight onto you and against the wall in a crouch. A series of voices in a foreign dialect laugh from further by the exit, footsteps slowly moving forward. They think they’ve got a hit.

“Are you hit? Are you hurt?” Levi asks hurriedly, his hands searching for injuries he won’t forgive himself for.

“No, no. Are you?” you reply and he shakes his head quickly, sighing with premature relief. “Levi-”

“I am going to go out there and I’m going to clear the way for us,” he explains, and the plan sounds diabolical and you shake your head as he speaks, “and when I say so, you will run down that corridor and outside. If I’m not behind you, then you must go without me. Go as far as you can, past the forest like we used to, towards the windmill and the lonely tree.”

“Levi-”

“There will be someone there for you,” Levi continues breathlessly, “and they will take you someplace safe, okay? Promise me, please. Promise me you will do as I say.”

You gape at him as he tries to hand you something in his fist. “What? No, absolutely not, I will not leave you behind! Who do you think I am?”

“You are the Princess and your safety is my number one concern.”

“Yes, I am the Princess, and I command you to stay by my side,” you stress indignantly. “I am not leaving here without you.”

Levi’s face darkens with frustration, the item in his hand now forced into yours. You realise that it is a necklace- his necklace, with his family ring attached like a pendant, the chain slightly dirty and skinny. As tears pool in your eyes, you glare at him.

“Don’t be so stupid,” Levi snaps. “Don’t you dare put my life before yours.”

“But you can put mine before yours?”

“That is my job!” Levi replies. The footsteps are approaching closer, hurried and searching. “Just do as I say!”

“No, I can’t-I can’t leave you, Levi.”

“You hold no obligation to save my life,” Levi points out. “So, why?”

“Because,” you cry out. “Because I love you, Levi! That’s why!”

The words come out without you wanting them to, and you can’t undo it; Levi hears it over the crashes of explosions above you and he’s rendered speechless, his eyes looking at every feature of your face with an unreadable expression. He looks pained, heartbroken, his head tilting up with a forced, “fuck,” and he blinks rapidly, to stop his eyes from filling up.

“Why,” he says quietly, looking back at you; his eyebrows are pinched, his face in agony, “why now? Why would you say that now?”

“I’m sorry, I don’t know if I’ll get to say it again,” you admit, and after you say them, Levi looks like he’s actually about to cry when he pulls your face towards his, capturing your lips in a firm and deep kiss. It’s short, because it has to be, and he holds your face for a little longer before sighing shakily and pulling away. “Levi- please-”

“I’ll be right back,” he promises, nodding as he speaks. He reaches for his sword- he knows how to use it around the hunting rifles, because they’re slow to reload, and heavy, and he’s not. “You know what to do. Okay? Hm? Yeah, okay?”

You force yourself to nod: “Okay.”

Levi doesn’t want to leave, but he knows that above anything else he wants in the world, he wants you to be able to live, and rest at the end of the day. Granting himself another few seconds to look at you and memorise your face, he smiles around his pain and turns into the hallway. Immediately as he steps out, hellfire; you clench your eyes closed and cover your ears with your hands, struggling to breathe around heavy sobs. From your mouth leaves frantic cries to God, asking him that if he’s there and if he loves you, will he save the one you need to keep living?

A few moments pass, and as you bury your head between your knees, a cold hand on your head makes you shoot up with alarm. Spotting Levi’s face in the blur of your tears makes you cry more, not at first recognising the wound in his leg, the blood pouring down his skin and his trousers torn around the knees. Levi says something- you can see his lips moving but nothing is coming out; he forces you up off the floor and holds you close to him as he limps back out into the corridor. As he hurries you down, you trip over the extended hands of bodies Levi has slain, their faces forever remembered as the ones who tried to take him away from you.

The sunshine of the creek is what you can see, and it occurs to you that Levi has smuggled you out. As expected, by the apple tree by the fountain is the white horse Levi raised from a foal, his mane matted and slightly bloody. He whinnies as Levi clambers forward, and before he raises himself up onto his back, he helps you up, a hand on your legs as he lifts you with a quiet grunt. He doesn’t have much time- the sound of battle cries back towards the castle indicates that more rebels have seen the slaughter, and they know you’ve escaped. 

Levi untangles his horse’s reins from the tree branch and heaves himself up; you're sitting in his lap, essentially, unsafely with your body facing his and legs swung around his waist. He does this for his own selfish needs to keep you safe, his arms around you to cage you in so you don’t fall. Wasting no time, Levi rattles the reigns and the horse gallops towards the entry.

For a few minutes, he thinks he’s safe.

Your head is on his shoulder, your ragged gasps of air in his ear and blowing on his neck. Levi just wants to cry- he wants to cry so badly and loudly, and lift you up in his arms and tell you that he loves you and that he’d do anything for you. Those three words are on his tongue ready to be spilled when the crack of a whip sends a shudder down his spine. Over his shoulder, you squeak with fear as a herd of rebels emerges from down the street, blobs that slowly gain shape as they hurry towards you with haste.

The scenery is a green and brown blur, the smoke from your kingdom clustering in the sky and filling the air with a choking and overwhelming smell of ash and fire. That same fire catches to the trees, flames spreading like water spilling and the wildlife protected by your family name scurry away to safety, deer on the road next to you, a squirrel catching a ride on the back of a wild wolf that pays no mind to Levi and his horse. It’s a game of life or death.

Further down the narrow path, Levi sees them; he sees the group of Anders boys standing around the lonely tree on top of the passing hill, where the end of the kingdom stands. He can make out three, on horseback and he doesn’t let himself get too excited- instead he sends his horse rushing towards them. Behind the three, there was more, he could see heads bobbing like fishing boats as the horse settled on the grass. Anders could help them- Anders could get rid of the rebels behind you.

Around his waist, Levi feels you shuffle, your hands creeping up his back between his shoulder blades as you sit back to look at his face. He trusts his horse and looks at you with faith.

“We’re almost there,” he promises, his eyes looking deep into yours as they flicker to the rebels and back to them: “Don’t look at them, baby, look at me, okay? Look at me, Y/N.”

You do, focusing in on his gaze.

“I love you so much,” Levi says, his composure slipping. “I love you.”

“I know,” you reply softly. His horse gallops faster, nearing the hill. The grass is right ahead, “I know. I love you too-”

A horrified scream leaves Levi’s throat as the rebels send out their arrows; one flies through the back leg of his horse and the other shoots straight through your skull, a circle of red around the middle of your eyes as the arrow hits your brain and kills you instantly. As his horse falls, so do you; everything goes tumbling to the twigs and gravel in a matter of seconds and Levi cannot breathe.

Anders move from the hill downwards but he’s not even looking. Levi feels his whole body shaking and his heart hammering in his chest, bile in his throat; your head is split open with crimson, the blood shining in the sun and Levi cries out loud, shouting to the skies as he frantically holds your head with his hands, feeling his body go rigid with tremors as he inhales the smell of your skull, his hands covered with it. This was his fault- he had told you not to look; if you’d have looked, you could have seen them raising their arrows, he could have taken cover - he could have saved you.

Levi is not the only person paralysed; the shooter freezes on his horse. He wasn’t supposed to hit you. He was aiming for Levi, but his horse had jolted and he let go too soon; without you, there was no chance the other kingdoms would accept their King on the throne. He pulls his horse back, trying to flee, but Mike from Anders slices the leg of his horse off, watching the stallion move to the floor with pain and Mike ends its suffering before it can truly suffer, thrusting his sword into the chest of the shooter without a word.

Levi sits. 

Even when Erwin, another man from Anders, comes up behind him with his hands on his shoulders, trying to force him back, he doesn’t budge. He can barely hear Erwin screaming at him to move, everything feels like he’s underwater. When Erwin removes his hand quickly and Levi feels the floor vibrating beneath his knees, Levi looks up. Anders have tucked their tails and left, Mike now on his horse and retreating back to the tree. The rebels can’t touch them there- they’re on sacred ground.

In his head, flashing images of your smile replay, the static in his ears. This was his fault. This was all his fault.

Quietly, Levi whispers I’m sorry, his lips on your hands as he gently sets you down on the floor. Mike rides up to him, stopping for one moment and looking at him silently. Nothing is said but he knows what to do, he knows what Levi wants. 

In less than three seconds, Mike jumps off his horse and gathers you in his arms, mounting the horse once more and riding towards the plains. If Levi’s lucky, they might get his body too.

Rising to his feet, Levi feels a wave of anger washing over him; his body vibrates with hostility and his face is darkened with pain and sorrow and guilt. As the rebels surge towards him, singing battle cries, Levi unsheathes his sword and stands his ground, feeling the energy from the earth ride through his body. All he can think about is you- his Y/N, his Princess, his meaning and will to live.

And they’ve taken that away from him.

Levi fights for your honour until he feels the clean blade of a sword on his neck. When the blade cuts and slices Levi’s head off his neck and shoulders, Mike’s horse bristles and he turns away unexpectedly, bringing you closer to his chest and retreating down the plain and back towards the Temple of Anders.

If Erwin wanted, he and his men could shoot those rebels, who laugh and cheer tauntingly as they drag Levi’s body up and pull it towards one of their horses. On the side, in a sack on one of the stallions, Erwin spots the tufts of fur from a wolf from the sacred forests, blood dripping from the sawn-off head like a tap. The foreign rebels are famous for what they’ll do next, and what they’ll show to celebrate the death of the monarchy- the irony of a sacred creature sewn onto a sacred guard to the sacred monarchy.

