#faeries of the fault lines

[unhingedbookclubs]

“Come fairies, take me out of this dull world.”

-William Butler Yeats

[mcuamerica]

Loving Flames | Part Two

Pairing: Eris x Reader

Summary: You leave Under the Mountain, going back to the Night Court... but there's a certain red head that still plagues your mind Requested by anon here.

Warnings: 18+ only, canon level violence, alludes to SA, Rhys is an asshole in this, a bit of angsty fluff and a lot of angst, slight claustrophobia, PTSD, (not proofread), let me know if anything was forgotten...

Word Count: 4k

Disclaimer: I do not own SJM’s characters, only the ones I create for the purpose of this story. This is a work of fiction. I do not give permission to repost my work on any other platform or medium. Please be respectful.

Dividers from @saradika

Part One

You were in that room for the next 8 years, only going out when Amarantha commanded you to watch the tortures she knew you’d be tormented by the most. The faeries that had wings. Children. Families. You stood by Eris’s side, forced to watch as you clung to his arm. Your nails dug into his biceps so often when she was the most brutal that he had small scars there.

And his back, now. When he came back to the room from the healer that night, his entire back and chest was bandaged.

“You shouldn’t have done that.” He said to you when he found you with tears in your eyes, sitting on the bed.

“I couldn’t let her hurt you anymore. Not when it wasn’t your fault.” You said.

“She could still hurt you. She could command you out and force you to be whipped.” He said.

“I’d rather me than you.” You whispered, your knees tight to your chest.

“I wouldn’t.” He whispered. “I won’t be able to stand back and watch if she hurts you.” He said.

“Then kill her.” You simply stated, your eyes unfocused on the rug beneath the bed. “She can’t hurt you. Can’t have anyone else hurt you. Kill her and the threat ends.” You said.

Eris swore, ensuring the door was shut. He walked over to you, kneeling at your side. You felt him take your cheeks in his hands, forcing you to look at him. “You can’t say things like that out loud… you have to be careful.” He said. “I won’t let her hurt you… and I promise to get you out of this room one day.”

Eris wasn’t able to keep that promise. Not until Feyre came along. But, with the tensions between the Autumn and the Spring Court, he didn’t help her at all. And you were confined to your room for all of it other than Feyre’s trials.

When Amarantha finally died, thanks to Tamlin, you felt your tattoo dissolve against your skin. You nearly collapsed on the ground at the thought of leaving this gods-forsaken mountain. Of never seeing it again. Of never being trapped in a bedroom again, or any room. Of feeling the wind against your skin.

But that meant leaving Eris. Once Rhys told you when you would leave, you went to the room. Your prison and sanctuary for so long. “Eris.” You whispered.

He turned around from where he stood before the dresser, contemplating if he wanted to burn the clothing. “I thought you’d be gone by now.” He said.

“I can’t leave without saying goodbye.” You said, nervously playing with your fingers. “I’m going to miss you…” you whispered, silver lining your eyes.

Eris looked at you again, immediately before you. He took your cheeks in his hands. “Don’t do that.” He whispered. “Don’t lie.”

“I’m not lying. I don’t want to go to the Night Court if it means I can’t be with you.” You whispered. “You were the best thing about this Mountain. The only thing that kept me sane.” You said, tears falling from your eyes.

Eris, tears welled in his own eyes, shook his head. “You will go to the Night Court. And if the Autumn Court ever needs an emissary, you will always be welcome.” He whispered. “You will live a good, happy life. One you don’t want me in.” He said.

“But I do.” You whispered. “I need you in my life, Er.” You said louder.

“Then come find me once you’re settled. You’ll be welcomed. But if for one moment you resent what you went through down here, if you resent me for what I did, please… spend your time with your family. In your home.” Away from his family. Away from the cruelty you would endure under his father. Especially if he knew you were mates.

You sniffed, wrapping your arms around his neck as you buried your face in the crook of his neck. "Thank you. For everything." You whispered, holding onto him tight. He held onto you like his life depended on it. This may very be the last time Rhys lets him see you. And he would remember the moment for the rest of his life.

You finally pulled away, wiping at the tears in your eyes. "I'll come back for you, Eris Vanserra." You said to him, cupping his cheek.

"And I'll never forget you, Princess." He said.

You let out a watery laugh before letting go over him, taking a few steps back before you turned around and left to the upper levels of the mountain. Where you would go home with Rhys. You knew in your heart, in your soul, that you would see Eris again. And not just for courtly activities, but as friends. And maybe... if you found the strength.. more.

You stayed in the Night Court, in Velaris, for four years. Meeting with Eris only for court purposes. And even then, Azriel, Cassian, or Rhys would be by your side, leading you away from them. No matter how much you tried to convince Rhys, and the others, that Eris never harmed you Under the Mountain, no one believed you. Expect for Mor, surprisingly. She was pretty easy to convince he did nothing to you, never laid a hand on you to harm you.

You were serving as the ever dotting Princess of the Night Court when the events with Feyre and her sisters happened. While each one of them tackled a challenge of her own, and ended up with their mates. Everyone was happy... You had a nephew and a family that adored you. And yet something was still missing.

You secretly wrote to Eris every week, it becoming your favorite time when one of his letter's would appear next on your nightstand. They became increasingly intimate, but never crossed the line of love.

One day, just a few months after Elain and Lucien's wedding/mating ceremony, Rhys said the Court would be meeting with Eris at the House of Wind. And while you were to stay in your old bedroom up there, you were not allowed to see him.

"Rhys, I'm not a child." You said, crossing your arms. "I'm the Princess of the Night Court. I should be there when you plot with our allies."

"Eris is not our ally... we have a tentative agreement with him." Rhys countered.

"That's the definition of an ally." You retorted. "And besides, I know him better than you all."

"You know him from the time he held you captive-"

"The time Amarantha held me captive," You corrected.

Rhys ignored you, continuing on, "You are biased."

You took a deep breath. "I will not be kept from this courts happenings because you believe me to be fragile. And I am certain Feyre will not agree with you locking me up in my room while you talk with the Heir to the Autumn Court." You said.

Rhys narrowed his eyes, but caved and said he would allow you to be present. Only if Azriel stayed by your side the entire night. You agreed, as Azriel was one of your closest friends and hadn't been as protective as the rest of them when it came to Eris. Maybe it's because his shadows detected you were telling the truth. Maybe they were keeping an eye on you all Under the Mountain for all those years. But either way, you didn't argue with having Azriel by your side.

Taking a deep breath, you smoothed down the loose pants and tight fitting shirt you had on. Your flats matched the attire perfectly, incorporating Night Court black with Autumn Court red. You even did your makeup and hair a little bit more like the Autumn Court style. You hadn't seen Eris since the war with Hybern two years ago. While you kept contact with him, you were excited to see him.

You walked out to the main sitting area where the meeting would be held. Eris was standing there, in an Autumn green tunic and tight fitting pants. His red hair was tousled slightly, and shorter than the last time you saw it. Lucien was next to him, and the rest of your family was scattered around the room.

As Eris turned to you and gave you that smile you missed so much, a string snapped on your gut. Your eyes widened slightly as you felt the bond become even stronger than before. He must have noticed, because you saw his breath hitch.

“Eris,” you whispered, tears brimming your eyes. “It’s good to see you.” You blinked a few times, taking a deep breath to keep your composure. If you and Eris showed any affection here, Rhys would probably throw Eris off the balcony.

“You too, princess.” He said it just above a whisper.

The rest of the room looked between the two of you, all of the tension in the room because of you.

“Come on,” Azriel said, causing you to flinch at his un expected touch. “Let’s sit down.” He whispered and then walked you over to the couch. You kept your eyes on Eris, heart beating out of your chest. To the rest of them, they probably thought you were terrified to see him. Even if you had been completely fine with seeing him in the past.

Rhys walked in with Feyre, narrowing his eyes as he saw Eris staring at you. And you staring back. But you were sat next to Azriel, Eris on the other side of the room, so he let it go. “Okay, let’s talk about how you’re planning to kill your father.” He said.

“Thank you for your warm welcome into your home.” Eris said, voice dripping with sarcasm as he finally tore his eyes from you and looked to your brother.

“My home.” Nesta corrected. The House of Wind was her and Cassian’s now. Azriel was in the Town Home with Gywn and you stayed with Feyre and Rhys in the River House.

“You truly have a plan to kill your father?” Lucien said. Your father. As he recently learned Helion was his dad and not Beron.

“Yes, it’s been in the works for sometime. And Autumn is in a good position right now for a take over.” He said, leaning back in the single chair he was in.

Cauldron, he looked magnificent. He had bulked up more, his biceps threatening to tear the undershirt he wore. You wouldn’t put it past him to wear a tighter shirt to show off. Or was it to impress you? Either way, you couldn’t help but admire him. The way his hair fell onto his forehead, even though it should’ve been slicked back. How the pants fit his thighs just right. And gods, the way that smirk played on his tips as he talked about his plans. He was happy to kill his father. He was doing it for you, though you didn’t know it.

You barely heard a word of what they said as you watched Eris. Your eyes never left him. To the others, again, it looked as if you were scared. But as Azriel glanced between the two of you, and caught some stolen looks from Eris to you, he knew it wasn’t fear that was keeping you quiet. It was affection. You couldn’t think of what to say, so you sat quietly and listened. Or, Azriel thought you were listening. You were just admiring your mate.

Eris was your mate. And you couldn’t wrap your head around it. He must have known… and not told you because of the tensions between Autumn and a Night. But still, how long had he known? Did he know when you were Under the Mountain? Before? Is that the only reason he was kind to you?

Thoughts raked your brain as you spiraled down into your mind, and Azriel was the first to notice your short breathing. “(Y/N)?” Azriel whispered.

You looked up to him, finally breaking your stare from your mate. “Do you want to leave?” He asked.

You shook your head, leaning back in the love seat as you finally started to listen to what they had to say.

Eris would kill his father within the week. And he was requesting help from the Night Court to help him do it. It would be by poison, at an Autumn ball in three days. That each Night Court member would be at. And everyone would play their part.

So, as you listened to the plan, you couldn’t help but wonder what this would mean for you. Would Eris want you to be his mate if he was High Lord? He certainly didn’t say anything to you… maybe he was just being nice because mates shouldn’t hurt each other. Maybe he doesn’t want anything to do with you.

You blinked as everyone stood up, and Rhys shook Eris’s hand tentatively. He whispered a ‘if you betray us, you die’ that wasn’t even a whisper, everyone heard it. And then Rhys walked out. You glanced to Azriel as everyone else walked out besides Eris.

“Az… can you give us a moment?” You asked quietly. Azriel looked between you and Eris skeptically. You noticed as his ears perked and his eyes widened slightly as his shadows told him something.

He gave a slight nod. “I’ll be right outside.” He said before turning around to leave. Once he was out of the room, you ran over to Eris. You slung your arms around his neck as he pulled you close to his chest, his arms around your waist in an instant.

“I’ve missed you.” You whispered against his neck.

You felt him smile against the top of your head, pressing a soft kiss there. “Me too, princess.” He whispered.

“How long have you known?” You asked as you pulled away. “About the bond?” Your voice was shaking, your eyes hoping for a good explanation.

