#deirdre mask

[nyx-b-log]

The Address Book by Deirdre Mask - Review

read: oct 2022

rating: 4 stars

goodreads link here

summary:

as according to the subtitle, what street addresses reveal about identity, race, wealth, and power.

opinion:

i said it a lot while reading it, but this was really interesting!

to some extent you can kinda tell it was converted (or at least started as) a series of articles for the guardian, with the writing style and the kind of scattershot approach.

but! i don't think this comes at any cost to the material. it's difficult to imagine the histories of house numbers, or street names (as a concept, not individually), or land planning being as strange and fascinating as they are, but the way this is written really bridges that gap between dry historical context/academic work and an engaging read.

the sections in the latter half of the book, which focus on the more sociological impact, are the highlight in my opinion, especially the section on south africa.

my one gripe with the book isn't really the fault of the book at all, and it may have been corrected in versions other than the one i had (which was borrowed from a digital library). but...the typos, oh my the typos.

i really hope the copyediting and proofing team on this are doing okay, cos this really needed another set of eyes on it. letters missing (off/of was frighteningly frequent), punctuation in odd places, it got to the point where the actual work started to suffer because i was so distracted. which is a shame! it shouldn't have that effect, but i found myself looking for errors, not just reading the text as is (maybe this is what some proofreading training does to you, idk)

again, i don't blame the editing team, i'm sure there's a lot more to it than what i've seen.

aside from that, it was a great book! the kind of book that introduces you to a topic and then makes you want to read five more just on these incredibly niche fields.

would recommend!

[coochie-sniffer3000]

recent drawings heeehehehehe

[polilyen]

tell me, tell me my midday sun

x

[zoeyslament]

Deirdre Gruber, born May 18th, Taurus, the stubborn nature. Favourite ride: the drop tower

“Unlike her older brother, Deirdre refused to stay in the shadows. Instead of wallowing in a life of past tragedy, she looked to the future, forcing herself into the spotlight whenever possible. Far from a straight-A student, but beloved for her commitment to the arts, Deirdre hid every insecurity behind a mask of talent at dancing, singing, and acting. From improv workshops to pointe rehearsals, Deirdre does it all. Uranium’s ‘most likely to be on Broadway’, the smiling face in every yearbook weighed down by the guilt she’s felt her whole life. Deirdre Gruber: the most talented girl in town.”

[clarepreed]

Fade Part Six: Epilogue

Story Content and Summary - 6,212 words. After the Part Five cliffhanger, the fate of Deirdre and Archer must be determined. Magical and human resuscitation and hospitalization methods. Explicit sex. ♂️

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five

--

The silence stretched on.

Atmos stared down at the scene below: Deirdre, still in her circle of death, the bag used to give her breaths on the ground and pulling her head off toward the side. The female medic who’d been performing chest compressions curled like a shrimp and wedged against the cardiac monitor. The nurse, sprawled on his back, his eyes closed and his shock of ginger hair full of dead moss. Deirdre’s ánrhen, slumped over onto her body, his unconscious brother collapsed on his side. 

Atmos’s ears rang, and then a secondary pulse emanated from Deirdre, flashing in all directions. The crowd stumbled collectively, several people collapsing. Black spots covered Atmos’s vision, and he fell, dimly aware of the guards plummeting to the ground. He hit the forest floor hard, and the air rushed out of him. Groans and coughs filled the air.

Atmos rolled onto his stomach, shaking his head to clear it. He pushed himself onto one elbow, pain pulsating through his left wing and down his spine. In front of him, he saw Dr. Eḥāyi crawl over to Deirdre’s bag, shaking out the oxygen tubing before giving the bag a squeeze. Her fingers pressed into the unconscious woman’s neck.

“She has a pulse!” Eḥāyi called out. Her attention darted to those in her immediate circle. “Imala? Sertse, oo kakee? Shavsan—”

“Sertse is unconscious. Her pulse is weak, but she’s breathing—”

“Dr. Neal! Archer!” Eḥāyi’s face grew tense as she took in the still forms of the brothers. She reached into her scrubs pocket and pulled out a phone, quickly dialing and holding it to her ear with her shoulder. She returned her hands to the bag, squeezing it. “Eḥāyi Yitabib. Nhu ka en môs vojo vés dierdők píso a namaiöý Tvaris e Liam. Ibsen a sætê vpředō respirační-sēs o ánh-sēs. Oo ɖo eŋu ë massa ánhuitgyae.”

With Eḥāyi calling for backup, Atmos watched as Deirdre’s parents rushed forward, kneeling at Deirdre’s feet. They both looked pale, with puffy, tear-streaked faces and their wings hanging limp down their backs. Liam reached out and rested a hand on his daughter’s ankle.

Atmos groaned and collapsed onto his face, the pain in his body worsening as the seconds passed. One of the fae guards, a broad-shouldered woman with close-cropped dark curls, pushed herself to her feet and strode over to him. She nudged him with her toe. “Fanliggen,” she spat, ordering him to stay down.

Atmos closed his eyes, his pain and misery making it simple to comply.

*** When Asa was younger, he lost control of his snowboard and broke through the fragile orange barrier between him and a ravine. Catching air, he arced through the cold, exhilaration and terror battling within him for several precious seconds before a large tree loomed in front of him. He turned his head to the side just before he plowed into the trunk. All the air left him at once and he dropped to the snow, nearly senseless and unable to draw breath.

He felt much like that now as his eyes wrenched open, mouth gaping as he sought to breathe. He clawed at the dead moss, his own wheezing harsh in his ears. Flopping onto his back, Asa pulled in air as though through a straw and expelled it as a ragged cough. His next breath came easier, as did the next, until he was gasping and coughing and fighting to sit upright.

“What…” Chaos around him. A crowd of unfamiliar faces. Fae medics coughing and groaning. His brother’s still form sprawled with his top half on Dierdre.

“Archer,” Asa croaked, dragging himself closer and grasping his brother’s shoulders. He heaved his brother’s limp body off of her, his arms surprisingly weak. Registering as he did so that no one was giving Deirdre chest compressions, he looked first to the monitor, half-masked by the slumped fae medic. The rhythm he saw there sent a hesitant flash of elation through him. Then he glanced at Dr. Eḥāyi, who squeezed the bag connected to Deirdre’s endotracheal tube.

“She has a pulse!” Eḥāyi told him. “How is Archer?”

“Archer! Wake up!” Asa laid him flat, briefly patting Archer’s pallid face before slipping his fingers down to his brother’s carotid. 

“Imala, are you all right?” he heard Eḥāyi ask.

“Sertse is responding,” Shavsan said from where they bent over the fae woman.

Archer’s pulse felt weak and erratic under his fingers. “Come on, Archer. Open your eyes. Deirdre is alive!” He tipped his brother’s head back, opening his airway. Archer’s skin looked gray, his lips white. Leaning close to his lips, Asa waited. Around him, the other sounds fell away; coughs, Eḥāyi speaking, shouting from the crowd, the tentative approach of Deirdre’s parents.

“Dammit!” Asa cursed, quickly pinching Archer’s nose and taking a deep breath. He covered Archer’s mouth with his own, exhaling into him. When he broke the seal, he gasped out: “He’s in respiratory arrest!”

Asa lifted his head, looking for his bag. Then he bent to give Archer another breath, watching and feeling for chest rise.

“H-here,” he heard from close by, and lifted his head again to see Deirdre’s father pick up his bag and hand it across to Deirdre’s mother, who’d come up beside him. She quickly kneeled on the dead moss and plunged her hands inside.

“What do you need?” Tvaris asked, her voice firm and her bloodshot blue eyes worried.

“I’ve sent word to our clinic,” Eḥāyi told him. “For more medical staff and equipment.”

Asa winced internally at the coolness of Archer’s skin as he gave him another breath. “Would you take over breaths?” he asked, speaking to Tvaris as he pressed his fingers again into Archer’s neck.

“Yes!” Tvaris leaned over his brother, looking so much like Deirdre that he blinked. She pinched Archer’s nose and used the thumb of her other hand to keep his mouth open. Her mouth descended to his, and she exhaled audibly, Archer’s cheeks puffing out seconds before his chest rose. 

“Exactly like that, every six seconds.” Asa worked quickly, searching out his pulse oximeter and clipping it to one of Archer’s fingers. Then he pulled out his blood pressure cuff and stethoscope, quickly wrapping the former around his brother’s upper arm. Asa plugged the stethoscope into his ears and slipped the bell partially beneath the cuff, pressed against the skin of Archer’s arm. He held it in place with his thumb as he used his other hand to pump up the cuff. The sound of the blood pulsating through Archer’s arm was too fast for his liking as he filled the cuff completely, stopping the sound. Asa stared at the pressure gauge. 

“Blood pressure of sixty over forty.” He released the pressure and reached across Archer to pick up his cold hand, peering at the pulse oximeter. “Heart rate rising, he’s at one hundred seventy-five. Oxygen at ninety.”

“There’s equipment coming for Archer,” Eḥāyi reassured him. “Any minute now.”

An alarm pinged. Asa looked past Tvaris as she gave Archer another breath. Eḥāyi turned toward Deirdre’s heart monitor, and his eyes automatically followed hers. To his surprise, Deirdre’s heart rate registered at one hundred and seventy-five beats per minute, the flashing number climbing up to one hundred and eighty as he watched.

Imala reared up from the ground with a gasp, one hand pressed to his temple as though his head pained him. Asa pushed himself to his feet and hurried over to Eḥāyi’s bags. “I’m going to—”

“Help yourself, Dr. Neal.” She squeezed Deirdre’s bag and leaned toward the nurse. “Imala, stay where you are. Just rest. We have backup coming.”

Going through Dr. Eḥāyi’s things, Asa quickly found another BVM and an oxygen canister, then snagged the IV kit and a bag of saline. On his way back to Archer, he spotted the AED he’d brought earlier and reached for it, only for Deirdre’s father, Liam, to snatch it up and hurry alongside him. Asa and Liam kneeled beside Archer, Asa immediately pressing two fingers beneath his brother’s jaw. His pulse still beat there, fast and fluttery.

“What do you need me to do?” Liam asked.

“Inside that case is an AED. I need you to get everything out. Open a set of pads, cut open his shirt, and apply the pads per the directions. Are you okay with doing that?” Asa worked to assemble the bag-valve mask, his eyes darting between the object in his hands, Liam’s face, and Tvaris covering Archer’s mouth with her own to give him a breath. 

“I’ve got it,” Liam said, unzipping the case. “She weakened him too much. We have to help him.”

