#her character hinges on her devotion to a man

[demigodofhoolemere]

Um, Disney… this was literally already the plot of the movie. Her motivations are pretty clearly not just about Eric (and even if they were — so what?). She’d been collecting things in the grotto for ages and sang Part of Your World, the song where she goes very into detail about wanting to take part in the human world, BEFORE she ever laid eyes on Eric. Tell me you haven’t watched the movie in a while without telling me you haven’t watched the movie in a while.

[nightingale-the-lurker]

Hic est nihilum

[DEMO] Last update: 19/04/2024 | [ROMANCE OPTIONS]

SYNOPSIS

Hic est nihilum is a 16+ fantasy story set in a desolate, post-apocalyptic wasteland. Assume the mantle of the Omen, a rebel who endured a harrowing betrayal. Embarking on a perilous journey through the lifeless Abysm, you must rescue your allies from the clutches those who'd sooner see you dead and stop two loving, loathing gods from taking control of your mind.

PLOT

After a lifetime of enduring the Matriarch's iron grip, you dared to defy her tyranny. Empowered by the enigmatic Sud the Time's End, the smiling harbinger of death, you led your forces to reclaim a portion of the desolate, lifeless wastes of the Abysm. Victory seemed within reach, until betrayal shattered your ambitions.

Left for dead in the unforgiving desert, your survival now hinges on an ambiguous mission from your divine benefactor. As you navigate this treacherous path, the fate of your allies hangs in the balance, while the Matriarch's dominion remains unchallenged.

Yet, amidst the chaos, whispers of alternative powers echo through the Abysm, offering salvation at a steep price. Will you bend to the will of fate, or forge your own path to freedom? The choice is yours, but in this land of turmoil, nothing comes without sacrifice.

FEATURES

Play as a male, female, or non-binary character and choose your sexuality.

Customize your appearance and personality.

Decide on your skills, weapon, and fighting style.

Gather a patchwork group to rebel against the Matriarch.

Interact with two gods who want to take you as an ally, servant, and saint: Erichea the Drowned Maiden and Sud the Time's End.

Decide how you'll lead your rebellion: Will you be a ruthless rulebreaker, an idealistic liberator, or a pragmatic diplomat?

Don't lose your mind. Or do.

ROMANCE OPTIONS

Faz Sharaan is a tech expert who mysteriously appeared at your doorstep, offering his expertise. Though invaluable to your cause and a man with a heart of gold, his past remained a tightly guarded secret. It's as if he emerged fully formed from the desert sands.

Yuan Lixue is your steadfast ally and fierce protector. From the outset, she dedicated herself wholeheartedly to your cause, her loyalty to freedom unwavering. Yet, the crucible of battle has left its mark, turning her into a hardened warrior with an appetite for blood.

Rhys Dariann is exactly what he says: A flesh-eating demon. Yet he seamlessly transitions into kind town doctor and devoted chaplain. His reasons for aiding you are veiled in secrecy, but one thing is clear: an old hatred towards the Matriarch fuels his every action.

The Angel is an enigmatic and inhuman celestial being sworn to your cause without explanation. Their price? To never again take a life under your command. You've always wondered, however, if they're fallen from grace or merely overlooked by the gods of the Abysm.

[pennyellee]

preview

LACRIMOSA | MYG MAFIA YANDERE AU

pairings: mafia leader!yoongi x f!reader genre: mafia!au, yandere au, historical au

summary: Their interlocking gaze served as a butterfly effect on his heart, stirring it to the core. She, in turn, only dreams to find a way to escape. But perchance, over time she might forcefully learn to love the man who has taken so much from her.

Thus unfolds a twisted tale of love and loss, of hope and despair, of life and death. The music reverberated through the dimly-lit streets. Tears of sorrow, weeping symphony - reflects the hurt, the scars that linger deep within and the wounds that never healed. Lacrimosa.

warnings: minors dni 18+ | mafia au, dark!yoongi, mafia!yoongi, smut, forced marriage, forced pregnancy, yandere, threatening, kidnapping, partial religious behaviour, graphic violence, graphic depictions of torture, manipulation, possessive/obsessive behaviour, angst, implied non-con, minor character death, spanking, blood, gaslighting (more to be added)

word count: 655

author’s note: yaaaaaay!! can't believe I actually made it to post a fanfic I desperately wanted to write for two whole years now. I am very much excited to share this preview from one of the chapters ♥ I'm rising from the dead when it comes to writing fics, so excuse any ridiculous mistake I make, I'll always try to look into it backwards. Lastly a big thank you goes to Bex @chaoticpuff17 who not only inspired me to write but constantly showed me love and support, therefore I would love to express my unending gratitude and admiration, love you baby ♥ lots of love, 𝖕𝖊𝖓𝖓𝖞𝖊𝖑𝖑𝖊

m.list CHAPTER I

“You crave the throne don’t you?” she asked cocking her head and chin defiantly, her narrowed eyes fixed on him. “I want you too.” She chuckled at his response. “I'm merely a convenient excuse, am I not?” Y/N smiled too sweetly. “You’ll kill m—” he rose from his chair, not even letting her finish. Grabbing her by her shoulders in steel grip with a penetrating gaze.

The fragile cup slipped from her trembling hands and shattered on the floor, a nearby maid prepared to clean up the shattered shards. “Leave us!” he barked at the startled girl, his voice filled with anger. Y/N's eyes widened. He was even more aggressive and intimidating than before.

“I could—” his voice seething with fury, “— I could gather man and slaughter your entire clan keeping you as a trophy, a symbol of my power.” The threat hung in the air, and she could feel the tears welling up in her eyes. Fear was coursing through her, yet she resisted letting it control her.

“Matter of fact—” he continued, his grip tightening on her shoulders, eliciting a whimper of pain from her, “—you will be a symbol of the magnitude my power has, no matter if your father and family remain alive. So it’s on you. The fate of your kin rests in your hands. Their survival hinges on your decisions and how well you’ll cooperate.” He tightened his grip again, eliciting another whimper of pain from her.

“But I will never dispose of you.” he growled through gritted teeth, his tone a mixture of possessiveness and frustration. Gathering her courage, she managed to speak again, her voice trembling but filled with resolve.

“You cannot manipulate me like this. You think I’ll fall for this fucked up scheme? I have spent my entire life under the orders of others, forbidden from making choices for myself! And you have the audacity to use my innocence thinking I will willingly crawl into your bed and love you like a devoted lover.” Venom in her voice and the desperate tone made fall for her even more.

“I've only recently met you, so spare me your attempts to deceive me that you’re being my saviour.” Y/N has enough fire to still conquer and fight him back. “I refuse to be a passive participant in this game.” She shall not take it lying down.

“I'm giving you a choice—” he asserted, his voice laced with a dangerous undertone “—either you’ll walk down the aisle to me or there will be a bloodshed. I won’t send you back to your father nor will I relinquish you easily.” His eyes locked onto hers, and she could see the darkness consuming his pupils when anger consumed him.

“Call it love, obsession, or whatever you please, but no matter what imbecile attempts you make to fight or flee, we will inevitably end up together nonetheless," he declared with conviction. Was this the fate God had laid out for her? Her faith wavered, and if he didn't provide assistance soon she shall forbid him altogether.

“You just want to fuck m—” he cut her off abruptly, his voice low and seductive.

“I can either fuck you hard or I can make love to you,” said he, whilst setting her left arm free and sliding his to her thigh, caressing it sweetly.

Breathing started to become harder for Y/N. Unfamiliar sensations welled up in her lower belly whilst his touch was sending shivers through her body. Was this attraction? Excitement? Mother told her this is how love is supposed to feel like. Butterflies in her stomach. But she certainly wasn't in love with her captor.

He sensed her confusion and distress. Leaving her fall back to the chair. Finally letting her breathe freely. Yoongi sat back to his chair, collecting himself and his three peace suit he wears today.

“Loss of words, innit?” He chuckled.

.

.

.

.

coming soon CHAPTER I

©pennyellee. please do not repost

disclaimer: this story is purely fictional, it does not depict real-life events or involve any actual members of BTS. This story will contain depictions of violence, blood shed, death, mentions of abuse, smoking, alcohol drinking, illegal activities, old social norms and traditions, which we do not condone.

taglist: @chaoticpuff17 @honsoolgloss

[lurkingshan]

Intergenerational Trauma Challenge - 180 Degree Longitude Passes Through Us

It’s winter and I’m huddled up in my house hiding from the cold weather, so obviously this is the perfect time to tackle another entry on the intergenerational family trauma challenge list. This week I finally watched 180 Degree Longitude Passes Through Us, a Thai drama about Wang, a young man just coming of age who is desperately seeking answers about his father’s death; Sasiwimol, Wang’s very complicated mother who does not want to dig up the past; Inthawut, his father’s best friend who has been hiding from it for years; and Siam, the black hole at the center of this story.

Before I dig into the trauma themes, let me just say that this show is excellent, if not for everyone. It has a very intentional style that makes it feel like a stage play—the writer is a playwright—and it’s basically eight episodes of very intense conversations. It’s not a romance and there’s an intellectualism in the writing that I found kept me at an emotional remove from the characters even as I marveled at how well crafted the dialogue is. And the dialogue is very important, which is why the translation of this drama is much stronger than we typically get from Thai productions—the words matter. It’s also loaded with visual metaphors and is all around beautiful to look at, and the three main performers are fantastic. I highly recommend it to anyone who likes theater, stories about complicated families, or beautiful and talented actors showing their work. And more than anything else, this show does incredibly strong thematic work and its messaging is on point: this is a story about how noble idiocy ruins lives.   

So, with that said, onto the trauma! Spoilers ahead, and I am assuming anyone reading past this point has watched the show. Some themes you’ll see in this one: taboo, denial of queer identity, homophobia, filial piety, and lots of emotional manipulation. Shoutout to @bengiyo and @twig-tea for reading this to make sure I didn’t miss anything in this complex story.

There are two main sources of intergenerational trauma radiating down toward Wang: the absence of his father, Siam, and his intense relationship with his mercurial mother, Sasiwimol. The story is structured around Wang’s determination to seek answers about Siam—both who he was and how he died. He has grown up knowing a certain story: that his parents met and fell in love in college but divorced when he was young, that his father loved him very much despite not staying with his mother, and that his father was an alcoholic who died in a drunk driving accident. Shortly after his father’s death, his mom put him in boarding school so she could focus on her career and became a weekend parent to him—as she was not around to structure his day to day life, their relationship became more about her taking him on fun adventures and spoiling him when she had time off, treating each other as best friends instead of like a mother and son, and never talking about Siam. He has always suspected there was more to the story of his parents that he was not being told, and as he has grown up, come into his own queerness, and picked up on his mother’s casual homophobia and obsessive devotion to compulsory heteronormativity, his suspicions about the secret his mom was holding became sharper. 

Enter Inthawut. Inthawut was Siam’s best friend, and with nothing to go on but a set of old pictures, Wang has an instinctual certainty that he is the key to the secret he’s seeking. And thus he engineers a way for he and his mom to “coincidentally” stumble onto Inthawut’s property and get invited to stay a few days in his isolated home, at which point Wang begins his campaign to figure out what the hell happened between Siam, Sasiwimol, and Inthawut at any cost.

One of the things I find most interesting about this story is how much the plot hinges on Wang going against Asian cultural norms in his pursuit of the truth. He is not respectful to his elders. He does not maintain filial piety and deference to his mother. He refuses to restrain his emotions. Instead, he is pushy and relentless and emotionally manipulative (all tricks we can plainly see he learned from Sasiwimol) and Inthawut doesn’t stand a chance against him. And so, because Wang explicitly acts against these cultural values, the truth comes out and the trauma is no longer suppressed. 

And in the end, it’s a simple, if desperately sad story: Siam and Inthawut were in love, but Inthawut was battling internalized homophobia and deep-seeded fear and so he relentlessly pushed Siam away and toward dating and then marrying their friend Sasiwimol. And when Siam, miserable in this heterosexual relationship he never actually wanted, finally snapped and confessed his true feelings, Inthawut rejected him and ran away to study abroad. Inthawut was running due to his own fear, but he also had noble notions of somehow protecting Siam from his own queerness and told himself that if he was gone, Siam would accept his heterosexual life. Of course, that did not happen, and in the fallout of this rejection Siam sank further into alcoholism and died soon after. Inthawut’s reaction was the exact worst fear of all gay people who work up the courage to confess to a friend they have developed feelings for: outright rejection, abandonment, and destruction of the relationship. And in his mind, he did this to Siam “for his own good,” a fairly textbook execution of the noble idiocy trope. In the aftermath, we see how Inthawut has isolated himself, part in penance, part in self-protection, and intellectualized his way to a romantic construction of his own cowardice that he tries to convince Wang is righteous.

But Wang is deeply affected by how the denial of his father’s queerness ruined his life and is absolutely not having any of Inthawut’s self-denying bullshit, and this is where things get messy, as both Wang and Inthuwat seem to start seeing Wang and Siam as interchangeable and they develop an emotional entanglement that is deeply unhealthy, to say the least. Wang wants to understand Siam so badly that he starts to be him, and Inthuwat is so desperate to address his regret and shame that he starts to see Wang as Siam, as well. Wang also uses this attachment as a way to shock his mother and forcefully bring her real feelings about Siam and Inthawut to the surface. Despite Wang’s many loud protestations to the contrary, I don’t believe that he and Inthawut actually love each other. They are using each other to work out their trauma about Siam.