Erwin turns away. What’s done is done, and the only thing he can do now, is save himself.

[zee-has-commitment-issues]

Alright besties, I have finished the season, and it is time to release my episode notes. I would like to call this my

Season Three Wrapped (Spoilers, duh)

I cried a whopping 25 times this season. I cried the most as Episode Six with 11 times sobbed I mentioned Nilcent a total of 4 times I asked where Walter was 3 times I said "I can't handle this" 12 times

Episode notes below the cut

Episode One:

I cried: three times

-Oh Kristina won’t even look at him.  -Oh she’s sick’ -Well Linda’s fired up.  -“You are a piss person” YES -TAKE HIS MONEY SIMON  -boyfriend time omg  -COZY OMG  -THEY’RE SO CUTE I’M GONNA DIE  -Oh shit they’re just exposing everything damn  -No but I actually hate Linda rn tho  -No but Kristina’s problem is that she needs Erik’s death to mean something and it never will.  -STEDRIKA  -Aw poor Felice is depressed  -FINALLY SOMEONE WANTS TO MODERNIZE THE MONARCHY  -Literally fuck you Linda  -angry Simon FINALLY  -NILCENT  -KISSING IN PUBLIC  -BOYFRIEND. THEY SAID THE WORD BOYFRIEND  -OOH THEY KNEW ABOUT SARA  -FUCKING MARCUS  -PICTURES OF SIMON IN HIS ROOM OMG  -THE HEART STILL ON HIS HAND I’M DYING  -NILS MY BELOVED  -SARA STILL HAS STELLAS SWEATER IM GONNA BE SICK  -NO NOT MICKE STOP NO OMG EW NO  -I love them for having an intervention for her  -HE’S SMILING FINALLY OH MY GOD  -HES TRACING OVER THE TATTOO IM GONNA DIE  -Oh shit  -Oh shit they’re blaming wilhelm  -WHERE THE FUCK IS WALTER?  -THEY X’D ANETTE OH HELL NO  -NOT CLOSING DOWN HOLY SHIT  -my candle just blew out and I don’t think that’s a good thing.  -Why do I feel like it was Nils that came forward? 

Episode 2

I cried: two times

Are they about to have phone sex? 

Oh my god they’re having phone sex 

Jk 

Oh homophobia 

Oh Jesus these reporters keep dragging Wilhelm into this 

Oh damn Kristina is REALLY sick 

And she really doesn’t want to talk to Wille damn 

Farima is more of a mother to Wilhelm than Kristina is 

Stop talking about Simon on the bus I will fight you 

Oh this bitch is racist 

THEY GET TO HIKE 

YES YOU WILL GET TO SLEEP TOGETHER 

I am once again asking where the hell Walter is 

Micke good father arc? Excuse me? 

Okay driving Queen 

Wilhelm get out of choir 

I literally hate this 

NOT A SINGING ARC STOP 

OH THEY’RE MAKING OUT NOW 

I literally can’t tell if I hate this or not. Wilhelm please quit choir everyone is begging you 

Fredrika being so depressed because she doesn’t have a cellphone is peak comedy 

I THINK IT WAS NILS. OH THEY KNEW HE WAS GAY BECAUSE OF HIS INITIATION 

NO NOT NILS CRYING OMG 

Oh my god. Oh my god. 

Damn didn’t think I’d feel bad for August but let the bitch run you know? 

August please don’t electrocute yourself it’s not worth it 

Oh he’s just gonna call Sara never mind 

AUGUST OMG STOP MAKING ME FEEL BAD FOR YOU 

OH THEY’RE GONNA FIGHT 

NO LET THEM FIGHT MORE PLEASE IM BEGGING 

DID SOMEONE SEND HIM CONVERSION CAMP SHIT?! 

I’m gonna murder someone actually 

Praying Simon sends this to Wilhelm and doesn’t post it because I can’t handle him getting into more public debate rn I will combust it is episode two 

Don’t post it Simon don’t post it Simon don’t post it Simon

Well fuck 

I TOLD YOU NOT TO POST IT SIMON 

oh maybe it was ok 

oh no it wasn’t 

Damn 

Well that was short lived. 

I literally can’t handle this rn 

Fuck. 

SAY IT BACK 

THANK GOD 

Simon deserves to stand up to his mom and I love him for it 

I need stedrika to be together instead of just acting like they are 

I love them so much and I love them for trying even though they don’t understand what Felice is going through 

FIRST WALTER SIGHTING 

The big three sharing a tent I’m in heaven 

ROSH AND AYUB SAVE THE PARTY SCENE 

Oh my god Rosh and Stella is real 

OH MY GOD FREDRIKA IS JEALOUS 

OH MY GOOD GOD 

JEALOUS FREDRIKA 

THIS IS SO AWKWARD I’M GONNA DIE 

Oh shit we’re fighting 

Oh fucking hell NO PLEASE NO 

OH THE QUEEN IS REALLY SICK OK 

Episode 3

I cried: two times

Oh damn she’s like… suicidal 

Wilhelm honey you don’t need everything on your shoulders omg 

Oh he looks so small 

STOP I HATE PEOPLE 

I hate Linda the most rn

Wait the year is wrong on their hats isn’t it? 

Never mind.

Oh damn Vincent called out 

Oh damn August called out 

People are gonna call Wilhelm selfish for this but I think it’s totally valid for him to be upset that Simon doesn’t care about his feelings rn I also think it’s valid for Simon to be distracted as he’s thrown into a world he doesn’t understand yet. I think they’re both selfish in this moment. 

WILHELM QUIT CHOIR IM BEGGING YOU 

YES TRICK AUGUST INTO THERAPY I’M BEGGING 

Malte’s ability to shapeshift into this shitbag needs to be studied

Linda begging you to read the room 

Literally fuck these guys leave Wilhelm alone 

Simon cry baby. Do it. Cry. 

YES THANK GOD LET IT OUT 

FUCK NOW IM CRYING 

I LIKE YOU SIMON. I DO. 

WILHELM LIKES YOU. ROSH LIKES YOU. AYUB LIKES YOU 

Simon’s no longer grounded and they’re gonna have sex 

Are they gonna get caught making out by the school inspector because I literally cannot handle that 

LMFAO 

Henry and Walter shut your mouths you’re undoing all your hard fandom work

CAN VINCENT SHUT THE FUCK UP PLEASE 

I love Felice getting to interact with her dad 

Oh I’m sobbing again 

Oh damn I’m nervous 

FELICE I SWEAR IF YOUR THE REASON THIS SCHOOL GETS SHUT DOWN ISTG

Valborg is back, baby! 

Sara’s gonna crash this car 

Augusts gotta a little crazy in his eye lowkey and I don’t like it 

Oh god he went to Micke’s 

MICKE ERIKSSON OF BJÄRSTAD I'M SCREAMING 

August…. Redemption arc??? 

No he made it about himself again never mind 

THEY'RE BAKING OMG 

Stedrika baking gfs

Sara and Felice be acting a little fruity ngl 

No because Micke is kinda slaying this season by being the best parent and I was NOT prepared for that 

WILHELM IN THE CHOIR WILL NEVER FAIL TO SEND ME LIKE BESTIE WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE 

HE'S NOT EVEN PAYING ATTENTION HE DOESN'T KNOW WHAT HE'S DOING AND HE DOESN'T KNOW HOW TO SING BESTIE I AM BEGGING YOU TO FIND ANOTHER HOBBY ANY OTHER HOBBY 

SARA’S BACK THINGS ARE GONNA GET WEIRD 

YESSSSS WILHELM’S GONNA FIND ANOTHER HOBBY MAYBE 

aw baby Simon doesn’t enjoy singing anymore 

THEY’RE GONNA FUCK 

OMG THEY’RE GONNA FUCK 

oh the girls are not happy about Sara being back 

Wilmon only stopped for a second they are ON A MISSION 

damn Micke why’d you let her down so soon 

OH DAMN OH DAMN OH THEY'RE ON THEIR KNEES FOR EACH OTHER OK THEN 

OH THIS IS EXPLICIT OH MY GOD 

OH MY GOD OH 

Wilhelm is a top confirmed I guess damn 

WILHELM IS NOT A TOP CONFIRMED I GUESS

If Micke is drunk or high I swear to god 

Ok we’re good I think 

They’re nakey 

Aw a little boy wants his picture. Like I know it’s gonna bite him in the ass later but it’s super cute rn 

HAPPY BABY SIMON 

Literally shut up Vincent stop making me hate you 

And it bit him in the ass 

Fuck. Simon go live at Hillerska I can’t handle this rn 

Episode 4

I cried: three times

FUCK HE’S CRYING ALREADY

I know this isn’t the point but them calling each other boyfriend makes me want to giggle like a child every time because OMG 

oh they’re taking a test and they’re all cheating 

VINCENT SHUT UP 

NO WILHELM NOT THE PRIVILEGE NOT A PUNISHMENT LINE PLEASE THATS YOUR MOTHER’S PLEASE I’M BEGGING YOU 

Simon and Wilhelm both having a crisis about their future because they don’t have a choice is gonna make me hurl I can’t do this 

August around Sara season 3 has Wilhelm around Simon season 1 energy and I can’t 

Oh did something happen to the Queen? Why are they acting like he’s the king right now? 