“She d-doesn’t know what she’s doing!” Tvaris exclaimed quietly before she gave Archer another breath. Asa heard a soft thwock when she broke the seal. He connected the oxygen canister to the mask and opened it up. 

“Á tereciùin, ánrhen,” Liam soothed, reaching out to caress her cheek. Then he turned back to the AED, locating the enclosed trauma shears.

“I’ve got it now, Tvaris. Thank you.” Asa crawled around to the top of Archer’s head and pressed the mask over his brother’s nose and mouth. He curled his fingers around in a ‘c’ shape and then squeezed the bag once, then again, his eyes on the manometer. Liam snipped through the hem of Archer’s shirt, cutting quickly toward his neckline. “Tvaris, please get me the flat plastic case from my bag.”

The fae woman moved quickly, finding the case and opening it before setting it next to Asa’s knee. Asa gave Archer another breath with the bag and then set it to the side, reaching for an oropharyngeal airway from the case. He chose a larger size than what he’d selected for Deirdre, though he still measured it against his brother’s jaw before slipping it in between his teeth and rotating it one hundred eighty degrees. As soon as the device was resting against Archer’s teeth, Asa picked up the mask and gave Archer another breath.

“The medics are recovering,” Tvaris said, looking over her shoulder. “The nurse is b-breathing for Deirdre—”

“I will help you,” Shavsan said, stepping into Asa’s field of vision. “Would you have me establish the IV?”

“Please,” Asa said, relieved. He’d been trying to figure out how to juggle the various tasks, especially considering he did not often draw blood or insert IVs himself. 

“We may need to cardiovert her.” Eḥāyi’s voice cut through, and Asa squeezed the bag once before reaching down to take Archer’s pulse again. Liam tore open the AED pads packet, hesitating before he reached into the case and drew out a shaving razor. “Tvaris, the pulse oximeter clipped to Archer’s finger… Without dislodging it, tell me what it says.”

Another smooth squeeze and release. Archer’s chest rose and fell as Liam shaved the hair from the upper right side of his chest. Shavsan had Archer’s arm pulled straight as he applied a tourniquet and cleaned the crook of his elbow. 

“S… P… O… Oxygen! Ninety-one percent. Heart rate… is that right? Two hundred eleven.” Tvaris gently rested Archer’s hand on the moss, then turned to look at Deirdre. Liam peeled the backing off the anterior pad and smoothed it on Archer’s chest, then reached for the lateral pad. Asa squeezed the bag, watching as Shavsan pressed a gloved thumb to Archer’s skin and then inserted the cannula just below. Then he removed the tourniquet, and Asa heard a click as he moved his attention to Liam. Another squeeze of the bag as Deirdre’s father applied the lateral pad. 

“Ik’ai?” Shavsan asked, getting Tvaris’ attention. He held up a bag of saline. “Would you be able to hold this aloft?”

Tvaris stood, coming around to Archer’s right shoulder and taking the saline from him. 

“Liam, go ahead and plug in the connector and turn on the AED. I’ll tell you what to do next.” Asa watched the man reach for the yellow device with the black screen.

Alarms suddenly sounded from Deirdre’s heart monitor. Asa squeezed the bag, his eyes jerking over to the monitor screen as Eḥāyi called out: “V-fib!” and lurched over Deirdre, her hands coming together over the ugly reddish bruise in the center of her chest. His own heart sinking, Asa squeezed Archer’s bag again and then felt for a pulse.

He waited out the requisite ten seconds as his mind screamed at him and panic churned his stomach. NO! “No pulse!”

Shavsan leaned over Archer, quickly landmarking and pressing the heel of his bottom hand over the lower part of Archer’s sternum. His shoulders rolled over his hands and he bobbed, the force collapsing Archer’s sternum into his heart. His stomach popped up with each compression, bumping against the waistband of his pants. “…eight, nine, ten, eleven…”

To Asa’s left, Eḥāyi performed her own forceful chest compressions, Deirdre’s abdomen rolling in similar short waves. 

“… fourteen, fifteen, sixteen…”

“When it comes on, Liam, press the bottom button. I need to see the ECG.” Asa’s eyes dropped involuntarily to Archer’s face. His brother’s eyes were closed, the lids dark. His shoulders shrugged with each hard compression, the force of which telegraphed into his neck as Asa held his head steady.

“… twenty-nine, thirty!” 

Asa squeezed the bag twice, first watching Archer’s chest rise and then looking at the manometer. 

“Analyzing rhythm. Do not touch the patient!” the AED announced. Shavsan and Liam leaned back. Asa cocked his head to look at the simple display, staring at the rapidly quivering line. “Shock advised. Charging!”

Shavsan resumed chest compressions. Asa drew a steadying breath and said: “Liam, Tvaris. Don’t touch him. He is about to be defibrillated.”

“Charged. Press the shock button.” Shavsan lifted his hands and Asa scooted back, raising the mask. Without having to be asked, Liam reached out and pressed the flashing triangular button. Archer’s body flinched, his head tipping to the side. Asa immediately righted it and reopened his airway.

“Shock delivered. Resume CPR for two minutes.” 

Asa stared at the tiny monitor, watching the brief flatline begin to quiver again before Shavsan’s chest compressions registered. Then he reapplied the bag-valve mask, ready for the thirty count. “I need epinephrine!” he called out. 

Liam looked around, a shockwave of dismay rolling over him at the sight of Deirdre again in cardiac arrest. Sertse, having recovered enough to assist, jumped to action, gathering up what appeared to be prefilled syringes and limping around to set them beside Shavsan. She kneeled by Archer, taking one syringe and administering it through Archer’s IV port. Then she hurried back to Deirdre’s side.

Chest compressions continued for the lovers; Shavsan counted steadily until thirty, at which point Asa gave Archer two oxygenated breaths with the bag. “One, two, three…”

“Charging to three-sixty,” Eḥāyi said. 

Asa heard cartilage pop in Archer’s chest as Shavsan forced his heart to beat, recoiling professionally between each compression. 

“Everyone clear. Administering shock now.”

Asa glanced over in time to see Deirdre jerk, the endotracheal tube waving in the air and her torso coming slightly off the ground. Eḥāyi immediately resumed chest compressions, making the trim woman’s stomach seesaw up and down nearly in time with Archer’s.

“Sertse, give her a milligram epinephrine.”

“…twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty!”

Two more breaths. Asa’s hands trembled as soon as he released pressure on the bag. “Tvaris, what tell me what his oxygen is ag—”

“Ninety-three percent.” Tvaris gave Archer’s hand a squeeze and murmured something in her first language that he could t make out, even if he’d been able to understand it. In response, Liam reached over and gripped her shoulder.

“… fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, eighteen…”

Don’t do this, Archer…

“… twenty-one, twenty-two, twenty-three…”

“Hold strong, Dr. Neal,” Eḥāyi gasped, slightly out of breath. Asa wondered if he’d spoken out loud. 

“… twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty!” Two more squeezes of the bag. “One, two, three…”

Asa and Archer did not have any cousins. Their grandparents were long dead. Mom had been an only child, and Dad’s sole sibling died because of a childhood illness. Archer was his only family, and he was losing him, along with this new sister who’d come into his life. Anticipatory grief made his breath come short and his stomach tie into knots. 

“…twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty.” Asa squeezed and released the bag. Squeezed and released. “One, two, three…”

“I don’t understand what’s happening.” This time, he knew he’d spoken out loud. His face flushed and his eyes blurred. Asa clawed back the emotion threatening to break him down. This was why, as a doctor, Archer couldn’t be his patient. He was too close. 

“… eleven, twelve, thirteen…”

Asa swallowed hard around the lump in his throat. The words kept coming, his voice hoarse. “I cannot account for his collapse.”

*** Dr. Léilarin Eḥāyi concentrated on the task before her. Chest compressions providing circulation for her young, dead or dying patient. Her own tired hands plunged relentlessly into Deirdre’s chest, exacerbating the external bruising and insulting the integrity of her ribcage. These were minor, necessary injuries. There were fae healers, some of them trained traditionally and some not, who had tried other methods of circulating oxygenated blood, but they were significantly less reliable. Dissected arteries. Shredded hearts. Braindead patients.

And so, despite the well of magic in her own chest, Léilarin manually beat her patient’s heart as it continued to prove it could not do so properly on its own. If Deirdre had been a human patient, Léilarin would have already called time. Truthfully, she would have done so for most fae patients by now. If it weren’t for the dragging sensation pulling her ánh from her and depleting her own energies, she would stop, call time, and apologize to her parents.

Of course, now Léilarin suspected that if she were to terminate Deirdre’s resuscitation, the young human man dying beside her would be consigned to the same fate.

“I don’t understand what’s happening.” Dr. Neal’s hushed voice barely made it to her ears, covered up by Shavsan’s determined counting. “I cannot account for his collapse.”

“… fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, seventeen…”

Deirdre’s bag-valve mask made a honking sound, and Léilarin glanced quickly at Imala, watching as the nurse deftly adjusted the PEEP valve. Beneath her hands, Deirdre’s sternum and ribs creaked. Closing her eyes, she sent a pulse of ánh down into her hands, whispering her intention to support the woman’s failing cardiovascular system. The magic dragged down her arms and her compressions faltered as she swayed.

“… four, five, six…”

Her eyes flew open as Imala nudged her to the side, his hands replacing hers. “I’ve recovered. We can switch. Take care, our reserves are depleted.”

Rather than argue or deny his supposition, Léilarin crawled around to Deirdre’s head and gently wedged it between her knees. She squeezed the bag, then looked over at Archer.

Shavsan pumped the humans’s bare chest, his professional compressions sinking deep and making his abdomen bulge. Dr. Neal kept his brother’s head tipped back and his neck extended, holding it in place with the mask ready to provide ventilations with each pause in compressions. The human doctor’s face had become an ashen mask of fragile professionalism. 

“… twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty.”

Dr. Neal’s mask slipped, an agonized tenderness taking over as he gazed down at his brother. He squeezed the bag twice.

“One, two, three…”

Léilarin looked down at Dierdre. Her eyes were closed and slightly encrusted, as though she’d been asleep a long time. The lids appeared fragile and lavender in color. The blue had, in one of few positive signs, retreated from the center of her face, settling in her eyelids and kissing what was visible of her chapped lips. Her shoulders jerked and her breasts wobbled each time Imala pushed down. Bits of molted feathers clung to Deirdre’s skin, giving her chalk white body a faint opalescence shimmer.