And they’re not the only ones! Sasiwimol seems to have her own psychological confusion about Wang as he relates to Siam, and their dynamic is very strange as a result. She refers to Wang as dua-eeng (and has taught him to do the same with her rather than calling her “mom”), a Thai endearment that literally means “self” but is often used between lovers. They have a very physically affectionate relationship that often had me grimacing in discomfort, and she clearly sees Wang as both a source of pain—because he is so like Siam—and her one source of comfort and happiness. She is a successful woman by any standard, but she’s also desperately lonely, hanging on tight to Wang as her only companion in a way that often veers into overbearing, and deeply wounded by her past with Siam and Inthawut. It was through her own friendship with Inthawut that she pursued Siam in the first place, and she clearly feels betrayed not only by Siam, but by Inthawut, both for getting in the way of her relationship with Siam and for leaving them. Her feelings about both men are complex and the story never fully spells them out, in part because Sasiwimol never does. Determinedly not thinking about what happened between them is a big part of how she copes, along with sublimating her suspicions into homophobia, which she perpetuates quite intentionally in her work via production of heterosexual romance propaganda.

Wang clearly loves his mother even as he is frustrated by her prejudices, her desire to control him, and her tendency toward emotional manipulation. He is a perceptive kid and he has studied her closely; he understands her very well and can often predict exactly how she’ll react to a situation. Which is why his decision to announce baldly to her face that he is in love with Inthawut—not only coming out as gay but declaring his intention to move out of her home and in with a man 20+ years his senior who is deeply entangled with her own trauma—felt very intentional to me. He knew what kind of reaction that would get from her, and he wanted it. And sure enough, Sasiwimol crumbles at this repetition of her trauma and the perceived disloyalty of Wang choosing Inthawut over her just as his father did. The rest of the emotion she’d been holding back comes pouring out, resulting in the three of them finally airing out everything that lies between them and everything they are feeling about the Siam-shaped hole in their lives. And once she breaks down, Wang is able to forgive her for the grievance she’s caused him and ultimately decides to remain filial and continue living with her, because he does not actually want to punish his mother for what happened to his father. 

So, in the end, where did the story leave us with all this trauma? I can’t really say that any of these characters have healed, but I do think Wang kick-started that process, at least for himself. He got what he needed most out of this little scheme: deeper understanding of who his father was and why his life took such a drastic turn. He remains caught in the dysfunctional dynamic with his mother, and I’m not sure he’ll ever fully break out of it, but at least there is more honesty between them now about what they’re dancing around. She now knows he is gay and she has to accept it to keep him with her, and given that he has backed off from asking her to accept something much scarier than that, I do think she will find a way to make her peace with it. Inthawut is the character who seems to have progressed the least, standing firmly in his stasis and remaining determinedly alone with his pain, though the show leaves us with a note of ambiguity that suggests he may someday find the courage to move on.

The messages of this work are clear. Internalized homophobia and denial of your own queerness are poison for your soul. Rejecting a loved one “for their own good” is an act of cowardice and selfishness, not an act of love. Hiding from and sublimating your trauma will never allow you to heal. Refusing to process your pain will only lead to you pushing it down on the next generation. Ultimately, this story told us that bravely looking ourselves and our trauma in the face and confronting our truths head on is the only way to begin to heal, and that running from them only leads to ruin. 

[raspberrilady]

White Roses || William James Moriarty x Reader

a/n: Finally, here, a fic written with my friend as my hypewoman on this William piece, and me being a cheerleader on her Scaramouche fic. Ask her kindly and maaaybe she will translate a thing.

Word count: around 16,000 words divided into a prologue, 9 chapters and an epilogue. You might consider reading it on AO3

Treat this piece as an embodiment of my brianriot that was a sole thought of wanting to see a William with a soft, kind and a bit naïve lady. She will have her character development throughout the story, though. I just wanted some longer angst-fluff fic and it’s a bit dumb and silly and not that majestically written.

Warnings: Female reader, mentions of Christianity, too many scenes involving tea, not that good word choices. Translation isn’t my thing. Angst, fluff and suggestive fic.

Mary Hale isn't sure if she wants to wake her roommate up.

In her eyes, you look terrible and won't be able to get yourself presentable in the next ten minutes, when the next lesson will start. Your hair is tangled, your sleeping face bears a strange expression, and the bags under your eyes are dark. A book with an emerald cover loosely clasped in your hands betrays what [Name] [Surname] was doing all night.

For that, you blame all writers whose passionate, engaging novels keep you awake at abnormal hours. Late nights are the only quiet time in the dormitory. It's soundless enough to keep you focused and dark enough to finely hide dark blushes on your face in case your roommate woke up. She would still scold you for using the lamp, and the mood would be ruined, so you always keep the light low.

Mary Hale rolls her eyes and decides to leave you be. Either way, she doesn't know you well enough to care that much, even if you've shared a room for half a year. She spends her time perfecting her art of flirting outside the dormitory, and you... Well, she guesses you read a lot and don't mind showing up to class unprepared.

She couldn't be so careless in her appearance as you as she doesn't plan to waste her time on books much longer. She will find a wealthy lover and never lift a finger again to work, let herself sink in tons of compliments and be adored by the man of her life. That is her dream, which she devotes herself to.

She leaves the room almost without slamming the door.

Mary has no intention of being late for class. Math isn't that much important as the young professor who is an exceptional candidate for her lover. The thought of a forbidden, somewhat indecent relationship curves the corners of her mouth into a mirthful grin.

Huh. And she is surprised that this kind of thing is preventing you from sleeping, even if only on paper.

Chapter I

You are late.

William James Moriarty notes the attendance with a quick glance as he enters the room. Several seats remain empty: you and another student, who always sits in the first row—August Hearst—are missing. He also notices two unfamiliar ladies, unenrolled students who showed a sudden interest in trigonometry after seeing William. Amazing.

He puts on a gentle professor's smile, closing the door behind him and its hinges click quietly.

„Good morning. I welcome you all to the next class,” he says, standing in the middle of the room. Everyone raises and responds to his greeting. “Before we move on to the next subject, please take a look at your exams and my commentary on them. If you have any inquiries, don't hesitate to ask me. Unfortunately, two people did not pass and-”

The door creaks loudly, although you've been careful when opening it. You slip into the room and with a hasty “I'm sorry...” take your seat.

“...And that is why they will have to attend supplementary classes to catch up. This test was difficult, but I assure each of you that the knowledge you’ll gain after it will be useful in the future.”

He takes the corrected exams. His shoes clatter against a wooden floor as he hands in the exams one by one, congratulating successful students and giving knowing looks to those that don’t have math as their forte.

“Miss [Name],” his soothing tone doesn't sound threatening, yet the shiver runs down your spine. He places a test in front of you, and you notice how your calculations on the first page are almost completely crossed out. “I am inclined to suspect that the day you wrote your test was not your finest moment. Most of the data had already been misspelt in the first lines. Could it be that something was distracting you?”

You look at him with surprise and shake your head vigorously. Professor Moriarty most likely knows that he is (not only) your biggest distraction, especially since in (not only) your eyes he is perfect. Pulled straight out of a novella. Romantic one, probably. You could point which book.

Not that you are absurdly bad at all these calculations and logical thinking. But one could mess this badly only if there was something else involved, like immunity to handsome men.

And yet he plays ignorant and thus makes you even more nervous.

It isn't easy to look for an excuse. After all, you can't really say 'Hiring a handsome, young teacher as a maths was a fatal mistake by the university' or something along these lines.

“I've been having trouble sleeping lately...” Your confession is half-hearted, as you stare stubbornly at the test result which almost makes you tear up.

“Oh? Well, I can't argue that a good novel might keep one awake better than a math book,” he says with a benevolence that makes you even more embarrassed, and you blush. “Perhaps a tea of St John's wort or chamomile will be able to help you.”

You gently turn toward him and nod shyly. He smiles and ends up handing out tests. Then, he goes back to the blackboard and writes down the few formulas that caused the most problems.

Seeing how trivial your mistakes were, you start to question why you are here. Well, you somehow like the classes and your parents wanted you to take up a chance and study. And, of course, William teaches here, but it must've math, that you can't understand at all.

You sigh. How unromantic.

***

For the rest of the lecture, you've been sitting quietly, jotting down the most crucial things. Or you've tried to, as your notes started to fill up with mindless scribbles next to some formulas. You are relieved to get up from your seat when the class’s time is up.

You move towards the door along with the other classmates when you hear your name called.

“Miss [Surname]!” You don't need to turn around to realize that the voice belongs to Professor William. Even that bad mark on your exam didn't make you resent him out of spite, you notice with another beat of your heart as you approach him.

“Yes...?”

“I would like to remind you once more about the supplementary classes,” he says calmly, observing your reaction. He could point to the anxiety in your slightly widened eyes and a stab of frustration in the way your lips twitched slightly. William smiled and was mindful that it is time to change the topic. “Apropos, Miss [Surname], I have heard that the second volume of the 'Taste of Enchantment' has appeared in our library.”

Now William watches as a surprise takes over your body as the bashful redness start to spread on your face, he considers this state better than your silent puffing and pouting.

…

How does he know about this book?

'Taste of Enchantment' is an average romance with an awkward title. The protagonist is a dull lady, but not in a way you could describe yourself, as she was too perfect. You would drop the book by the first three chapters if not for the main character’s significant other, who, as you’ve decided, quite resembles William.

“How did you know I read the first volume?” You ask with an uncertain, polite smile.

William hums lightly. “I happen to be very interested in the literature my students read. I noticed you recently with the book, so I decided to try it myself.”

...That is mortifying. You know so many books and your lecturer had to caught you reading this mediocre crap. The ending of the first volume may have been quite good, you admit it yourself, but overall it was...

…Yeah, mediocre crap is an adequate way to describe it.

“If I had known, I would have had in hand a more interesting novel than this one...,” you chuckle to shake off the awkward feeling and lower your gaze on your watch. There is still some time to eat breakfast. You did a slight curtsey. “Excuse me, professor, but I will be going now. Thank you for your time.”

“Of course, miss [Surname]. I hope to see you in the supplementary classes,” you nod, already resigned to your fate, and he smiles as you take your leave. It sweetens the fact you will have even more limited free time.

If he had stopped you, he would see a scarlet blush covering your cheeks before you got out of the room. Your throat is dry, and any further words would have died on your tongue.

Almost with relief, you leave William's classroom.

'Taste of Enchantment'...

The blush again douses your face, and you close your eyes while rebuking yourself quietly. You couldn’t believe that a crappy romance book that would rather suit a somewhat-read teenager would make your heart beat fast and not because of the frustrating plot.

And you wanted to be a model student, [Name]?

Chapter II

Never before in your life have you been so nervous yet excited for a lesson to start.

Even though you are theoretically here as punishment for not studying enough math or just not being talented enough to master it effortlessly, it is hard to get the nervous smile off your face. You try to not let your fluster show, tightening your fingers on the covers of your books.

With your free hand, you reach for a door.

The class is almost empty and the sight of it reminds you of a lively marked suddenly going vacant. It’s unusual and leaves a nostalgic feeling behind.

“Welcome back, Miss [Name],” William's velvety voice greets you as soon as you walk through the door, and the world around seemed to dim in his presence. “I'm glad you found time for me.”

“O... of course,” you reply hazily, sitting down by the desk that is closer to the blackboard than your usual seat. You don’t want to look impolite, would you take a sit that far away, when there are only two people in the class...

...Or rather, there should have been two people, because the second student—another failure in terms of math—hasn't arrived yet.

“Ah,” William notices your unspoken question. “You are currently the first one to arrive. The most punctual. I'll admit I have no idea whether Mr Hearst will join us. There are three minutes left before the scheduled time... But,” the smile he gives you is charming enough, you can't focus on his words, “we will somehow manage together either way, won't we, Miss [Name]?”

You smile shyly, only nodding in response. You don't like how you can't do anything about your slightly flushed cheeks. Math, math, math. You came here to learn math. Not for your handsome teacher.

You can't let yourself romanticize the situation and face the cruel reality you’re failing your classes.

You spread your books out on the desk. Once you're holding a pen in your hand, William sighs softly and begins explaining everything about trigonometry from scratch. He asks you questions, and you can feel the attention on you, which you both don't want and... somehow, makes you happy.

You solve a few tasks under his watchful eye and encouraging smile. They are easier than what was on the test, but Williams tries to convince you that the solutions are to be crafted with the same scheme.

You are absorbed with the paper in front of you, occasionally biting your lip.

While you’re absorbed with the paper in front of you, William observes watchfully the changes in your expression: from a bit of confusion to concentration and then a smile of satisfaction and surprise as you write down the answer. He approaches you and leans over to take a look at what you have written.

Your tense by the light feeling of his warm breath. He’s so close. You can discern the light smell of roses. Is this cologne?

If anyone else were in his shoes, you would be terrified by this proximity. Now, somehow, you aren't.

“Mhm, both first exercises are correct, but in the third, you have used the wrong formula.” He hums right next to your ear. His voice is quiet, almost coming out as a whisper.

You press your lips together in a narrow line as your cheeks become even redder. You mutter something under your breath, correcting the data. You don't dare to look at him, because your heart’s beat fastened and you don’t want it to jump out of your chest or stop.

…How delightful.

“Professor Moriarty...?” You whisper, drawing his attention back to you from his wandering thoughts.

“Forgive me Miss [Na-]” SHHHHHHHHHHH!! His apology is interrupted by the creak of the door opening. William straightens up and turns around. At the threshold stand two—...two?—late students; Mary, your roommate, and a boy whose locks of chestnut-coloured hair you've been seeing in class around five rows in front of you.

“I'm sorry for being late!” Mary Hale giggles cutely through her apology. She notices William and she smiles charmingly in his direction. She hadn't been invited to extra classes—but who would have a good reason to deny an eager student extra maths lessons?

Still, even as your beloved professor gracefully moves away from your desk, you can smell his cologne. You shift your gaze to the newcomers, distracting yourself from the scent of roses.

Mary greets the professor who answers her with the same courtesy. The man who you barely knew from the classes, hesitantly takes a seat next to you, bowing his head slightly in silent “good morning”.

You smile timidly in return.