OH SHE’S SO SICK OMG 

Farima knows how to handle him and and that’s amazing 

Fuck they’re erasing him 

She passed! 

Again Micke is running away with the parent Olympics and that is BAD 

He deleted his accounts 😭

WILHELM STOP THIS NOW. YOU DO REPRESENT QUEER PEOPLE LET IT BE KNOWN JESUS CHRIST 

That poor dude shaved his head for no reason 

Nilcent moment 

HENRY AND WALTER 

I simply love Henry 

August is a good leader and I hate it so much 

WHERE IS ANETTE LILJA BRING HER BACK. 

Vincent, you look ridiculous. Stand up. 

Wilhelm you’re a hypocrite don’t make me mad at you I am BEGGING. 

Stop clapping for him. He doesn’t deserve this. 

DRAG HER ASS SIMON 

Vincent I’m so mad at you but that was kind of a slay 

They really said “we might give up because we don’t have dinner” and that is the most privileged accurate thing that could have happened 

Henry and Walter offering 300 for a half eaten lollipop is SO ME 

August just admitted to being anorexic and no one batted an eye like???! 

VINCENT ADHD CONFIRMED THANK GOD 

Oh shit the boys are fighting 

Henry spent 2500 on a bag of chips I’m CRYING 

“Show your dick for Hillerska” I’M SCREAMING 

FELICE IS YOU GET THIS SCHOOL SHUT DOWN ISTFG 

THEM WAKING UP ON THE FLOOR TOGETHER I’M NOT OK 

THEY DID IT BOYS! SUCCESS 

Nilcent moment 

FUCK Sara I hate you I love you I’m mad at you 

I love Rosh and Ayub and I know they’re trying to be good friends but like… yall gotta support him at some point 

Oh god oh no. Erik did it. Erik did the homophobic initiation. Oh this is gonna break him. Oh god 

No ERIK I TRUSTED YOU ERIK I BELIEVED IN YOU ERIK I WROTE A BOOK ABOUT YOU OMG PLEASE I CAN'T OMG NO ERIK PLEASE ERIK 

But who got beaten up? Who got the boner? Was it Nils? Was it Vincent? WAS IT AUGUST? It had to have been Nils, right? 

Episode 5

I cried: four times

They’re absolutely going to break up this episode. I can feel it. 

Oh he’s having a nightmare right? 

they’re passing notes and no one is ok 

Vincent you can’t be mean and gay and homophobic and racist. I need you to pick a struggle. 

Fredrika gf era 

Don’t be drunk don’t be drunk don’t be drunk don’t be drunk 

Don’t be high don’t be high don’t be high don’t be high 

What the hell is in August's letter I need to know 

I’m literally not okay with the fact that Wilhelm is raising himself right now 

Wilhelm’s idol being crushed in between his fingers and having no one to talk to about it is making me want to kill someone

NO DON'T IGNORE SIMON PLEASE OMG 

Please tell me Wilhelm has chosen another hobby 

NO WILHELM PLEASE FIND ANOTHER HOBBY YOU LITERALLY HATE SINGING 

don’t lie don’t lie 

Wilhelm stop projecting i’m begging 

The music room is homophobic I can’t take this anymore they couldn’t even get off in there like please 

WHAT'S IN THE LETTER 

WHAT'S IN THE LETTER SARA PLEASE 

Micke you were doing so well 

Micke please 

Stop comparing Simon and Felice, Wilhelm it never landed you anywhere good 

WILHELM PURPLE NAILS 

MICKE NO 

MICKE PLEASE YOU WERE DOING SO WELL 

MICKE 

MICKE NO 

Linda literally fuck you you don’t know anything I hate you so much take a break please I used to love you so much I’m going to scream

Simon can’t take care of everyone all the time please give him a break 

HIS PURPLE NAILS I CAN'T 

NO SWEETHEART DON'T TAKE IT OFF NO PLEASE 

Them all dressed as waiters is sending me into orbit 

WILHELM BIRTHDAY SIMON SINGING STOP THIS IS SO CUTE 

SIMON MADE THE SANDWICH THIS SEASON I'M LOSING IT 

August and Wilhelm should not be able to sit in the same car in case of another Erik situation. That is the entire Swedish line of succession in one vehicle. 

Wilhelm got one good dick and suddenly started liking kids 

WILHELM WHY WOULD YOU TALK ABOUT POISON RIGHT NOW 

the breakup is coming I can feel it 

Nilcent moment 

This is the most awkward thing I’ve ever seen in my life I can’t hand this 

HIS BIRTHDAY SONG IS ABOUT A FROG I CAN'T HANDLE THIS 

Sara and August things are weird 

NO NOT A NEW WATCH LET HIM KEEP THE OLD ONE OMG 

I HATE THIS I HATE THIS I HATE THIS 

oh August is chugging wine 

On a chair no less 

What have they done to Felice? No actually what did they do to Felice this season? I’m not okay with it. 

The birthday dinner is so uncomfortable that I actually can’t handle it like I will have to actively skip it every time 

I’m convinced they’re reading fanfic at this point I’m not able to think of any other explanation for some of this 

“Class Bad Boy” is August. Oh god if they only knew 

They call him Agge I hate August but omf that is so cute 

If they get back together and Felice sees it all hell will break loose and I am sure that is what is going to happen 

WHAT'S IN THE LETTER 

August’s letter just made me sob wtf 

OH 

fucking Fredrika 

Fuck Wilhelm stop. Stop sabotaging yourself 

Welp he’s popping off and Simon’s gonna dip 

Oh god

Oh 

Oh my good god 

Oh I can’t handle this 

Simon can’t either 

If Linda is the reason Wilmon breaks up and I will murder someone 

THEY JUST BROKE UP AND THE SHOW ENDED LIKE 

OH MY FUCKING GOD 

Episode 6

I cried: ELEVEN TIMES

No they’re so sad omg 

“It feels like you two are never really over” she’s right 

WILHELM TAKES RESPONSIBILITY FOR HIS OWN PROBLEMS I CAN'T I’M SO PROUD 

Has that one extra been a 3rd year this whole time? 

Walty moment 

MICKE? 

Not Micke just a car

Sara better be the reason they get back together 

Walter’s outfit slays 

HOLY SHIT HILLERSKA STOPS MID DAY JUST LIKE THAT 

Oh August broke 

The third year trio breaking down together I literally cannot take this I will break 

Rosh and Ayub I need you to take a chill pill 

NO THE BOOK OMG 

POOR ONE OUT FOR HILLERSKA 

August coming clean omg 

Can’t believe Vincent is the voice of reason 

OMG CHESS HAS ACTUALLY BEEN A METAPHOR I’M NOT MAKING SHIT UP

Oop library

Panic attack 

HENRY FUCK OFF 

“WE’RE LIKE BROTHERS” OK I'LL FORGIVE YOU HENRY BUT ONLY BECAUSE OF THAT 

HUSFAR DOING SHOTS OMG 

emo Wille is killing me. Like same. 

PLEASE HE ATE THAT 

PARTY PRINCE 

I love Malin being in on it 

PARTY PRINSEN 

FAKE GRASS 

REVOLUTION PLAYING 

August and wille???? 

Understanding 

Oh god I’m not surviving this conversation 

Oh fuck that HURT 

Fruity? 

Not fruity ok 

Yay Sara 

Felice and Sara made me cry

ROSH AND STELLA OMG 

NILS CAME OUT OMG OMG 

VINCENT IS THE BEST ALLY OMG OMG  

SAUGUST BREAKUP OMG 

“YOU ARE IN LOVE WITH THE PERSON YOU BECOME WITH ME” OMFG 

“IT'LL PASS” OMFG SHE SAID THE THING 

The boys’ immediate “we should leave” they’re learning slowly but surely

OH THE LAKE 

IT TAKES A FOOL TO REMAIN SANE OMFG 

I’m shaking 

Oh their breakup is killing me entirely I am sobbing like a child 

THOSE ARE BARE BUTTS OMFG 

STEDRIKA 

Henry and Walter OMFG 

THE LIGHTS 

his song omg 

WE HAD SIMON’S SONG AND NOW WE HAVE WILLE’S SONG AND I LITERALLY CAN’T TAKE THIS RN 

MIN REVOLUTION

SNOWGLOBE IN THE TRASH OH HE’S ABDICATING. OH SHIT HE’S ABDICATING. I DON’T NEED TO SEE THE REST I KNOW HE’S ABDICATING

THEY HAVE LAST NAMES 

WILHELM QUIT CHOIR THANK GOD 

HILLERSKA’S FIGHT IS FAR FROM OVER 

THEY’RE SINGING SIMONS VERSION I CAN'T HANDLE THIS I CAN'T HANDLE THIS I CAN'T HANDLE THIS 

BORIS AND WILLE 

MAMMA OCH PAPPA ÄR HÄR 

KRISTINA APOLOGY 

Nothing was in vain and I never gave up 

I HOPE YOU HAVE A GOOD SUMMER OMFG 

NEW YORK 

Oh he’s talking about not wanting it 

HE DOESN'T WANT THIS 

SHES GONNA GIVE IT TO AUGUST 

OMG HE'S GONNA DO IT 

Oh August just realized he’s gonna be king 

ALL THAT RUNNING PAYING OFF BABES 

He’s in the backseat 

Felice is in the front 

She didn’t go to new York 

ENDGAME BITCHES 

No I can’t handle a fucking montage rn 

THE FINAL WALL BREAK

[spacebarbarianweird]

OC Questions. Alethaine Ancunin.