Léilarin’s eyes skimmed over Imala’s plunging hands, his knuckles white and Deirdre’s skin varying shades of red and purple. Just below, her abdomen rippled in waves of displaced force that crashed into the blue puddle of her dress and dissipated. She could just see the shadow of nearly trimmed pubic hair. 

With the crowd, by some standards Léilarin had failed to provide privacy for her patient in her most vulnerable moment. But this was not a human resuscitation. Her patient was fae, and fae needed community to survive. The nearly-invisible rainbow of ánh trickling in from the crowd was testament to that. This, truly, was a miracle. It was not something that happened with all fae deaths. Perhaps it was the injustice of what her former lover had done to her. Perhaps her ánhren’s efforts had created the possibility for such a miracle. Perhaps—

“Analyzing rhythm. Do not touch patient.”

Léilarin’s attention shifted back to Archer and Dr. Neil. Deirdre’s parents had shifted down toward the feet of the lovers. They kneeled on the dead moss together, clutching each other for support. Dr. Neal continued squeezing Archer’s bag as the AED he’d brought analyzed. 

“Shock advised. Charging. Do not touch the patient.” Shavsan ignored the alert, snapping out a series of compressions before the device spoke up again. “Press the shock button. Do not touch the patient.”

Shavsan lifted his hands and shuffled back. Dr. Neal sat the mask aside and leaned over to press the button on the AED. Archer’s chest flinched and his head swayed, the fingers of one hand curling. Shavsan immediately resumed chest compressions.

“Check pulse.”

“Hold compressions!” Dr. Neal exclaimed, his shaking fingers pressing into Archer’s neck. His eyes on the AED screen, he choked out: “Sinus rhythm. Thank God.”

The alarm on Deirdre’s heart monitor abruptly cut off. Léilarin leaned forward to look at the screen, even as Imala announced in hushed tones: “Sinus rhythm.”

Léilarin heard both sobs and tears. Simultaneously, the crowd broke around an influx of relief medics, with gurneys and equipment. Léilarin sagged with exhaustion, even as she continued to ventilate Deirdre. To her right, she heard a man cough, then gag. Dr. Neal sat the bag-valve mask to the side, removed the OPA, and quickly rolled his brother onto his left side, holding him in place as Archer coughed, gasped, and spat.

Deirdre’s mother crawled up to him and took one of his hands, stretching his arm toward Deirdre. Then she reached for Deirdre’s hand and placed it in Archer’s before covering them both with her own.

“Life support,” Léilarin murmured.

“You’re going to be alright, Archer,” she heard Dr. Neal say. “Deirdre is alive. Just rest for me. I need to get him on a twelve-lead!”

She heard Imala echo that request for their own patient, but her eyes were on Dr. Neal’s face. Tears streaked the man’s cheeks.

“I’m Léilarin,” she said. “Léilarin Eḥāyi. And I am happy for you.”

“Thank you,” he breathed, wiping his face on the sleeve of his shirt. “Call me Asa.”

*** Archer leaned back against his pillow, rubbing at the twinge in his chest as he did so. His eyes immediately darted around, guiltily looking for Asa until he recalled his brother had finally relaxed enough to retreat to a private space to coordinate patient care with his practice staff. 

Instead, his eyes fell on Deirdre.

When he’d first awakened in this room, he’d been terribly confused. This space was nothing like any hospital room he’d seen anywhere. Well-lit with natural light, with plants and furnishings that resembled a resort rather than an ICU. He shared a bed with Deirdre, though Dr. Eḥāyi explained that the beds could be unlocked and split apart for easier access to one or both patients. 

Another difference was that once he’d recovered enough to be discharged, bed been encouraged—no, ordered—to stay. His presence, Dr. Eḥāyi explained, would help Deirdre heal.

As though he would ever leave.

Archer shifted gingerly toward her. She lay still on her side of the bed, a sheet pulled up beneath her arms. 

The first day, her wings had been retracted by some kind of magical procedure Archer couldn’t remember the name of, which had left the bed full of what looked like stardust until a crew cleaned it up. She’d laid unmoving throughout. In fact, for the first three days, her only movement was the rise and fall of her chest as the ventilator breathed for her. Archer’d gripped her hand and wept, for it no longer felt like she was in another room. She felt so far away he couldn’t be sure she existed.

Day two, they ran a tube up her nose for feeding. Her hair fell out and her skin peeled. Tvaris and Foraoise visited, cleaning her skin and the bedding when he was too weak to do so. Then, to his surprise, they’d laid her hands on her scalp and regrown her hair, a process that had taken nearly two hours. When it was finished, they’d braided it and pulled it over one shoulder.

Day three, a blue glow sparked in her chest and forehead. The light was subtle, noticeable more at night. Archer laid there in the semi-dark, watching her skin glow from in and listening to her artificial breathing. He’d refused sleeping medication.

Day four was his discharge day. He remained, holding her hand as they successfully took her off the ventilator and replaced it with an oxygen mask. That was also the day he’d called his agent and explained he and his partner had been in a severe accident and that while he had been discharged, she was still in a coma and he would need an extension. He expected to feel relief when his agent called back to say it has been granted and that everyone was praying for her, but he just wanted to be off the phone.

Day six, they removed supplemental oxygen altogether. Her bruises faded, faster even than Archer’s own.

Day nine proved even more monumental, Asa and Dr. Eḥāyi stood bedside and told Archer and Deirdre’s parents that she did not seem to have Long QT Syndrome any longer.

“I don’t know how it’s possible,” Asa declared, awed. “Unless—”

“Unless nothing,” Dr. Eḥāyi replied. “Her heart was very damaged. Too damaged for her to survive if she were a human.”

Archer jerked his head around to stare at Asa, who nodded solemnly.

“But,” Eḥāyi continued, “she is not human. Her magic is repairing her body from the great insult it received. Should things continue as they are, I have every reason to expect a full recovery.”

Archer nearly fell apart with relief, the fatigue he’d been holding back making him so lightheaded that Asa made him lay down and took his blood pressure.

And then nothing changed for a week. 

Asa spent every other day with them, driving back and forth to tend to patients. He brought Archer’s laptop, which sat untouched in its bag on the bedside table. Liam and Tvaris brought Fae, who was, at that moment, sunning herself in the window. 

Hospital staff were in and out as usual. A nurse came regularly to supplement Deirdre’s circulation, helping her to avoid pressure sores. Other staff came to bathe her, or see to her personal needs. 

At the moment, however, they were alone.

Archer reached out, tracing the shell of her ear with his fingertips. Then he traced the line of her jaw. His fingers moved to her lips, soft and smooth now. He traced their shape, then ran his fingers down her neck and rested his palm over her heart, careful not to disrupt her leads. Then he leaned in and kissed her.

Just like that, he felt her. Deirdre stepped into the room.

He pulled back, staring intently at her face as the light under her skin faded.

She made a tiny noise. A huff. He lifted his hand from her chest and grasped her hand. Deirdre? Her eyelids fluttered and her lips parted. “Mmm…” Her breathy moan brought tears to his eyes.

“You’re all right, love. I’m here.”

Her lashes lifted, and her blue eyes briefly searched the room before focusing on his face. She blinked rapidly, and he felt her fingers twitch in his hand. 

“Hi!” The greeting was inadequate, but his throat seized up and a fat, hot tear ran down his cheek and into the scruff of his facial hair.

Deirdre’s throat worked, and he heard the dry click of her mouth. She gave a hoarse cough, swallowed hard, then whispered: “A-Ar-ch-cher…”

Relief made him briefly close his eyes, erupting out of him as a laugh that sounded more like a sob. He tried to compose himself and felt his features crumple as he drew a shuddering breath. 

“Shh…” Deirdre’s hand squeezed his, more of a twitch of her fingers.

“You’re… all right!” It wasn’t a question, and it wasn’t a reassurance. He opened his eyes.

“All… right,” she agreed, his tears reflected in her own.

*** A month later, Archer woke in the middle of the night to an empty bed. 

Rather, he awoke with Fae on his chest and Deirdre’s side of the bed empty.

Archer felt a frisson of concern before he sensed her. She wasn’t in the cottage, but she wasn’t far off, either. And, more importantly, she seemed to be fine.

He could just tell these things now. He reminded himself that already, she’d remastered fine motor tasks, walking, and beginner flight maneuvers. Dr. Eḥāyi explained, again, that fae recovery differed from human recovery, and that Deirdre’s access to magic accounted for the speed at which she met milestones.

Still, Archer gently scooped Fae up from his chest and sat up, finding her a spot on the sheet warmed by his body. She meowed at him, then curled into herself, covering her nose with her paw. Archer raked his hand through his hair and climbed out of bed, his eyes slowly adjusting to the dark.

He made his way through the cottage, dragging a fleece blanket off a chair as he passed. Wrapping it around his nude shoulders, he opened the front door. The night air, surprisingly warm for the time of year, slipped in and kissed his skin. Archer closed the door behind him and, wearing nothing but the blanket and loose pants, padded barefoot down the moss path. The light reflected off the moon and stars illuminated his path until another light source caught his attention. A blue light, coming from the place in the forest where they had nearly died.

Quickening his steps, Archer made his way to that spot in the trees. When he’d last seen it, semi-conscious and still afraid that Deirdre would slip away, it had been a dead zone. Broken trees, dry soil, dry brown moss. As he walked, he kept expecting the lush forest to shift to that barren wasteland.

Instead, he found Deirdre, naked, on her hands and knees, light pulsating from her chest and running down her arms and into the ground. Her wings, whole again, hung shimmering down her back, occasionally ruffling as she rocked gently back and forth. 

The dead zone had gone. The moss under his feet felt fresh and dense. Saplings sprouted in the gaps left by fallen, dead trees. Even the air felt alive, moist and scented of ozone. A winged insect fluttered against his cheek and then buzzed away past his ear.

“Deirdre,” he murmured, announcing himself even though he knew she sensed him, too. The light pulsated for several more seconds before fading out. Archer moved close, pulling the blanket from his shoulders and draping it around hers. He extended his hand. Deirdre slipped her hand in his and tugged him down beside her. Archer sat with his legs bent and stretched out in front of him. She mirrored his posture, the side of her body pressed against his. 

“You…” he gestured, at a loss for words.

“I could not sleep. I knew it was time to fix what I wrought. I came out the past two nights, too. You slept through it before…” She leaned her head against him. “You were worried.”

“Only briefly.”

“I would have come back immediately if you’d been worried for long.”

“You are all right.”

“I am all right.”