“Of course, professor!” The melodic voice of Mary steals your attention once again. You glance again at the... pair that looks very good on each other sides. It pains you how the golden locks of Mary's hair give her a princess look, that matches William's gentlemanly appearance.

…Hm. They look like the main couple from the “Taste of Enchantment”, and you can't help but pout with dissatisfaction.

...Well, either way, William seems to like you a bit more than her! Probably. You guess. You hoped so. Maybe you are seeing whatever you want to see, and want to cheer yourself up, but... You don't know what you would do if you stopped using your imagination.

The warmth on your previously red cheeks suddenly seems to prickle, just as ice dabbed on your skin.

Mary is more... more than you. You can't put your finger on the source of her charm, but you suspect that her big blue eyes, almond-shaped face and feminine curves have something to do with it. Her voice is always layered with honey, and even sweeter words can turn any man into her lover. Hm... Well, maybe you can tell why was she popular, but that doesn't make you any happier.

How can William not resist this charm? His aura that spellbinds people is as strong as hers, and the effects are well-known throughout the academy.

…

You don’t notice the glaze of tears that forms over your eyes before a gentle nudge snaps you out of your reverie.

Someone's hand is extended discreetly towards you with a flower-embroidered handkerchief between their fingers. The consoling gaze of your desk companion is the only thing that stops you from bursting into tears. You really can't understand how can you be so oversensitive about the scenario going over in your head.

“Everything will be alright,” you hear the warm voice of a stranger. “...The very fact that you are still trying to understand math, means that you are a very strong woman.”

You take the handkerchief and wipe away the traces of traces. “...Thank you.” With a gesture, your companion signals you can keep the piece of this beautiful material to yourself. You nod your head in another thank you. “We're both strong, even if our grades say otherwise.”

He laughs heartily. “And that is very good thinking, dear lady!”

“Miss [Name], Mr Hearst,” the two of you look at your professor who must have finished talking with Mary. At William's heavy gaze, Mr Hearst moves away to give a decent distance between you. “Let me start the class properly, please. I will write out some formulas and instructions on the board for you. Try to solve them and bring me your calculations tomorrow. And now, going to the further topic...”

You can feel your eyes on yourself more often than normally. You catch William's gaze lingering on you. Your heart is beating loudly, but not in a joyful rhythm. It was something between a melody of uncertainty and melancholy, that doesn't allow you to raise your gaze. No, you can't do that without hope that helped you today to get up at an absurdly early hour... Absurdly early hour for you, 8 am.

…

You are aware of your jealousy. Comparing William and Mary to the characters from your new favourite book completely ruined your mood, but it was only your fault. You should stop overthinking and get a grip.

You finish the lesson by noting down the formulas. It is hard to do it correctly, because you've been avoiding looking at William, and the fact that he is constantly standing next to the blackboard doesn't help. 

The chime of a bell at the end of class sounds angelic.

You cram all your belongings—two books, a fountain pen and a notebook with some pages unintentionally crumpled—into your bag and hurry to the exit. You arrive at the door frame so quickly, that Mary and Mr Hearst have only raised from their seats, and you even have the nerve to pretend that you don't hear your name called. 

You open the door and, although no one can say that you are running, your every step is an escape from a certain professor and his classroom. You should keep your joy in books and distancing yourself from Mr Moriarty is the first step to achieving that.

…

Your room. Only now, as you're sitting down on your bed, you begin to analyse your behaviour. You can feel your heart pounding hard, and not just because of your “run”.

Your eyes tear up over again at the memory of your last lecture, and you sink back onto your pillows.

“It's so foolish,” you think. You can't understand why the sight of Mary standing next to William had put you so off balance. Was it because of your naive enchantment? Or was it simply your imagination putting the two of them in the place of characters from a popular novella?

You’re being unfair to Mary right now. The guilt will eat you fully if you ever begin to be rude to her just because of your unfulfilled fantasy. You groan, burying your face in a cushion. 

Just as you were about to buy the new volume of “Taste of Enchantment” not so long ago, all you want now is to burn every copy of the book that makes you go through a mental breakdown.

...No, even this book, no matter how cheesy, doesn't deserve that.

Someone knocks on the door. The sudden sound makes you tense up, but you get up after the second knock. With a hasty movement, you wipe your watery eyes and adjust the folds of your dress.

“I... I'm coming,” you mutter, praying that your voice won't falter. Before reaching the door, you glance at your reflection in the mirror and bite your lip at the sight of reddened eyes and cheeks, and you believe you make a sad sight.

After opening the door, the person in front of you surprises you: Mr Hearts, the kind soul who had spent the last moments of class with you. He’s not too tall a young man with dark hair and a gentle face. His cheeks look smooth and squeezable and are slightly flushed, maybe from the embarrassment that comes from the indecency of a man visiting a woman’s room alone. 

His laugh is a little awkward as he holds up the loose sheets of paper he has brought with him. “I sincerely apologize for the disturbance, Miss [Name], but... You left some of your notes behind, after leaving so quickly and... They might be important.”

You press your lips into a timid smile. A new wave of embarrassment washes over you at the memory of your behaviour. You feel stupid, knowing that this man took his time to find your room and return your notes, because of… you.

“Oh... Thank you kindly,” you smile shyly, taking the papers from his hands. “Would you like to come in for something to drink?” You invite him uncertainly and move away from the door, but Mr Hearts stops you. 

“There is no need, but I appreciate the offer. I came here unannounced, and I believe you might need some space today,” the student smiles a little more confidently, and you notice how charming he looks with such an expression. He must be popular with women.

“Then please let me repay you with a cup of tea someday,” you say. “I feel indebted to you.”

He chuckles. “Alright, lovely comrade in arms of trigonometry.”

“…That’s a long nickname.”

“Then, is ‘lovely comrade’ alright?” He offers, but he isn’t suave in these kinds of talks and you know his throat is going dry. You know the pain of this fellow introvert.

“…My name is enough.”

“Just your name?”

You huff at the way he squints his eyes and burst out in a friendly chuckle. “If you insist.”

“In that case, I would like to be called by just a name too. I’m August Hearst.”

“Thank you, Mr August. Oh, and since you are here...” You open one of the drawers and take out a white handkerchief which roses you have embroidered by hand. “I would like you to keep it... As in exchange for your support in class and your handkerchief.”

You hand him the handkerchief and have to push it aggressively into his hands before he finally accepts it.

Chapter III

August Hearst is a delightful gentleman.

You come to this conclusion in the next several days filled with shared classes. He's been taking the seat next to you whenever possible, greeted you every day with an amiable word and even a kinder smile, and tried to accompany you at each dinner.

Your dream of William Moriarty and the secret romance have been slowly distancing itself, when you were with August. Now you know that all the things that happened in your head were... too surreal to come to this reality. Out of your reach.

If you've learned anything from your romance books, it would be the obligation to back out in the name of others' happiness. And the main character in this story might be Mary.

You smile unconvincingly to yourself.

“[Name],” your attention returns to August again, who just finished tucking his books into his bag and is ready to go. He puts apologies in his mouth when he informs you that he isn't able to walk you back to the dorm today. “I'm sorry about that, [Name], but I promised someone...”

“Have no worry, August,” you interrupt him gently, getting up from your seat. You walked through the oaken door of the literature hall, where, for the last hour and a half, thirty students experienced the torment of detailed interpretation of ancient texts. No one knew there why have they chosen this subject to have scheduled obligatory amount of hours. You squeeze the textbooks closer to your chest. “I was going to excuse myself as well and check something in a library...”

Your companion gives you a nod and visible relief brightens his face. “You take the weight off my heart”.

The farewells exchanged, Mr Hearst disappears with his acquaintances from your sight, and you step into a wide, empty corridor, whose marble ornaments reflect late sunlight and some candles spaced around the way.

It isn't a rare sight—after evening classes it isn’t easy to find any students, who would still want to be in the building after a dozen (or so) hours of focused learning.

You are not here to learn more though. You are walking to get to your favourite entertainment, the world of fictional romance. The books are expensive, and getting your hands on many of them by the privilege of being a student here is something of your guilty pleasure, you wouldn't admit to Mr Hearst. 

You won't tell him right away, no. You don’t want him to see how almost the only genre you read is romance. If he finds out, he might think you have too rigoristic standards and that isn't true (or, you hope so). It certainly wouldn't encourage him to make a move if he is interested in you...

…

...Is he interested in you?

…

The library, as you expected, is empty.

You relax immediately. In front of you stand many bookcases filled with stories that only waited for someone who will get enchanted by a pretty cover and gorgeously scribbled titles. Your hands ache to get themselves to work and find another masterpiece.

You keep a slow pace as you walk between racks and read the catchy titles. Sometimes you take a book from its place to leaf through pages, guessing if it's interesting enough to take it back to your dorm by the lines that catch your eye.

Your eyes dart upwards and you find yourself staring at your favourite series and its newest volume, whose charm probably wouldn't understand even your favourite Mr Hearst.

The book you’ve been looking for stands maliciously high.

You don't know what kind of devil was climbing these shelves, but he had a ladder and set another volume higher than your hands could reach. The entire weight of your body falls on the toes of your feet, on which you stand to be taller, closer. It's not enough to reach the shelf. 

Yet you manage to get it. 

You feel a passive touch on your back, but your attention is sabotaged by a hand above you that grabs the book. You turn around quickly, and the rack next to you helps you to remain balanced.

“Is everything alright, miss [Name]?” Asks a familiar voice of the texture of honey and chocolate. “I thought you might need a helping hand.”

Professor William James Moriarty.

Your eyes met with the shiny crimson of your professor. It's your favourite shade of red, but you can't help but think that they are a bit darker than you remember as if they're covered with a cloud of smoke or heavy emotions.

The book is still in his hands when you greet him.

“Professor Moriarty, good evening...!” You say, your curtsy bow looks and feels stiffer than you would want it to. 

“I wasn't expecting anyone here at this hour,” he admits, smiling gently. He looks around the library. “Is Mr Hearst not with you?”

You shake your head. “No,” and add curiously: “Shall I go find him?”

“It won't be necessary. It's nothing urgent,” William assures you, taking a step back from you. The light rose aroma doesn’t leave you though. Was he that close to you if you could recognize such a delicate scent? “To say the truth, I am a little jealous.”

You get choked by a surprise.

“Je... Jealous? You, professor?” And another unsaid question: “Why?”

William's polite laugh rings in your ears.

“Of course. Miss [Name], it's very inappropriate for me to tell this to such a charismatic person as yourself, but I feel a bit lonely, if I dare to say, without your attention in my classes.”

“Ah,” I should've paid more attention to the classes... Are my grades that bad? “I'm sorry. I will focus more on my studies.”

“Let me rephrase this,” he corrects himself immediately as if he could find the doubts just by looking at you. “I would like to request your valued company more often. I found myself dissatisfied we couldn't find time to share a discussion on literature. And there comes an invitation: would you care to join me for a cup of tea if you could spare me an hour of your time?”

You gape at him.

What??

You can feel your body growing warmer and slowly breaking down, like an overheated machine. Your legs are going to give out, even though you want to fly with the butterflies in your stomach. That feeling has taken your ability to say even one word, so you just nod, hoping that this motion will express all of your excitement in a very polite manner.

William gets closer to you. He stands close enough to cover up your whole vision.

You think about moving away, but the back of your shoe is already touching the bookcase behind and your shoulders almost lean on the wall of books. William's hand reaches for the book next to your head, closing you in a half-embrace that limits your movements and the will to escape.

You can still turn around. Or start to scream if you want to get out of here. But...

William cups your cheek and tilts your head enough to have you looking into his eyes. You could see him clearly and be well aware of his gaze that wanders on your face with delight and some kind of excitement, although he keeps the gentleman's shtick that is always expected from every nobleman or professor.

But your observing time has ended, as you feel something on your lips.

The cover of the volume you were trying to reach before is pressed to your mouth. William is still looking at you with warmth, but he's... closer. You can't see his face anymore, mostly hidden by the book.

Your lips are being separated only by the cover and two hundred sheets of paper.

You hear a whisper against the other side of the book that you can’t catch the words, but it’s meaningless—you cannot focus on the same voice you have listened to for hours, relishing the opportunity to get to know such a wonderful voice.

You feel the cover pressed against your lips stay there for a moment, and then encounter the disappointment that William has moved away from you, although he still holds all of your attention.

...A kiss? Was it an indirect kiss? Was it just your illusion, a daydream, even though the untouchable evidence indicates otherwise? Are you going crazy?

You no longer have any perception in your fingers as William gently places the volume in your hands. With a kiss planted on the back of your hand, he bids you farewell. "I wish you a wonderful night, Miss [Name]. Enjoy your reading,” with a smile he leaves the library.

It is long after sunset.

You arrive at your room with a foggy mind.

You don’t open the book, which you set down carefully on the bedside table, although every glance you cast at it makes you shudder.

After two hours you fall asleep. Mary hasn't returned to her room for the night.

...

You wake up abruptly, finding the alarm clock ringing too loud.

Your cheeks burn red as you look around the room and glance at the book next to the bed, feeling your face heat up even more.

You walk briskly to the bathroom to get ready for today's class. You cast a glance at your roommate's bedspread. It is in the same condition as yesterday—a black dress and an ironed shirt lie on a tidy beige bed. The history textbook doesn't seem to have been touched and the box of new slippers Mary had been excited about recently hasn't even been opened.

“She didn't come back for the night...?” It is nothing new, yet for some reason, you feel a pang of uneasiness. You shake your head. She probably fell asleep at someone’s else house. Nevertheless, it’s painful to wake up alone in the room you should be sharing with someone else.

You glance at a book and put a hand on its cover. Somehow, the hope pours into you like a warm honey.

…

“You seem to be in a good mood today, [Name],” Mr Hearst smiles at you, sitting opposite you with his plate of food.

“Is that so? I just feel… lucky today.”

“I wish I had your happiness today. Give me some, please.”