Based on this list of Tav questions

Alethaine Ancunin is the daughter of Astarion and OC Tav Tiriel. She is a High-Elf/Dhampir and Sorcerer/Necromancer with Lawful Neutral Allignment.

SCARS

As a dhampir she doesn't have many scars due to fast regeneration but her right palm looks burnt. It's a result of being chained in silver by "dhampir hunters". She ended up murdering them and reviving as ghols - but the skin never properly healed.

Upon returning home, Alethaine tried to hide the scars from her parents which ended with her mother forcing Alethaine to put off the gloves and show her what had happened.

RELIGION AND SUPERSTITIONS 

Alethaine is rational and cold-minded. She doesn't have any superstitions and isn't into religion.

"Maybe if I find a god of dhampirs, I will become a devoted cleric! But, alas, it seems like we have neither souls not gods!"

THE PREFERABLE WAY TO DIE

Alethaine has never thought about it. As a dhampir, she is going to live for at least seven hundred years and it's plenty of time.

CLASS

Sorcerer/Necromancer. She was born with innate abilities for necromancy which manifested in the age of eight when revived a dead kitten. Alethaine controls her abilities and knows a variety of dark spells.

"I will suck you dry and revive as a ghoul. And you will carry my books until I get tired of you!"

PREJUDICES

Alethaine doesn't believe dhampirs are capable of creating any form of organizaton let alone a state. On the other hand, she is distrustful of mortals, too, and usually prefer to assume the worst.

CHILDREN

Alethaine isn't sure if dhampirs are capable of having children and if they can what this child will be. As a demisexual, Alethaine hasn't met a person who she would be comfortable to share bed with, let alone starting a family. But she is suprisingly good with kids, especially little dhampirs.

FAMILY

Alethaine was a suprise child, because neither Astarion nor Tyrael had any idea about dhampirs (and they were still pretty rare 20 years post-game). But, gods. she was (and is) loved! Astarion saw fatherhood as a chance to become a better version of himself, Tyrael just suddenly felt an urge to be a mother. Alethaine knows she is always welcome at her parents' house and none of them will ever judge her (even if she really fucks up).

REASONS TO CRY

Alethaine knows a lot about the world and it makes her anxious. She can cry because of injustices and if other dhampirs suffer. Alethaine often cries out of stress. Astarion taught her it's better to cry out sorrows than withhold emotions.

POLITICAL OPINIONS

Alethaine has a soft spot for old-fashioned monarchies and sees them as a pretty rational way of ruling rather than oligarchies or republics.

LANGUAGES

She is bilingual from birth since Astarion preferred to speak Elven to her when they were alone. He also taught her Abyssal and Thieves Cant. With years, Alethaine learned Infernal and the language of Drows.

FAVOURITE GENRE

Romance novels. She usually has to read a lot of books on magic and other "serious stuff" and when she has a chance she reads the most tooth-rotting stuff she can think of.

HEAVY OR LIGHT SLEEPER 

Alethaine is a light sleeper - she immediately wakes up if something is off, having almost predatory instincts.

FEARS

Alethaine fears loneliness - as a dhampir she feels off among the mortal and is afraid the older she gets the less people there will be who tolerate her.

She also fears to lose her freedom and mind autonomy. As a necromancer, she deals with unimaginable horrors and she knows how easy it is to lose yourself to some dark power.

STUPID THINGS TO BELIEVE

Stupid thing or not, she believes there is her thiramin somewhere (she is an elf, after all) and she just needs to find him or her. Besides she relates to her father- Astarion got his "knight in shining armour", so why shouldn't Alethaine?

COMFORT FOOD

Sweets. Alethaine has a sweet tooth.

SLEEPING

Alethaine sleeps as if she is in a coffin. On her back, hands at chest. At the same time, she is the person who hoardes all the pillows and blankets to sleep as comfortable as possible.

COPING

Alethaine often cries - she doesn't like to hide her emotions. When she is anxious, she starts walking on the ceiling. Sometimes, when everything is just too much, she goes to the nearest graveyard. It's possible to find her lying on some fresh grave with her arms open and eyes shut.

[storyofmychoices]

Adventures With Threep

[Mal Volari x Daenarya Blades 1 + Beyond] [Mal’s Orphanage] [Mal Volari x Daenarya Blades 2 AU]

Pairings: Mal Volari x Daenarya (F!OC) With: Threep, Rayden (M!OC) Book: Blades of Light and Shadow Word Count: > 1,500 Rating/Warnings: General; (mpreg!Threep)

Synopsis: Three vignettes of Threep's life with Rayden, Mal, and Daenarya.

The regal nesper fluttered through the open window, gracefully moving through the house, looking for his favorite human. Threep landed softly on the floor, his paws a soft pitter-patter against the worn wooden floorboards of the orphanage. Threep's sleek fur brushed softly against his leg. 

"Kitty!" Rayden cheered, scooping the nesper eagerly into his arms. He hugged him warmly, nuzzling his face against Threep's. "I've missed you so much!"

"Your sentiment is reciprocated," Threep purred happily. 

"Re-sip-prated? What's that?" The young boy questioned curiously as he carried the bat-cat to the couch. 

Threep smiled, relaxing in the boy's tender embrace. "It means I missed you too, Rayden."

The child squealed with excitement, plopping down on the couch with his favorite kitty in his lap. His fingers ran gingerly through the creature's silky fur, watching as it shimmered in the sun's rays peeking through the window. 

Threep stretched out, enjoying the warmth and comfort surrounding him.

"Oh!" Rayden's eyes popped open in alarm. His small hand pressed against his forehead in a gentle tap. "I forgot! I didn't get you a snack! You must be so hungry." 

The nesper's head dipped to the side in contemplation, but instead of jumping at the suggestion, he turned in the boy's lap, offering him his stomach. "Maybe in a bit."

Rayden snuggled Threep closer, happily rubbing his belly. 

"You can't still be hungry," Mal complained as he watched the violet nesper shove another slice of buttered bread into his mouth. His cheeks puffed out from the size of the bite he took, reminding the Rogue of a chipmunk collecting food to bring back to its home, except in Threep's case, he wasn't saving any for later. 

"How are you not hungry," Threep whined once he was able to speak again. He lifted one front paw above his brow while the other rubbed his belly, feigning famishment. 

"We've eaten a five-course meal—" Mal's fingers adjusted his belt. "I couldn't eat another bite."

Threep's gaze shifted to the bottle of wine sitting beside the Rogue. "You were saying."

"I said eat," Mal corrected, taking a drink of the ruby-red liquid. "I never said drink."

Threep was about to protest when his eyes perked up, noticing a morsel of cake left on Mal's plate. "Since you are soooo full, you wouldn't mind me finishing your cake?"

"Have at it." Mal guided the plate toward the nesper. "When you throw up later, you're cleaning it up yourself. I've cleaned up enough of your vomit recently." His lips pulled into a frown.

Threep's shock quickly fell and was replaced by a satisfied hum as he licked up the crumbs of the delicious dessert. 

Mal shook his head with a mix of disgust and wonder. He had seen Threep eat, or rather, in this case, gorge himself before, but this was a new level. Thankfully, as compensation for his services, the crown funded his eating expenses. Mal chuckled at the thought, "That's one way to bring down the monarchy, bankrupt them by enjoying the finest food and drink in the land on them." He raised his goblet up, tipping it toward his companion, who had flagged the waiter down for a honey cake to go. 

"Mama! Mama!" Rayden ran across the small yard of the orphanage, heading for the steps at the back of the house. 

"Careful!" Threep hissed, dangling precariously from his position in the boy's arms.

Daenarya met them with open arms at the door at the sound of his cries. "What's wrong?" Her hands cradled Rayden's face, brushing his dark, shaggy hair away from his eyes, looking for any injuries. She scanned down his arms and legs next.

Rayden shook her away. "Not me!" His lip quivered. "Kitty!"

Threep hung loosely from the boy's grasp, his back legs swaying below. "I'm fine." His wings fluttered briefly as he wiggled back more comfortably into the boy's arms. 

Daenarya breathed a little easier. She loved Threep, but Rayden was her son, and she thanked the gods, new and old, that he was all right. She gestured for them to sit down on the steps to talk. "What's wrong with Threep?" 

"I'm fine," the nesper grumbled. "Is that—" His nose twitched as he sniffed the air. "Banana muffins?"

Rayden held him firmly, despite Threep's attempts to wriggle away toward the sweets. "Look at his belly!"

Daenarya attempted to stifle her chuckle. It was no secret Threep had put on a few (or more) pounds lately. Mal had pointed it out following his lunch with him. "Oh, Threep's okay, sweetie, he just needs a diet." Her eyes narrowed at him. "So, NO! Muffins! They're for the children."

Before Threep could protest, Rayden cut him off. He grabbed Daenarya's hand, placing it on Threep's stomach. "It's all hard and not soft like Papa's when he eats too much. And there's little bumps growing."

She couldn't stop the laugh rising in her throat. 

"It's muscle," Threep defended, looking down at his swollen stomach.   

"Something's wrong," Rayden insisted, holding Daenarya's hand on Threep. "First, he didn't want to eat and was extra sleepy. Then, he kept getting sick. Now, his belly is hard and has bumps."

Daenarya's smile fell, carefully considering his words. She hadn't really thought about it before. Threep was Threep. He was dramatic, but this—this was different. 