She tipped her head up and Archer bent to kiss her. Beneath the blanket, she folded her wings until they disappeared. Then she turned toward him, her arms sliding around his neck. The blanket slipped off her shoulders as he gathered her close, her breasts pressing against his chest. He felt her nipples pebble. She spoke, her lips moving against his skin. “We should visit a human courthouse and get married.”

Archer blinked in surprise. “Did you just propose?”

“We are joined in every way that matters,” Deirdre said. “But… Archer, if something happens and you end up in a human hospital, I want the rights of a wife.”

“Yes,” he said quickly. “Of course, yes.”

“We will bring Asa. And my parents.”

“What do you think about a small outdoor wedding? As soon as we can arrange it?”

Deirdre tightened her arms. “I like that idea even better.”

Archer dipped his head to kiss her lips, then the corner of her mouth, then her forehead. “And a honeymoon. Somewhere that’s safe for you to fly.”

“There’s an entire database of places,” she said, her voice lifting in excitement. “I will show it to you tomorrow.”

“Mmm.” Archer kissed her mouth again. “Databases. Sexy.”

She laughed and closed her eyes, presenting her mouth again. He kissed her hard, both of them inhaling deeply through their nose as they parted their lips for each other. He ran his hands up and down her back, feeling her soft skin. Need for her blossomed and grew, a need he saw reflected in her eyes when he leaned back. Archer released her reluctantly and picked up the blanket, shaking it out and then unfurling it onto the moss. Deirdre crawled backward onto the blanket and lay back on her elbows, her legs spreading before him. Her eyes glinted at him in the near dark as he stripped off his pants and tossed them to the side. Then he joined her on the blanket, framing her body with his arms and settling between her thighs, letting her feel his rapidly growing erection.

“Ánrhen,” he whispered, caressing her cheek.

She turned her face into his touch. “I love you, Archer.” Her hips moved slowly beneath him as she rubbed herself against his cock.

“I love you, Deirdre.” His hips mirrored hers, thrusting gently against her. He propped himself up on one elbow and slipped a hand between them, searching out the apex of her thighs. He rubbed a circle around her nub and leaned in to kiss her deeply, their tongues seeking each other out.

Archer dipped his thumb just into her wetness, then slid back up to circle her clit. He drew smaller and smaller circles until he rubbed her directly and she moaned into his mouth. Her chest heaved, and he bent his head to capture one of her brown nipples, lashing it with his tongue and then drawing the tip into his mouth. 

Deirdre gasped and ran her nails lightly down his back. She grasped his buttocks, her pelvis rocking as she sought a deeper connection. Archer lifted his head and attended to her other nipple, chuckling as she groaned with both arousal and frustration. Then he rose over her and kissed her mouth, his hand shifting to guide himself home.

One of her legs bent and wrapped around him. He started slow, gliding his length in and out of her warmth. Deirdre shuddered. Neither of them would last long, not for this first time since he’d almost lost her. Since he’d almost followed her. Archer ran his hand up and down her smooth thigh, then reached down and slipped his hand underneath her, pulling her closer. He rocked into her faster, a quiet groan escaping him.

“Archer,” she moaned, her back arching. Bending her knee, she planted her foot on the blanket and levered herself up against him, meeting him thrust for thrust. “Yes! Don’t stop, Archer!”

He covered her mouth with his, swallowing her cries. She felt vital in his arms, healthy and strong in a way she hadn’t before. Archer found her hands and pulled them above her head, linking his fingers with hers and taking his weight onto his elbows. “Deirdre,” he gasped, uncertain how much longer he could hold on as her warmth and wetness gripped him.

His hips jerked harder against her, satisfaction filling him when she bowed up, crying out in release, her hips shuddering and her channel spasming. He lost his rhythm, thrusting erratically several more times until the gathering sensations took him and he found his own release.

After, they lay tangled together, wrapped in the blanket. Archer held her close, her hair draped across his chest. Occasionally, he pressed a kiss to her temple and ran his hand up and down her back. Deirdre drew shapes upon his skin with her fingertips, her breathing slow and deep. Neither of them spoke; no words were needed.

The End.

[moodymelanist]

On The Line

happy day 5 of @nestaarcheronweek everyone! I had a lot of fun with this fic and I hope you do too 💙 title came from Call Me by Blondie!

Summary: Nesta sends a group text for her birthday plans, but there was a mix-up with one of the numbers and Cassian gets the text. He doesn’t know Nesta, but a party’s a party, so he decides to go!

Prompt credit to @creativepromptsforwriting!

Word Count: 4,890

Read on AO3 here!

♕♕♕♕♕ Nesta

When Nesta sent out the group text announcing her usual movie marathon and girls night in for her birthday, she’d been expecting the usual fanfare surrounding her birthday. Her family and friends had long been used to her chiller nights in to celebrate, so by the usual fanfare, she had planned her annual girls night in to celebrate her twenty-eighth birthday.

What she hadn’t been expecting was that one of her friends from college that she invited out of obligation had changed her number.

Nesta Archeron, 1:33 PM

Hi everyone! My birthday’s coming up, so we’re getting together again as usual. Bring your comfiest pajamas, your favorite chick flicks, and your best face masks to help me ring in turning 28 this Saturday at 7:30 PM 💙

Nesta added her address and some instructions about where to park before sending a cute, celebratory gif. There was a flurry of immediate, excited responses – everyone was liking and loving the message and saying if they could come or not. It was all business as usual, at least until a couple of texts came in from what was supposed to have been Deirdre’s number.

Unknown Number, 1:42 PM

Uh… did you mean to send this 2 me?

Happy bday tho @Nesta whoever you are

But this sounds rlly fun can i pls come anyway :)

“What the hell?” Nesta muttered under her breath as she read the texts. Before she could get a chance to reply, her youngest sister jumped in and took charge of the situation. 

Feyre Archeron, 1:45 PM

Send a pic and we’ll see

And ur name pls

Cassian Valladares, 1:47 PM

Cassian Valladares

& here

Cassian sent two pictures, the first of which made Nesta’s jaw drop of her own accord. He was one of the most gorgeous men she’d ever seen, with golden brown skin, hazel eyes, and a thin scar slicing through his right eyebrow. In the photo he’d sent, a giant, pink, fluffy headband complete with a bow was pushing his hair back from his smiling face. His skin glowed from being recently moisturized and his jaw looked cleanly shaven – maybe they’d caught him in the middle of his self-care routine.

Ha. As if. Most of the men Nesta knew, especially the straight ones, barely bothered to use more than 3-in-1 products. It would practically be a miracle if this so-called Cassian even knew what moisturizer was, let alone actually used one that was made specifically for his face. 

Nesta snorted to herself before swiping to the other photo. The second photo was of a serious stash of face masks, a matching pajama set, and a very fuzzy pair of bunny slippers laid out against a dark blue comforter. He’d clearly just tossed everything onto his bed, but Nesta noted that his bed was actually made and his room actually looked clean – there was no way he’d managed to clean everything and grab his supplies for the photo that quickly, so she hoped that meant he was 1) actually clean and 2) maybe even had a skin care routine.

Cassian Valladares, 1:47 PM

Hope I pass inspection :)

Huh. Color her surprised. Nesta had barely finished ogling the man and his face mask collection when her phone started ringing. She rolled her eyes and slid to answer, not even bothering to greet her sister since she knew Feyre would come into the conversation guns blazing.

“Nesta, you have to let him come,” Feyre said the moment Nesta answered the phone, proving her initial guess correct. “He’s so fucking hot.”

“Hi to you too, Fey,” Nesta replied wryly. “He’s hot, but for all we know, he could be a serial killer.”

“I mean, he already knows where you live,” Feyre pointed out. “If he’s a serial killer, maybe we should try to get him on our good side.”

“Because that’s sound logic,” Nesta responded, rolling her eyes even though Feyre couldn’t see her. “We don’t know this guy!”

“Okay, but maybe we should,” Feyre said. The sound of her voice changed as she switched to speaker phone. “I’m just saying we should consider all our options.”

Nesta’s phone buzzed against her ear and she shifted Feyre to speaker phone before going to read the new messages. Her eyes bugged out of her head as she read what Feyre had written. 

Feyre Archeron, 1:53 PM

You 100% do

Please come my sister would love to have you!

In more ways than one ;)

“Don’t hate me,” Feyre told her, sounding like she was trying not to laugh. 

“Feyre!” Nesta hissed over her sister’s hysterical cackling. She’d barely even tried before losing it, her pure glee coming through the phone loud and clear. “That’s not funny!”

“It’s a little funny,” Feyre replied, still laughing. Nesta pulled the phone away from her face to read the next text that came in.

Emerie Castillo, 1:54 PM

RIP to Feyre Archeron, time of death 1:53 PM

Everyone sent a bunch of laugh reactions and funny tombstone memes in response, and Nesta couldn’t help but snort at the one Elain sent. Maybe if everyone else was laughing, she could find the humor in the situation, too.

Nesta put the phone back to her ear once she was reasonably sure all the reactions were finished. “Okay, maybe it’s a little funny.”

“See?” Feyre responded, teasing. “I knew you’d come around.”

“I’m still going to make sure he’s not a creep,” Nesta told her sister. She was already mentally preparing a list of ways to look into Cassian – social media would hopefully be the easiest way, but she wasn’t above looking him up on Case Search to make sure he didn’t have anything weird under his name. White Pages probably wouldn’t hurt either, now that she thought about it.

“I wouldn’t expect anything less,” Feyre said. “I mean, all jokes aside. I’m sure it’s gonna be a funny story at the end of it, but I don’t want to get murdered in my pajamas either.”

“Exactly.” Nesta shifted the phone to her other ear so she wouldn’t overheat. “I knew you’d come around.”

“Ha ha, very funny,” Feyre responded sarcastically. “I have to go, but this made my day. I’ll talk to you soon?”

“Yeah, I’ll call you tomorrow,” Nesta agreed. “Bye, Fey. Love you.”

“Love you too. Bye!”

Nesta wiped her phone screen off before firing off a quick couple of messages to the group. 

Nesta Archeron, 1:57 PM

I guess you’re ok

You can come but I’m not afraid to use my taser

Elain Archeron, 1:58 PM

Yay!

Gwyn Berdara, 1:58 PM

🙌🙌

Emerie Castillo, 1:58 PM

If you try anything I’m not above kicking a grown man’s ass

Cassian Valladares, 2:01 PM

Warning received

Promise im a normal guy tho

Not in like a “i’m a nice guy” way but like in an i’m actually normal way

Promise i’ll be on my best behavior :-)

Nesta snorted as she read Cassian’s message. She’d be the judge of that.