“It’s mine,” you laugh, and he squints his eyes at you in a playful annoyance. His smile looks a little strained, so you decide to ask. “Well then, is something wrong?”

He looks as if he wants to count his misfortunes on his fingers but bites his tongue and sighs. “It’s nothing that critical,” and you imagine another idea came to his mind, but before he says it, Professor William comes to your table.

“I apologize for the interruption,” he says in a worried voice that suggests that something is wrong, “but could I have a word with Miss [Name]? It's an urgent matter.”

“Is something wrong, Professor...?” You throw an apologetic glance at August and move away from the table. Could it be that he wanted to bring up the subject of the previous meeting...? Well, you have agreed to have tea together, but in your spirit, you hope he won't ask for it yet. You wanted to prepare for it... Mentally. Perhaps even arrange a few false scenarios in your head, just in case, as it sometimes enhances your courage.

However, it is not what William had in mind.

“Have you seen Miss Hale? She didn't turn up for our last class, although she promised me personally that she would.”

“Mary...?” You ponder, and the sting of uneasiness from the morning returns to poke your heart. “She didn't come back last night... Maybe she stayed with, um, her friends, but I haven't spoken to her. We've been passing each other a lot lately...”

Within another hour you land in William James Moriarty's temporary office, nervously clutching your skirt and stewing in an atmosphere of concern.

Mary has disappeared.

You don’t yet know if something was going on with her, but the general confusion has sensitised your nerves.

“Here, tea,” a cup of Earl Grey appeared in your hand. It warms your hands. “How are you feeling?”

You take a sip of tea, which is a bit too hot, and gaze into space expectantly. Politeness and etiquette require you to say ‘alright’, but you couldn't think of anything of anything other than your housemate.

You start to regret not talking to her more before as you would have a better idea of what places she goes to.

“Truly...” Your voice cracks. “Truly, no one knows what happened to Mary? She... She was still in class yesterday after all! She was asking me for notes for a test, and.... and now nobody knows where she is.”

William shakes his head and takes the cup from your hands before your grip loosens. He stands at the side of the sofa you are sitting on and leans towards you.

“I won’t make empty promises that everything will be alright,” he says, not taking his eyes off yours, “but you must believe that I will do everything in my power to get Miss Hale back to the dorm in a safe condition.”

You nod gratefully but awkwardly.

“Thank you very much, Professor Moriarty.”

“There is yet another matter we need to discuss. Miss [Name], it would be very dangerous for you to be alone at a time like this. We don’t yet know the cause of Miss Hale's disappearance, so there would be no one there to help you,” you bite your lip so as not to interrupt him and tell him that Mary was not much of a help anyway, “in case of an accident....”

“Will I be moved to somewhere else, then?”

“As all the rooms are occupied and the two other female students cannot be separated either (We wouldn't want to leave either of them alone, would we? That would defeat the purpose). I made a proposal to the management, which will only be executed with your permission.”

You look at him curiously.

“A proposal?”

William smiles.

“You will move into my property... Until the matter resolves.”

CHAPTER IV

You aren’t sure how he did it, but everything has gone just the way he wanted.

Somehow, you got allowed to move to Mr Moriarty. You had never heart of management pulling a move like that—did they really put your safety above the moral principles they were so protective of?—so until you stood before his property, you weren’t fully convinced you were going to move. 

You take a deep breath, however, this doesn’t calm you down at all.

The door in front of you opens before William can reach its handle. Into them appears a man resembling your professor with the same blonde hair colour and remarkable scarlet eyes. Your gaze wanders between William and his likeness.

“This is my younger brother, Louis,” William introduced the man, clearly amused by your confusion.

His brother...!

“Pleased to meet you,” he bows slightly.

“Me too, sir...” you reply with the same curtsy.

“Allow me,” he carefully takes over your luggage. You mouth a "thank you" and he brings over the bags without much difficulty and disappears down the corridor. He is back in a minute and by the speed at which he took care of things you think he is one hell of a butler.

“Before we move on to breakfast, brother William wanted me to show you around the estate,” Louis announces, greeting you with a tray of fresh tea in his hand. You wondered if you were being treated too well here. “There's no need to worry. It will be a short trip.”

“Alright,” you nod and, after finding that the tea is not that hot, take a sip of it. A pleasant warmth hugged you from the inside. “This is such a delicious tea...”

Louis smiles because William asked him to be very kind to you.

...Although he still feels that no one is worthy of so much attention from his brother.

…

“This is a library,” the door creaks open and another wonder of the world reveals itself to your eyes. It’s much smaller than the library at the university, but it seems in spotless condition and has more novels and math books. There are maps, history books and psychological documents too. You ignore the staccato in your chest. “Miss [Name], I heard you like books.”

“Ah-!” You look at him surprised. “I do indeed love them. Did you hear about it from Professor William?”

“Yes,” he replies, and the indifference in his voice slowly begins to break. “Brother William said the books brought you closer together or so.”

Well, books were the reason why you thought about Professor Moriarty so often. He was well-read, so you had insightful chit-chats about the literature.

The scene from the library invades your brain once again. William still hasn’t confronted you about the kiss or anything. The tension that magazined in your muscles in the last few days is almost painful.

Louis grunts quietly. “You are invited to come here whenever you would like to. Brother Wi—"

“Oh, is that Miss [Name]?” Another voice interrupts Louis’ words, and a man in a grey suit seems to rise from under the ground and appear before you. Optimism, elegance and style—a lethal mix for sensitive hearts—emit in his every word and movement, and you can immediately tell that the visitor has a much more sociable life than you. “She is even more lovely than I imagined.”

“Miss [Name] This is James," Louis introduces the blond man, and he makes a curt nod.

He smiles, grasping your hand in an almost theatrical way. “At your service,” he said, winking at you. He then shifted his attention to Louis. “Are you showing her around the mansion?”

Louis nods affirmatively.

“We have only just started, but Brother William asked for a brief recce for Miss [Name].”

“I can gladly do that if you want to,” James offers. “Don't blame me, but, in my opinion, there are too many guys here. And a woman here,” for stressing the term he gets a chastising look from Louis, “is something unheard of! You have to prepare everything for our wonderful breakfast, isn't that right?”

Louis thought for a moment and sighed.

He turns to you. “Miss [Name]. Would you mind if Mr James took care of you for the next twenty minutes? I'm quite needed to prepare the meal.”

“Of course not,” You replied immediately, not wanting to be a burden to Louis, who seemed to take care of the whole household on his own. You pondered why an aristocrat and the brother of a professor decided to take on such a role.

“Lovely,” James stands right next to you, ready to make a quick round around the property. He looks at you with a glint in his eye. “So, shall we start with the garden? It would be worth introducing Fred to you and the atmosphere there is just.... muah,” he kisses his fingertips.

Louis moved in the opposite direction to you. “She is… okay,” he admits to himself in thought as he walks through the main hall to get to the dining room. He isn’t sure if okay is enough to hoard so much of Brother William’s attention. “Ah, that's right. I should tell Moran to not—.“

—Slam!!

With a mighty step comes Moran, who has terrible timing. Although Louis hopes he won’t notice you by the breakfast, the man’s gaze almost automatically goes in your direction as you walk out the door with James.

He manages to catch your curious eye.

A smile stretches his lips.

He approaches you with a wry grin, and you carefully scrutinise him with your eyes. You have to admit that he is handsome, however he seems to be more Mary's type, judging by the looks of the men she’d been hanging out with. You bite the inside of your cheek at the thought of your roommate.

As Moran approaches you, James grows instantly gloomier as if his entrance was some kind of a bad joke you can’t help but sight upon hearing. “What do you want?”

“Is there a problem, Bond?” He rolls his eyes.  “I just wanted to say hello,” he turns towards you, and a charming smile appears on his lips. “Sebastian Moran, it's a pleasure to me—"

“Oh, there you are, Miss [Name].” Moran's statement is interrupted by William's voice coming from behind the dark-haired man. You get a feeling that Moran is disliked here, or they are all trying to bully him on purpose. Whether it’s a daily occurrence, but the man only smirks at William’s arrival.

“Professor Moriarty...”

“Breakfast is ready. I would suggest going back inside,” he smiles, sending Sebastian a warning look.

James sighs a little disappointed.

“I will go look for Fred in that case...”

***

The breakfast passes in a pleasant atmosphere, thanks to which you get acquainted with the residents of the mansion. They are very... lively. The meal started with the petty banter exchanged between Moran and Bond and ended with everyone getting busy with their duties. Thanks to them all, you’ve been able to take a little break from the overwhelming reality, for which you were very grateful.

After the tea, you move to the living room at the request of William. You sit down in the armchair opposite him, taking a book borrowed from James. There is a comfortable silence between you, accompanied by the sound of pages being turned. Your body relaxes. You haven't had many opportunities to do so lately, so you appreciate being able to rest at William's side and even hope that such moments could be endless...

“How do you find it here?”

You look up from your book and smile.

“It's lovely here,” you reply without a second thought. There is nothing you would complain about. “And everyone is very nice. I didn't know you, professor, had a brother! Mr Louis is a truly outstanding chef... Any chance he could share the recipe of those tarts that were on the table?”

William chuckles, and you put the book aside. Fictional romances are interesting, but talking to William could draw you in even more. “Of course. Although... I don't know if I'd like it myself.”

You twitch with nervousness.

“O-oh,” you corrected the folds of your skirt, somehow not having the strength to look at William. “If I ask for too much, then, of course—"

“I apologize. I phrased it wrong,” William interrupts you softly, placing his hand gently on your shoulder. Since when did he sit so close to you? Just as you remembered, the floral scent that was in the library strikes you once more. “That's not what I meant.”

He grunts and straightens up, shifting his hand from your shoulder to the palms of your hands.

“The truth is, I have an issue,” he smiles weakly, and your heart leaps with emotion. William trusts you that much to speak freely about his problems? “And it consists in the fact that I have never known what you take interest in,” saying this, he lies. “We’ll certainly give you the recipe but rather as in exchange. I’d love to learn much more about you, so you will be able to count on me even more.”

You choke on your tea.

“I...” Your voice is hoarse and you have no idea how should you respond with your tongue tied with a stir. “I am not sure if it is possible to make me even more dependent on you, Professor. Especially as I am living in your house for the moment, and I’ve been treated with nothing but kindness.”

“Yet I am even more infatuated with you when you’re here,” William whispers.

He dangerously closes the distance. He teases you, moving closer and closer to you more and more slowly and not allowing you to look away from him.

If before, in the school library, you were separated by a book, now there is not one.

…

There is Louis.

Louis knocks on the room and makes you jump away from William to the other end of the sofa. William looks as if he is suppressing a chuckle before turning to his brother.

“Brother William, Miss [Name], the carriage has been prepared,” he says, bowing in a butler manner. “Mr James and Mr Moran are already waiting downstairs.”

“Professor Moriarty, are we going somewhere?”

William takes another sip of tea, seeming completely unmoved in contrast to you. He’s calm yet cannot stop himself from looking up from the brim of his book to watch your reaction.

“We are going to the city, Miss [Name].”

CHAPTER V

London is bustling at this hour. The streets are filled with carriages, finely dressed people stroll along the pavements and children run around them. The image spreading before you had something magical about it, even though it represented the everyday life of the capital's inhabitants.

“Miss [Name]?” William's voice snaps you out of your reverie. You turn an offered arm. You feel shy from the gesture, but you politely accept it.

“...Professor, where are we going?” You ask upon noticing that you are heading to the richer neighbourhoods. Even if someone doesn’t know London very well, the gap between each zone is striking. The buildings here are prettier and you gape at the picturesque area.

“To the tailor,” he says simply, stopping in front of an exclusive-looking shop window.

You freeze in spirit. The displayed gowns are beautiful, richly embellished, and certainly sewn from the highest quality material. You swallow your saliva, glancing uncertainly at Moriarty. You are sure that your money wouldn’t let you afford a little scrape of the fabric, not when it all goes on books. 

“Professor Moriarty... I'm afraid it's not for my budget...” You laughed awkwardly.

“Consider it a gift from me. We don’t know how much time we’ll be lucky to share, yet a fine dress might be required if the guests will visit the mansion.”

“I... I don't know if I can accept your gift...” You hesitate. “I am grateful, but, I… Just can’t. I am not accustomed to such gifts and I won’t be ever able to repay you a gift like that.”

“I insist,” he says but it doesn’t convince you. William sighs. “Then, how about a deal?” He suggests. You perk up and that’s not something you should have done because a lady mustn’t be involved in such atrocious activities. “I will buy you a dress, and as... As compensation of sorts, you will show me your favourite place. You’ve been living not too far away from here, isn’t that so?”

“This is not—"

“This is a very fair exchange, Miss [Name]," he interrupts you, knowing what you wanted to say. You press your lips into a narrow line. It is a bad idea, however, seeing how persistent William is...

“If you insist...”

“I very much insist,” he replies, satisfied with your answer. He then smiles as if he had realised something. “One more thing, Miss [Name]. I think we should address each other by our first names for a while if we don't want to stir up gossip. What will people think when someone discovers that an unmarried woman is staying in a house full of strange men? We should give the impression of family.”

...William could not have cared less about the public opinion of him in this situation.

He almost pushes you through the door into the dressmaker's shop. By the time you blink, you are surrounded by a garland of women. One of them speaks to William, and the other gets a signal to take your measurements. You hold your breath as they do so.

Once everything is written down, you and William could move on.

...

“Professor Moriarty...”

“Once again, [Name]. I believe you can manage to call me by name. Only then will I listen to you.”

“Mr William...”

“Almost there.”

“…William.” You say in a half-hearted voice. Saying his name out loud is much more difficult than in your head. “Are you... Are you sure it's not too much? All those accessories... The outfit alone must cost a fortune.”

“If I am sure of anything, it is that it is all money was well spent.”

“…I don’t concur.”