“Since before your mother died… your first introduction to the Courts with your father. It snapped for me the moment I saw you.” He said and cupped your cheek when you pulled away. “I didn’t want to tell you because I knew we couldn’t be together. Your father would never allow it. Your brother certainly wouldn’t.” He said.

“You didn’t think to tell me Under the Mountain?” You asked. You weren’t hurt about his secrecy, surprisingly. He had been protecting you for years. How could you be mad at him?

“I did… I wanted to so many times. But I didn’t want to force it on you down there. Or make it seem like I was trying to win you over. I just wanted you safe. And if Amarantha knew you were my mate, she might have done something to hurt you…” He said.

“I’m sorry I didn’t see it until now.” You said, leaning your forehead against his.

“I don’t want anyone to know. Not until my father is dead and he has no chance of using you against me.” Eris whispered.

“I want to accept it.” You whispered. “As soon as we’re both safe.” You told him, searching his eyes.

Neither of you had been remotely intimate. Hugging and sharing a bed was the extent to how you interacted Under the Mountain and after too. But now, you wanted to do everything with him. Wanted to kiss him, feel his warm lips on yours. You wanted him inside you, his flaming body against yours as you connected in a way no one else could. You wanted him to be your mate, officially. You wanted everything with him. Including children. A kingdom to rule, if he’d have you as his Lady.

Eris’s face at your words softened even more, tears lining his eyes. “Soon, I promise. But we will wait until after my father dies.” He said. “And when I am High Lord, we will accept it in whatever way you want. A large ceremony. A small one. You could give me a tree nut and I would be happy.” He said. “As long as I can be with you.”

“I don’t care. I just want to be your mate.” You told him.

“I’m glad we agree.”

After that week, and after the ball where Eris's father "unexpectedly" died from a heart problem, Beron's powers were passed to Eris. And now, the heir of the Autumn Court was no more, instead, he was the High Lord of Autumn. Your mate.

While you wanted to immediately mate him, Eris wanted to establish his court before announcing his Lady of Autumn. So, you needed to distract yourself. And it happened that Tarquin invited you to the Summer Court to help strategize their rebuilding of the city. In reality, you were going for a vacation to relax. And distract yourself.

So, as you were packing your bag, Rhys knocked on the door.

You turned, giving your brother a small smile.

"You sure you want to leave?" He asked you.

"Yes, I can't wait to lay on the beach and relax for two weeks." You said happily.

"I'm sure it's been hard for you this past week," he said.

“Why?” You asked, zipping up your bag before turning towards him.

“Because… of having to be around Eris.” Rhys said, as if it were obvious. Though, while it was hard being around Eris, he thought it was because of how Eris hurt you. For you, it was hard because you wanted to tell the world about your mate. And you couldn’t.

“It wasn’t, not for the reason you’re implying.” You said. “I like spending time with Eris. And I’ve told you countless times before, he never hurt me.” You said.

“He locked you away in a room.” He said.

“Amarantha locked me away in a room.” You said.

“Because of Eris. Because he was trying to get you outside.”

“Because of her. Not Eris. He was being whipped and I made a decision to not let him suffer.”

“Why?” Rhys demanded. “Why make yourself a prisoner for him? Why not let him bleed? He’s not a good male.”

“He is!” You said. “You see what you want to, Rhys. You can assume all you want to but I spent 50 years with him. He never once touched me without asking. Never once crossed a line. And he didn’t even do it because he was scared of you. He did it because he respects me. And he cares for me.” You said.

“Why would he? When you’re the sister of his enemy? He wouldn’t do anything if it wasn’t for his benefit?” He asked.

You took a deep breath. “He’s not as selfish as he seems, Rhys.” You said, crossing your arms. “Why did you help Feyre when she was the betrothed to your enemy?” You asked.

“That’s different. Feyre is my mate.”

You paused for a moment, trying to choose your words carefully. “But no matter how cruel of a male you seemed to the outside, you were always kind to her… other than making her drink on faerie wine and parading her around at night.” You said. “Eris never did that to me…”

“He still kept you with him all those years. He could’ve given you away, let you stay with me. He could’ve-“

“He was protecting me.” You simply stated.

“Why?”

“Because I’m his mate!” You yelled. You knew you were screwed the moment the words left your mouth. Why did you just say that?

Rhys blinked. The only way he showed his shocked. “No, he isn’t.” He said.

“Yes he is. The bond snapped for me last week.” You said. “Before he was High Lord.”

“He’s tricked you. You can’t be his mate.” He said.

“My walls are stronger than yours, Rhysand. He couldn’t trick me if he wanted to. I am his mate. And he is mine. And he took care of me when no one else did.” You said, holding your head high. “As soon as I get back from Summer, I am going to Autumn and offering him food.” You said.

“And what? Leave your home? For that family? For him?” Rhys growled.

“For my mate. For the male that protected me and helped me and kept me sane for 50 years. For him, the male I love.” You said.

“No,” Rhys said, shaking his head. “He isn’t your mate. He must have tricked you… you won’t be going to Autumn.” He said.

You rose your eyebrows. “And how are you going to stop me?” You asked.

“I won’t let you leave.” He said.

“What are you going to do? Restrict me to the Night Court?” You asked. “You wouldn’t.”

“I would.”

“Why?”

“To protect you.”

“That’s not protection, Rhys. That’s imprisonment.” You said, searching his eyes. It occurred to you then that he might not be kidding. Rhys was notoriously protective of you. And he would go to far lengths to keep you from harm in his mind.

“You won’t leave this room, (Y/N), unless you promise you won’t go to Autumn.” He said.

“I won’t promise that. I’m not going to stay away from my mate.” You said. “And you can’t keep me here.”

“I will.” He said, taking a step out of your room.

“And what are you going to do? Block my path all night?” You asked, seething.

“No. There are wards around your room now. If you try to leave, you’ll see what happens.” He said.

Your eyes widened at the thought of being trapped in a room. “What?” You asked, your voice cracking.

“Unless you agree to never accept the bond with Eris, you’ll be in this room. And the wards won’t let anyone else but me in and out.” He said.

Your breathing started to quicken, walking towards the door but stopping right in front of it. “Rhys, do not lock me in this room.” You said, tears brimming your version.

“Do you promise to not go to Autumn? To not mate with Eris?” He asked.

“No.” You said quietly.

“You’re meant to be gone for two weeks. I’ll come back then to see if you’ve changed your mind.” He said.

“Rhys, please.” You begged, stepping forward again. You watched as he walked away, your breath catching in your throat.

“Rhys!” You yelled, taking a step to leave the room but coming in contact with a clear hard wall. “Rhys!” You sobbed, backing on the invisible door. You took a step back, trying to find your breath. “Rhysand!” You yelled again, only for your door to slam shut in front of you.

You fell to the floor, banging on the door. “Rhys!” You begged again, leaning your forehead against the. Your vision blurred, the walls closing in on you. Suddenly, you were back Under the Mountain. Trapped in that room with no wind or no windows. Eris healing from his wounds.

Your sobbed shook your body as you tried to breath. You closed your eyes as you sunk to the floor, pulling your knees to your chest.

"Rhysand!" You let out a scream, so primal and raw that your throat strained.

You continued shaking, sobbing, hyperventilating as you rock yourself back and forth. You tried to convince yourself you were safe. You weren't hurt. But you couldn't leave. Couldn't get out of this room if you tried. You couldn't see your mate.

Your sobs overtook your breaths as you lost focus, shaking at the feeling of desperation. You were trapped in this room. You couldn't get out. Wouldn't get out unless you promised something terrible to your brother. Your brother who you thought loved you. But someone who loved you wouldn't do this. They wouldn't trap you in a room after what happened Under the Mountain. What would Feyre do when she found out about this? Would Rhys keep you here longer than 2 weeks? Would you be trapped here forever.

The walls continued closing in on you as your mind spiraled deeper and deeper. When you had the strength to open your eyes, the room was dark. Your powers couldn't get you out, but they consumed you. The darkness wasn't welcomed though. It only made your breath quicken more. No light. No windows. No Eris.

How would you live like this?

Part Three

A/N: GODS this was a good one to write... can you imagine what Eris is going to do when he finds out what Rhys did????

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[pallastrology]

observations on pisces

artwork by georg janny

saturn in pisces ('tis the season...) suffers greatly with feelings of guilt. something else they can struggle with is fear. the fear is often existential, and the natives experience it from a young age. they will often 'ritualise' their fears, creating structures that help them feel safe and protected, but in doing so, these structures can actually intermingle with their sense of guilt and lead to them feeling responsible for things no person is. they really do have the weight of the world on their shoulders sometimes.

pisces suns are often labeled as easily influenced, and while this isn't entirely untrue, i think it's a bit oversimplified. pisces is receptive and sensitive, taking in a lot from their environment and reading between the lines easily. they are a mutable sign, and so aren't naturally stubborn people. but when well-developed, sun in pisces is a very self-aware placement and that reflective, open nature helps them to actually become quite sure about their beliefs and values. so i suppose, an undeveloped pisces sun will be easily influenced, but maybe not a pisces sun in general.

with pisces in the seventh house, the stereotype is that the native is the type to dream about a prince charming figure who'll sweep them off their feet. in reality, this placement is more likely to not really know what they want from a relationship, to struggle with healthy boundaries, and to feel they have to save - or be saved by - their partner. it takes time and steady reflection to understand where these difficulties come from and how to heal their relationship with love.

mars in pisces tends to really struggle with conflict. they turn it over and over, ruminating endlessly. should i have said this? done that? did i go too far? pisces almost always struggles with boundaries and emotional conflict, but with mars here there's so much energy directed to working on these issues, it can feel like an impassable bridge to the native. as much as they struggle however, they are also fiercely caring, sensitive and surprisingly brave individuals, who can push themselves hard when they are connected to something important.

pisces moons will often disappear when things overwhelm them. they can get a reputation for being a bad friend because of this, despite their caring nature. while they can easily fall into despair over the issue, it doesn't need to be permanent; a big learning curve for these natives is learning to both not induce this crushing overwhelm and urge to vanish, and to better manage their emotions and health when things pop up unexpectedly. embracing their sister sign, virgo, can be a way forward here.

mercury in pisces, when writing or otherwise creating, is very sensitive to the feeling of their medium. so with words, for example, the word has to evoke the right feeling before it's considered to be the right word for the native to use. they are actually pretty perfectionistic in this sense, though their creations can seem to lack a strong, distinctive style; they are mutable after all, and this quality shines through in their work, as they flit through various influences and inspirations.

pisces ascendants get a reputation for being sweet and shy. while they are on the shy side, they are highly receptive and read deeply into what's going on around them, absorbing the atmosphere like a sponge does water. it's a placement that's often infantilised, probably because neptunian placements in general are easily misunderstood. but pisces risings are not so much innocent little faery children; they're a little reclusive, highly attuned to those around them, and easily confused by their own emotions and reactions.

venus in pisces is selfless to a fault, but there's an interesting process going on beneath the native's awareness. they often have a romanticised view of selflessness as a concept, and idealise being nice and giving. so while they are genuinely kind, caring and self-sacrificing people, they do gain something, unconsciously, from giving themselves to others; it bolsters their sense of self and lifts their often low view of themselves. which is part of why it can be so hard for them to set healthy boundaries and stop giving everything to everyone.