♕♕♕♕♕

By the time Nesta’s birthday celebration rolled around, even she’d been forced to admit that Cassian would probably be fine. She’d done all her due diligence, and he’d come up as squeaky clean as they could come. Between White Pages, LinkedIn, and Instagram, she felt like she had a pretty good idea of who Cassian was. He’d gone to a good college, and he’d been teaching at the same high school for a few years now. Most of his feed was made up of him either doing some physical activity – boxing, running, and even hiking – or spending time with his friends.

Nesta’s phone had been steadily blowing up over the course of the day, but she hadn’t been able to check it much between the deep cleaning she was giving her townhouse. By the time she was able to pick it up and scroll through all the messages, several of her guests were already on their way, but her curiosity was piqued when she saw Cassian had texted her separately.

Cassian Valladares, 7:04 PM

hey stranger

u sure it’s cool if i come?

no hard feelings if not i promise(:

Nesta paused halfway to turning on the shower, a little touched by how considerate that was of him. Most of the guys she knew wouldn’t have even bothered to send a confirmation text, let alone made sure she was actually okay with what was happening.

Nesta Archeron, 7:05 PM

Yes, it’s fine

If I was going to change my mind, I would’ve said something earlier than 30 mins before the party

Cassian Valladares, 7:05 PM

thank god

would’ve been a waste of my money otherwise lol

Cassian sent a photo of a reusable shopping bag with a bunch of face masks and what looked like a bottle of wine sticking out of the top of it. Nesta snorted and typed out a quick reply.

Nesta Archeron, 7:06 PM

Someone’s an overachiever

Cassian Valladares, 7:06 PM

Have to make a good first impression ;)

See u soon, birthday girl

This time, he sent a picture of his fuzzy slippers, pulling a little chuckle out of Nesta before she finally put her phone down and got in the shower. She didn’t have as much time as she wanted, but this was supposed to be a pajama party, so she didn’t have to worry about doing her hair or her makeup once her body was freshly washed and moisturized. By the time her friends had started showing up, she was comfortably dressed in a set of navy pajamas and already had her hair pulled back with a giant, fluffy white headband.

It was almost eight when the last of her planned guests had arrived, and Nesta couldn’t help but wonder if Cassian was going to show up after all. Even though he’d said he’d be there, she didn’t actually know him enough to trust his word.

“He’ll come,” Elain said, wisely picking up on the source of Nesta’s worries as she helped Nesta in the kitchen. Everyone had been assigned various tasks to make the night a success, and the three Archeron sisters were on snack organizing duty. “I just know it.”

“If he doesn’t, me and Emerie will track him down and beat him up,” Feyre added with a wink before she dumped a bag of chips into a big bowl. “But I’m sure he’ll show up.”

Before Nesta could open her mouth to reply, someone rang the doorbell. She made eye contact with Feyre, who was already grinning wide with excitement, before she sighed and wiped her hands on the nearest dish towel. “Don’t be weird about it.”

“No promises!” Feyre called out to Nesta’s retreating back.

Nesta made herself take a deep breath before she went to answer the door. She had a house full of friends and family to help defend her if things went wrong, but she knew deep down she was more worried about things going right. What if Cassian was actually a cool, normal guy, and she actually had fun with him?

She supposed there was only one way to find out.

“Hey,” Cassian said once Nesta opened the door, already smiling down at her with a ridiculously goofy grin. Just like in the picture he’d sent, he was holding a reusable bag filled with goodies, but he hadn’t mentioned the bouquet of beautiful flowers that were in his other hand. “Happy birthday, stranger.”

“Hi,” Nesta said back, hoping she didn’t sound as nervous as she felt. She took the offered flowers and leaned down to smell the pink and white blooms with a tiny smile, careful not to lean down too far lest her birthday headband shifted off her head. “I can’t believe you actually came.”

“Of course I did,” he replied. He moved inside so she could shut the door behind him, taking off his shoes and looking to her for directions. “A party’s a party, right?”

“I guess it is,” she responded. She beckoned for him to follow her and the two of them made a path toward the kitchen, and she grabbed a vase, filled it up with water, and gently placed the flowers into it. “These are beautiful.”

“Anything for the birthday girl,” he answered with a wink. Feyre and Elain had made themselves scarce, so he didn’t have anyone blocking him from emptying the contents of his bag onto her kitchen island. He’d brought a bottle of wine, a bunch of sheet masks, a container filled with cupcakes, and the pajama set and bunny slippers he’d sent a picture of before. “Where should I go change?”

Nesta resolutely pretended like her cheeks weren’t pink from his words and the sheer amount of supplies he’d brought with him. “Um… the bathroom is the second door on the left. Feel free to change in there.”

“Aye aye, captain,” Cassian replied. He grabbed his clothes and fired off a mock salute in her direction before heading to the bathroom. 

Nesta made herself take several deep breaths before she quickly organized her way through the rest of the snacks. Feyre and Elain had clearly taken some things with them to the living room, but she made sure to put the bottle of wine in her fancy wine fridge before sorting through the remaining snacks. The cupcakes were added to the display that Gwyn had brought, and the sheet masks were deposited into the container of skin care supplies. 

“Wow. That was fast,” Nesta said once Cassian had emerged from her bathroom. He’d changed out of his street clothes into a long-sleeved, red pajama shirt and matching plaid pants. The bunny slippers looked almost funny on him, but even she couldn’t deny how muscular he was, even underneath all the flannel.

“Didn’t want to keep anyone waiting,” Cassian responded with a grin. “Where’s everyone else?”

“In the living room,” she answered. He moved forward to start grabbing things off the counter once she picked up the container with the sheet masks in it. “This way.”

He trailed after her for the short walk to the living room. It seemed things were just getting started; Emerie, Feyre, and Gwyn were good-naturedly arguing over what movie to put on first, Clare was helping Elain pour drinks for everyone, and Ilana and Roslin were dividing the blankets up to make sure everyone had one. Nesta cleared her throat and tried to force down the blush that came from so many pairs of eyes on her.

“This is Cassian,” Nesta announced to the group at large. Cassian put down everything he was carrying on the coffee table before turning to wave at everyone. “Cassian, this is… everyone.”

“Thank God you’re not a catfish,” Feyre said with a grin. She hopped up from her spot on the couch to hand over the last fluffy headband that all the women were wearing to keep their hair pushed out of their faces. “I think Nesta would’ve really killed me otherwise.”

“Can’t have that, can we?” Cassian replied, matching Feyre’s grin right back. He took the headband and immediately put it on, revealing that his right eyebrow had a thin scar running through it that only served to make him more handsome. “When are we getting to the face masks?”

“As soon as we decide what movie we’re watching,” Gwyn answered. She patted the seat next to her and Cassian went without hesitating, leaving the only empty space in the room between him and the corner of the couch. “Come on, Nesta, you too.”

Nesta clutched the container of sheet masks to her body like a lifeline before she gingerly sat down next to Cassian. His body was solid but warm even through the pajamas, and she almost leaned into him before she reminded herself she didn’t really know him. “What are our movie options?”

“Mean Girls, Clueless, Legally Blonde,” Emerie listed. “Bring it On, 10 Things I Hate About You, Charlie’s Angels…”

“Mean Girls,” Nesta said decisively. “And then Charlie’s Angels, but only if it’s the one with Lucy Liu.”

“As if I’d suggest any other version,” Emerie responded with a roll of her eyes. She clicked through several screens on the remote until they had Mean Girls loaded up. “I’m a lesbian with taste, thank you very much.”

“Psst,” Elain said after a few moments. “Nesta. Pass around the masks.”

Nesta grabbed one out of the box before passing it to Cassian, the face masks slowly but steadily making their way around the group until they ended up on the floor at Nesta’s feet. She’d picked a cooling one, and she sighed happily as she spread the sheet mask over her face and let it work its magic.

“Thanks for coming, everyone,” Nesta said softly. Despite how introverted she could be at times, it really was nice being surrounded by the people who meant the most to her – other than the stranger to her left, but something told her he wouldn’t remain that way for long. “It really means a lot.”

“And thanks for letting me crash,” Cassain added with a small smile. “You’re all pretty fun so far.”

“You can stay as long as you give good advice,” Clare told him. She looked significantly less menacing with a sheet mask pressed to her brown skin, but Nesta knew she was serious – Tamlin certainly wasn’t a fan favorite, to put it lightly. “We’re trying to get Feyre to break up with her boyfriend.”

“Oh my God, can we give that a break?” Feyre complained with a dramatic roll of her eyes. “I know you guys don’t like Tamlin, but you’e not the ones dating him.”

“Well… what’s wrong with him?” Cassian asked cautiously. “Cause I can beat him up if he’s giving you problems.”

“You’d have to get in line,” Roslin muttered under her breath.

“He’s not that bad,” Feyre attempted to defend herself.

“Stop having sex with him and see if you change your mind,” Elain chimed in with a roll of her own eyes.

“Ladies, come on,” Cassian jumped in. “Let me hear Feyre’s side of things, at least.”

“Thank you,” Feyre responded. She reached over and turned the movie down before she delved into the story of how she’d met Tamlin, giving Cassian a brief overview of their tumultuous relationship and how much she loved him even though he didn’t show up quite as much as she’d hoped in their relationship. “I really do care about him.”

“Yeah, but love isn’t about a feeling,” Cassian replied sagely. “Love is a choice, and it kinda sounds like he’s not choosing you the way you’re choosing him.”

“What do you mean?” Gwyn asked, her voice curious. “Not that I disagree, but I want to hear more.”

“Well…” Cassian trailed off awkwardly, but at everyone’s encouraging faces, he sighed and kept talking. “The way I see it, love is a feeling, but you have to choose to do it. It’s all about your actions, you know? Does he bring you flowers? Does he remember things that are important to you? Does he make you feel good outside of the bedroom? Do you feel like you’re putting in the same amount of effort? Does he make you feel loved the way you need to be? Stuff like that.”

“Sheesh,” Emerie said, breaking the tension a little bit. “Sounds like you’d be a hell of a boyfriend.”

“I like to think so,” Cassian said with a shrug. “I haven’t had anyone to do that kind of stuff for in a while, but… always good to have a game plan.”

Nesta was aggressively reminded of the way he’d brought her flowers tonight and desperately needed a subject change. “Okay, that’s enough hounding Feyre tonight. Let’s get back to the movie.”

Feyre sent Nesta a grateful look before turning the volume back up. They hadn’t missed too much of the movie, and once everyone had massaged the leftover essence into their skin, they all relaxed into the couch as the movie continued to play. 