William smiled at your words and took a sip of ginger tea. You’ve been having an awful lot of tea parties lately. The taste of this brew is no match for the one Louis brewed, but it is certainly one of the local delicacies.

The tea and cake shop you are in is one of the most famous establishments in the city. The upper terrace—where you are now—is open to those with money. It’s not one of the more expensive venues, but certainly one of the more charming.

Despite the hour, there are almost no customers.

“Does the dessert not suit your tastes?” William prompts, looking at your plates.

You both have slices of fresh strawberry tart that was made with a thin, soft sponge cake, a layer of heavy cream and sweet and sour strawberry jam in between.  

A teapot of tea is constantly warmed on a porcelain stand, and cups in floral patterns stand right next to your plates. Vases of freshly squeezed juices and water were placed on the table next to you.

It is the most varied afternoon tea you've been to recently. And everything is delicious.

“No, I like it very much”' you reply, quickly scooping up a larger piece of cake, which you gracefully shove into your mouth that of course you had to choke on it.

“I'm very concerned about your ability to get into trouble,” William says handing you a glass of water that helped you to swallow the cake. 

“It's not that everything I do is that chaotic.” You try to explain, taking a sip of tea, and forgetting that the jug is constantly heated doesn’t help your case.

“Did you burn yourself?” He asks and by the look on his face, you know your actions nor words haven’t convinced him. You croak, a little disappointed in your luck, but more by the burnt tongue. “Please show me the world, it can be more serious.”

“There is- no need for that…”

“That's what ice is good for,” William states as he stands up and walks over to the table next to him. He takes a piece of ice from a small bowl which, although it was meant to cool the juices, seemed perfect to treat your burn.

“I... What should I do about it?” You asked uncertainly. Ice? In the spring? Ah yes, it must have been one of those latest inventions... Refridgerorator? Refrigerator? “Should I... bite it? Eat it?... William...”

“You make it very difficult for me,” he says taking the nearest seat to you and putting an ice into his mouth.

Huh?

…Oh.

Oh! So it was for him! Or maybe, he shows you what you should do with the ice? You will need to grab another cube.

William’s hand finds its way to your cheek, which he turns towards you. You open your mouth to ask if is everything alright.

He’s been waiting for this to move closer to you. His lips fit into yours, and you immediately feel the coolness and heat, the ice and William, bursting in your mouth. The scent of ink, books and roses surrounds you, and a hand on your nape makes sure you won’t pull back from the kiss.

An ice cube gets into your mouth. You forget about the burn, as your lungs begin to run out of air, but you don’t pull away. Neither does William, who even deepens the kiss; his other hand goes to your chair to support himself when he leans into you.

Now you are running out of air.

William moves away, but only because of the footsteps of a client, who likely enjoyed the terrace of the cake shop. William puts a distance between you that would never have suggested that a moment ago.

“The ice should have completely melted by now,” William says softly, and you are struck by how calm he looked. All you can see on his cheeks is a pale blush. “If you want more, don’t hesitate to ask,” he says and looks deadly serious as if he wasn’t teasing you.

You envy him for how composed he looks, as another couple who just got to the floor are throwing you a strange look. You are looking like a mess, for sure.

William crosses his arms. He smiles at you, and you still can’t get a word out. You would like to reproach him for the… act, immediate and rough kiss, but the very fact that you have not yet fled spoke for itself.

“Shall we go to the next place, [Name]?”

You bite the inside of your cheek gently as you nod and grasp his arm. He glances at his watch.

“We still have some time before it starts to get dark... It might be a good time to fulfil the deal on your end, [Name]," he says in a gentle tone.

You sigh softly. Favourite place...? The first thing you think of is the library. It is a too-obvious choice, though. The library at Moriarty’s is also the one you’re currently enamoured with. 

…Well, there is one place you remember liking as a child.

How long has it been since you've been there?

“Alright," you smile at him, taking first steps in an unfamiliar direction. William, wordlessly lets you guide him to the place you’ve spent hours dreaming in and about.

CHAPTER VI

The rusted gate is overgrown with ivy and it’s the first thing that catches William's attention. You open it with a loud creak. The place turned out to be... Slightly further away than you remembered, so the sun has already started to set.

You watch William’s face as you enter the wild gardens. Unruly plants grow on the ground and between the paving stones. The place you decided to take William to is an old botanical garden, which no one has been interested in for a good few years. 

Well, maybe just you.

“So… This is a place I have great memories from,” you introduce the place, spreading your arms a little like a showman.

“It's beautiful here,” he admits, looking around. “It's a surprising view, considering we were in the city centre not so long ago.”

A content blush spreads over your cheeks. This time not from embarrassment—you’ve been feeling bashful too much lately, you think—but from sheer glee. You are happy that the place appeals to William.

“Romance books were almost forbidden in my home when I was so little. I had to borrow ones from the neighbours and sneak out to read here," you confess, directing deeper into the garden.

“Really? I wouldn't expect such rebellious behaviour from you.”.

“Oh, when I was younger I did much worse than sneaking out of the house," you sigh, stepping ahead of him. William raised his eyebrows, and you felt your legs slowly stiffen. Since when did you stop being a quiet introvert? You feel an urge to explain. “Like, um, stealing food from the kitchen and blaming it on the dogs. Or borrowing my mother’s cosmetics... without asking.”

He laughs at that. “You surprise me more and more, Miss [Name].”

You arrive at your favourite part of the garden. It is a gazebo overgrown with wild roses. In the middle of it stay wooden chairs and a table, swathed by moss.

“I remember losing my favourite doll here, but I was afraid to tell my mother about it because she would find out about my sneaking out," you laugh at the memory, one of many that return while wandering.

You notice how William hasn’t said a word for a while. A pang of guilt pierces your heart. “Oh, sorry! The stories of my childhood are not the most interesting ones.”

“They are. Actually...” He lowers his voice and leans to him to hear the words better. He speaks right into your ear. “It would be my pleasure to hear more... I would like to get to know you better [Name].”

“Well...” You look at him from under your lashes, trying to guess his expectations for you. To your misfortune, neither his smile nor his eyes betray anything except his curiosity. “What would to know about me?”

William points to the space between the hedge and the woodland.

“Let’s speak in a more comfortable place.”

He grabs you under the arm, and you rise from the table. William offers to go ahead, pushing back the tall grass that reached his knees.

“Ah!” You hold your breath. You find it hard not to smile as you are flooded with fond memories. “It's been so long since I've been here that I'd almost forgotten...”

A tall oak tree with a gigantic crown casts a shadow over you. Thick ropes are tied around the thick bough. Perhaps they had once held the anchor of a small ship. Britain is, of course, a maritime country and, in a time of an over-revolutionary world, finding miscellaneous materials from machines outside the city is not uncommon.

The ropes, apart from thick knots on a high branch, are neatly tied to a heavy board half a metre above the ground.

“I couldn't have climbed up here on my own when I was younger,” you admit, your eyes searching for the stone you brought from the bushes to elevate yourself onto the swing. “Although I suspect I would still have a problem with that.”

“I'll help you,” William offers, lending you one hand and entwining the other around your waist.

“ It’s a-all right," you protest, but the grip on your body only tightens.

William does not let go.

William tries.

William learns he is not strong enough to lift you that high, even if you were the lightest woman in London.

“Please don't strain yourself...!” You squealed quietly as you tightened your fingers on the ropes. You use all your strength to pull yourself up and finally sit on the board, which squats under your weight.

Your cheeks are hot and visibly red; his because of the sudden exertion, yours through embarrassment… and maybe endearment.

And delight. Few men would tear through the wilderness to put you on the swing.

“I know you're thinking about something untrue," William says. His eyes are now on the same level as yours, and once again you can admire his features from a different perspective.

His hands stay on both sides of you, clamping the ropes. The swing moves under his force, and your legs move further away from the ground.

“So,” William begins again, moving away from you and letting gravity do the work. You start to sway slightly. “What books did you read as a child?”

“Please don't think I've been... uh, like this all along,” you said quickly. William laughs under his breath, and you lower your gaze to the ground. “I mean... I borrowed some books from my neighbours, but I mostly read what was on the shelves in my parents' house.”

“Was it a big house?”.

“Neither big, neither small. It's not comparable to your residence, of course,” you take a moment to think about it. “But every room there is cosy. I still think it is one of the most beautiful places on earth.”

“More than a library?”

“…They are both gorgeous and outstanding.”

“But if you had to choose one?”

“Don’t ask so difficult questions, please,” you say with a chuckle that William shares.

At that moment a rustle comes from the bushes near you. It is a loud sound, as if staged.

By the bushes, at a very respectful and polite distance, stands Fred, his clothes in no way tarnished, although he seems to be coming from a part of the garden where you have to make your way through the low branches.

He nods in greeting you and waits for the permission to speak.

William helps you jump off the swing and, after taking you under his arm, allows Fred to come closer. He looks at him significantly to weigh his words.

You couldn’t catch the boy staring, but you feel his gaze on you when he opens his mouth.

“We found Mary Hale.”

CHAPTER VII

You hurry into the living room of William's residence. There you find Mary, extremely exhausted, wrapped in a blanket in a large armchair, drinking. She looks very different from the last time you saw her. She has dark circles under her eyes, and her face is almost morbidly pale. Mary's clothes have never been so crumpled before.

“Mary...!” You call out and take her into a tight embrace, glad she is back. Safe. You might not be particularly close, but you’ve been still worried about her.

“[Name]...” Mary struggles to reply, not knowing what kind of words she could share with you. She seems not even to have the strength to reciprocate the hug.

You move away from her and tears create in the corners of your eyes. “You’re okay...! “

She smiles uncomfortably.

“We have notified your family and Mr Hearst as you requested,” Louis announces, pouring tea into Mary's cup.

The girl nodded and seemed to want to say something more, but before that, someone burst into the room.

“Mary! Thank God you're here!” August runs up to her, grabbing her shoulders. She sends him a weak smile, but it dies as August turns his attention to you. “Oh, [Name]! How good that you are safe too. I was really worried when you disappeared so suddenly.”

Mary's face clouds over. She's the one who's been through hell the last few days, so why are you the one who's focused attention on...? Are you and August Hearst...?

She sighs, and William can’t help but notice the dissatisfaction in her eyes. The case is not going his way. He had particularly told Mary that they had found her thanks to Mr Hearst, and she—as he predicted—already took an interest in him. He was a good, wealthy, honest man who had “saved” her. 

However, he doesn't seem to notice. His attention is focused on you, which inwardly irritates William. 

“I’m fine, August... I was safe at the professor's side, as you can see,” you smile convincingly. August looks with a dull gaze at William and nods. He turns to Mary.

“What has happened to you Mary...?” August asks. “Suddenly a strange anonymous message came to me....”

“Miss, [Name],” you hear Louis' voice near you. “I need you to leave for a while. This is important information in the investigation, and we believe that knowing what has happened might put you in danger.”

“Is… it really that dangerous?” You ask with disbelief and worry.

“We know you care about Miss Mary, yet…”

“A-alright,” you bow slightly and take your leave.

Whatever the meeting was about, you never found out.

From August, you’ve learned that Mary Hale does not want to return to the family home; she will have the week off from classes and is required to stay in another room.

When asked if this meant you were going back to your dorm, William shook his head.

“Miss Hale needs peace,” he replied, and you slowly concluded that you were too low-energy a person to disturb someone like Mary. William smiled. “Unfortunately, but you can be very distracting. She will have arranged a room especially to look after her.”

…You wonder why you couldn't have had the same privilege when you needed a single room as well.

“Miss [Name],” August calls. He seems a little paler than before and is carefully eyeing William as he speaks. The professor sips his tea calmly. “Would you do me the honour of accompanying me back to the academy tomorrow?”

You smile at him. “Su—"

...And William answers for you. “Unfortunately Mr Hearst, I must ask you to be present fifteen minutes before class starts. Our lessons must go on, and we've accumulated a bit of a backlog over the last week, don’t you think?”

“Professor Moriarty," August’s voice is filled with a firmness you have never heard from him before. You look at him in surprise which escalates when he gently moves closer to you so that the sleeves of his suit lightly brush against the folds of your dress.

You freeze in place, knowing that whichever way you moved you would find yourself too close to August or William. You hold your breath as if its irregular rhythm betrays your tension.

“Professor Moriarty,” August appeals again, feeling that his words are not getting through to William, who stares at him. Although the chill gaze isn’t directed at you, a shiver comes down your spine. “I don't want to sound rude, but shouldn't you, as a supervisor, be concerned with the safe return of Miss Mary Hale to the dormitory?”

William smiles, although the air around him goes cold.

August stands up quickly and, somewhat forcing you to go with the rules of etiquette extends his hand, which you have to accept.

Your hand finds its way under August's arm. You two—although you not so willingly—leave.

How are you going to return to William’s residence now? Maybe you will stay on campus, or should you get a carriage??

“You have no idea how deep an emotion you evoke in me.”

…?

These are August's words when he considers that you have already moved a fair distance away. His eyes twinkle as he says it, a mottled blush sets on his cheeks and Mr Hearst himself seems like a character straight out of a book.

You can even sum the plot to the current point: a new student and a shy student are assigned to a class together; the charismatic boy quickly falls in love with the typical girl, and she slowly opens up just for him... How many times have you read something with a similar trope?

Not that you want to flatter yourself—being the protagonist of such a classic romance is a compliment, after all, right?—But it's so hard not to substitute August for this gentlemanly extrovert who wins girls' hearts with the blink of his eye.

And the fact that he was now in front of you and stammering over the words he was about to say makes you suddenly stop.

“August, I—"

“The situation with Mary made me realize that… If something like that would ever happen to you, I would go insane with worry.”

You fail to think of anything you can say. Well, you always wanted to have a romance, right?

But…

Every place that William ever kissed you, starts to burn.

“I... Unfortunately, but...”

You read so many romances; there was bound to be some rejectionist dialogue in those. What did they sound like?