[the-writing-goblin]

I am once again thinking about how good the story of the second age is, and all the fun things you could do with an actually decent adaptation. Consider:

Galadriel should be exactly the same as she is in Lord of the Rings. She is older, weirder and more powerful than any elf other elf in Middle Earth. Other elves are just as unnerved by her as mortals, and dealing with her is stressful at the best of times.

Elrond should be an absolute infant. Just, complete baby face. But everyone treats him super respectfully and he has a lot of power and influence. The energy should be the same as when the super ancient and powerful vampire or faerie or whatever looks like a ten year old girl.

ALSO there should be a tall, menacing elf with visible tattoo and facial scars who just. Stands behind Elrond looking intimidating all the time. The least elf-looking elf ever. All the other elves are uncomfortable around them. Elrond should treat them like their an Aunt or Uncle. The elf is one of the few surviving hard-line Feanorians, all of whom follow Elrond. The longer you can go without explaining this, the better.

Gil-Galad is very tired, and spends a lot of time balancing one of the most famously unstable political systems in all of Arda. Galadriel and Elrond both have factions they support to strongly to be relied on to be impartial. The reason he doesn't worry much about what Celebrimbor's up to is that he's the one member of the family who is highly unlikely to attempt something batshit nuts, and his followers are mostly moderate.

Celebrimbor and Annatar/Sauron should spend the whole series playing complicated mindgames with each other.

Annatar is playing four-dimensional chess from the beginning. For him, this is an all or nothing gamble. If he can't make the rings he won't have the power to seize control on his own. He should spend a lot of time having Light Yagami-level monologues where he tries to figure out what game Celebrimbor is playing while outwardly pretending to be harmless and normal and only succeeding at this about 75% of the time.

Celebrimbor should start of thinking the stakes are considerably lower. Like... is Annatar hiding something? Yea, but he figures Annatar doesn't actually have permission from the Valar to be here or something. Not, ya know, Annatar is secretly Satan in disguise. In the first act there should be an almost comical disconnect between the amount of energy Sauron is putting in to these mind games versus Celebrimbor.

Bonus points if as Celebrimbor figures out the truth, you intersperse more and more of his family backstory. The guilt he is still carrying for a lot the things that happened in the first age. Early on bring in the fact that Finrod went into Sauron's jaws alone and it was Curufin's fault, use this as angst material. And then as he figures out who Sauron really is, drop Maedhros and Thangorodrim in like a nuclear bomb.

Because Celebrimbor has seen this play before, and he knows what Sauron does to people. It wasn't even personal then, what Sauron is going to do to him will be so much worse.

And Celebrimbor chooses to forge the three rings anyway. He doesn't give up their locations, even with everything Sauron does to him at the end. And that should be devestating.

[temptaticns]

@sprigdragonheirs The royal staff were busy with their morning chores when the sound of an argument came from King Njord's study. "You don't understand Alexander. This alliance between the human's kingdom and our own is for the sake of all faeries." The fae ruler said sternly, but the prince was having none of it. "You didn't even ask me father, and what about this woman? Does she get any say in this?" Alex asked, becoming more frustrated for not only for himself but for the human who was also dragged in the situation. How are we supposed to just or care for one another? Let alone rule together when we can't even know each other's names?!" The prince snapped, feeling deeply betrayed by the man sitting in front him. " Why not Charlie, Toby, or even Hunter? Why does it have to be me?" Njord sighed, massaging his temples. "You know why, son... for the agreement to work, the marriage must be between those who are next in line to rule the respected realms." He explained, giving the snowy being a sympathetic look. "And who's fault is that? We shouldn't have to pay for your mistake!" Alexander exclaimed, and with a flap of his icey blue wings zipped out the castle, leaving a faint trail of pixie dust behind him.

"Ann, you have to oblige to your duties." Her father, Philip, ordered as he broke the news to his daughter that she was arranged to be marrying the Prince later at night. "Oblige?? You are selling me like I am just a piece of meat to someone I don't even know! What if he's a sadistic Prince? What if he will harm me and make my life so miserable? Have you thought about it??"

Philip sighed and shook his head. "The Prince is a very respectable man, this alliance will strengthen our alliance with the faeries. You have to trust me on that. The birth of an heir will be the sealing point of it."

"Oh so you are basically selling my womb so it can be filled and provide the perfect result of the alliance?" Ann asked furiously, seeing her father shaking his head. "Let's go. You are to meet the Prince now." The brunette shook her head and simply muttered. "I will never forgive you this."

The carriage ride was icy, none of them spoke as Ann looked out of the window and tried to get familiar to her new environment.

As soon as both arrived, Ann walked out of the carriage and saw the King greeting them. She forced a smile and bowed to him before saying formally: "It is a pleasure to meet you, Your Majesty."

Philip looked at his daughter and then at the King: "My daughter was telling me how eager she was to marry your son."

At those words, Ann glared at her father, although she kept her smile on her face and looked back at the King before bowing her head.

[scooter-ing]

another silly rant.. . but this time its NOT about wenclair??

jesus, i just rewatched little witch academia after YEARS, and the pure sapphic energy radiating from that show is craaaazy yo. (heed my spoiler warning for lwa)

yeah so.. diakko. kay. now that that's out of the way

i actually loved akko's character as a whole, as ambitious and stupid as she is, i can totally see some of myself in her. i never saw her as a selfish person, i feel like she always considered and appreciated those around her. every time she cried and demeaned herself (especially in the second half of the show) i was like "poor baby" bc she really didn't deserve it. sure, was she a tad bit impulsive? yeah. but her character is meant to be easily swayed and convinced. like how croix convinced her to go to the wagandea tree, and literally gaslighted her into thinking she shouldn't trust chariot (ursula). as a character though, she really, truly, just tries to help people and i think you rarely see characters that are as pure as that, you know? her dream is to make people happy, not some bullshit like being the strongest witch, or obtaining some kind of object. she just aspires to fill people's hearts with joy, and her intentions are set with that only. and she tries, and tries, and tries, despite people's discouragement. so every time she cried, i cried with her. sigh.

moving on to ursula, otherwise known as chariot. i loved her older sister-mentor role. akko definitely needed someone that would keep her in line, but also encourage her in her endeavors and keep her safe. my girl was ALWAYS there to save the day (and by gOD she was so fucking hot whenever she was fighting croix). ughhh i literally groaned out loud every time she got interrupted when she was trying to tell akko about her identity. idk, i kind of have mixed feelings about the dream fuel spirit shebang. cause, chariot had NO idea it was stopping people from being able to use magic, so it wasn't really her fault. croix manipulated her. and once she found out about that, she stopped using it. im glad croix had somewhat of a redemption, but jesus she was such an asshole when she revealed that ursula was chariot. like, a royal asshole. bc that was not her secret to reveal, you know? and she left some very important pointers on the table. though, i felt terrible for akko.

mmmm. diaaaaaaaaana. diana cavendish. i had a massive lesbian crush on her for the whole fucking series. oh my god. especially in the two-part episodes where it's set in the cavendish estate? so, so, chivalrous, and dashing, and royal... and skdjhfskjlhf (totally referencing that one scene where diana defends akko infront of aunt daryl and offers her arm for akko to hold). poor akko, oblivious to like... all of the massive lesbian signals wafting from diana. she literally had big neon signs that said "akko you fucking idiot im gay for you."

all jokes (and thirsting) aside, diana and akko's growth as a pair is really touching to me. diana was never outright rude to her bc of her inability to properly use magic, i saw that she was more judgmental of her character as a person instead. (e.g the samhain festival episode in which she calls akko pathetic for "leaving" lotte and sucy before her performance). and i can totally see that it was reasonable. later in the episode, after akko finds the second Word or whatever, she goes on to think, "what is this emotion i'm feeling?" as much as i would want it to, i wouldn't say she was in love at that time, considering her harsh judgment earlier in the episode, but akko continues to grow on her from then on. i haven't mentioned this yet, but the episode (sorry that i keep saying "that episode" the site that i watched it on didn't have episode names) in which the faeries ordered a strike against the witches, was actually less goofy and funny than it was made to be. akko really took time to understand where the workers were coming from, and being their representative was really thoughtful? when diana came to tell her off, she deadass started making fun of her bc shes an aristocrat. and telling her she doesn't understand the woes of the working class bc of her wealth. which is just... so... real? and diana gets all flustered, which leads me into the topic of:

Diana Literally Only Blushed Because of Akko. she just gets all flustered when akko calls her out on her shit, like she's not afraid of her. everyone else is. even the godforsaken teachers are. she only ever truly worried whenever akko was hurt, or in some form of danger. she completely remains indifferent to everything, even when things happen to hannah or barbara she really doesn't give a shit. (at least not in the way she does with akko, she's probably loyal to her friends and shows it in her own way). which segues me into the episode "yesterday," in which akko goes "missing" and jesus christ diana's dialogue with chariot is really touching. from "akko needs you more than anything right now!" to "what could possibly be more important that akko right now!?" and "i'm more disappointed in you than i am of your past." she's just so well spoken in the most disastrous and telling moments, and it really shows how strong of a character she is. she remains level headed when lotte and sucy consult her about akko, and kindly offers them tea, along with reassurances. despite her generally not hanging out with akko's crowd of people, she's still kind and considerate when people need her. her words to chariot/ursula are so powerful because she's depicted as so stoic and indifferent but completely tells her off when she knows what ursula is doing is wrong. i hope that makes sense? from an apathetic elitist to a passionate worrywart - all over akko. and once she finds her, she basically acts as her caretaker, in that moment. and i'd be lying if i said i didn't cry, because god. diana knew exactly how to make her feel better, and man is that not an indicator to how perfect akko and diana are for each other. her confessing that she felt envious of akko's determination and closeness to chariot, and confessed to wanting to get away from akko bc of it, but ended up just getting closer to her.

in the last episode, in which they stop the missile, i was just so happy to see where their growth led them. them holding each other while doing the shiny arc thingamajig? awesome. akko catching diana when she falls? diana screaming for akko when akko falls? which inevitably leads to her falling because she's crazy for akko? really hit me in the feels. undeniably happy. joy. the parallels between chariox and diakko are like, super obvious. except for the fact that diakko was the better example, in which they worked together instead of one envying the other for their power. like how diana initially said she envied akko for having the shiny rod, and croix getting jealous of chariot bc of it too - except diana learned to accept it and support akko and work with her. bc red and blue gays. ygm.

i'll talk about andrew and the rest of 'em later bc im fairly tired but. im sorry for the excessive tangent. i likely left out a lot of what i wanted to say bc big gay brainrot, and i'll spew that out sometime later.

thank u for listening to my ted talk stay gay!!

[dailyadventureprompts]

Dungeon: The Cankerwood House

The near disastrous collapse of a mine in the moorlands leads to the discovery of a network of tunnels winding deep into the earth, apparently carved out by the spread of a multitude of unnatural, withered trees as they’ve grown towards the surface. Descending to find the source of this corruption, the party stumble across an inexplicable sight: a grand manor house occupying a deep and inhospitable cavern, rotten roots springing from its beams and foundations.

More than decay haunts this ancient home, so the party will need to watch their step before they too become apart of the tragedy that lingers within.