Nesta found herself leaning more and more into Cassian’s side throughout the duration of the movie. By the time the credits started to roll, she was practically mushing her face into his chest, and she forced herself to sit up before any of her friends noticed. He shot her a weird look as she did so, but clearly chose not to say anything.

“Charlie’s Angels is up next, right?” Cassian asked the room at large.

“Yes, but first we all need a bathroom break,” Elain answered. Nesta didn’t miss the way her sister’s voice lingered on bathroom break, but she’d been surprised with cake enough times at these things that everyone knew it wouldn’t exactly be a surprise. 

“Right! And I need more snacks!” Feyre exclaimed, continuing the act. Nesta rolled her eyes as her sisters and her friends made various excuses to clear the living room, from needing to use the bathroom to getting more drinks or even going to wash their faces so they could do another mask if they wanted.

Eventually, Nesta and Cassian were the only ones left on the couch. “You don’t need a bathroom break too?”

“No,” Nesta answered with a snort. “They’re going to get my cake. Elain probably put it in the fridge when she got here – she and Feyre are sneaky when they want to be.”

“That’s sweet of them,” he replied. 

“Yeah.” She couldn’t take how adorable he looked in that stupid headband and how earnest his expression was, so she forced herself to look down at the green blanket covering their legs. “They are. I’m lucky.”

Thankfully, she didn’t have to risk further embarrassing herself in front of him, as her friends picked that exact moment to pop out from the kitchen with her birthday cake. Elain was holding her cake, which was beautifully decorated as usual; the way she’d iced it made it look like it was made of blue roses, and she’d procured blue candles that said 28! to match.

“Happy birthday, Nesta!” Gwyn trilled once the cake was close enough. Everyone started singing happy birthday, and Cassian’s voice stood out amongst the higher register of her friends. Nesta’s cheeks burned at all the attention on her, but she couldn’t help but feel the love anyway. 

“Okay, okay, that’s enough,” Nesta hastily interrupted before they could launch into another refrain of how old are you now, pulling laughs from pretty much everyone. “Let me make my wish.”

Elain tilted the plate she was holding the cake on so that Nesta could make a wish. Nesta took a deep breath, already thinking generic things like I hope I have a good year and I hope I get a promotion at work, but then she made eye contact with Cassian, and all the generic hopes suddenly faded away.

I hope this isn’t the last time I see him, Nesta thought suddenly, and then she blew out her candles before she could second-guess herself. Everyone cheered and Elain whisked the cake away so she could start cutting up slices, and Nesta was so focused on dodging Feyre and Emerie’s birthday punches that she didn’t have to think about where her sudden birthday wish had come from.

“This is so good,” Cassian remarked once the cake had been passed out. “Where did you get this from?”

“Elain’s an amazing baker,” Nesta informed him with pride. Her sister was smart as a whip and anything she whipped up in the kitchen always tasted amazing; that particular gene had skipped over Nesta, so she made a point of enjoying Elain’s food any chance she got. “And a chef, too, but the baking is my personal favorite.”

“It’s just another kind of science, if you think about it,” Elain replied with a small smile. She was just about finished with her grad program, and Nesta couldn’t wait to attend her fancy PhD graduation. “But thank you.”

“I’m gonna have to talk to you about doing some cupcakes for my end-of-the-year party,” Cassian continued. “The kids would go crazy for them.”

“What kids?” Ilana asked from her spot on the edge of the couch.

“I’m a teacher,” Cassian explained. “Middle school, so they’re just old enough to be able to hold their sugar.”

“A teacher,” Emerie repeated, making eye contact with Nesta and raising her eyebrows. “That’s cool.”

“We love a man who’s good with children,” Gwyn added. She waggled her eyebrows ridiculously in Nesta’s direction. 

Nesta hoped she didn’t look as incredulous as she felt. Were her friends trying to set her up right now? “Let’s get back to the movie.”

Charlie’s Angels passed without any more teasing on Nesta’s behalf – at least, not about Cassian. Feyre and Elain were more than happy to poke a little fun at how many times Nesta had rewatched the scene with Lucy Liu dressed up in her leather outfit, but Cassian came to her defense, claiming he’d done the exact same thing so many times his mom had stopped letting him watch the movie.

Nesta couldn’t help but chuckle at the image of a tiny Cassian getting in trouble for that, and Cassian kept up a steady stream of commentary during the best parts of the movie just to keep her laughing. It left a nice, warm feeling in her chest, and she held onto it for as long as she could.

Eventually, the night had to come to a close. Everyone was more than ready to help her clean up, and by the time they started exchanging goodbye hugs and promises to let the group know when everyone arrived home safely, Nesta’s space was more or less restored to how it had looked before the night began.

Nesta made sure to give her sisters an especially long hug, thanking them profusely for coming over and making her birthday special.

“It’s what we do,” Feyre replied with a smile. Her eyes flicked over in Cassian’s direction before returning to Nesta’s with a knowing look, and she added, “I’ll accept my thank you with a free lunch.”

Nesta just rolled her eyes before not-so-gently pushing Feyre toward the door. “Good night, Feyre.”

“You know she’s just teasing,” Elain chimed in, laughing. “But don’t let a good thing get away from you, Nesta. He seems really nice.”

“Not you too,” Nesta responded with a groan. She flicked Elain in the arm before similarly herding her toward the door. “Bye, Lainey.”

Once her sisters were out the door, Nesta realized that Cassian was the only partygoer standing between her and going to bed. She certainly didn’t feel as nervous about him being in her space as she had before he’d shown up, but there were some butterflies floating around in her stomach as she looked up at him.

“And then there were two,” Cassian joked.

“And then there were two,” Nesta repeated with a small smile. She looked away from him and settled her gaze on the pretty flowers he’d brought her, adding a pop of color to the space. “I’m really glad you came.”

“I’m really glad you let me,” he replied. “You have some pretty cool people in your corner.”

“Yeah,” she agreed. She looked back up at him to see he was already looking at her with a tiny grin on his face. “I’m just happy you got along with everyone.”

He laughed, his hazel eyes crinkling around the corners, and she knew she was a total goner. “You and me both, sweetheart. I fully believe I would’ve gotten my ass kicked otherwise.”

“Emerie means business,” she told him with a little chuckle. His entire expression brightened once she laughed, and it was so wholesome she almost wanted to do it again just to get him to make that face again. “Feyre, too.”

“Speaking of Feyre…” he trailed off. “Did she mean what she said?”

“What did she say?” Nesta asked, trying to remember what he might’ve been referring to. 

“That you’d love to have me,” Cassian answered. She could tell he wasn’t trying to make fun of her, but that didn’t stop her cheeks from heating. “In more ways than one.”

“Um,” she sputtered, her brain going completely blank. “I. Um. What?”

“I don’t want to be too forward or anything,” he said, taking a few steps closer to her, “but I think you’re really great, and I want to get to know you better. Can I take you out?”

“Like on a date?” she asked. Her heart was beating hard in her chest and she hoped she didn’t sound as nervous as she suddenly felt.

“Yeah,” he replied with a smile. “If that’s okay with you.”

“Definitely okay with me,” she agreed, matching his smile before she could overthink it too badly. 

“Great.” He stood there grinning at her for a few moments before he blinked and backed away, quickly gathering his reusable bag and street clothes that he’d come into her place wearing. “I’ll text you.”

“You do that,” she told him. They moved toward the door and he gave her one last lingering look before heading out into the night. 

As Nesta watched Cassian drive away, she could admit to herself that this had been one of the best birthdays she’d had in a long time.

tag list: @perseusannabeth | @bookstantrash | @charming-butt-insane | @oversizedbats | @melphss | @sv0430 | @podemechamardek | @autumnbabylon | @live-the-fangirl-life | @julemmaes | @that-little-red-head | @jmoonjones | @sayosdreams | @thewayshedreamed | @hiimheresworld | @brieq | @pearlfortears | @swankii-art-teacher | @nerdperson524 | @snickerdoodlechittybangbang | @imsointobooks | @nesquik-arccheron | @sweet-pea1 | @champanheandluxxury | @dustjacketmusings | @mrs-shadowsinger04 | @unlikelypersonalknight1 | @goddess-aelin | @arinbelle | @talkfantasytome | @simpingfornestaarcheron | @duskandstarlight | @letstakethedawn | @vidalinav | @c-e-d-dreamer | @dealfea | @katekatpattywack | @burningsnowleopard

[londonfalling]

The Relentless Dowager

Name: Lady Deirdre Grey

Gender: woman (she/her)

Height: 5’3” (162cm)

Occupation: Rat-catcher

Profile link

Prominent Skills: Watchful, Dangerous, Shadowy

Prominent Quirks: Ruthless, Austere, Melancholy, Daring

Reputation: Not much is known of the Lady Grey, a relatively new arrival in Fallen London, except that she is not picky about her line of work, however reputable it may be. Very little of her person is visible as well, covered as she is in high-collared black gowns and mourning veils. What is there, however, is strikingly unladylike- most of all the prominent burn scars that cover her face. Though she seems to abide by the explicit rules of etiquette and respectability, she does so in a manner so dogmatic one must doubt whether she has learned the unspoken rules of polite society. Rumour has it that she’s a social climber- a woman of ill repute who ended up marrying into nobility, hence her title. If so, then her widow’s garb might explain why she’s in London: an inheritance to claim, some say, while others whisper of a quest to avenge the death of a husband. Still, the people who have seen her walking- or rather marching- through Ladybones Road and Wolfstack Docks alike all agree that her mannerisms speak of a hard head and even harder boots, more often than not placed on some unfortunate fellow's face. 

Personality: 

RUTHLESS: Simply put, Deirdre is not the type of person to stray from the path she’s set herself on, be it a journey of revenge, a social climb or whatever her latest venture is. She also isn’t the type to know when to stop when said venture gets a bit too dangerous for her to handle, or when others are involved that may end up as collateral damage. She isn’t usually rash in her actions, but she definitely doesn’t fully calculate the consequences of her action much farther than doing A gets me to B;

AUSTERE:  Though she isn’t especially religious, Deirdre holds the firm belief that idle hands work for the Devil, so to speak, and so she doesn’t often participate in high society gatherings, or indulge in neathy delights unless her work calls for it. Probably these distracting idylls would force her to be alone with her thoughts for more than five minutes, or God forbid, hold polite and empty conversation in front of a number of people much higher than she is comfortable with.

MELANCHOLY: There’s something decidedly fatalistic in her way of thinking- she’d say that sometimes one loses because they were never meant to play the game in the first place, or that people cannot change who they truly are, only put on masks to their own detriment. The very literal veil hiding her face makes it clear that these sentiments are spoken from personal experience.