“I am... I am truly honoured, Mr Hearst, but...”

The knot in your throat makes it difficult to say the words.

August knows what you want to say; his grip on your hand tightens involuntarily, and a small wave of panic floods your body. He’s doing it unconsciously, he’s in pain right now, but… 

You wouldn't be able to break out of his embrace alone.

“Miss [Name].”

Your heads quickly turn towards the voice whose owner turned out to be Louis. He bowed elegantly and, putting his hand to his chest, continued to speak.

“Brother William wanted me to inform you that the carriage is already waiting for you.”

August cuts in.

“I am sorry, but we agreed that Miss [Name] is coming back with me.”

Louis squints at him, unhappy William’s words aren’t accepted just like that.

“The plans have changed. I was told to bring Miss [Name] back.”

You feel on your skin the reluctance with which August releases you from his embrace. Sparks of guilt glitter in his eyes and the corners of his mouth twitch uncontrollably. Immense regret pours over your heart as you realise that you have failed to reject him without hurting him.

...On the other hand, would it ever be possible?

August's gaze did not leave you until you got into the carriage. Only then he shakes himself off and with an abrupt step walks away. You suspect your next encounter will not be very pleasant. You’ve just lost a friend.

“Were you willing to accept his proposal?”

You turn to William, who sits opposite you and waits for your reaction. Your skirt is voluminous enough to hide your shaking heart.

Maybe if Mary hadn't liked August so much and if William James Moriarty hadn't been your teacher, maybe then... No.

You shake your head. “I adore him as a friend.”

“So please don’t feel sorry," he says in a calm voice and with a gentle smile offers comfort. “I will make sure that only friendship remains between you.”

...

...

...?

August Hearst has no idea how he got into this situation.

Ten minutes ago he came to meet Professor Moriarty, who had told him the previous day that he would need to speak to him about the overall backlog.

He never expected William to serve him this kind of lesson.

It's really hard to see what's going on outside when you're locked in a bookcase. Only the gap between the wings of the door allowed him a peek at what was going on inside the hall. He has a view of the blackboard, the very centre of the auditorium and the desks, including his own, where he had sat until a few days ago when he had lectures.

He could feel the thick ribbons rubbing against his wrists and ankles; one of them served to cover his mouth. He can’t say anything or move, but he knows that if he makes too loud a sound, Professor Moriarty, who is fully aware of his presence—as he was the one who has put him here—will kick him out of school.

He didn't even need to warn him personally—the unspoken prohibition hung in the air as soon as William closed the wardrobe.

“William?”

Oh no.

August really doesn’t want to hear your voice. His heart has yet to be rehabilitated. He isn’t sure if a whole year will be enough.

On the other hand, he so badly wants you to come up to that bookcase now. August is convinced that the reason he is in this situation is your relationship with Professor Moriarty. He feels the sting of hatred for the professor, but the gentleness with which William handled you made him unable to consider him inferior in this situation.

“[Name],” Since when does Professor Moriarty's voice sound so warm? August wonders in his mind. “I'm sorry to call you out at such an early hour, but... we're both aware that you also need a repetition of exam material.”

“Of course,” you move towards the chair. William lightly catches your hand in his and brings you closer.

“Today we’ll have a special lesson for a special student,” he replies with amusement at the question in his eyes. “I have tasks already prepared for you. Starting from the beginning...”

You grab a piece of chalk and stand in front of the blackboard. William, along with a file of notes, walks behind your back and saunters in circles.

He dictates the questions. You immediately get to work.

The pattern? You already remember it after you failed the exam six months ago. Since then, it has haunted you even in your dreams.

And calculating it? …Maybe you’ve got a little problem with numbers.

William's drawing of perfect straight strokes presents an irregular triangle with three signed side lengths and its heights.

...The first thing you need to do is to use the cosine theorem. You needed a cosine, an angle.

...

...

...

How were the angles calculated?

“William... Uh... I think I'm hugely deficient… Today,” you sigh, lowering the chalk and stepping away from the blackboard. William casts a glance at the blackboard and then at you. “Could I have a hint...?”

A smile stretches his lips.

“But of course,” he replied, walking up to you. 

You hold your hand out to him, from which he takes the chalk but also brings itself closer. His fingers intertwine with yours, and your face is right next to his. He leans down, his lips brushing your collarbone and inhales your perfume.

Sweet. Could it be a rose?

You’re matching now.

He nibbles on your skin, and you gasp quietly in surprise. Slowly, you begin to get used to his touch, but the moment you start to crave it he lifts his head so that he meets your eyes.

“That is the fee for the hint," he flashes you a charming smile. So now he is demanding something in return for his help? Was that the purpose of this repetition?

“…William!” you say, feeling your body overheating. This was supposed to be a lesson! A repetition! And you are going to leave it with grace and knowledge, even if you had to lie about whether you liked the whole event or not. “T… this is still a public place!”

He doesn’t let you move away. He teases you by closing his behind your back.

“Please don't worry. It's not like anyone can see us.”

You blush even harder and William casts a fleeting glance towards the wardrobe.

“And if one’s watching, let them watch.”

CHAPTER VIII

You sigh, looking out of the window. The weather today is not spoiling anyone, and the constant rain puts you in a nostalgic mood. Just to think that not so long ago you were just an ordinary student with a slightly over-exuberant imagination and an obsession with romance...

And now? The former may not have changed, but you feel as if you have become the main character of the novella you loved so much. Being an ordinary townswoman, you have gained the attention of your handsome professor-aristocrat, as well as from your colleague... It seemed too... unrealistic. Fictional.

Your relationship with William is... Exactly what is it? Neither of you ever uttered "I love you" or proposed a relationship, yet your interactions...

You blush at the memory of the scene an hour ago. Your actions hint at a close relationship, yet deep inside you feel apprehension. What if your unspoken feelings don't last? If you are going to be left alone? Would you be able to survive this? Will your heart be able to bear such a disappointment? 

You shake your head, returning your gaze to the notebook. This is not the time for such thoughts, but nevertheless, your hands tightened on the material of your skirt. You take a deep breath and try to focus on the rest of the lecture.

"William is truly amazing, you think as you watch him. Not only does he teach maths at university, he also helps Mary and you. Your gazes cross for a moment and you reflexively look at your notebook, but there are just minutes left before the end of the class.

William announces the end and the students start to pack their things into their bags. 

“Miss [Name],” you hear him after everyone else exits the class. You turned around, looking warmly at William. “I would like to talk to you today about something very important to me.”

***

You are unable to find out where William is leading you. He dismisses your every question like a politician, but in return for not answering, he places a kiss on your finger joints. You don’t break out of his embrace or even comment on it, even when you get into the carriage and his hand is still clamped on yours.

“Aren't you cold?” He asks, looking at the overcast sky. The sun has hidden behind the rain-threatening clouds after you got into the carriage. The wheels rattle against the stones even faster. He wants to hide in some inn as soon as possible, but he cannot ignore the aristocrat's wish or his money.

You shake your head at William's question. You are warm.

Your vehicle doesn’t stop until forty minutes later, under the old church. It is tall and built of heavy stone. The grey sky gives it an underwhelming atmosphere, but the beautiful buildings and decorations that lasted for many years reinforce your belief that it had once been a majestic and beautiful building. It still has its charm and solemnity in its appearance, but you can’t imagine anyone choosing it over the local cathedrals.

William pushes open the massive wooden door. They opened with a quiet squeak and immediately ushered you into the damper, cooler and quieter air. The raindrops were already almost inaudible compared to the sound of your footsteps.

He leads you to the confessional; he doesn’t even glance towards the altar illuminated by flashes of lightning, or towards the pews, the wood of which was indeed soaked with water. They are dark and smell of earth and the weeds that grow around them.

He seats you where a confessor would normally sit. You protest silently, but William proves to have a better understanding of human physics, for he does not use much force, but still seats you deep inside the confessional. You don’t even dare to flinch and look anxiously at the door as if someone is about to reprimand you for your behaviour.

“May He be praised.”

William walks across to the kneeler. He crosses himself without saying anything and leans towards the grating of the confessional. You are sure he could feel your gaze on him, even though you try to avert it from him. Apparently, he doesn’t mind, and just demands your attention, because he nods as if agreeing to whatever you are going to do now.

“I know the text for the confession, but it can't look like that now,” he says rather loudly, not like a repentant man who is supposed to confess his sins. “I am not looking for forgiveness here. I am not looking for repentance, although perhaps you, [Name], could be my path to purification. I... came here to share my sins with you, because I love you dearly,” your heart skips a beat, “but in order to keep you in my life, I need you to let you get to every part of it. I will keep you safe, of course, but I must make you aware of something.”

You nod but are too nervous to interrupt him. It is a gesture so subtle as to be almost imperceptible, but William notices it. He goes on:

“I am.... a person who pursues an objective regardless of the means, as long as someone close to me is not involved. I do this by means of a certain service of a crime consultant and I clear the world of fake people.”

Here he looks at you. You stare at him as if under the spell, but you don’t really know how to answer him.

“This morning,” he continues, “certain aristocrat was murdered... I believe you already know the news, “he says because your eyes glaze over in recognition. “I would not kill an innocent man, [Name]. That man was notorious on the black market. He had four murders of girls as young as twelve or thirteen. They died in torture, all because of him. Did he deserve to live after all of that?”

You keep silent. You feel a huge lump in your throat, and you can’t think of anything you could say. Tears of unhappiness and shock run down your cheeks. Obviously, the person you had to love was a serial killer, just like in the books.

“Did you...” You whisper out, trying to not let yourself sob. “...They... The rest... Louis, Fred... Moran... James... They all...?”

William puts his hand to the grating of the confessional as if he has forgotten that a wall separates you and he cannot wipe away your tears.

“They are all involved,” William confirms. “I want them to have a better world. I want them to... live in it, and be fulfilled in it. And the same I wish for you. Especially you.”

“...And what... what about you?” - You ask, catching a certain nostalgia in his voice. Nonetheless, you are already becoming well acquainted with William's tones, having spent a lot of time listening to every tone of his voice with relish.

“I don't know.”

Here he hesitates, for the first time in a long while since arriving at the church.

“But... Now, I know that I will do everything to make you live in this world,” he said. “Together with me.”

He got up from his kneeler and approached you. This time he doesn’t kneel but bows his head as he pulls a black box from the deep pocket of his coat. He opens it gently and on the velvet cushion shows an elegant, large ruby set into a silver ring. Its colour immediately makes you think of William's eyes.

Now that you stare at it, it reminds you of the colour of the blood.

“This ring is my being, my promises, my future,” he says, and the stone glows scarlet as if to confirm his words. “My name. If you accept it... I will consider that you accept me and my sins.”

You don’t immediately raise your hand. You would have done so just twenty minutes ago when you were still in the vehicle and you were happily lurching to William's side, resting your head on his shoulder. Now it isn’t just your maths teacher standing in front of you.

Now there is a Napoleon of Crime, one of the worst criminals in London. Your heart is awfully heavy, but you know that this is what a secret of such importance should weigh. It hadn't yet crossed your mind that by him sharing this secret, your choices were suddenly limited.

But you raise your hand nonetheless. It stops over the ring. You don’t know now whether the future you had been anticipating will actually be as beautiful as you have dreamed. By taking this ring, you were saying goodbye to your fantasies since you first learned of love.

The ruby is perfect for your finger; it slides in neatly and stays in place.

You tear up at this sight.

“Everything will be fine," William holds you against his chest. His hands continuously stroke your hair, slowly calming your sobs. It takes a long time though, but eventually the touch, his squat silhouette seemed to warm you up in this cold church. Yes, William's gestures were always warm, though his hands were usually cold. “I won't let anything bad happen to you. I will love you always,” and here his voice changed to a whisper. It sounds like a confession for the first time. “I beg you to remember that. Amen.”

CHAPTER IX

You have returned home. (You remember how warm you felt in William's embrace as the carriage wheels clattered against the cobbles on the way back to his estate).

William took his brothers with him to the study to discuss a matter relating to you. (You blushed at Moran’s whistling, having noticed the ring on your finger. Everyone congratulated you, but they didn't look surprised).

James handed you some cosmetics he'd bought in town. (Unrelated to the engagement, but they smelled divine).

You went to bed.

Breakfast, lunch, dinner.

You spent whole days at William's side. You didn't even make it back to university, although William continued to promise that you would be there again in the future.

...

It couldn't have been that long, could it?

Your book, “The Fruit of Infinity”, which you were so engrossed in, was last shelved in your dorm room... how long ago? When was the last time you even had the presence of mind to get a hold of a fictional world once more and get away from the present one? Too many things have been occupying your head.

The first was your wedding.

...

Huh.

When have you agreed to this? When did your parents have time to allow this? When did Louis have time to agree to this? The latter two would fight against the world if you had said anything about a relationship with William at the beginning of your acquaintance, just to keep you from getting married.

When did their resolve soften?

You aren’t going to talk them out of it. You know that everything that has happened to you so far was just a stroke of luck that you had accidentally come across. If only you have chosen a different class, a different major in college… Surely nothing has happened because of your non-existent romance skills.

(Although Moran did offer to teach you a little something if you wanted to flesh out your personality).

(William protested).

You don’t yet know how your life will play out from then on. Is William going to separate you from his plans for the London aristocracy? Keeping you completely unaware will be impossible and that’s why William has revealed his plans to you, but…

“Will's just worried about you,” James says, patting you on the shoulder. He listened intently to your worries, which you have been trying to keep to yourself lately; now that you know how much responsibility rests on the shoulders of everyone in the house, you don’t want to bother them with your silly problems. Bottling your feelings too quickly was breaking you from the inside, and James took you to the gardens as soon as he noticed your first insincere smile. (That's something you'll have to practice more). “The world in revolves is truly brutal. And you, my dear, are very fragile.”

“I don't want to be that fragile," you lowered your head with a slight pout.