Background: Tragedy is the heart of many parables. The terrible fates of the unwise, unlucky, or unkind  that serve to reinforce a moral lesson. How awful it must be then to become a lesson, not a person remembered for who you were but a mistake, made over and over again with each retelling.

The folk of the high hills could tell you such a tale, of the life and mistakes of one Helena Ornith, a girl born too pretty for her own good. If you listen to the story as it’s most often told, Helena was the daughter of a pair of farmers, who had suitors lined up out door and all the way to the fence looking for their daughter’s hand. Helena however was picky, she ignored the matches her parents favoured or the lovestruck beaus with their wildflowers and instead entertained wealthy gentleman who could bring her frivolities from afar. One day a man showed up with a handsome black carriage and a boast that he could beat the gift of any suitor, though the exact number of these challengers and what they offered changes depending on the teller. A grower with a profitable orchard is outbid by a bushel of fruit all made of gemstones, a hard working and heartfelt veteran-farmer is outpaced by a bull that never tired of the plow and sensed trespassers in the night, an honest cloth merchant with a pretty dress is outdone by a shawl that could become any garment imaginable. Sensing that there is something wrong with the man in the black cartridge, Helena’s parents forbid her from entertaining him only to have her run off with him in the night. Following the tracks of the carriage across the countryside, the couple and their neighbours find that the trail winds off the road, and into a maw like and bottomless pit that had not been there the day before. Helena, in her stubbornness and pride, had held out for the only suitor that could have satisfied her impossible standards... a supernatural creature that grew tired of her mortal wavering and dragged her down to it’s lightness lair when it decided to make up her mind for her.

The true history is a little different, The Orniths were indeed country folk, but had done well enough that by the time Helena was born her parents had plenty of farms and enough wealth to have others do most of the tilling for them. They had always taught Helena that she was a prize, one worthy only of the one able to bring the best advantage to the family.  One of the properties they owned had an old tree, one that Helena would take shelter under when she was tired of her endless social obligations as alone amid it’s branches was the only place she could truly speak her mind.  What no one could have known ( save perhaps the family who the Orniths had badgered off the land) was that tree was once a sacred thing, blessed by the fey, and like all fey things it existed half in the waking world, and half in the world of wonders. Helena spoke of the faults of her suitors, and the feywild listened, she poured out her fantasies and the feywild gave them shape, and when she whispered of her desire to leave her life behind, the feywild sent a black carriage to fetch her away.

Whether Helena was happy after she eloped is impossible to say. Faerie has a way of twisting good to bad and bad to good, and like a parable the original details can become lost in their own echo. The house she had imagined for herself so full of life became a living, parasitic thing. Her infatuation with her betrothed became obsession, caustic and tempestuous.  Their marriage bond a chain that bound her to their hearth no matter how far into the caverns she walked. As her story refused to fade, it metastasized, poisoned by the imaginings of others, until the house grew roots and began seeking upward like a seed, poisoning the land as the people on it poisoned her memory.

Challenges & Complications:

Getting down to Cankerwood house is more than a simple descent, as the party will not just have to navigate caverns, but a jump into the subterranean reaches of the feywild.  Beasts of the deep earth are joined by vampiric root monsters, twigblights, and dryads driven to madness with rot and sorrow.

Perhaps most dangerous threat is the spirit of Helena Ornith herself,  her spirit stretched thin and wraithlike as the chain that links her to her prison stretches the distance with more links. Immortal thanks to her time in farie, The closer she gets to the surface, the more disoriented and monsterous she becomes, and the party will likely have clashed with her once or more by the time they find the house itself. Only within the bounds of the house will she lose her ghostly qualities and regain her faculties, atleast until the timeless nature of the feywild takes over and she loses herself once again. 

The house itself is a maze, rotten rooms folding in on eachother as only a strucuture in faerie can. Here all the treasures and horrors of Helena’s parable wait, from an orchard of gemstones to a rampaging guardian bull. Helena’s suitor likewise wanders the space, as much a prisoner as her, shifting between inhuman monster, sadistic rake, and charming rescuer without warning. This last persona desperately wants to aid in Helena’s escape, and will do his best to aid the party inbetween fits of possessive cruelty.

There is more at work in Cankerwood house than simply the cruel whims of the feywild, Zuggtmoy, demon queen of rot and regret has taken hold of Helena’s tale, sustaining the story by sapping life from the land through the spreading roots. As the party progresses, she moves to stop them, vicariously protecting her own happiness by sustaining Helena’s blighted fairytale.

To destroy the house and set Helena’s spirit free, the party must uproot the story, casting away each of the suitor’s gifts, and bringing her spirit back to the ruins of her family home. To do this they must sever the chain that binds her, which means convincing Helena and her suitor to renounce their oath of love and fidelity, a selfless act of closure that Zuggtmoy will not allow, forcing both lovers into their very worst ( and most monstrous) forms in order to halt.

With a sorrowful goodbye and one last journey to the surface ( possibly using the same black carriage sent to carry Helena away), the party deliver their charge to the doorstep of the old Ornith farmhouse just in time to watch her begin to dissipate. Her spirit will be free to rest, and her name will fade from the parable it inspired... taking with it the curse that has laid on the moorlands, leaving the party with only a few treasures of their time in the feywild, and memories of their selfless heroism.

[dreamersinthedaylightinspo]

Eunomia slept like a rock. The healer worked over her while she rested and she woke, eventually, to peals of laughter and golden sunlight streaming into the birthing room. Nahida pronounced her able, and she found that she was able to stand and walk without help. A servant came to bring her pastries and fresh flower-scented tea with a wedge of lemon. Her body still tingled with the effects of the magic; though her body moved when she willed it and she wasn't in pain, she felt strange and tender and empty.

And, again, mostly, she missed her mother.

At first, she'd cried helplessly at the idea of bringing a child into the world without her family's support. Even after months, the pangs of anxiety she felt never lessened. But she found, when she stepped into the hall and was greeted with elated cheers and congratulations from half the living creatures in Rosehall, that she needn't have worried in the slightest.

The birth of a faerie child - of a High Lord's child - had caused celebratory commotion like Nomi had never seen. It was comparable to the breaking of Amarantha’s curse in Rhodes. After she managed to fight her way through the well-wishers, Tamlin informed her that they were expecting guests - representatives from the nearby villages were coming to Rosehall to pay tribute to Spring's new princess.

In response to her expression, Tamlin shrugged.

"If anything, this is your fault, my dear. Everyone likes you; they didn't care nearly so much when I was born."

Indeed - by lunchtime, the hall was swarming with faeries of all sorts. Stout dwarven-kin, nimble goblins, pixies and sprites, even tiny wil-o-the-wisps no bigger than the nails on her littlest finger. Wraiths and nymphs peeled themselves out of trees and ponds and sat themselves down for lunch in the gardens. The sentries and stabelhands joined the kitchen staff to help prepare meals for the travelers but many seemed to have brought their own food.

And with that, the gifts. Nomi accepted cuttings from gardens, little dresses and shoes and hats, music boxes, dolls and pillows and blankets, and all manner of more impractical things - a necklace of freshwater pearls, a loadstone, the branch of a cherry tree with a single, eternal pink blossom affixed to the end.

The other High Lord's, too, were prompt in their tributes. Helion sent a basket of fruits - pomegranates and oranges, adorned with rosemary, and other symbols of prosperity and longevity - and a handwoven blanket with the solar motif of the Day Court. This was Nomi’s favorite present. Thesan sent the most practical gift: a clever pair of looking glasses that were meant to be placed, one at the cradle and one on the parent's nightstand, enchanted so that they would know if the baby became fussy at night. Naturally, this was Tamlin's favorite.

Tarquin sent a set of seaglass windchimes to hang above Semele's cradle. Kalias sent her a practical winter coat - deep purple and lined with white fox fur, a few sizes large so that she could grow into it - and a matching hat, mittens, and boots. Eris sent a circlet of bronze and gold apple blossoms, which was very pretty though both Nomi and Tamlin agreed that they couldn't really picture Semele wearing such a thing.

The Night Court sent a note affixed to a bottle of wine. It read, "Good luck, you'll need it."

"Its not even a good vintage," Lucien complained when he saw this. He popped the cork and took a swig, swallowing bitterly. "Cheap bastard."

"No cursing in front of the baby," Elain scolded. Her smile was fixed to her face, though, and she promptly returned to cooing at Semele, who slept through all of this, somehow, and to Nomi's immense relief.

"You know," said Elain, leaning over to give Nomi one more peck on her cheek. "I don't recall nearly so much fanfare when Nyx was born."

"Typical of the Night Court," said a passing sentry, dispassionate. "Hide the lady's pregnancy til the last moment, then pretend it's business as usual."

"Its different here," Nomi agreed, shifting Semele slightly in her arms. She was heavy, and yet weightless, and soft. "What do humans do, when a child is born?"

Elain shrugged. "Oh, not much. It'd be bad luck to celebrate anything until they're about five or so - too old for faeries to want to eat them and such."

"No talk of cannibalism in front of the baby," said Lucien.

Luckily for all of them, Tamlin was utterly obssessed with his daughter and was cataloging her every expression or new experience, and told these stories with enormous pride to anyone who happened to stand in his presence.

///TO BE CONTINUED

[celestiall0tus]

Into the Fire - Chapter 1 - Outsourcing

Next

            The Supreme stood over a collection of monitors and scanners. They watched the each screen as they searched countless different universes and worlds for a creature to rival the ladybug and the black cat that they lost.

            Resentment and bitterness clawed at the Supreme. They had been hasty. They trusted the two greatest of jewels in hopes the teens would recover the butterfly and peacock. However, they hadn’t anticipated that Betterfly would have managed to seek help outside their universe. However, in their own search, they hadn’t found something to outshine the ladybug and black cat.

            The Supreme huffed and turned away from the screens. They paced about when a rainbow light reflected on the group. They raised a brow as the entire floor shared the prismatic sheen. They looked up as all the screens matched. They had finally found a creature that could help them reclaim Creation and Destruction.

            The Supreme grinned. They activated the Rooster miraculous and took the quill pen. They used the power of Sublimation and set their power open portals between universes. They twirled the pen in hand and created a portal directly to the universe they found. It was time to finally crush a moth once and for all.

~~

            Cicada sat and watched as Viperion, White Mouse, and Tigre Rose sparred in a playful bout. Chevalier and Louve Grise wrestled in their own corner while Bunella and Drakon cheered them on. Hera and Faerie sat on the sidelines as they kept an eye on the remaining heroes that trained. Cicada sighed as her gaze fell on Viperion. A slight smile pulled at her lips as she saw him laughing and smiling, enjoying his time with White Mouse and Tigre Rose.

            “Your eyes on the viper again?” Senketsu asked.

            Cicada squeaked and jumped. She turned as Senketsu sat beside her. “What? No. I’m just… happy that he’s happy. Besides, we’re just friends.”

            “Isn’t that what you said about Tigre Rose for the longest time?”

            Cicada flinched. “Well, yes, but I don’t know.”

            “What’s wrong?”

            “So, I might maybe be interested in trying again with Viperion. I mean, it’s been a wild summer, but things have calmed down. At least, I hope they have. Regardless, I don’t know if I should. I did hurt him once. I know what not to do, but what if I still hurt him? What if he doesn’t want to try again? What if I’m just-?”