DARING: In the sentence “she isn’t usually rash” the keyword is “usually”. Deirdre doesn’t handle frustration very well: when a situation slips out of her control or goes sideways, she’s prone to acting erratically and diving headfirst into the first solution that comes to mind, or in yet another dangerous venture to distract herself from her own lack of patience.

+ EMOTIONALLY REPRESSED: Between the strange sense of propriety and her insistence to never stop whatever quest she’s on, it’s no wonder Deirdre hasn’t processed a single emotion of hers since the year 1867.

Fun facts:

She was born in 1855 in Belfast, and should be about 44 now, if the year 1899 hadn't stretched on beyond all possible reason.

Since the feast of Whitsun, her lodgings have become some sort of menagerie for a variety of animal companions, which she is forced to admit she loves dearly, and that if anything happened to them she would kill all of London and then herself.

(I also have a spotify playlist for her!)

[sharpscion]

♡ softsmiles

i was hoping not to find myself with a perfect child, but then susanne sent this ask, so uh- here we go.

i would like to introduce you to conall (if you get it you get it), the esteemed son of seliph and scáthach! the sole heir to grannvale, mixed in with some isaachian royalty as well. he's in a remarkably well off position, but while they are unsaid, the expectations on his shoulders are quite high.

first things first, conall does certainly have some holy blood in him! i rolled a dice to see what we would be doing here, and the general result is that he retains the baldr major holy blood, as well as some od minor holy blood. sorry deirdre, the naga blood is not here to stay for our boy. the brand of the crusader baldr is comfortably sat between his shoulder blades.

as i eluded to earlier, conall has a great deal of expectations on his shoulders from a young age. though his parents might not have left a war for him to finish, there is still a great deal he must live up to. being the sole heir to grannvale requires perfection, and he has always strived to be as perfect as possible. all his time is occupied by something productive, whether it be learning magical arts, training with the sword, studying in the library, all the way down to practicing horseback riding. he has fallen ill countless times due to lack of sleep and overwork. his eyesight started to fail him in his early teens, and now glasses rest atop his nose.

while he is extremely busy, he always makes time for his people as the prince of grannvale. everyone might say he is an upstanding noble, one of a kind even. the general perception of him by the public is that he is the perfect man. though he will accept praise with a smile, it only crushes his spirit further, another reminder he must keep working twice as hard.

making friends has never been a problem for him, he's quite a kind and charming person after all. should you find him with time to spare, he will surely give it to you... but is it really him you're talking to? or is it the mask of someone who feels that simply being relaxed or truly human is boring and unbecoming of his position. it's likely he's also been burned before... could he truly trust a persons intentions when they simply found their way into his path? he had heard the stories, after all, about those who would whisper in your ear.

while conall is generally insincere with others as a necessity for people to think him proper of his place, he is rather relaxed in the presence of his family. his relationship with seliph is likely pretty great! having a dad like seliph, im sure just being around him makes his expectations feel lighter. if he is of the same blood as a man as kind and genuine as seliph, surely he too will reach that one day. he loves seliph... and so he could never tell him just how tied down. seliph probably already expects as much, though.

scáthach and conall are likely very close as well, of course they would be, scáthach likely never lets the boy out of his sight. while some kids might find it smothering, conall has always found his father's watchful eyes comforting. he would be hard pressed to find his father speak from his heart truly, and so he takes these small actions as confirmation of love. though his 'reminders' to relax are mildly annoying, he can count on scáthach to help him if he needs it. conall will feel more akin to his dad, sort of like an outsider in his own castle... which leads them to sometimes talk in the dead of night, where seliph can't hear. though i wish i could say scáthach gives good advice in these times, he can only give his son the drive and encouragement to keep pushing forward.

sometimes he makes 'diplomatic' trips to isaach, where he is absolutely smothered by his aunt larcei. if conall had not been accustomed to her since childhood, he likely would feel incredibly uncomfortable. even so, he could only admire his free spirit of an aunt, who he loves dearly. in isaach, even he can let go of his burdens, though not completely... thankfully larcei is there to give him a hand when he stumbles. he has a truly supportive family.

[sihayadunee]

Sleeping Beauty in Mayfair Witches

Finally getting to my Aarne-Thompson-Uther folktale analysis, inspired by @allgirlsareprincesses. This first instalment will cover the ATU type 410, aka Sleeping Beauty or the Search for the Lost Bride. Future posts will cover ATU type 425, aka Beauty and the Beast or Search for the Lost Husband.

A fair warning, this post will cover some spoilers for Deirdre’s storyline. Rowan’s story potentially has some similarities to a tale variant called The Nineth Captain’s Tale, but I will save that for another time when we cover the Animal Husband motif. For more of a focus on our protagonist Rowan, you can check out my mythic symbolism series: Part One, Part Two. If you wish to watch the show first, Anne Rice’s Mayfair Witches is available to stream on AMC+ as well as purchase physically on DVD and Blue-Ray. Now let’s jump right in!

The tale type 410, or Sleeping Beauty, is related to Snow White, and other such Lost Bride tales. Typically a princess is the subject of a warning or prophecy, before succumbing to a cursed sleep either by consuming poison or being pricked. She is then awakened by a prince.

In the first episode, we open with an overgrown and desolate house in New Orleans. Much like the hidden castle overgrown with forest and thorns. This is the Mayfair House, and we follow Dr. Vernon Lamb as he makes his first house call to his new patient Deirdre Mayfair, who exists in a medically induced catatonic state. Dr. Lamb is the first of three characters who fill the role of the “prince” in this tale.

BEFORE THE SUN SETS ON HER 16th BIRTHDAY, SHE SHALL PRICK HER FINGER ON THE SPINDLE OF A SPINNING WHEEL — AND DIE!

The pricking of Sleeping Beauty’s finger, is a phallic symbolic of sexual awakening, first blood and transition out of childhood. This is represented a number of ways in the show. In our flashbacks, we see Deirdre as a young women at the age between childhood and adulthood. Her Aunt Carlotta and the local priest, constantly warn her against indulging “The Man” who we learn is called Lasher.

In her room she has a snow globe depicting the Eiffel Tower, a phallic symbol, which represents her yearning to escape from her overbearing aunts. Interestingly, she will actually cut her self on this broken snow globe at some point. She also longs for a relationship with Lasher, which she can’t have while she is a child.

When she sneaks away to her Uncle Cortland’s party, he secretly arranges for a handsome youth to sweep her off her feet and deflower her. Here Deirdre physically crosses that threshold into maturity.

Later after a great trauma, her Aunt Carlotta arranges with Deirdre’s doctors to give her Thorazine shots. This is the first of many terrible procedures which eventually cause Deirdre to become catatonic in adulthood.

*trigger warning for mentions of sexual assault in the following section*

It is revealed later in the season, that the night Deirdre had her first sexual experience, she is also raped. Her Uncle Cortland has his own ulterior motives, and wants to ensure she gets pregnant before her aunts lock her away forever. So after the young man leaves, and while Deirdre lies sleeping, Cortland puts on a mask and forces himself on her. She is still in a dream like state during this so does not know, and afterwards regardless of who it was, Deirdre becomes pregnant. This is something we often see in variations like The Sun, Moon, and Talia. A passing king or prince raping the sleeping princess, after which she becomes pregnant.

*end of trigger warning*

FROM THIS SLUMBER YOU SHALL WAKE, WHEN TRUE LOVE’S KISS, THE SPELL SHALL BREAK

When Dr. Lamb sees how young and otherwise healthy Deirdre is, he reviews her file and decides she is in danger from her Aunt Carlotta. He decided to pretend to give her the Thorazine shot, intending to help Deirdre wake up and be free. This is similar to the accidental removal of the curse, such as in The Sun, and Moon, and Talia where her child sucks the flax from her finger and she awakens.

While there isn’t a formal awakening kiss, the power of true love component presents itself through Lasher, who is technically trapped with Deirdre inside her mind. He helps coax her awake, telling her to take control again. So she does.

ORPHEUS AND EURYDICE: THE LOST BRIDE TALE

Unfortunately for Deirdre, like Padmé in the Star Wars Prequel Trilogy and Eurydice before them, she meets a grim fate. No pun intended. Lasher is bound to each Designee of the Mayfair bloodline, and Carlotta Mayfair often found the most suitable means to suppress his power and keep him at bay, to be killing his witches.

As they pass on to the next life, Lasher’s only connection to them is through the other Designees. So with each death, he feels each loss. But Deirdre is particularly representative of this Lost Bride myth, because she was already in a death-like sleep which he was trying to save her from.

Even before Dr. Lamb arrived, it’s clear Lasher had been trying and failing to get through to Deirdre, thanks to the Thorazine. Once the doctor stops her dosages, Lasher can finally find her. Just like Orpheus, it is his voice that leads her back to the realm of the living. And just like Orpheus loses Eurydice at the last moment, so too does Lasher lose Deirdre.

[guhamun]

@caemthe said (inbox):

[ dee, for yinlin ] Deirdre doesn't like crowds, shouldn't stay in them for too long even, but her friend insisted on going to the Moon-chasing festival at least once, reminding her of the reason why she was escaping traveling in the first place. And, surprisingly, it was better than she expected. The music, lights, fireworks, laughter, and life could be felt in all of Taoyuan Vale. Time passed by quickly and, before she knew it, most people had already left and most stalls were already closed for the night. Sitting at the sightseeing spot under the village's large tree, Deirdre finally decided to take off her crow mask, a long sigh following after taking a deep breath. 'So this is what life is about, huh?' A thought she couldn't ponder for long, since it appeared she wasn't alone anymore. Putting on her mask again, she turned to look at the puppet and the puppeteer who controlled it. "Your show for the children was amazing. It was easy to forget that it was only one person doing it all. You must've practiced for the play for a long time." At least, it looked that way, but... Yinlin, while they haven't had many opportunities to actually sit down and talk, it was curious how they always cross paths.

FESTIVALS WERE THE BEST time for an agent. It was during this time information was exchanged, hidden away behind the vibrant lights, laughter, and smiles that lingered the people’s lips as they enjoyed themselves with friends or lovers. Thus, she wore her puppeteer guise, playing the role of a performer before the children as she created a show that would linger in their hearts long after the event was over. Zapstring moved as if alive, currently floating about children who had remained and filling them with awe. The sight always pulled a small smile from Yinlin’s lips, her heart warmed by the happiness she managed to spread from something so simple as this. Despite the noise, she heard Deirdre’s approach, her smile still present, yet it seemed more subdued now; present for the sake of being present. ❝Deirdre,❞ she greeted, tugging her cap a little further over her features. ❝It’s a play that I remember from when I was a little girl. Every time I saw it, even though it wasn’t changed much, I was always so excited. Honestly, I’m surprised I can even remember it after all these years.❞

     Was she speaking truth?