"What's wrong with him?" 

Daenarya's fingers caressed the nesper's abdomen, feeling carefully for any abnormalities. Her fingers brushed over the bumps Rayden had mentioned. Her eyes widen. "It can't be." 

"What? What? What?" Rayden questioned nervously.

Daenarya peered closer, parting the fur to get a better look. Her mouth fell open as she tried to reconcile what she saw, but it was clear—his stomach wasn't the only thing growing. 

"Am I dying?" Threep stared down at her hands in his fur. "And I don't mean from starvation, because from that, I am well aware."

"Uh, Threep," Daenarya shook her head in amusement, her knowing smile growing. "With nespers, who—uh— you know—carries the young?"

"Both male and female nespers can carry our progeny—" he began with little consideration for the question, "—but for some reason, males more often...I mean...but...I...I can't be—" His head was spinning. 

"Now he can't remember words!" Rayden worried. "Mama, fix him!" 

"I can't." Daenara drew her son closer, pressing a kiss on his forehead. "But he's going to be just fine."

"Really?" He sniffled, his eyes glistening in the afternoon sun.

"I'm going to need to lie down," he breathed dramatically.

"You are lying down." She shook her head watching the nesper paw at his stomach. Her attention shifted back to Rayden. "But yes, Threep is going to be just fine." Her hand glided over her own swollen stomach. "Threep's just having a baby."

"What?!" Mal choked on the muffin he had been sneaking as he joined the trio on the porch.

Rayden's face lit up, his eyes popping open as he bounced with excitement. "There's going to be more kitties?!"

"Yup!" Daenarya marveled at the two—well, three—different reactions to the news. Shock (and horror). Excitement. And.... whatever it was Threep was feeling.

"Uhhuhhahh," Threep moaned. "Will you carry me?" He held his paws out toward Mal.

Dramatic—Daenarya decided with a gentle laugh.

"Fat chance bat-cat," Mal sneered. "Carry yourself. You got wings!"

Threep hissed sharply in his direction, his pointy teeth showing threateningly. Mal bared his own teeth in reply, but Threep took little notice, his attention shifted to Rayden once more. He opened his eyes wide, his mouth pulling down. He swallowed his pride, "Kitty up?"

Rayden cheered happily, pulling his favorite Kitty back into his arms. "Let's get you some muffins. You need to make sure the baby kitties have lots of food." 

Daenarya watched as the two disappeared into the kitchen.

"You're not going to stop them?" Mal complained. "You said the muffins were for the children."

"Rayden is a child." 

"The mangy bat-cat isn't?" Mal whined. 

"And you are what? because I'm quite certain those are muffin crumbs you spit up as you choked on the news."

"What? No...." Mal quickly changed the subject. "If we don't put our foot down now, he's only going to get worse."

"Let them celebrate. Rayden is going to be over the moon."

"Sure, but then we're stuck with having a litter of Threeps running through the place."

"One step at a time." 

"I guess someone should tell Loola," Mal suggested. "You know since his first thought was securing his own private attendant to carry him around and serve him food."

"Can you blame him? It's not easy carrying another life." Daenarya extended her arms toward him. "I wouldn't mind my own personal attendant to carry me around, fetch me snacks, and maybe offer the occasional massage to help my sore, swollen muscles and joints." 

Mal shook his head despite the smile spreading on his features. He knew better than to protest, even as a joke. He slid his arms around her back and under her knees, lifting her into his arms. "You're lucky, I love you so damn much."

"I can't argue with that." She pressed a gentle kiss on the tip of his nose. "Now, take me to get some sustenance." 

He roared with laughter. "I've created a monster."

"At least I don't bite..." She grazed his jaw as he carried her, following the path Rayden and Threep had taken. "...much."

A/N: I'm setting this in my Blades 1 Universe simply because that's the one I've expanded the most and the one I consider my "main" universe. However, Threep will also be the one pregnant in my Blades 2 AU. I've been talking about Threep having a baby for years, and here we finally are.

[gioliana]

I'm feeling so ambivalent about the last episode of s3

On the on hand I can’t imagine that there's going to be a happy end. Because, honestly, how are they going to resolve all the problems in just one episode? Also, Young royals is a very realistic series and in real life things don't work out sometimes. Love just can’t fix everything.

However I am still very hopeful, since the show was advertised as being about the "choince between love and duty" and Edvin said that love always wins. Also the lake scene hasn't happened yet, and Wille hasn't said "what if I don't want that" ( as an answer to his mother saying he is going to be a fantastic king)

Furthermore the crown on the s3 wallpaper is broken, and up to s3e5 Wille hasn't said or done anything against the monarchy, yet. On the contrary, ha has rather been acting like a puppet of it, even more than in season 1.

But when I'm realistic, I guess they will be together at Valpurgis night "pretending that everything is normal, just for the night"

Then they will swim in the lake and the end scene is probably the scene where they're laying next to the lake, facing each others, crying. I could imagine that they are going to part on good terms. Something like "I love you, but it just doesn’t work, we're too different"

Then it would also make sense that Edvin and Omar cried during the last scene.

It would be hard. It would definitely break my heart. But it would be realistic.

[brokenbeyondrepair13]

I watched this episode and cried throughout it.

The post break up scenes with both Willie/ Felice and Simon/ Sara was so good like the boys needed to talk about it and get advice. Was fucking perfect.

The fact that Micke gave Sara his car made my heart hurt.

The fact that both Willie and Felice get blamed for the school closing made me so fucking angry. No the school is closing because it is a cesspool of bad behaviour among things is why it is closing. And also the school was warned for 10 years change or close it didn't so it is closing. Consequences have actions.

The lake scene broke me 😭😭 😭😭

Willie abdicating healed me so much. The poor boy was losing himself to the monarchy and the crown.

Felice and Sara's friendship made my smile they deserve to have people who listen to you.

Willie throwing away the snow globe made my go YESSSS.

Erik would still love and care for Willie also healed me.

The parallel between have a nice Christmas and have a nice summer made my laugh and cry.

The running after the car made me anxious like is it going to stop.

The scene where the talk and hug and are happy made me want to scream fucking finally, after I wasn't sure if the were going to end up as the end game

The scene where they are in car was fucking perfect.

[vvatchword]

Paradise Lost, Book 2 (Non-Zoot Edition): Sin Addresses Satan; Satan Allies with Chaos

I'm not zooted for this one, I just want to talk about it.

Keep in mind this is flow-of-consciousness, so I write down exactly what I think, and then later I sometimes discover i am wrong roflll

“O Father, what intends thy hand,” she cried, Against thy only Son? What fury O Son, Possesses thee to bend that mortal Dart Against thy Father’s head? And know’st for whom; For him who sits above and laughs the while At thee ordain’d his drudge, to execute What e’er his wrath, which he calls Justice, bids, His wrath which one day will destroy ye both.”

“To execute/what e’er his wrath, which he calls Justice” is a metal line and she IS NOT LYING

I am continually struck by how all of these characters have not only acknowledged that God cannot be defeated, they’ve always known God couldn’t be defeated. They still fought him anyway. If I were reading this in a less fantastic setting, I would be like: “M-hmm I feel like a few important documents are missing.”

Another interesting trait: all of these characters know the future. Sometimes it’s awkward—for example, they spend most of Book 2 trying to figure out what to do after falling from heaven, then wax eloquent about events that haven’t happened yet.

It’s hard to know how much was intentional here, and how much was just done in the spirit of the thing, but you know that saying: “With the Lord a day is like a thousand years, and a thousand years are like a day”? (2 Peter 3:8) It’s like these characters are not only devil-and-angel at once, but also every form of themselves from beginning to end. They haven’t yet committed horrors on the human race, but they also have. (This is not free will.)

This book makes constant asides as to God’s greatness. Everybody stops to talk him up—and by “everybody,” I mean “every single devil who gets a speech.” We haven’t had a single “good guy” yet: the only glory given to God that has been from a non-devil is Milton himself. While speaking of God, the devils’ tones rarely feel sullen or angry; instead, they feel very rote and matter-of-fact, as though they’re reading lines out of an encyclopedia. This is just the way the world is, and all the characters accept what is natural.

That’s dissonant on multiple levels. First, these devils literally JUST tried to overthrow Heaven (aka the ideal version of the world, the world-as-it-should-be). Second, given how absolutely broken the devils sound when they give their speeches—the ways they attempt to soothe themselves and comprehend their failure, added to their sudden comprehension of time (did eternity need to be invoked in heaven or Paradise until the birth of pain?)—these acknowledgments of God’s superiority ring false, like another scribe popped in and wrote BUT DON’T WORRY—

I’m trying to figure out Milton’s motivations here. Did he want to reassure the reader, the publisher, a religious authority, or himself? Keep in mind this was published back in a day where “freedom of expression” was not a thing.

By invoking the importance of the monarchy over and over, this may be Milton's attempt to say: "Mr. King sir, this is not supposed to be a story about your overthrow. Please do not kill me."

I’ve also started wondering about the political realities of when this was published. This feels extremely Protestant. Hey Wikipedia whaddaya say

[Milton scholar John] Leonard speculates that the English Civil War interrupted Milton's earliest attempts to start his “epic [poem] that would encompass all space and time”.