            Senketsu put a hand on Cicada’s shoulder. “Enough. Just ask him. He’s right there.”

            “Yeah, but so is Tigre Rose. Isn’t it a little insensitive to ask Viperion out in front of Tigre Rose?”

            “Cicada, it’s been three months since you broke up with him. If Tigre Rose isn’t over it, that’s his own fault at this point. Besides, you shouldn’t put your happiness on the line just the feelings of your ex.”

            “But-!”

            “Nope, not doing this.”

            Cicada yelped and dove away as Senketsu lunged for her. They tumbled around on the floor interrupting the other fights. Everyone watched in confusion as Senketsu pinned down Cicada, then lifted Cicada up. Cicada flailed wildly as Senketsu hurled her into Viperion. Cicada and Viperion collided and fell to the ground. Senketsu stood proud when a portal appeared behind her.

            Cicada quickly collected herself and faced the portal. She cautiously approached it with Senketsu beside her. The others soon joined as they inspected it.

            “Who did this?” Faerie asked.

            “It couldn’t have been any of us. None of us have these powers except for Cicada,” White Mouse pointed out.

            “And Cicada was too busy rolling around in the dirt with Senketsu,” Louve Grise teased.

            Cicada fumed and glared at Louve Grise. “She ambushed me!”

            “Not this time. I did warn you. You just failed to act in time, as per usual,” Senketsu remarked.

            “Ok, fine. Well, let’s just get rid of this thing. Arsenal, Cancel!” Cicada declared.

            Cicada snapped her fingers and the portal closed. She sighed and turned her back as the portal reappeared.

            “Uh, can you do that again, Cicada?” Hera asked.

            “I can, I just need-!”

            Cicada was cut off when an inescapable gravitational pull came from the portal. Everyone braced and attempted to flee but were swept up and disappeared into the portal. Cicada cried out as each of her friends and the adults vanished into the unknown. She cried out when she was swept off her feet and fell into the portal.

~~

            The Supreme fought to maintain the portal as it distorted and warped. They let loud out a yell when the portal shut, but not before a beautiful woman fell through. Their eyes widened as they gazed upon the woman. She was dressed in a strapless mini dress with the bodice a royal blue with silver swirls and the skirt a yellow green with peacock eyes along the hem. Gradient blue gloves adorned her arms while sea green tights covered her legs with golden boots. A long cape tail decorated like peacock feathers trailed out a couple feet from her that dragged along the ground. Her beach blonde hair braided and thrown over her left shoulder was decorated with a peacock eye clip. What caught their eye the most was the peacock brooch that had been stolen long ago.

            The Supreme reached down as the woman roused. The woman jumped back and glared at the Supreme. The pair had a staring contest before the woman bolted. The Supreme watched her flee before they sent a command to capture the peacock woman before she escaped the compound. They entrusted their guards while they searched the world for the others. They discovered the rest of the people pulled through the portal had appeared through a portal that was open over Paris, France.

            The Supreme sneered. They issues another order for the Parisian team to finally prove their worth and capture the rogue holders. They turned away when bells tolled around them. They looked back at the screen as a white light fell through the portal. They raised a brow as the tolling got louder until the light faded away to reveal a girl in a white flight suit with prismatic lines along it, long black gloves and boots, and a pair of rainbow cicada wings.

            The Supreme issued one final order with the promise of reward. Whoever brought them the cicada girl would be given their heart’s wish and their favor for as long as they live. If they failed, death would be a kindness.

[megnificent-reads]