“Oh, dearest!” James strokes your head again. You'd noticed that he is in the habit of fixing your hair and you like the childish joy of being cared for like that. “I'll take care of you, alright? Let's give William some more time to enjoy that rosy, adorable you at the wedding. And afterwards, we'll make you quite a weed to fend for yourself and know that people like Moran are low-key!”

You smile slightly. “...I bet you would be an excellent professor on that topic.”

He covers his mouth with his hands and looks at you with pride.

“Is that sarcasm, I hear?” he sighs with delight, taking you in one arm in his embrace. “My dear, I see progress, and in a very good direction.”

…

You guess you won’t mind a family like that.

…

The other thing that pulled you away from the books and the now all too fictional reality was this terrible fear.

Your life will change as soon as you marry William. It is inevitable and knowable, and normally the changes after the wedding are the ones people usually wait for.

You'll have a loved one by your side, plans for your life, and your dream romance with the antagonist (they always have something in them that the main characters lack)... And all of England chasing you.

News of Count Caretling's murder was everywhere. The information about his death is incomplete, always accompanied by a reference to a natural disease that no one had ever known about before. You don’t dare to ask William if he is responsible.

“Dearest,” he told you, sipping his tea. “You can still back out of everything. Just a word of promise that you will not reveal anything about our identity. Most likely, your brothers would force you to move deeper into Europe or to America—your whole family could go with you safely, I promise you. Would that be a more appealing solution?”

He said it quite neutrally. After that, you’ve been frustrated with William, especially as you slowly started to see the tension in the smile and the artificial indifference in those words.

You left his office genuinely angry.

And now you are on your way to America.

...

The theoretical road to America. Or some country in Europe. You haven’t decided yet.

...

You are on your way to travel the world then. With no luggage, no funds, no knowledge of parents, fiancé or friends. In a wedding dress, walking briskly across the seashore knowing there must be a port somewhere. Yes, you're prepared to travel the world.

Your watch indicated that your wedding ceremony would begin in fifteen minutes. You know there have been cases where brides had been far, far too late for their wedding, too engaged in preparing themselves for their special day. If no one has noticed that it's too quiet in your dressing room and they haven't kicked down the door or climbed through the window then you should still have some time.

You can feel your eyes burning, and it’s not because of the sun that shines down on you.

Why are you giving up on your dreams?

Your legs ache and your heart feet heavier with every step. The sand on the beach tries to pull you underground and some part of you wants to let yourself collapse.

You ran away from William James Moriarty because you feared for your life. And not only yours.

If someone stumbles across William's criminal trial and connects the dots to you—would you be able to lie to save your life? Is this more valuable than all those dead? Would you let yourself pretend to be an innocent maiden from a wealthy manor or betray them if you gave anyone a wrong impression? If you left this world in the name of William’s ideals, would your family be punished as well?

You always thought love would help you face anything until you landed in the current situation.

You aren’t able to admit it to William, although in your head you are putting together scenarios of your explanation should he decide to catch up with you.

When he decides to catch up with you.

He appears out of nowhere and you know it must have been due to someone following you. You feel silly with the thought when you thought you had been so clever and discreet in your escape. You have, after all, met Fred and Jack.

William is dressed in a wedding suit; completely black, elegant and unsuited to the beach. You don’t match it either, but as he stands next to you now, you know you suit each other. At least with the clothes.

“So you decided to quit, [Name].”

“...I don't want to put anyone at risk,” you say after a moment, but you struggle to get any words out under William's gaze, which isn’t warm anymore. What were you expecting? “And I also have a selfish reason. William, I won't be able to live a life like you. I— I want to help people, but I don't want to sacrifice my life! Nothing— I haven't achieved anything in my life yet!”

You can’t hold back the tears. They are pouring down your cheeks and you regret like never before in your life that emotions can sway you like that.

William is standing close enough for the hem of your dress to touch the fabric of his trousers, but he does not attempt to deepen the contact.

“My life is inseparable from the death of others,” he whispers, and because the beach is unusually quiet, you hear everything in his voice that you love so much. “You [Name], on the other hand... You remind me of life itself. You are full of it. You can't hide what you feel. You care about each person, and I care about the public well-being. You value everyone and I can’t do that.”

“…You know that's not true,” you say resolutely and with anger in your voice. “William, you put the whole world before yourself. You teach people and want to build things with your own hands. I'm the one who has this selfish desire to have you in every piece... This- I'm the one who messed it all up.”

“Then help me fix the world, if that’s what you want.”

His red eyes are piercing you deeply. Your body fills with a mixture of very different feelings, and William is now allowing you to release them all. You use them up to muster up the courage to say your vows.

“I want you to be mine. And me to be yours. So I can’t give you to the world.”

You grab him by his suit and jerk him towards you. Under the sudden force, he leans over and bumps into you.

You steal a kiss from him.

It stands apart from all the others you have ever shared with him (and those, however, were not too many (in reality. Not in imagination)). It is more violent than all the others because of the sudden desperation. 

And then William regains control. He lifts his head higher, just enough to keep your lips from parting, but now you have to exert some effort to reach him and stand on your toes. 

You have to make up for your running away.

And you can do so by giving your heart, soul and mind entirely to William.

In exchange, you can keep his life to yourself.

EPILOGUE

“Hmm~ So now it's Mrs Moriarty, no?”

You laugh with a fiery blush on your face at this remark.

You’ve been embarrassed since everyone turned towards the huge doors when the bride and groom were a good half hour late for their wedding. Their outfits were in the sand, the bride's make-up was smudged, the groom’s suit stretched, and they both walked down the aisle without any remorse, with a determined stride.

“You are already the subject of many rumours,” comments James, sitting next to William. He adds in a thinner voice and with exaggerated drama, “Such shortcomings in your outfits on your wedding day, they said. And yet they walked in with such superiority as if their tardiness was nothing, they said.”

“It wasn't too bad,” says Moran, disturbed that he can’t light a cigarette in the cab. He grins slightly in William's direction. “But I'm glad this wedding wasn't perfect! Now everyone, we have some top-tier teasing material on William!”

“Finally something he wasn’t a gentleman in," you say.

“The bride who tried to run away from her wedding was also at fault, I think,” William replies, not looking at you but squeezing your hand.

You squeezed it tighter. “A bride who had a very good reason to do so.”

“So the groom shouldn’t have been chasing her?”

“He should have. Now she finally has a purpose. I think the groom should beware of what a wonderful wife she will become.”

“He won’t mind, as his wife is already wonderful.”

Everyone listens to the exchange in silence, or maybe you don’t pay attention to anyone, completely lost in William who lets himself look at you and gets spellbound by you as well. 

Louis sighs, with some kind of relief.

“So brother has finally found his happiness, hm...~” tag: @elvyshiarieko

[decimal86]

Ranking The Incident's members from "normal-ish straightman" to "interesting weirdo (affectionate)" based on their personalities. I am sorry if you disagree, but I respect your opinions on this matter.

1. Shrimp. Despite her admittedly off-putting smile, she's also just a very kindhearted young girl with a love for music. Consistently seems to fill the role as a younger sibling for other members to defend. Shrimp just wants to make others happy and seems like a relatively normal shark girl idol.

2. Big Bill. Surprisingly, for a buff, humanoid duck, he actually seems pretty chill. Don't have much to say about him, so he gets this by default.

3. Orion. Probably the closest to the "traditional" heroic archetype, being a strong and devoted family man with plenty of skill as a swordsman. He loves his daughter, plays both classes to the best of his ability, and is probably the voice of reason a lot of the time. The only thing keeping him down a bit is his odd attempts at giving presents and seeing an immortal chef with a thousand-yard stare and massive eyebrows as the best pick for a partner.

4. Erica. In a way, I see her and Orion as two sides of the same coin, being dedicated warriors who changed classes with a strong urge to keep their team safe. However, her Season 2 development led to her throwing much of her caution to the wind, so her temper and violent streak knock her placement down a bit. Still, I definitely could see her being the type to call others on their crap and forcing herself back into the straightwoman role if really needed. Very much a case of "only functional by comparison."

5. Failboat. The man, the myth, the definitely (maybe) not a furry, he's... gone through a lot since the first season. While it's difficult to say where the creator ends and the character's personality begins, I personally see C!Fail as a pretty nice guy, just world-weary and desperate for a break after his experience of the world. (TBF, makes sense given his relationship with Chat). Also, any man who eats spaghetti with cat paws on cannot be labeled as normal.

6. Bo. Certainly not the most unhinged even after her vampire transformation, but her generally seeming on edge a lot of the time makes me feel she deserves this position. Honestly, I'd just say her position fluctuates as much as Failboat's and Erica's.

7. Friend. While we likely can't truly judge a maybe-divine entity with human norms, I do think them being fairly serene and forgiving, yet also casting Righteous Anger with zero hesitancy and a stone cold smile, can speak for itself.

8. Mar. While his stoicism and apathy towards the zany nature of his party do make him appear normal at first, I'd argue it also makes him nearly as unhinged as the two members below him. Except, instead of being the "blast the door off the hinges" unhinged, he's the "saw it down and let it fall over" kind of unhinged. An odd mix of blank mindedness, Italian plumber cosplay, and top-notch leadership. To quote one of the memes @gnomey22 posted, Mar is "queer as in gay, yes, but also queer as in really very peculiar." He sees recklessness but willingly chooses to just watch it happen.

9. Chi. This, THIS is a character that I feel like could actually break everything in her body, survive and get healed, and immediately repeat whatever it is she just did—either for science, her love of fire, or just because it's fun. Sometimes for her friends, yeah, but mostly one of the above things. She sees everything from gender norms and to the laws of chemistry and just goes, "Hmm... nah, not really up for that," and defies them openly and instantaneously. Honestly, though, I vibe with it. Can definitely see why a lot of people like her!

10. Chat. I mean, what did you expect? They're a loose cannon both literally and figuratively. They spread mayonnaise on Failboat's head when he was ill. Proclaimed their friendship with their team before firing them at the enemy. They're a bundle of untamed voices, like a nest of fire ants who lost a pheromone trail.

...Well, that took longer than I thought. Hope anyone who sees this enjoyed it, though!

[invisibleraven]

"You know, (character) reminds me of you a lot" || "Because they're boring?" || "I was going to say because they're a wonderful person"

ship of choice?

Ray loved learning every little thing about Rose. How she liked her coffee to be more cream and sugar than jaca. How she hogged the blankets but generated enough heat that she flung them off her halfway through the night. How she could bench more than him but never demonstrated it unless gym bros couldn't take a hint.

And how she absolutely loved telenovellas.

Rose ate up every show she could find, loving the wacky plot twists even if she guessed them weeks in advance. Loved the dramatic characters and all their foibles. And she got Ray o-maybe not love them-but appreciate them too.

"Wait...wasn't Drake a brain surgeon last week?" Ray asked as they watched Rose's favourite hospital themed show.

"He's multi-faceted," Rose replied.

"I don't think that's how it works mi vida," Ray snarked, pulling her scowl in and erasing it with a kiss. "But I love your optimism."

"Sssh, I think Celeste is going to finally get with Stefano," Rose said, shushing him. But then she looked from Ray to the screen. "You know, Stefano reminds me of you a lot."

Ray snorted at that. Stefano on the show was a decent guy, albeit not very exciting with his accountant job, his love of books, and milquetoast personality. He himself wasn't all that exciting given he did photo shoots for real estate agents, enjoyed evening walks, and preferred staying home to the rock shows Rose adored. "Because they're boring?"

Rose shook her head, framing his face in her hands. "I was going to say because they're a wonderful person."

"Stefano?" Really?"

"Really," Rose said, "He's kind, faithful, and completely devoted to Celeste. Makes her laugh and feel loved more than any of her other partners ever did. He's a good guy and I think she feels lucky every day that she met him."

Ray noted how Rose's gaze never left his, and he knew her words were describing him, not the man gracing their television screen. "Celeste is pretty great too."

"Thanks," she said, giving an exaggerated hair flip. "And oh so humble you know."

"I know," Ray said, pulling Rose further into his arms. "I think they're pretty great together."

"Me too," Rose stated, leaning back, and kissing the hinge of huis jaw.

"But I'm way cuter than Stefano right?" Ray asked jokingly.

Rose laughed at that-not unkindly, but full of mirth. "And you call me humble?" She snorted through another laugh before nuzzling his throat. "You know you're the cutest."

"You're pretty cute too," he whispered into her curls. "And wonderful."

"Well yes," Rose replied, a haughty tone to her voice. "Everyone knows that."

"You think so?" Ray asked. "I think we should totally take out ads or something."

"Oh hush you," Rose said. "Let me enjoy my stories."

Ray grinned, relaxing further into the couch as the drama played out on the screen-with Celeste and Stefano sharing a steamy, fade to black kiss. Good on them-and Ray hoped that even though they were fictional characters, they ended up with a happy ending just like he had wrapped up in his arms.

A love story that was anything but boring.