     Yinlin would leave that to Deirdre to decide, especially since she was prone to fabricating stories as she saw fit. ❝Hmm…I’m quite surprised to see you here, actually. Are you and your partner here enjoying the festival? We do not have foreigners often here during that time, so I can’t help but be curious as to what you think of it thus far.❞ She tilted her head a little, just enough to look at Deirdre from the corner of her eye. She didn’t see Cu’s bright head of hair, but she could assume that he was here too – wandering about, enjoying himself. How surprising it was, then, that Deirdre wasn’t with him. Even more so when the other woman decided to approach her.  

[dioles-writes]

CHARACTER INFO: THE BOARD GAME CLUB

Felix Rodriguez (he/him)

A 16-year old Diole starting 11th grade at Diantha Rose High School. Has just moved back to his hometown to try and get a fresh start. Lives with his older sister Reagan and her girlfriend Paisley above the bakery that they own. Childhood best friends with Bliss and Akali. Has a tendency to get into fights over practically anything and has an iconic bowl cut which he claims is a “fashion statement”.

Winola Higgins (she/her) - belongs to @jiphenn

A 16-year-old Diole starting 11th grade at Diantha Rose High School. Just moved from Germany with her four younger siblings (Cormac, Gertrude, Deirdre, & Franz) and her parents Freida and Fergus. Taking Foods with Alzena. Extremely suicidal and only still alive out of spite for her parents. Has a pet snake and four toads.

January Restall (he/him) - belongs to @jiphenn

A 16-year-old Diole starting 11th grade at Diantha Rose High School. Homeschooled his whole life and has absolutely 0 social skills. Son of Howard Restall, the richest man on the planet and Head of Diole Eradication. He lives in a huge mansion all by himself on the outskirts of the town. Childhood best friends with Maddox. Leader of the Board Game Club.

Maddox Exermas (he/him) - belongs to @jiphenn

A 16-year-old Diole starting 11th grade at Diantha Rose High School. Also homeschooled all his life, and has slightly more social skills than January but not a whole lot. His grandpa Racman owns Chumps Jr., a very run-down and shitty restaurant in a very poor area of town. Childhood best friends with January. Co-leader of the Board Game Club.

Akali Lee (he/him) - belongs to @jiphenn

A 16-year-old Diole going into 11th grade at Diantha Rose High School. Lives in a richer part of their neighborhood with his parents and eight siblings: Ensio, Ilona, Della, Jimbo, Jambo, Letha, Cadi, and Ovia. Everyone under Della is adopted. Childhood best friends with Bliss and Felix. He’s a huge germaphobe and cannot be seen without his iconic black mask+gloves combo and even carries around his own utensils wherever he goes. Has an all-black aesthetic.

Avil Chane (she/her) - belongs to @jiphenn

A 15-year old Diole starting 10th grade at Diantha Rose High School. 5-time city champion swimmer and even gets paid for her swimming competitions. Dating Wilder 🥰🥰. 3rd-in-command for the Board Game Club and January’s ride-or-die. The most skilled with her power (control-wise) out of the whole club. A huge blabbermouth.

Alzena Midori (she/her) - belongs to @jiphenn

A 16-year-old Diole going into 11th grade at Diantha Rose High School. Lives with her older brother Louay in a small apartment nearby the school. Taking Foods with Winola. Used to be a delinquent in middle school and gets severely embarrassed when this fact is brought up. Her nails are always painted fun colours.

Nyssa White (she/her) - belongs to @jiphenn

A 16-year-old Diole going into 11th grade at Diantha Rose High School. Lives with her two lovely parents and her three cats Weenie, Jonnie and Georgie. Extremely anxiety-ridden and skittish.

Astley (he/they) - belongs to @jiphenn

A 17-year-old Diole starting 12th grade at Diantha Rose High School. Dropped out of Elementary and only has a middle-school level education, meaning he’s also illiterate. Formerly homeless but was picked up off the street by Winola’s mom as a type of charity project, and now shares a room with Winola. A drug dealer and a raging alcoholic. Bullies/scams kids on Roblox.

Rory Hattie (they/she) - belongs to @jiphenn

A 17-year-old Diole going into 12th grade at Diantha Rose High School. Lives in foster care. Was so good of a nurse intern that the actual school nurse got fired and they got the job instead. Their most prized possession is “Patches”, the messed up stuffed dog wearing a lab coat and stethoscope that sits by the nurse’s office. Besties with Kuali’i. Has a HORRIBLE memory (doesn’t even remember their own birthday half the time).

Kuali’i Alana (he/him) - belongs to @jiphenn

A 17-year-old Diole going into 12th grade at Diantha Rose High School. Has three younger siblings and is amazing with kids (best older brother in the world). Leader of the Drama Club along with Bliss, and is like a mentor figure to her. Is very popular and well-liked by his peers and teachers; nobody has a bad thing to say about him.

Gunther Lim (he/him) - belongs to @jiphenn

An 18-year-old Diole going into 12th grade at Diantha Rose High School. Has three hot big-booty girlfriends, Lola, Afia and Bea. Plays the acoustic, electric, and bass guitar, though his main one is bass. Has scheduled fights 6-7 days of the week.

[gia-batmm-crickle22]

While originally, Iceesat changes the lives of the Patriarchy, by making them better, open & exposing some of their shit. In this What if, he fails & is dragged down spiraling into the shithole, corrupt government of the Ascendancy, so he leaves & joins Pan with a new identity so Marchion doesn't recognize him. He wears a mask. His new identity is Cozbi Deirdre.

Art here:

[v-e-l-v-e-t-g-o-l-d-m-i-n-e]

It has been a long while since I last read this book, so it completely passed me by when I watched the show, but there is a strong parallel in the Mayfair Witches show from a scene that happens in Blackwood Farm.

In this scene, the ghost of Julien Mayfair reveals to Quinn Blackwood that he is his ancestor, and he reveals the manner of how it came to be.

TW for rape by deception bellow:

This is very similar to the show, when Deirdre thinks she's having sex with the young man she met at the party...

But it was actually Cortland, wearing a mask and a costume.

[ukrfeminism]

Women and children were among the worst affected by the Covid pandemic and many youngsters saw their childhood “blighted”, an inquiry has heard.

On day two of the Scottish Covid Inquiry on Wednesday, organisations including Long Covid Kids Scotland and Scottish Women’s Rights Organisations – an umbrella term for a number of bodies – gave opening statements to chairman Lord Brailsford.

Andrew Webster KC, representing Long Covid Kids Scotland, told the panel of the hardships faced by children with long Covid.

He said: “The children of Scotland should be able to thrive and look forward to a positive future.

“Long Covid the long-term illness caused by Covid-19 has blighted that prospect for too many.

“For too many, long Covid presents a seemingly insurmountable obstacle to an engaged, fulfilling and productive life.

“The inquiry is embarked upon its listening project, let’s be heard.

“In an adult world, the voice of children is too often ignored, disregarded or belittled.

“I ask all of us in this room here today to pause and think back – did we hear the voice of children in the decision making on masking, school mitigation, examinations or immunisation?

“Or is our recollection that children were simply told how it was going to be?

“For reasons I find unfathomable, we have been precluded by the inquiry from allowing the voice of a child to be heard in these opening statements.”

Mr Webster then read a statement from an anonymous child suffering from long Covid symptoms.

Quoting the child, he said: “Many months ago, we all became ill with coronavirus, and very soon we became very ill, some of us became seriously ill and had to stay in hospital.

“Our symptoms looked a bit different to the ones that grown-ups seemed to get and our parents didn’t always know what was wrong with us straight away.

“Coronavirus doesn’t only affect children like you, many of our parents got it too, so we had to stay at home and try to look after each other, but many of us got worse and needed extra help from doctors.

“Our parents were often scared. It seems like a long time ago that we felt well, and could do some of the fun things we like to do.

“We’re still at home and we’re still unwell. Many of us are still in bed a lot of the time. It can be boring, annoying, frustrating and tiring and we miss our friends. We miss feeling well.

“Our parents are working together to get us some help and that’s why we’re telling you our story.

“We want to feel better again, and when we asked when we will feel better, nobody can tell us when that might be. It’s making us sad.”

He concluded by asking if the long-term effects of long Covid in children are considered by the Scottish Government.

Deirdre Domingo, of Scottish Women’s Rights Organisations, told the inquiry that the idea that the pandemic affected everyone equally should be “firmly dispelled”.

She said women, particularly from black and minority ethnicities, were far more affected when compared to the wider population.

Ms Domingo said a key area of concern was the rise in domestic violence, sexual abuse and rape.

She said stay at home measures “overlooked that for many people, home was not the safest place to be”.

She added: “One of the consequences of the imposition of lockdown and isolation rules was a rise in domestic abuse and violence.

“As explained by Scottish Women’s Aid in their written submissions to the Equalities and Human Rights Committee of Scottish Parliament, anxiety about coronavirus, frustrations related to quarantine, economic uncertainty due to a loss of jobs, harmful consumption of alcohol or other stresses, do not cause domestic abuse.

“Domestic abuse is a pattern of behaviour that instils fear and is used by abusers to maintain control.

“Measures taken to address the pandemic including lockdowns, early release of prisoners, closure of schools, working from home, reduction in the work of courts, and closure of some services and transition of others to remote provision provide additional tools for abusers to exercise that control and they remove the opportunities for women to seek help.”

She added that women have been “hit the hardest” and said there has been a “recognised rollback on women’s equality and rights” since the pandemic.

Claire Mitchell KC, representing Scottish Covid Bereaved, told the inquiry that the hearing presents an opportunity for “real change and accountability”.

The inquiry continues.

[doctorcrusher]

my own personal "good books" recently:

if you have a tolerance for "books obviously written by men": the sympathizer by viet thanh nguyen, a case of exploding mangoes by mohammed hanif, the world according to garp by john irving

weird little books by women: convenience store woman by sayaka murata, enter the aardvark by jessica anthony

assorted nonfiction: a fatal thing happened on the way to the forum by emma southon (history of murder in ancient rome), the address book by deirdre mask (history of street addreses, more interesting than it sounds), fuzz by mary roach (about interactions between animals and the legal system)

[thatconfusedanon]

Oh yeah. Mr. Mask was also turned child.

So Melpomene and Deirdre are kids now??

Lovely.

Great.