A Court of Wings and Ruin - Christ alive/5 ☆

Warning - this review is 1.2k words, and 98% negative. If you love SJM and the ACOTAR series, love that for you /gen. However, for your own mental health, I genuinely would not recommend you read this. For everyone else, and those who hate-read, Let's begin!

~~~

Okay, so I actually rated this 2 stars on Goodreads because I didn’t hate it the whole time but, I’m mad about it so it gets a special rating. ♡

I honestly lament when I was excited to read this book. Being what I refer to as a Lucien Lover (nuanced), I enjoyed a good bit of the beginning of this book. That’s not to say I wholeheartedly enjoyed every word of the first 100 pages of this book. 

So we start with Feyre in the throes of rage, becoming a master manipulator. Now, before I put just a minute or two of thought into it, I loved it. I love a girl tearing shit apart and using intellegence as a form of strength. However… 

Anybody think she was doing a little too much…?

Like, okay, Tamlin fucked up. Big time. I will admit justice is needed! Love when women take back power! But not only dismantling his entire country but turning everyone against him for things that he actually did not do? Crazy! He sucks! But people still live in that country. We still need order! His life is ruined now and I don’t necessarily think all that was necessary. 

Tamlin sidebar: “my father and my father’s father did the Tithe, so I’m going to do it.” Didn’t you acknowledge two books ago that your father sucks absolute ass? What fucking sense does that make? How in the first book was he the Perfect Moral Man that now can’t see the very evident immorality in the shit you’re doing. Anywhoozers. 

So, Feyre has her cool girl moments and returns to the Night Court. In book one, I was bored out of my mind until we arrived in Rhys-land. (Good one). This time, it was like the moment we arrived here the magic was lost. I was no longer excited to read. And honestly, I think the big issue was actually our beloved bat-boy, Rhysand.

I don’t know her personally, so this is not an attack on her character, but I’m starting to feel like SJM writes Rhysand based off of her fantasy version of what a man is like. Dominating, but soft and loving. Perfectly moral. Capable of evil, deplorable things, but too loving of people and their dreams to be that way. I’m going to be referring to it as PMS (Perfect Man Syndrome). 

Many of her men (sorry, males) are unfortunate PMS victims, but Rhysand is by far the worst. I wish I had underlined it when I was reading so I could cite it, but there’s just something about his actions. He is PMSing so hard that he doesn’t develop at all. He was old enough to be grown during the faerie-UK version of the Amercian Civil War where of course he was anti-slavery the entire time despite being raised by people who appeared to be violent racists. Good for our educated king. He also, of course, runs a sanctuary for abused women. 

Of course, I’m not saying that being anti-slavery and supporting abused women is bad. I love it. But like… be real with me here. I know that this is fictional. It’s not real. We can be happy here. But can I have some dimension, please? This man is the personality version of Flat Stanley. We had two conflicts between them since they got together and both were resolved by Rhys nearly getting on his knees and saying everything is his fault and he’s so sorry. The first conflict was just her thinking she stepped out of her Womenly Line and him not even knowing there was an issue. 

He’s just so. Fucking. Boring. 

Moving on. ♡.

Let’s talk about what makes me so goddamn angry about this book. I’ve seen complaints about SJM where other people are saying that other people call her books feminist literature. I personally have never heard anybody say that, but if I did, I don’t know if I would be able to control the rant that would ensue.  

I’m willing to have a civilized conversation, but I don’t remember Feyre actually doing anything. Yes, SJM puts her women in positions of power. Do they use said power? Maybe once or twice. 

Amren is an ex-god with powers above any character we’ve met so far. We see it used I think once. The rest of the time is spent talking about her power and her holding down the fort at Velaris while everyone else is off to war. 

Morrigan - also very powerful (described only). I remember her power being “truth” and never elaborating on that. She is a known soldier, that doesn’t fight. 

During the two huge battles, Feyre, Nesta, and Morrigan are on the ground while Rhys, Cassian, and Azriel are in the air fighting. After the first battle, Feyre is seen tending to her beloved mate’s wounds, Nesta is fetching water for Cassian, and Morrigan is getting mad at Nesta for wanting to fuck Cassian. So strong of all of them. 

Azriel is there doing… nothing. Which he has a habit of doing. Speaking of habits, SJM will create characters that I like because I’m excited to see how they will grow and develop. 

She then proceeds to do nothing with them.

I know more books are coming, as they will with SJM until the end of time, but it’s starting to drag. I love Elain. Well, I love what Elain could be. She’s a seemingly fragile, docile character. With her Seer powers, I was excited to see her notice the world around her sucks and develop into somone capable of holding their own. Instead, she uses her powers to relay some cryptic messages that no one heeds or even tries to, then she “snaps out of it” and can’t really do anything else. 

Azriel has a tragic backstory and seemingly a big story to tell. God, I wish I could ever fucking hear it. 

This is getting exceptionally long, but I remembered I had a list of things I wanted from ACOWAR and didn’t receive, so I’ll pick one more thing off. 

The Ouroboros. Out of all symbols, the Ouroboros is my favorite. Cycles and inevitability and all that. We spend a good chunk of this book leading up to Feyre retrieving this. It drives everyone mad. Only the strongest can look in it and survive. I was so excited to see what she saw! What the battle with herself would be like! How does she overcome it?

I guess we’ll never know.

She ended up seeing… herself? I guess she wasn’t previously aware of her flaws and then simply accepted them. Would love to have seen it!

And to finally end this review, I think the Ouroboros is a good symbol of every issue I have with this book. There’s so much build up and excitement that ultimately leads nearly no explanation. It’s like there’s ideas and concepts but then no idea how to execute them.

I won’t be reading ACOFAS or ACOSF or anything else. I already didn’t want to, then I found out about the pregnancy thing and. Yeah. I think I’m good off that.

[ash-and-books]

Rating: 1/5

Book Blurb:

A BEST SUMMER READ: The New York Times, Los Angeles Times, Time, Vulture, Esquire, Boston Globe, Elle, Town & Country, Seattle Times, New York Post, Lit Hub, Cosmopolitan, Minneapolis Star Tribune, Paste, BiblioLifestyle, E! Online, AARP, BookBub, BookRiot “For anyone who’s ever craved a seat at the Round Table. Utterly enchanting.” —Rebecca Yarros, #1 New York Times bestselling author of Fourth Wing and Iron Flame “If you love King Arthur as much as I do, you’ll love Lev Grossman’s The Bright Sword, a fresh and engrossing take on the Matter of Britain featuring a colorful cast of Round Table knights who don’t often get as much story time as they deserve. The creator of The Magicians has woven another spell.” —George R. R. Martin, #1 New York Times bestselling author of A Game of Thrones The #1 New York Times bestselling author of the Magicians trilogy returns with a triumphant reimagining of the King Arthur legend for the new millennium

A gifted young knight named Collum arrives at Camelot to compete for a spot on the Round Table, only to find that he’s too late. The king died two weeks ago at the Battle of Camlann, leaving no heir, and only a handful of the knights of the Round Table survive.

They aren’t the heroes of legend, like Lancelot or Gawain. They’re the oddballs of the Round Table, from the edges of the stories, like Sir Palomides, the Saracen Knight, and Sir Dagonet, Arthur’s fool, who was knighted as a joke. They’re joined by Nimue, who was Merlin’s apprentice until she turned on him and buried him under a hill. Together this ragtag fellowship will set out to rebuild Camelot in a world that has lost its balance.

But Arthur’s death has revealed Britain’s fault lines. God has abandoned it, and the fairies and monsters and old gods are returning, led by Arthur’s half-sister Morgan le Fay. Kingdoms are turning on each other, warlords lay siege to Camelot and rival factions are forming around the disgraced Lancelot and the fallen Queen Guinevere. It is up to Collum and his companions to reclaim Excalibur, solve the mysteries of this ruined world and make it whole again. But before they can restore Camelot they’ll have to learn the truth of why the lonely, brilliant King Arthur fell, and lay to rest the ghosts of his troubled family and of Britain’s dark past.

The first major Arthurian epic of the new millennium, The Bright Sword is steeped in tradition, full of duels and quests, battles and tournaments, magic swords and Fisher Kings. It also sheds a fresh light on Arthur’s Britain, a diverse, complex nation struggling to come to terms with its bloody history. The Bright Sword is a story about imperfect men and women, full of strength and pain, who are looking for a way to reforge a broken land in spite of being broken themselves.

Review:

A new take on the Arthurian round table but with a bunch of misfits and underdogs. King Arthur has died and now the round table is in shambles. A young knight named Collum is desperate to get a seat at the round table... and he's lied and killed his way into Camelot... but what is he to do now that Arthur is gone. With only the oddballs of the Round table left such as Sir Palomides, the Saracen Knight, and Sir Dagonet, Arthur’s fool, who was knighted as a joke and Nimue, Merlin's apprentice who turned on him..... things are about to get a little hectic. Collum and his companions are determined to reclaim Excalibur and solve the mysteries while also facing off against all the faeries, monsters, and old gods returning with Morgan le Fay as their leader. This is the start in a new series and a new take on the Arthurian story. This new take on the classic story is definitely an interesting one but I just don't think it was for me. I was really hoping I would like it more but I just found it kind of boring overall and just a slog to get through. I would however recommend it for fans of Arthurian stories just to read it and see if they do like it. I love Arthurian stories but this particular one was a bit of a miss for me.

Release Date: July 16,2024

Publication/Blog: Ash and Books (ash-and-books.tumblr.com)

*Thanks Netgalley and PENGUIN GROUP Viking | Viking for sending me an arc in exchange for an honest review*

[chronoxtreme]

The Cage - Chapter 18 Author's Notes

First of all, here's a link to the chapter in question! CW: Discussions of a relationship with power imbalance, discrimination based on sexual anatomy So, fun fact - everything with Yurgir was not in the original, second or even 4th draft of this fic (and when I mean draft, I basically mean "attempt to think this monster's details out," not an actual draft). Chapters 17 and 18 were supposed to be one chapter, but migraine + insane wordcount + me getting a new position at work basically nuked that idea. So I split it in two, and honestly, I believe it's for the better in terms of pacing.

Nanne's whole "I don't like to use charm-like magic" comes from seeing Da use it on other people. Friends was that guy's favorite cantrip, and while it can get you what you want, it can also burn you. Nanne's much less risk adverse than Da, so they avoid it. Enhance Ability though is fair game because it just makes you better at certain things.

The "homicidal hat trick" line by Gale is a shout-out to Mistborn, one of my favorite book trilogies.

And then we get to the second "twist" of Nanne's backstory: Maria. This is a part that wasn't in my first stab at writing Nanne. Originally, they had no experience with sex or romance at all. However, I realized that them having some romantic history gave them a lot better motivation for their behavior around Astarion pre-seduction. At the same time (and this was unintentional) their experience with Maria became a foil for Astarion's sexual encounters with patriars.

I also put a lot of myself into that story. I'm transmasc nonbinary, and when I wrote that scene, I wasn't out to anyone, including my husband. Thankfully, he's been extremely supportive of me and my identity, but it took a lot of courage to talk about it with him. It's extremely difficult to come out to people who have a certain expectation of who you are. Writing about Maria's rejection was a weird sort of catharsis.

It was also a story where I wanted it to be messy, especially from Nanne's POV and how they describe it. Nanne had zero intentions of having a relationship with their employer, it kind of just... happened. And while it was doomed to failure from the start, Maria was attracted to them. There was a "chance" of it working out. That's what makes it really sting, in my mind. It was problematic at best, coercive at worst, and Nanne wasn't in the wrong - but for so long, they've lived with an emotionally immature parent constantly talking about how difficult it was to raise them, the sacrifices, the burdens, etc. and that gets to you. So naturally, if something goes wrong, it is their fault. Finally, the song! This section ended up being a lot shorter than I expected it to be, but honestly, that's another thing that I've been working on in the "this is for me first" category: not being afraid to release chapters with wildly differing lengths. Yes, it will happen again, that is a promise lmao.

Like the Dawn is one of my favorite songs on the planet, and when I listened to it after playing BG3, I realized that it perfectly described Nanne's thoughts about Astarion in the sunlight, and the rest was history. This is a moment that I could rewrite a thousand different ways and still never be satisfied because how in the world do you write about a person SINGING without it coming off awkward as hell? In the end, I think it worked out okay. I'm not satisfied, but I'm content.

Nanne's using Faerie Fire here, because if bards can use singing to do magic, why not do magic to enhance the singing performance? I've always loved fic/media that's used the world's magic system for stuff like special effects in performances and plays - it makes the world feel alive and Nanne is a bard first and foremost. The bigger the spectacle, the more coin they get. Is there a bit of illusion magic thrown in? Maybe. Hey those Weave lessons with Gale paid off!

Astarion running off was also not in the script but it turned out that way. I don't think it's a bad thing for him to keep feeling guilt. I do worry that it comes off as repetitive and cyclical, but in my experience that's how guilt works in real life. You feel good, you forget about it, and then someone says or does something, and it all comes crashing down. It's tough... and next chapter's gonna be even worse lmao.

[macabremoons]

Pretentious Poetry

Summary: Emotions are hard, but feelings for Benjamin, the boy she never thought she'd even like, are harder. What's easier, though not by much, is writing poetry. After all, isn't love the perfect muse?

A/N: This is for my friends birthday! Happy birth bestie!! Also thank you to @mouseinthegreenhouse for betaing, though they spent most of it making fun of Menodora. Keep in mind this is not canon to the Daycycle universe. This is just a ship fic. Enjoy! My masterlist is here