YEAH THERE IT IS

This book was published in 1667… by Peter Parker. Aw yeah :) With great power comes great abuse :))))

I also didn’t know Milton was freaking blind! You know, that fits; the story’s rhythm begs to be read out loud. I love the imagery that painters came up with: Milton dictating Paradise Lost to his daughters. I don’t know that this actually happened, but it’s kinda cool. Sounds like a callback to Homer so I’m a little wary—you know how people are.

Milton Dictating to His Daughter, Henry Fuseli (1794)

I bet this is exactly how he looked too.

HEEEGUUUGGHRRRHHHHH

Also, I just discovered that CS Lewis wrote a preface to Paradise Lost. I adored him as a child. I’m definitely reading that at some point.

Anyway, want to go back to reading Paradise Lost? I DO. Remember where we were? The snake-assed lady whose vagine is a Cerberi doghouse? Well, the devil asks who she and this Dart-wielding shade are…

Without research, I’m guessing the “dart” is a spear. The other option is an arrow, which sounds significantly less dangerous, and no bow is mentioned. I mean, you can still stab someone to death with an arrow, it just seems kinda silly. It’s like running at someone and jamming a bullet into their eye.

Of course, it may be meant to be an arrow. There’s a famous image in Revelations I can’t stop thinking about: the white horseman (commonly interpreted as Jesus—Revelation 6:2) comes out with a bow, but no arrows or quiver.

Holy shit, if you put Jesus and Death together you get a bow and an arrow and the arrow is death

I’m just kidding please ignore everything I say

[The devil asks: who the fuck are you guys and why are you calling me father?] T’ whom thus the Portress of Hell Gate reply’d: “Hast thou forgot me then, and do I seem Now in thine eye so foul, once deem’d so fair In Heav’n, when at th’ Assembly, and in sight Of all the Seraphim with thee combin’d In bold conspiracy against Heav’n’s King, All on a sudden miserable pain Surpris’d thee, dim thine eyes, and dizzy swum In darkness, while thy head flames thick and fast Threw forth, ’til on the left side op’ning wide, Likest to thee in shape and count’nance bright, Then shining heav’nly fair, a Goddess arm’d Out of thy head I sprung: amazement seiz’d All th’ Host of Heav’n; back they recoil’d afraid At first, and call’d me Sin, and for a Sign Portentous held me…

Suddenly, allegory!

I’ve been researching allegory lately—not well, and piecemeal—but I’ve been interested in its function, as well as what makes a good allegory and what makes a bad one. Now, before this point, I would have said that an allegory encloses the entire narrative, not just a part of it. But here we have traditional characters (Satan, Beelzebub, etc), all of whom Milton intended as representations of real spiritual beings, and all of a sudden: the allegorical representations of Sin and Death. They are not just characters, they are concepts—and yet I’d say they belong here. I feel like I can almost put a finger on why…

Was Milton a Biblical literalist? I really don’t know. There are most likely cultural and historical differences I’m missing here. I’m sure that, if Milton were a literalist, it would not be like that of the evangelicals we see today. Evangelical literalism is a particularly stupid, flat kind, and I’m not sure it was that simple back in 1660s England.

Another neat little factoid: a lot of Paradise Lost heralds back to the epic poetry of the Greeks and Romans, right? Who else sprang fully-formed from a forehead? Athena from Zeus! So this is a great callback and recontextualizing of an old myth, setting Lucifer on par with The Rapist King.

One big theme of Book 1’s was that all the other gods of the world are demons—every one of them. So Sin popping out, appearing godlike—for a moment, just like Satan himself—is a hell of a backslap. Athena was a virgin god of wisdom. You’re about to see what happens to Sin (hint: she’s a ho)

I suppose it is also possible that this is an attempt of Milton’s to represent an evolution of theology. Speaking of CS Lewis: Lewis believed that all Classical myth was composed of spiritual half-truths—like the ancient pagan faiths of the improperly-godded Classical peoples were reaching for that absolute truth of Christ, and were unable to because he hadn’t been born yet. According to Lewis, all these old faiths would ultimately be brought together under the umbrella of the Christian God’s single one. It’s one reason why Chronicles of Narnia is full of mythological beasts particular to the Greeks and Romans.

What do you mean, “what about the Jews? Weren’t the Jews around in ancient Rome? And at the time of ancient Greece for that matter?” Girl I don’t remember it’s been a minute and this is just me talking shit into the ether and I’m not even zooted right now

“…but familiar grown, I pleas’d, and with attractive graces won The most averse, thee chiefly, who full oft Thyself in me thy perfect image viewing Becam’st enamour’d, and such joy thou took’st With me in secret, that my womb conceiv’d A growing burden.

“Proshippers DNI/Sinatan shippers DNI”

Can we please appreciate “my womb conceiv’d/a growing burden.” That’s so pretty.

“Meanwhile War arose, And fields were fought in Heav’n; wherein remain’d (For what could else) to our Almighty Foe Clear Victory, to our part loss and rout Through all the Empyrean…

Back to the devil and his minions throwing in little asides about how great God is. Does this feel weird to you, too? It’s disingenuous. Every time you’re just about to accept the demons and hell-born as characters with full interior worlds, they give up on themselves. Characters should be selfish, self-oriented, self-protective. These characters keep stopping to bare their throats.

So why did these demons turn against God if they knew they were going to fail?

I mention this because Paradise Lost waffles about “free will” a lot. At first, I thought the devil mentioned “free choice” because “choice” was an inherently fallen concept, but then I remembered that Adam has a whole conversation with an angel and “free will” is uttered as a benefit.

Here’s a fun verse—one of many, they’re everywhere—that Milton was probably trying to invoke:

The Lord has made everything for its own purpose, even the wicked for the day of evil. Proverbs 16:4

That’s very cool. thanks God. Hey free will isn’t free if you brutally punish anyone who sticks a toe out of your arbitrary line you fucking asshole

“…down they fell Driv’n headlong from the Pitch of Heaven, down Into this Deep…

If you repeat this line out loud, it will heal you of all wounds. How do poets talk about this shit properly? I don’t have the language to describe why it’s good. It hurts, it’s so tasty. I started salivating like this was a delicious cookie. That delicious alliteration. Those hard d’s. HEA(D)long, then HEA(V)en. Soft f’s (fell, from). “Driv’n”, then “Heaven.” “Down” repeated twice, both times beginning a phrase. Long phrase, short phrase—the long fall, the hard stop; hard “d” to soft “v.” You can feel the drop.

I don’t know how to explain this so say it out loud ok

“…and in the general fall I also; at which time this powerful Key Into my hand was giv’n, with charge to keep These Gates for ever shut, which none can pass Without my op’ning.”

A woman who is also an opening. That’s really neat. Oh shit Jesus knocks down the gates of hell, right? Does this imply yet more rape or… yeeeeahhhhhh

Again, I’m struck by how the wicked are the tools of God as soon as the angels are. Why does Sin have to keep this key? What stops her from tossing that shit away? What stops her from opening the gates of Hell and leaving?

The glib answer is, “God does.” However, this wouldn’t be completely fair to say. Allegorical limitations apply here: Sin is not a full character.

Now, as Sin is a concept in this case, it’s like she’s transformed Satan into an allegorical concept by proxy: only by Sin might we allow Satan in. Nice.

It’s like… a tiny allegorical universe for a moment. A wee allegorical nugget.

“Pensive here I sat Alone, but long I sat not, ’til my womb Pregnant by thee, and now excessive grown Prodigious motion felt and rueful throes.

No. No I hate this. Stop

“At last this odious offspring whom thou seest Thine own begotten, breaking violent way Tore through my entrails…

remember Alien? Unfortunate

“…that with fear and pain Distorted, all my nether shape thus grew Transform’d: but he my inbred enemy…

I know we’re very grossed out but can we appreciate this use of the word “inbred” for a moment

“Forth issu’d, brandishing his fatal Dart Made to destroy: I fled, and cri’d out ‘Death’; Hell trembl’d at the hideous Name, and sigh’d From all her Caves, and back resounded ‘Death.’

Remember the “execrable shape” and the “miscreated Front”? I laughed about it, but Milton was being literal: what else could the devil say about Death? Death is a haze without meaningful form. Death can take whatever form he needs to do what he must. And, in this case, Death is greater than his father. He’s an anti-Jesus.

I also love the use of echo. The feeling of resignation and acceptance… just mwah, mwah.

“I fled, but he pursu’d (though more, it seems, Inflam’d with lust than rage) and swifter far, Me overtook—his mother!—all dismayed, And in embraces forcible and foul Engend’ring with me, of that rape begot These yelling Monsters that with ceaseless cry Surround me, as thou sawst, hourly conceiv’d And hourly born…”

Oh no. Oh no no no. Noooooo

So for the record, this is Death repeatedly raping Sin, who then gives birth to dogs on the hour, every hour, for the rest of eternity. Why dogs? Because nobody wants that.

Let’s take a step back from the allegory for a second, because we can. What did Sin do that was wrong? She was literally formed without choice. She had no choice in her nature and she had no choice in what happened to her. It’s debatable she wanted to fuck Satan. It is possible she did nothing but be born and ravished.

Yes I know she’s a concept, but she’s also playing a character here. If you didn’t want me to feel sorry for Sin you shouldn’t have made her a person. Also, the way Sin is being treated is considered an acceptable punishment. The devil characters, who can be treated purely as characters, are being punished by Milton in what he perceives as acceptable ways, and it’s arguable his audience would think similarly.