"I know what you want from me, Benjamin. It’s a horrible idea," Menodora says as Benjamin walks her to her door. She hangs in the doorway, watching only her breath turn to mist. 

"Okay."

"Seriously.”  She scrambles for something to say. She can’t think of anything else.

"Okay, Menodora." He sounds somewhere between tired and amused. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight," she says. She shuts her door, ignoring how warm her cheeks feel. 

--

My body crescendos, she wrote once. It's barely a line, not really poetry, but she tries to shove all the emotion she has into it. She fails.

There's hundreds more like this. Fragments of deep emotion. Talentless scarps of attempts to grow closer to the single truth.

If you were my disaster, another reads, I'd die directly in your arms. But you are my lighthouse so I love you like letting my ship take harbor before putting it out to sea. 

She could just write I love you. It'd be so much more symbolic. It still wouldn't put to words the shame she feels. 

--

She runs into him three days later in the rain. He laughs at her as she holds her book bag over her head before extending his umbrella to her. 

"Sometimes I forget how much you hate the rain."

"I'll never understand why people like it," Menodora huffs. She leans closer so he too gets covered by the umbrella, ignoring how close this makes them. 

"Not everyone has lightning in their veins, presumably." He turns a bit to look at her from the corner of his eye. "Have you eaten?"

"Oh— No. I had to get to class."

He takes his free hand and grabs one of Menodora's. "Come on, I'll take you to my favorite place. They have meat buns there."

It takes all of her willpower to not make her heart pound. A no is on the tip of her tongue, but then her heart leaps out of her hands; Benjamin smiles.

"As long as you eat too," is all she says instead. He grabs one of her arms without hesitance. She counts it as a win.

When they get to the cafe she orders a black coffee. He scrunches his nose. "Sugar doesn’t kill, you know that?”

“It can actually,” Menodora says, sipping her perfectly normal coffee. They sit down. “It’s not my fault one of us would drink sugar if they could.”

“That’s a very common thing.”

“And it’s unhealthy. And gross.”

Benjamin puts both arms on the table. “You just hate sweet things. You’re so…”

“Bitter?”

“Savory.” He mixes his coffee. “Not bitter.”

“Same thing.” Benjamin huffs. Menodora looks out the window. He’s wearing that hoodie she likes. 

Focus. She can write bad unfinished poetry about this later.

She takes out her laptop and they study. Benjamin tells her about all the history he’s learning about. He makes Menodora laugh with horrible jokes, and she makes fun of his professor. She tells him about the music history of things around the same time, and she swears he hangs off her every word.

She finds herself wondering what his coffee tastes like during one of his rants about the typos in his study material. But it’s all gone. Menodora wonders if it’s still on his lips.

--

"What do you think blood is?" she asks. They lay on the cool back of his car. 

"Like literally or?"

"Metaphorically of course. Non physically at the very least."

"Those are two different things."

Menodora shakes her head. "No, no. It's like, most people say blood is life—life energy, light force—but I don't believe that."

Benjamin turns to her. "What do you believe then?"

This curiosity is so faerie-like that she reminds herself of the hate she feels for anyone who doesn't consider him to be the fae. What vampire would humor her but him, a half fae? What vampire would love her so to withstand her constant fluctuations from adoration to maliciousness?

"Blood is the soul. Which sounds the same, but it's not. Life is existence, the plants the trees, but your soul is you. Maybe drinking someone's blood means understanding them past any way words could describe."

"You're good at that. Writing poetry out of nowhere."

"I could have read it somewhere," she defends. She feels the need to shift her head closer to his.

"But you didn't. It came from you. It came from your personal experiences."

If only he knew how true that was. "What constellations do you want to see tonight?"

"I don't care. As long as I'm with you it's fun." He looks back at the sky. Menodora is thankful. She doesn't know what she'd do if he was still looking at her. "And I don't know if I agree with your idea."

"Really? What do you think?" He's  more knowledgeable on the subject anyway. Menodora's thoughts on the matter are scraps of requests that live and die on her tongue when she sees him.

"It makes the whole blood drinking thing sound pretty. It isn't. It's ugly and raw and, well, awful."

His face is so sour. He speaks as if he's some werewolf, ranting about vampires. He speaks as if he isn't one himself, as if human blood does not run in his stomach at this moment.

Human blood that is not Menodora's. Such a stupid thing to be envious of. 

"Hard to know which one of us is more right. Historically one of us is the bitter and the bitten, but you know what blood tastes like more than I do. Still, I do think it's pretty. Like childbirth is beautiful without being beautiful. It's messy and miserable, but it's life."

Benjamin laughs. It makes the cool night air taste bitter on Menodora's tongue. "I wish I thought like that. How do you find it within yourself to find it pretty? Doesn't it, I don't know, scare you?"

Don't I scare you? The question hangs in the air, and Menodora shakes her head to dispel it. "No, it doesn't."

--

Scary how? She writes on a napkin as soon as she gets home. Your arms have never crushed me.

She groans into her hands when she can not think of another line. She repeats it out loud time and time again, but there's nothing to add. It's not perfect. Menodora knows it needs something to really drive the punch of phonetics in.

She has no more words to say. She realizes now that the words are more like a diary entry than a poem. It's fact, not poetry. 

She goes back to some of her old lines in frustration. If she can not write something new, she can finish something old, surely. She spends hours at her desk over the next couple of days. She crumbles paper after paper, dashes word after word. She pokes her emotion like a bear for inspiration. She bargains with creativity. 

She ends up with this:

My body crescendos 

I crash crushed by the waves

I'd carve your name into the skin above my heart

I'd halt the heavens so they could hear you 

I'd do all this, all this, but I wouldn't say I love you

It turns out that the real poetry is still a fact, this one Menodora had been hoping was fiction.

--

Menodora presses her face into Bonnie’s couch and screams. “I’m a horrible person.”

“No, you’re not.” Bonnie rubs her back. “Why do you think so?”

“Because. Ben likes me—thinks he likes me. But he doesn’t because he doesn't know how”—she makes a noise—”I am. So he thinks he likes me.”

“Insecure?” Menodora lifts her face enough to glare at Bonnie. “I’m sorry, it’s true. I’ve never seen someone do more mental gymnastics to convince themselves someone didn’t like them.”

“But he’s so pretty.”

“You are too?”

“And kind, and funny.”

“Again, describing yourself.”

Menodora shakes her head. She lifts herself up completely. She puts a hand on each of Bonnie’s shoulders. “I’m not, though. I am not kind. I’m disarming, not funny. I’m so me.”

“And he likes you, for all of that. He isn’t blind. He knows you almost got him expelled.”

Menodora gags. “Don’t remind me. That— I want to say that was a lapse in judgment, but honestly it was pretty in character.”

“Yeah, it was. And that’s why he likes you. Because you are kind, funny, clever, disarming, pretty, and miserable to the bone.”

Menodora takes a bite of her previously discarded food. She can’t believe she let Bonnie get into her head. She promised that this movie night would be an opportunity to stop thinking about Benjamin, but here she is thinking about his name over and over.

“He deserves someone better,” Menodora says, still chewing. Bonnie sighs. “I’m serious! A normal girl would have told him that she didn’t like him by now, but here I am studying with him and eating the food he bought me. Oh my God, I’m leading him on. Oh my God.” She faceplants back into the couch. “I’m a horrible friend.”

Bonnie puts Menodora’s head in her lap. She pats Menodora’s forehead. “You’re not friends. Well, you are, but be honest you guys have been half dating for months. Would it really hurt just to stop running away from your feelings?”

Menodora hugs Bonnie’s knees. “I don’t know. What if he doesn’t get it though? What if he thinks loving me will be easy and backs down when he realizes I am so haphazardly broken?”

“Menodora,” Bonnie says, as if Menodora’s name has powers, “no one is easy to love. Benjamin isn’t even easy to love. He’s reckless, careless, and a little emotionally insensitive.”

Menodora turns onto her back. “But he doesn’t mean to be, and he always apologizes, even if he can't.” 

“Yes, but you never have to accept those sorries, but you do, because you love him. He’d accept a thousand of your apologies, Meno. He’d accept you.”

--

Emilio accidentally sees some of her poetry when it leaks out of her bag. The look of pure disgust is enough to make her laugh.

“You need help. From a higher power. All of them at once,” he signs. 

“You don’t even know what the poem is about,” she signs back. 

“Mute. I am not blind, I’m mute. One day that is going to get into your thick skull. I see the way you look at Benjamin. A pair, you two. Disgustingly odd and weird and crooked. I’m almost surprised you two aren’t dating.”

“You and everyone else,” she sighs. “I’m starting to wonder a bit myself.”

Emilio makes a face. “I do not want to know. Talk to Bonnie about this, if you must.”

Menodora gathers her papers. “Well obviously we don’t need to continue our lesson today if you know enough signs to insult me. You’re getting really good, by the way.”

Emilio smiles a bit. “Thanks. Though I will say, while I have… thoughts about Benjamin, he’d be good for you.”

From Emilio that’s as good as the Luna’s word documented in gold. It’d be foolish not to at least consider his words. Menodora has never considered herself a fool.

--

“Why do you like poetry?” Benjamin asked her once, months ago.

“I don’t know.” She bit into her bread, looking off for an answer. “As pretentious as it is, poetry feels like breathing to me. It’s something I do because I must. I enjoy it because it fuels me.”

“Many would consider poetry pretentious.”

“I resent that. Poetry is often just emotion put to words in its rawest form. Is emotion pretentious?”

Benjamin thought for a moment. “Depends. Entitlement is pretty pretentious.”

“That isn’t relevant to the current topic,” Menodora huffed. “I agree, but every poem is not entitled. It’s withdrawn, if anything. Poetry is all the things you wish you could say but you don’t.”

“What do you write about, then?”

This question rings in her head as she looks at her newest poem.

If you were a disaster, I'd die directly in your arms

But you are my lighthouse in a lighting storm

My love in a lawless land

I'd dock my boat near you without hesitance

And I'd leave your harbors with resistance

Darkness they deem you, but dare I call them wrong

There's so much light within you, my little hailstorm

Menodora hates this poem. She can’t tell if it’s because it’s bad, or if the weight of the things she keeps not saying is starting to weigh her down. Even if she is right in her thinking, is she right in her execution? 

--

Menodora runs into Benjamin on his exam day. He’s a flurry of rants, even though he got a good grade. Menodora almost feels bad for her professor, and then she remembers that he docked twenty point from one of Benjamin’s essays because he felt it could be better. He deserves every true complaint  that falls from Benjamin’s mouth.

At the end of his rant, Benjamin turns to Menodora. “Want to go out in, say, a week? I have to take my sister to this concert she’s excited about, but afterwards I’m free.”

Menodora ducks bread into her coffee. “Sure. Where do you want to go? I heard that there was a good movie in theaters.”

“One of your movies or mine?”

“Yours.”

Benjamin scrunches his nose. “So you can look like half on death’s door trying to keep in your criticisms?”

Menodora just doesn’t think that being shot in the leg is something you can walk off, and that media should stop presenting it as such so Emilio doesn’t have to deal with more dumbasses in his office, but to each their own. “I like going with you.”

Benjamin raises an eyebrow. “Is that a confession, my dear?” Menodora takes a sip of her coffee. “I’m joking.”

“I know. I didn’t say no.” There’s soggy bread crumbles in her mouth. How unromantic. “Take it as an invitation. I’d ask you out, but that’d be ruining your chance, no?”

She makes eye contact with him at her last word, and instantly regrets it. Benjamin looks so shocked. You’d think she told him he won the lottery or something. 

“I can’t tell if you’re joking.” He pauses, and if he could, Menodora thinks he’d take a deep breath. “It’d be a very unfunny one.”

“No, that’d be cruel. I’m being honest.”

“You want to go out?”

“Yes.”

“On a date?”

“Yes.”

Benjamin narrows his eyes. “What happened to your whole reservations?”

“Maybe I realized I can’t make choices for other people, or that it isn’t even a choice I’d want to make for you. Also maybe I’m bad at being emotionally coherent.”

“But you like me?”

“I’m starting to regret this.”

“Come on! At least give me this.”

“Yes, I like you. I have for months. Admittingly I’m starting to think instead of letting you take me out I should apologize and forget this interaction existed.”

“Do not.” 

“Ah, constraints.” She smiles. “I won’t.”

He waves a hand. “If you had told me that you didn’t like me, I would have stopped chasing you. Simple as that. But I knew that wasn’t exactly the truth, and I figured you would eventually cough up your reasoning. You never did though.”

“Must you shake the entire truth out of me?”

“Physically, no. Emotionally, yes. You’re a very confusing lady. Pretty, but still.”

“It just sounds silly to me. I am very unsure why you’d want to pursue a relationship with me. I’m not exactly nice, or darling. It’d be difficult to go to family gatherings. Kronos would probably hate anyone I hate, so that’s fine, but your parents like you. I like your parents. It’s embarrassing, I’d think.”

He blinks. “That’s… it?” He closes his eyes. “I understand your claims are serious and whatnot, but I thought you didn’t like me, or thought that dating someone like me would be too taxing.”

“Why would I care?”

“Better question: why would I?” He laughs. “You’re so interesting. You crushed me in debate months ago, but now you sit before me and tell me that you have nothing of value to offer. You’re wrong about that, by the way. You are very darling, and nice, when you allow yourself to be.”

“Which isn’t always.”

“Does it have to be? It’s enough for me.”

“We’re teenagers now, but what about later? It’s not like there’s many ways I could become immortal. It’s a coupling made for heartbreak.”

“That is a better reasoning.” He takes a sip of his coffee and pulls a face of disgust when it’s most likely cold. “I might be immortal, but I am still young. It will be a very long time before that means anything to me.” He rests his head in one of his hands. “Besides, I don’t think I could love anyone else.”

“It’s too soon to say.”

“No, it’s not. It’s not something I can explain to you that you would understand. Our elements are so different, and we aren’t the species, but this is something I just know. We were made for each other, not just here and now, but in the next a thousand years, in every universe.”

“Oh my God,” she groans. Menodora is not going to blush at that. “Are we going out or not?”

“Of course, darling. Though not the movies, what mild soul do you think I am?”

“Truly my mistake,” Menodora deadpans. 

“Yes, yes.” He puts a finger to his chin. “Dinner? Somewhere fancy?”

“Okay.”

“I’ll pick you up—and pay. Don’t even try it.”

She rolls her eyes. “I wasn’t going to try to.”

His eyes soften. “You really are enough for me, you know that?”

“I think I’m starting to.” His phone buzzes. “Ah, right. You have a study group soon.”

“Actually I’m late for it.” He gets up. “We’ll talk later?”

“Sure.”

“Okay. Goodbye."

"Goodbye, Menodora."

--

Two weeks later they go to the movies like she wanted. Afterwards they sit in his car. He's completely leaned over to her side of the car, pressing kisses all over her face. She laughs, but he tells her it's quite serious.

"It's not everyday you get to kiss a pretty girl, you know. That's why you truly must savor the moment."

He drives her home and insists on pulling straight up to her house. When Kronos asks how her evening was with that boy, she feels less uncomfortable.

"Well, sir, I am dating that boy," she says. The look of disgust on Kronos's face is enough to make her giddy.

--

"You never show me any of your poetry," Benjamin whines one day, face planting into the crook of her neck.

Menodora side eyes him. "You're reading it now, certainly."

"It's the principle of the thing. My girlfriend, the most beautiful woman I've ever met, won't even let me read the thing she's passionate about. Maybe I have failed as a boyfriend because—"

Menodora isn't listening to that entire paragraph. "I didn't let you read them because they were about you."

Benjamin straightens up. "Really? Can I read one now?"

"They're not good. The word choice is awful. The things I was trying to express were cringey." None of her words are making him look less excited. "Fine, but if you start going on and on about how great you are afterwards I'm kicking you out."

She opens her draw and pulls out her poetry scraps. "I didn't finish a lot of it. You're hard to write about."

Benjamin takes the stack from her and pulls up a chair. She stops writing to watch him read. Curse him and his stupid vampire genes because his face is so blank as he reads it. He isn't doing it on purpose so she can't even complain about it. Menodora huffs. 

She sees one of the full poems and she's immediately mortified. "Nevermind give it back."

"These are beautiful," he says, voice so full of wonder. "I love these. You're an incredible poet."

Menodora grabs at her poems. He lets her take them. "I appreciate it, but it's nothing, really. They are just stray thoughts about how I was feeling."

Benjamin's awe only grows. "Do you mean to say that your actual thoughts are just as pretty as that?"

"I will kill you."

Benjamin kisses her cheek. "I'd let you, sweetheart. It's a little bonding exercise."

She ignores the validity of the statement. "It's weird having you read those. I never thought you'd see them."

"There's no part of you that scares me. Besides, it's very flattering."

"What did I say about the ego thing?" Menodora warns, but the look in Benjamin's eyes keeps her from bantering further.

"I love you," he says simply, but it's for the first time.

"I love you too," she replies, warmer than she's been before. 

[windupnamazu]

if we listen to each other's heart!

ffxivwrite2023 #09: fair a gathering of stalls and amusements for public entertainment.

Pre-relationship Butter/@hqmillioncorn's Babycorn, with Moontide Manor friends. Post-Endwalker, pre-Dawntrail. 1202wc. ⮞ In this family, Moonfire Faire stirs up a lot of romance. And silliness. And tornado potatoes.

"Lunya, you dragged us out here to stalk Butter and Babycorn, not to play games out where they could see us," Sirius scolded, hands on his hips as he glared down his best friend and her husband giggling over the gigantic plush dog they'd just won. "Keep your head in the game."

"Right!" Lunya squeaked between peals of laughter as she accepted G'raha's arm to sit on, clinging to her prize as he lifted her onto his shoulder. She did feel a little bad about yet another year of destroying the same poor carney's test of strength, but he was the one who kept goading her into playing! It wasn't her fault if he always claimed that this will be the year I defeat you, Lunya Lanya! and she ended up sending the bell flying across Costa del Sol! Besides, G'raha always got a kick out of it. "Do you have sight of them still, kids?"

"They're eating tornado potatoes!" Pancake said, standing on top of a bench with a cheap spyglass in hand. Butter and Babycorn weren't actually far away enough for her to need one, but Linnet won it for her from a game of whack-a-hedgemole and Pancake insisted she absolutely had to use it.

"Tornado potato…" Lunya said longingly, looking in the direction of said stall.

G'raha laughed, reaching up to hold her hand as their group began to discreetly trail after their two small friends. "When they move onto the next attraction we'll go and buy some," he promised.

"Potato! Potato!" cheered Linnet and Pancake.

"Potato!" cheered Cinnamon in a proportionally quieter voice, though only Lunya could understand the faerie and the tornado potatoes were actually twice as long as she was.

"Shh," hissed Sirius even though there was next to no chance Butter or Babycorn could hear them over the noise of Moonfire Faire's crowds and fireworks. He'd been awfully tense since they left the mansion; maybe it was because he was wearing all black and long sleeves in the middle of summer while everyone else was wearing beachwear. Felis bumped shoulders with him.

"Come on," Felis said, grinning toothily. On his shoulders, Cola leaned over to pat Sirius's head with her tiny hands and he relaxed just a fraction. "We're doing this for fun, not as a job. Let's try to enjoy ourselves first and foremost."

"Right," Sirius muttered. "If Lunya were paying us that'd be another thing."

"You want gil?" Lunya wondered atop her steed of a husband.

"No! Learn how to save for once!"

"Miss Lunya, they're headed for the beach!" Linnet cried, bouncing on the heels of her ribboned sandals. "Do we follow them or get tornado potatoes?!"

Lunya bit her lip, looking back and forth between the allure of the tornado potato stall (also selling corn on the cob with a table of spices you could douse them with at will!) and the two friends she goaded Sirius out of the house with the mission of spying on. As much as she wanted to make sure Butter wouldn't totally blow his chance with Babycorn, he'd come a long way from that timid 16-year-old they picked up in the Shroud a decade ago, so he'd probably be fine, right…? Sure, the other party was Babycorn "wouldn't know a confession if a bouquet of roses hit her in the face" Starsinger, but…!

"Potato," Lunya decided, and the three kids (and Cinnamon) started whooping and hollering as the party veered away from the ramp down to the beach.

"Butter," Babycorn began as she contemplated her snow cone, the latest in the line of snacks her friend had bought her that was starting to give her suspicions she normally wouldn't have. "Is this a date?"

"It's strawberry," Butter said automatically, then he seemed to process what she said and turned a fascinating shade of red. "I—I, uh, I thought you were talking about the snow cone, I, um. Would—would it be okay if it was? A date, I mean?"

Babycorn's smile was blinding. "Sure! It's been a fun date so far! Ah, Butts, are—are you okay?"

Her friend was somehow even more red than he was just a minute ago. It was almost impressive but mostly worrisome. She leaned over and pressed her forehead to his.

"I don't think you got a fever." She pouted slightly, brow wrinkling in thought. Butter watched her face just ilms away with wide, almost dazed eyes. "Do you need to sit down?"

"No! no," Butter said quickly, taking a step back. After a moment he reached over and grabbed Babycorn's hands, which was nice. Babycorn liked holding hands with Butter! "Babycorn, can I tell you something?"

"You can tell me anything, Butts!" Babycorn agreed instantly.

"I…" Butter shuffled on one sandaled foot to the other. "I like you, Babycorn! Not as just your friend. Like, romantically, like how Lunya and G'raha feel about each other or Melmeltan and Coco or Sirius and Felis. And…! I have for years! I know you're still hoping Hildibrand will notice you"—and Babycorn wasn't sure what the expression on Butter's face when he said Hildibrand's name meant, but she thought that maybe she should bring up how she wasn't all that sure about still liking Hildibrand ever since they found out about the whole Mandervillan thing in Radz-at-Han—"but until then, would… would you let me try to, um, I guess the word Lunya used is woo… you…?"

Meanwhile in the bushes nearby, Lunya had to be stopped by both Sirius and G'raha from hollering WOO! in glee. G'raha ripped off a piece of his tornado potato to shove in her mouth.

"Basically, um, it's okay if you don't like me back the same way, but if you're okay with it I also want to do my best to make you like me too! N-not by force or anything but naturally! By impressing you!"

Oh!

This was like those—all those weird proposals strangers kept coming to her with! With the rings Lunya and Tilika kept telling her to not eat!!!

Don't eat the ring, Babycorn! she told herself. This is Butter! You cannot eat that ring!!!!!!

There wasn't a ring, because a confession and proposal are usually two different things.

"How are you gonna impress me?" Babycorn wondered instead of really registering the emotional weight of the conversation, though she was taking it much more seriously than she had all the other confessions and proposals she'd been flooded with across her travels.

"Uh." Damn. He hadn't thought this far. "I'll do things like…! This!"

Butter did a cartwheel in the sand. Babycorn gasped and clapped her hands furiously.

Ba-BUMP!

That's weird! Babycorn thought, placing a hand over her silly heart doing silly things, and out loud she said, "Okay, Butts! You can 'woo' me! Woo!"

"Woo!" Butter exclaimed, doing another cartwheel.

Back in the bushes, Cinnamon and Pancake finally came over from the fairground stalls, the teenager carrying two cobs of corn slathered in butter and salt and sweet paprika for them.

"I MISSED IT?" Cinnamon's indignant shriek carried over the water, not that there were many other Echo users out on the beach to understand her. "WHAT THE FUCK DID THEY TALK ABOUT???"

[gigifreaks]

So here's another Bayo analysis because why the hell not?😙 This time I'll be discussing a part of Bayo 3's ending. So apparently, there's people out there that got the impression that Bayo's death was directly Viola's fault, and I'm gonna explain why that's bull.

So to recap, Singularity gets his ass whooped and his defeat creates a...LITERAL singularity that begins absorbing everything, including Viola. Strider/Luka is forced to choose between saving her or saving Bayo, and as we see, he chooses Viola, at the cost of Bayo's life.

This has led to some people seeing Viola as directly responsible for Bayo's death, flat out BLAMING her! Those people lack literacy, so let me set it straight.

So, Viola had been getting her shit kicked in the entire fight and was knocked unconscious by Singularity's death blast. Simultaneously, Bayo's watch breaks completely and Gommorah goes rogue; on top, she's physically weak after winning the biggest fight of her life.

Bayo is at the mercy of Gommorah, and Viola is being sucked into the singularity. Luka is the only one standing. He sees these two people he loves, both completely vulnerable and needing him, but he can only help one, and fast!

There's no time to waste, so seeing Viola is airborne, he rushes to her aid first. Not to mention she's his fucking DAUGHTER! From another universe, sure, but still! If anything, it must've been sheer instinct.

On Bayo's side, she must've seen Luka choose Viola, but it's not like she was crying for help. In fact, she seems to ACCEPT her fate; and when Luka does get to her, the FIRST thing she asks about is Viola's safety....yeah.

She literally DOESN'T CARE that she just died, as long as the girl she's been protecting is okay. (Unlike Luka, I'm not sure if Bayo realized her relation to Viola, but nonetheless, she cared about her.)

So is it really fair to say Viola was responsible for Bayo's death, when Bayo herself clearly doesn't think so? NO! Do we blame Luka then? Also NO. I already made the point on his choice.

In conclusion, Luka chose Viola over Bayonetta, but Bayonetta valued Viola's safety more than her own life. Luka may have not saved Bayonetta, but makes up for it by going down with her.

If you think about it, they BOTH sacrificed themselves for Viola.

NOTHING was her fault.

(Not the exact same argument, but along similar lines, people ask "Why didn't Viola use her faerie form against Singularity!?" Honestly...I can't tell you. My only guess is she didn't know how to activate it...but then how did she know for Dark Eve...

I believe this is just another time Viola is nerfed by the writing. Yes, I'll blame anyone EXCEPT Viola, bitch.

Also, I don't think it's fair to hate a character because they're badly written, as if it's the CHARACTER'S fault.😑)

[jegulily-stuff]

11. The Unknowable Room ch 7 (there are loads more but im drawing the line here)

Thanks for the ask :) This is probably my favourite WIP at the moment

Here's a snippet:

Regulus looked at the stile, at the tiny stone steps in the wall and the muddy footsteps and trampled plants. For some reason it was making him almost angry.

“They have a faery-gate,” His voice was tight. “They have a gap in their wards, that they haven’t closed in all this time – after ten years of war. That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever – how could anyone ever be that stupid? I can’t –“

“Shut up!” Evans snarled, “Shut the fuck up. You don’t get to call them anything – and don’t you dare act like it’s their fault! It was hidden. No one knew about it, only friends.”

“Well, that obviously didn’t matter. Someone found it.”

She looked like she wanted to bite him. “You didn’t. You couldn’t fucking find it five minutes ago!”

What does that have to do with anything?

He frowned. “And? Someone did.”

“Why are you even acting like you care? This is what your lot want – this is what your lot did. Whose fucking footprints are those, huh? Who cast that fucking Mark?”

Her voice was too loud. The sound carried across the garden. Someone might hear her out along the road.

The Mark hung above them, casting its eerie glow like a spotlight.

“We can’t stay here.” He said.

Someone would come, and how would they explain it? Oh no, I’m only at this crime scene because of temporary unauthorised time travel. Please, there’s no need to arrest me, or tell my parents.

Evans grabbed him by the wrist and dragged him out of the border. Her grip was iron, and she didn’t let go until they were all the way back through the front door of the house and into the entrance hall.

“Here’s what’s we’re going to do,” She said. There was something unusually hard in her voice. “We are going to find out exactly when and why this happened, so that it will not happen. We aren’t leaving until then.”

There was no point trying to argue, was there?

After all, Marlene McKinnon was her good friend.

The first two chapters of this are already posted here.