If God can treat the devils like this, there's no reason he can't treat us like this.

God is a fucking monster y’all. He’s the equivalent of every redneck who fantasizes about killing an Evildoer. Except then he MADE the Evildoer so he could purposely kill them. Worse than that: he made the Evildoer so he could make them suffer.

You ever see someone write so well they fuck up their own propaganda

“…with sorrow infinite To me, for when they list into the womb That bred them they return, and howl and gnaw My bowels, their repast; then burst forth Afresh with conscious terrors vex me ’round, That rest or intermission none I find.

Heeeyyyy are you supposed to feel sorry for Sin?

According to a quote of CS Lewis’ (from Wikipedia. Again, I’m not trying to do a great job here, I’m just fucking around, who even gives a shit), contemporaries of Paradise Lost would have known there were moments they were Supposed to Feel Certain Things, and that the Devil would be considered Bad right away, without any character-building whatsoever.

This is absolutely true. I’m coming to this slow realization that Paradise Lost exhibits traits of both modern narratives—where a character’s quality is SHOWN by their behavior, which includes their dialogue, which may not be trustworthy—and those of allegories, an older literary form. Allegories of the old days were far more straightforward, with characters written to be as one-dimensional and obvious as possible. Nobody wanted to be misunderstood.

However, this is also such a tone-deaf and willfully stupid take that I reject it in part. Look, Lewis was smart, but he would twist himself into a pretzel before he’d admit God could be a fucker: contemporary readers of this book definitely had problems with the devil’s part, and the devil’s complex qualities are part of the book’s draw. I’d argue that the devil is probably the only reason we’re still talking about Paradise Lost today—plenty of good shit was being written back in Milton’s day, and you have to dig to find it. Why did Paradise Lost not fall into a dark pit where only researchers go? It’s not because its first readers decided altogether to read it in a single manner most pleasing.

People are not monoliths guys. Movements are born and slow evolutions turned.

“Before mine eyes in opposition sits Grim Death my Son and foe, who sets them on, And me his Parent would full soon devour For want of other prey, but that he knows His end with mine involv’d; and knows that I Should prove a bitter Morsel, and his bane, When ever that shall be; so Fate pronounc’d.

This is simultaneously horrible, beautiful, and the most metal thing I’ve ever read.

Sin’s longing for cannibalism is the first overt sign of her interior monstrousness (unless she desired the incest, anyway).

This is a reminder to me that to appear ugly or distasteful was often used as a sign in old literature that someone is trash. It’s not a new concept. People confuse personal discomfort with truth all the time.

I am also reminded of the qualities of old allegorical literature. Dialogue wasn’t used to expand on a character’s inner world—it was used like an encyclopedia entry, to deliver clearcut information. The character was not a person, the character was a concept, and nobody was confused about that.

I just had an interesting thought: does Paradise Lost represent a kind of middle ground between older allegorical works and more modern character-driven works?

Wait, if she wishes she could eat Death, why did she stop him from fighting Satan

I mean, Death would win, but… I don’t know. A slave to the narrative? Yeah, probably an allegorical limitation. Allegorical symbols can’t break character or they cease being allegorical. This is one of their major limitations and it’s why writing an allegory that isn’t hamfisted is like scooping your eyes out with hot spoons. I’m starting to see how it’s unwise to just throw a random allegorical character in with a bunch of Normies: first, because they’re limited; they often can’t act like people. Second, what does that say about the rest of the narrative? It opens a can of worms. The artificial limitations of the devils suddenly becomes suspect. The allegory struggles to stretch beyond its tiny nugget prison.

“But thou O Father, I forewarn thee, shun His deadly arrow…”

Oh… ok :(

goofy-ass specter running at the devil with a goddamn arrow

I mean, it’ll work.

“…neither vainly hope To be invulnerable in those bright Arms, Though temper’d heav’nly, for that mortal dint, Save he who reigns above, none can resist.”

Every now and then, you get a hint as to how a word has evolved. Today, we think of “arms” as weaponry; here, Milton uses it to refer to “armor.” As for “dint”, it could go either as “blow, stroke” (the archaic reading, according to my dictionary) or as “force, power.” Also according to my dictionary, this is where “dent” came from (take this with a grain of salt lol).

I don’t know, it’s very cool.

She finish’d, and the subtle Fiend his lore Soon learned, now milder, and thus answer’d smooth.

I love the current-day connotations of the word “lore.” It makes this kind of funny.

Reading on, I’m honestly not sure if he believes Sin or not. You think you’d remembering fucking your brainchild. Then again, this is Hell; the characters exist in a weird between place. It’s possible that in the spirit world, concepts can be people… perhaps the nature of the spiritual is its adherence to the ideal (both ideal Wickedness and Holiness).

What makes this even harder to understand is: where does Milton intend for double-meaning and earnestness to reside? I ask because it was the style of allegories and parables to be rather straight-forward, as Lewis said. But these characters are sometimes almost modern, with clear snark and ulterior motives.

“Dear Daughter, since thou claim’st me for thy Sire, And my fair Son here showst me, the dear pledge Of dalliance had with thee in Heav’n, and joys Then sweet, now sad to mention, through dire change Befall’n us unforeseen, unthought of,

Smooth.

“…know I come no enemy, but to set free From out this dark and dismal house of pain,

Wait a minute. Is this where House of Pain got their name. IS THIS WHERE HOUSE OF PAIN

(I looked it up. It’s from HG Wells’ The Island of Dr. Moreau, which is just as weird.)

“Both him and thee, and all the heav’nly Host Of Spirits that in our just pretenses arm’d Fell with us from on high: from them I go This uncouth errand sole, with lonely steps to tread Th’ unfounded deep, and through the void immense To search with wand’ring quest…

“From there I go—this uncouth errand sole,” is what I’ll say when I’m heading out on errands from now on.

“…a place foretold Should be, and, by concurring signs, ere now Created vast and round, a place of bliss In the Purlieus of Heav’n…

I had to look up a word. “Purlieu” means “the ground on the edges of a forest, especially when partly subject to the same forest laws concerning game hunting, etc” or “the outskirts of any place; an adjacent district; the environs or neighborhood.”

I really like the implication of “at the edge of law.” That’s what God keeps coming down to—that’s what the book keeps coming back to: the battle between law and anarchy.

“…and therein plac’d A race of upstart Creatures…

fuck yeah. fuck you satan

“…to supply Perhaps our vacant room, though more remov’d, Least Heav’n surcharg’d with potent multitude Might hap to move new broiles…

I had to look up “broiles,” and in the process, discovered what may be the best dictionary of all time: Shakespeare’s Words.

“Broil” once meant “turmoil, confused fighting, battle.”

“…be this or aught Then this more secret now design’d, I haste To know, and this once known, shall soon return, And bring ye to the place where Thou and Death Shall dwell at ease…”

This section is so delicious.

First, Satan is schmoozing, 1000%. We only know this because he first talked shit to Death and Sin, and has now changed his tune. That said, it’s wildly unclear what his motivations are, half because he’s talking to literal allegorical figures. Once allegories get involved, they are stringently policed: neither Sin nor Death can be surprising to us. They will exhibit all the traits of their counterparts as understood by Milton’s version of Protestant Christianity. Their purpose is edification and education. An allegory is an encyclopedic entry given flesh.

Second, for what purpose does Satan offer these things? To pay them off? Probably. Does he offer them because he has grown a heart? No, probably not. Is he just offering what these characters want to hear? Probably. But, as you’ll soon see, he’s not lying. Does he know he’s not lying?

“…and up and down unseen Wing silently the buxom Air…

“Buxom” used to mean “lively, cheerful, bright,” not BIG OL TITTIES

“…embalm’d With odors; there ye shall be fed and fill’d Immeasurably, all things shall be your prey.”

We know, because we are inundated with Christianity in this country, that he’s telling the truth. He’s explaining that once Sin and Death are free, they’ll be free to feed on the Earth.

Is he telling what he perceives as truth, or is he promising pie in the sky?

If we were to be blitheringly flat, like Lewis, we’d recognize Satan’s speech as literal: he’s offering a promise he can keep; he understands what is going to happen before it ever happens. But because he’s complex, and started off his speech with flattery, I’m also not completely sure—I can only know by reading on and finding out if he spoke the truth.

Of equal interest: Satan is also doing right by his baby mama and weird fucking son. Sure, he’s talking shit, but he’s also taking responsibility.

Just. Kinda weird situation all told.

He ceas’d, for both seem’d highly pleas’d, and Death Grinn’d horrible a ghastly smile, to hear His famine should be fill’d, and blest his maw Destin’d to that good hour…

God I love this description. I love how Death contains “famine”, how he blesses his empty throat with promises of glut.

…no less rejoic’d His mother bad, and thus bespake her Sire. “The key of this infernal Pit by due, And by command of Heav’n’s all-powerful King I keep, by him forbidden to unlock These Adamantine Gates; against all force Death ready stands to interpose his dart, Fearless to be o’ermatched by living might.

One guy with one arrow versus everybody.

It’s all right, tell me how it goes

“But what owe I to his commands above Who hates me, and hath hither thrust me down Into this gloom of Tartarus profound, To sit in hateful Office here confin’d, Inhabitant of Heav’n, and heav’nly-born, Here in perpetual agony and pain, With terrors and with clamors compass’d round Of mine own brood, that on my bowels feed…

OH MY GOD SHE’S DOING IT

FIGHT FIGHT FIGHT

On that note: are you saying. That if God had maybe. Not been incredibly cruel to Sin. We may not have had Sin

Lewis would say something about how Sin had made her choice, and about how the brutalities wreaked against her were her own fault somehow, and that her nature was inherently wicked, so she would be wicked even when shown mercy. Then he'd end up with "it's an allegory anyway"

The problem with this is a) Christianity is about forgiving people who have committed some real humdingers, so this is logically dissonant, and b) so far, God hasn’t just punished: he has been nasty and cruel. The only love I have seen is between devils. If this is propaganda for God it’s not doing a very good job

“Thou art my Father, thou my Author, thou My being gav’st me; whom should I obey But thee, whom follow? Thou wilt bring me soon To that new world of light and bliss, among The Gods who live at ease, where I shall Reign At thy right hand voluptuous, as beseems Thy daughter and thy darling, without end.”

YES

Kinda weird but YES

Don’t take shit from that asshole lady he sucks

Thus saying, from her side the fatal Key, Sad instrument of all our woe, she took; And towards the Gate rolling her bestial train, Forthwith the huge Portcullis high up drew, Which but her self not all the Stygian powers Could once have moved… …So wide they stood, and like a Furnace mouth Cast forth redounding smoke and ruddy flame.

I just wanted to share this for the imagery. I love the imagery of a beautiful woman on a serpent’s tail, slipping slimy and bloody over the black earth, her body broken open in a hundred places where her hungry young have burst forth, and all around her the hellhounds loping. Then you can just feel the gates of Hell open and all I can think of is how I feel when I open the front door on a haboob.

“Redound” means “to fall out, contribute, turn out.”

Before their eyes in sudden view appear The secrets of the hoary deep, a dark Illimitable Ocean without bound, Without dimension, where length, breadth, and height, And time and place are lost; where eldest Night And Chaos, Ancestors of Nature, hold Eternal Anarchy, amidst the noise Of endless wars and by confusion stand.

Most of what I’m sharing here, I just LIKE. I like the image of Chaos and void. I love how it dwarfs Lucifer. I can feel the wind surging from that hot black egress. It probably switches back on itself—in direction, in temperature, in violence.

Also, I can't stop remembering that weird starlit void lurking below the surface world of Elden Ring.

...Into this wild Abyss, The Womb of nature and perhaps her Grave, Of neither Sea, nor Shore, nor Air, nor Fire, But all these in their pregnant causes mix’d Confus’dly, and which thus must ever fight, Unless th’ Almighty Maker them ordain His dark materials to create more Worlds, Into this wild Abyss the wary fiend Stood on the brink of Hell and look’d a while, Pondering his Voyage; for no narrow frith He had to cross.

“Frith” is an ancient word for “estuary.”

His Dark Materials is a book series. That phrase and the title of The Golden Compass originate from Paradise Lost. Speaking of which, I need to finish the series. From what I’ve read, the author had a bone to pick with CS Lewis, and I do approve of that.

Again, I love the imagery of this section, and that’s the only reason I’m sharing this. See, so far, Satan has been presented as a giant. He’s enormous. He’s powerful. But the chaos dwarfs him. Could absolutely swallow him. You believe in it as a dangerous place—a primordial place. It feels older than God.

Although the void here is technically allegorical, there’s worldbuilding here. This is an attempt at realism. The boundaries between allegorical and literal smear.

…At last his Sail-broad Vans He spreads for flight, and in the surging smoke Uplifted spurns the ground, thence many a League As in a cloudy Chair ascending rides Audacious, but that seat soon failing, meets A vast vacuity: all unawares Flutt’ring his pennons vain plumb down he drops Ten thousand fathom deep…

I had no idea that “vans” originated as a word for “wings.” For a brief, heady moment, I imagined Lucifer taking off in some cool fuckin kicks.

Here's where you see what I mean about action sequences: Milton is so damn good at making you feel the rough weather and envisioning weird spaces. "Surging smoke," "ascending rides/Audacious," "a vast vacuity."

...i love alliteration and action verbs. so much

…when straight behold the Throne Of Chaos, and his dark Pavilion spread Wide on the wasteful Deep; with him Enthron’d Sat Sable-vested Night, eldest of things, The consort of his Reign; and by them stood Orcus and Ades, and the dreaded name Of Demogorgon; Rumor next and Chance, And Tumult and Confusion all embroil’d, And Discord with a thousand various mouths.

Again, I just LOVE this. I’m trying to only share things I enjoy, but it’s so hard when the whole book sings.

"Wide on the wasteful deep." Mmmmfffffff f f f ffffffffffffff

"Sable-vested Night." You know, when people adjectivize nouns, usually I get mad, but this is gorgeous.

Had to include the bit about Discord because never before have I appreciated the name so well

“Yours be th’ advantage all, mine the revenge.”

Metal. Take whatever you want: I wanna fuck this guy over. (Satan absolutely said this.)

...Satan stay’d not to reply, But glad that now his Sea should find a shore, With fresh alacrity and force renew’d Springs upward like a Pyramid of fire Into the wild expanse…

One thing I like to imagine, especially when I see visual depictions of spectacular events, is wonder how the author came to envision them. As writers, we’re very lucky in this day and age that we can go look up videos and images and firsthand accounts of farflung events, and a lot of us take cues from film and television. Milton would have had a more limited palette.

What is more, not everyone can write an action sequence. Milton can. He understands that language is about feeling, not seeing.

It makes me wonder: what inspired the image of Satan’s launch? Fireworks? Comets? Lightning? The mere interplay with light out in the world?

“Glad now his Sea should find a shore” is a beautiful line and it’s about the devil allying with Chaos rofl

Send that one to your lover one day without explanation.

But now at last the sacred influence Of light appears, and from the walls of Heav’n Shoots far into the bosom of dim Night A glimmering dawn…

The sun is heaven confirmed

We're all gonna live in the sun someday

Oh wait I'm writing this.....

...im going to hell.......

…Satan with less toil, and now with ease Wafts on the calmer wave by dubious light And like a weather-beaten Vessel holds Gladly the Port, though Shrouds and Tackle torn; Or in the emptier waste, resembling Air, Weighs his spread wings, at leisure to behold Far off th’ Empyreal Heav’n, extended wide In circuit, undetermin’d square or round…

It’s fascinating to me that Heaven is seen right away as bending the laws of physics. A different writer whose name rhymes with "HP Lovecraft" would be like NON-EUCLIDEAN GEOMETRY

With Opal Tow’rs and Battlements adorn’d Of living Sapphire, once his native Seat; And fast by hanging in a golden Chain This pendant world, in bigness as a Star Of smallest Magnitude close by the Moon.

“This pendant world” "living Sapphire" UggghhhhHHH it’s so good

Imagine for a second: the peoples of this era already knew the Earth was round, but nobody had seen it from space yet.

Milton could fully envision it—like a jewel hanging in the sky.

What I don’t understand is “the golden chain.” It may be literal lol

Thither full fraught with mischievous revenge, Accurst, and in a cursed hour he hies.

This is a word-by-word account of my green-cheek conure flying into a plate of mashed potatoes.

To Be Continued

[typewriter-worries]

what seems like forever ago, @geryone so kindly tagged me and asked me to share nine book recommendations. after combing through some of my recent reads, here are some of my favorites:

My short little summaries and thoughts are listed under the cut:

Giovanni's Room by James Baldwin - Giovanni's Room is about a young man in David and his summer romance with another young man named Giovanni. Through the lens of love and heartbreak, David goes through a journey of identity.

Fight Club by Chuck Palahniuk - We follow our narrator, for now we can call him Joe, as he begins a very unconventional friendship with a man named Tyler. Men fight, they also bite and many a problems arise.

The Kite Runner by Khaled Hosseini- Historical fiction novel that is set agains the backdrop of many events from the fall of Afghanistan's monarchy to the rise of the Taliban regime. I don't think I've cried harder reading a book so that's my own weird way of saying I can't recommend it enough.

For One More Day by Mitch Albom- Little read with a lot of heart. Fictional baseball player has the chance to spend one more day with his late mother, who he misses more than he ever thought he would. Another book that kept me crying into the middle of the night.

If We Were Villains by M.L. Rio - I feel like if you like dark academia; this is an essential. A group of Shakespearean acting students at the fictional Dellecher Shakespeare conservatory get wrapped in a murder and it's an ongoing case of whodunit.

A Single Man by Christopher Isherwood - A delicate look into the mundane crafted through the lens of grief, loss and heartache. We follow the life of George, a middle-aged gay man mourning the loss of his partner. Like Giovanni's Room, I think it's a staple of queer literature.

I'm Glad My Mom Died by Jennette McCurdy - A heartbreaking memoir that's sprinkled with the well timed moment of comedy. We learn about Jennette McCurdy's tumultuous relationship with acting, the abuse she suffered at the hands of her mother, and her own way of working towards healing.

Promises of Gold by José Olivarez - If prose isn't your thing; this might be! Promises of Gold is a poetry collection in which Olivarez family, identity, love and quarantine. One of my personal favorites is Regret or My Dad Says Love

A Short History of the Girl Next Door by Jared Reck - A story about first love that in ends heartbreak in more ways that one. It's first person and it's YA, two things I normally never read, but it's just so so good. Forget crying into the middle of the night, this had me crying well into morning

no pressure tagging: @firstfullmoon and @soracities if you have anything you want to recommend <3