[dhr-ao3]

Within the Castle Walls

Within the Castle Walls https://ift.tt/FPnd9Ui by bombcrda "Within the Castle Walls" follows Hermione Granger, a skilled apprentice physician with an unwavering commitment to her craft, in a world where long-standing feuds and recently formed relationships are intertwined. She encounters Prince Draco, a complex, older man whose wounded soul is as guarded as the kingdom he is next in like to control. A delicate dance of love and hatred plays out as their interactions alternate between frank disagreements and secret moments of vulnerability against the backdrop of a kingdom embroiled in a war that threatens to tear their world apart. The lines between devotion and desire blur as Hermione and Draco become inexorably attracted to one another in the midst of chaos and warfare and the secrets of courtly life. But as the battle looms closer and ancient resentments come to the surface, they must forge a treacherous path of political intrigue and personal growth. Alongside Harry, a knight whose valor matches his wit, and Ron, a royal gardener attuned to the pulse of the land, Hermione and Draco forge unbreakable bonds that prove vital in a world where survival hinges on unity. Words: 2825, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English Fandoms: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling Rating: Explicit Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence Categories: F/M Characters: Hermione Granger, Hermione Granger's Mother, Hermione Granger's Father, Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy, Ron Weasley, Ginny Weasley, Luna Lovegood, Neville Longbottom, Blaise Zabini, Theodore Nott, Scorpius Malfoy Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Neville Longbottom/Pansy Parkinson, Luna Lovegood/Blaise Zabini, Theodore Nott/Harry Potter Additional Tags: Healer Hermione Granger, Royal Prince Draco Malfoy, Knight Harry Potter, Gardener Ron Weasley, Dom Draco Malfoy, DILF Draco Malfoy, BAMF Hermione Granger, BAMF Draco Malfoy via AO3 works tagged 'Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy' https://ift.tt/IFshcz7 August 25, 2023 at 07:53PM

[eyebright-iris]

Review: The Priory of the Orange Tree by Samantha Shannon

Where to begin. I think I’d forgotten how it feels to be breathless in the wake of a truly incredible book, heart racing and hands shaking against the back cover. Shoutout to Samantha Shannon for reminding me of that feeling.

The Priory of the Orange Tree is a beautiful flame-coloured hardback that has haunted my shelves since 2019 when it first came out and I grabbed it because it sounded dope, looked gorgeous and there were dragons on it (your first special interest never quite leaves you). After about three and a half years, and after resolving to read every day of 2023, I decided enough was enough; time to tackle this beast.

While other works of Shannon’s have been on my TBR before, Priory is the first of hers I’ve read. It’s my return to epic high fantasy after a long absence, and I can’t say I’m disappointed. Far from it, in fact. This book rattles with its own intensity, the stakes for each character, the rising romance and drama and the freefall towards devastation that builds all the way until about book five of six (for context, the huge 800-page novel is split into six smaller “books”).

I adored Priory. This review will likely be tragically short in an effort to avoid spoiling some of the fantastic reveals and brilliant storytelling, but for now I’ll discuss the things I loved so much about it without revealing too much.

Our four narrator characters are brilliant. They are flawed, messy, human and devoted. Ead is a secret mage tasked with protecting the Queen of a foreign nation; Loth is a kind and devout young man with much responsibility and too sweet and authentic a heart for the puppeteering courts he finds himself in; Niclays Roos is a bitter and jaded old alchemist with a deep core of darkness and a fierce hunger in him; and Tané is a 19-year-old striving to prove herself and take up the mantle of an honoured dragonrider. All four of them work to bring the rich world of the novel to life, each from a different background, with different goals, all eventually clashing and - perhaps, if the greatest evil is to be overcome - aligning.

I’ll briefly touch on the diversity in Priory. Of our four narrators, two (Ead and Tané) are female; both are also women of colour (Ead is black, and while Priory does not take place in our own world, Tané’s home of Seikii shows clear parallels with Japan). Niclays is the only white narrator, and he is gay; Loth is black. Ead and Queen Sabran are both lesbians, and for those who, like me, fall on the aro/ace spectrum, Tané’s arc has no hint of romance, and there is a strong case for aroace Tané. Not only do we have diversity, but well-written diversity too (I know that you can have all the representation you want, it’s not really worthwhile if it’s all terrible). Shannon draws on both Western and Eastern mythology for this fantasy epic, split between two great worlds of the East and West, divided by a vast sea known as the Abyss. Yet within the hemispheres there is conflict and diversity, Seiiki and the Empire of Twelve Lakes in the East, and the various states of the West - Inys, Mentendon, Yscalin, Lasia, Hróth…

One of the greatest aspects of Priory is the way it interrogates history and genre. A story of a queendom ruled only by women, passed down from mother to daughter for a thousand years, sounds feminist until you realise there is more below the surface. When a queendom is passed unfailingly from mother to daughter, everything suddenly hinges on a woman’s ability to give birth - and how feminist does that sound now? There is also the brilliant weaving of conflicting histories, and how those histories have shaped the world as it exists. Institutions that are founded on a single principle, says Priory, will invariably corrupt everything around themselves to maintain that course, even when new evidence says otherwise. When those who claim to know the truth still operate with only half the story, even they can see the real truth as a threat to the status quo.

Priory sings with vibrancy, it clamours with depth. Not a single character comes out unscathed, but that of course begs the question that the novel, on some level, is asking: what is the price we pay for tomorrow? What is it worth to us, what will we lose, to see the sun rise on a better world?

[vacantgodling]

the old english baron — mini review

just for context, i was much much quieter in my live reaction from the other three books i’ve talked about reading on this blog, and that’s kind of because like. this book was very… eh.

the context that it was written “in direct response to the castle of otranto” actually does it more harm than good, because seriously this book hardly feels like a goth lit at all. all of the quintessential things that create a good gothic literature piece are just missing from the narrative, or glossed over. if anything this feels more like a medieval period piece with gothic elements. which, tbh, i don’t mind—i saw reviews with some people getting annoyed by the entire latter half and end of the book being devoted to court proceedings but because i enjoy history i was actually kind of fascinated by it. but the fact that all the “gothic elements” were resolved within the first 100-150-ish pages wasn’t really great bc all the intrigue that could’ve been fell by the wayside.

the main similarity this book shares with the castle of otranto is its lack of focus; but i think it’s done worse lmao. it’s very clear in this book that edmund is the main character but it’s not necessarily built up that way—the first part of the book starts with sir phillip who the reader immediately likes and feels sympathy for and we get a detailed backstory for; however the story then shifts to focusing on edmund who is like. for all intents and purposes jesus fucking christ reborn. i like him much less than theodore from the castle of otranto; theodore is a more complex character who does have some faults despite his (generally speaking) overwhelming good qualities (which is just a thing in gothic lit and old european books in general; the characters are very overwhelmingly Good and Virtuous Christians LMAO). but edmund is a fucking SAINT. i somehow like little billee from trilby SLIGHTLY (oh so very slightly) more than edmund bc edmund Literally Is The Perfect Man and at least billee was interesting by virtue of being ridiculous, having a foot fetish, and getting on my fucking NERVES lmao.

furthermore a lot of this plot hinges on random characters who are “villainous” doing “villainous things” out of just. jealousy???? barely explained jealousy at that. we spend very little time with the murderer of edmund’s parents nor the kinsman of the baron who edmund lives with who hates him for idk breathing air… and like it’s saying a lot that i can’t remember their names because they are THAT inconsequential and make THAT LITTLE of an impression. meanwhile manfred made himself no. 1 enemy of the state by PAGE SIX. i hated him and i wanted to see him get his shit rocked. that makes a good villain!!!

and despite being written by a woman, this book is so uninterested in talking about the few female characters that exist it’s painful. lady emma is introduced as a love interest after never being mentioned out of FUCKING NOWHERE in the middle of the story and just said “btw she’s perfect also and edmund’s been in love with her since he was a boy but dw about it” and i’m just ??? bruh lmao. otranto gave so much more respect and character to its female characters; all of them had distinct personalities and goals and furthermore THERE WAS MORE THAN ONE OF THEM!!! (and i’m not counting edmund’s adoptive mother in this bc sorry she is also like only in one scene and is basically irrelevant. yeah she tells edmund about his mom but we did like Nada to give her anything. she and emma count as one for me).

— going to show that just because a woman has contributed to something does not automatically mean it’s not misogynistic (looking at jkr as well 🙄)

anyway the other main thing that strengthens my stance that this isn’t Really a goth lit book is there is Barely any tragedy or lingering melancholy that haunts the narrative. yes, edmund’s parents died but there’s literally like two scene with the ghosts (or anything spooky) and yeah edmund is sad about it once he learns the truth but it’s just all… never expanded upon. it’s talked about but the emotions aren’t felt. the loss doesn’t take center stage; it’s simply a vehicle to propel the story to edmund triumphing over his circumstances and getting Literally Everything he wants out of life. which; mind you, i’m not against like at all. i don’t dislike the overall story (sans edmund being a mary sue? edmund sue? and it being kind of just. boring lmao) but i dislike the insinuation that it’s gothic lit like at all. it has gothic elements. but it’s just missing everything about the genre that makes it good.

so going back to my original point—the author positioning herself to try and make the castle of otranto “better” or “more realistic” is just. ridiculous lmao. it’s no different than people who make adaptations of media they’ve barely engaged with and that they don’t understand: it will never be as good.

overall 5/10. i wouldn’t read it again but just bc it’s kind of boring lmao. but i don’t hate that i read it lmao

[moraleewright]

That. Fucking. Scarf.

[edorazzi]

How do you feel about Felix and his mom? They are so 🥺🥺🥺. Especially the brief scene when he looked at the painting of his aunt on the wall.

I talked briefly about this in my Gabriel Agreste episode review but I do want to expand on it a little bit! ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ

(Also this got VERY long so I’ll put it under a cut. I just went full stream-of-consciousness so I can only apologise if none of it makes any sense. Be gentle with me pls. :V)

I love how much the de Vanilys love each other. Felix was set up as a really unpleasant character but even in the first episode we got to see Amelie just besotted with him, and learn that Felix went to such extreme lengths to get the family ring - even appealing to Hawk Moth and being willing to help defeat the Miraculous holders - just because she wanted it so badly and he didn’t even know why. He’s a terrible gremlin child but he’s absolutely devoted to his mom and I think that’s so nice.

I was also enchanted by that little moment with the painting! Usually when Felix is alone he’s either smirking or frowning - scheming in some form, no doubt - but he’s got this wide-eyed, childlike look as he approaches the portrait and it makes him seem very vulnerable. Whether he’s thinking of Emilie or Amelie, I think the scale of the painting (and choice of camera angle) is evoking childhood memories of when things were better for both sides of the family and the adults still seemed like these grand beings who were both powerful and immortal. Neither of those turned out to be true and I think that’s what a lot of Felix’s behaviour hinges on, which I’ll get to.

(I thought he was about to find the secret buttons to open Uncle Gabe’s Butterfly Lair, and maybe he would have if Ol’ Gabe didn’t interrupt him in pure horror movie fashion, but he was only reaching for it in the first place because he was so taken with the portrait. He was distracted from searching for clues about Shadow Moth but he still almost stumbled into one!)

The main difference between Adrien and Felix is that they were raised by opposite parents - and Adrien’s lost his mom, but Felix’s dad died. Like, the man is dead and there’s no pretences about him maybe coming back someday like Emilie. The “Felix” episode tries to equate those things (via Plagg complaining about it) and make it sound like Felix has no excuse to be acting out when Adrien’s well-behaved, but I don’t think their situations are comparable. Both boys have been through traumatic losses but their situations are NOT the same and it’s no wonder they’re dealing with it differently.

(And just to clarify, I don’t believe one trauma is lesser than the other. I don’t think Adrien has it “better” than Felix or vice versa - I just honestly don’t believe you can compare them and judge the boys’ behaviour by it.)

We all know how Gabriel treats Adrien, but when it comes to Felix and Amelie I think there’s been an equal amount of damage dealt in a different way. I’m considering how Amelie doesn’t wear her wedding ring although Felix’s dad died pretty recently, and that in “Felix” she blames her son’s actions on his father not being around to keep him in line. It’s possible she wasn’t even married to the guy and was maybe just co-parenting, but Felix’s dad was clearly important to him and the whole thing makes me feel like Amelie doesn’t really understand or relate to her son’s longterm grief. Unfortunately all the love in the world can’t fix that if Felix has nowhere to express those emotions in a healthy way.

(I’m picking on this extra hard since it’s become personal to me - it took me nearly a year to properly grieve a member of my family for similar reasons. Not being able to talk about those emotions is a hell of a thing and it makes me look back on the “Felix” episode with a lot more skepticism of Amelie. If she was breezing through this visit while Felix was still angry enough to actively try ruining Adrien’s life, I CANNOT believe they’ve worked through those emotions properly together. Something’s still very wrong.)

Also, we know Gabriel expects Adrien to be passive and basically just do what he’s told, and he meets so much resistance when pushing those strict boundaries that even things like going to school are considered acts of rebellion he gets hunted down for. But I wonder if Amelie, by contrast, is giving Felix too much freedom? Since the two of them are a team I imagine Felix feels a lot of responsibility for his mom who seems careless and kinda vapid. Amelie does say “I can never understand how you always manage to get what you want!” which implies he’s often pulling various stunts like this without telling her, and I wouldn’t be surprised if a lot of it is for her; like it’s both of them against the world. That combined with no boundaries and the freedom to do basically anything and it’s no wonder Felix's behaviour is a hell of a lot different than Adrien’s. It’s actually a lot more similar to Gabriel’s singleminded pursuit of the Miraculous (no matter how many teenagers he has to fight along the way), which is intriguing.

I also find it interesting that we don’t get any updates on the family situation in “Gabriel Agreste” though - is that still a thing? ML has retconned a lot of stuff in the past so I wouldn’t be surprised, but I really want to know more about what happened with Felix’s dad, the story of the rings and how he acts when he’s not around the Agrestes (which I theorise brings out the absolute worst in him). If he’s turning into such a significant character I need to know what’s going on with him! >:0

ANYWAY. My god that got long. TL;DR I love the de Vanilys and I live for the affection between them, but I suspect Amelie has damaged Felix just as much as Gabriel has damaged Adrien. Maybe there’s just no such thing as a responsible parent in this family and that’s why they needed to hire Gorilla and Nathalie. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[mikrowrites]

cottages of constellations

c!wilbur x f!reader

warnings: angst, fluffy flashbacks, arson, character death

summary: there’s a place only known by two people, full of sweet memories and domesticity. but the world isn’t sweet anymore, and sometimes violence is the only universal language. rather, Sophie visits the cottage she and Wilbur shared before the war, and is met by an unlikely guest.

might make a part two w doomsday and revivebur, we shall see...

Y/n sighed, sitting upon her horse as the wind blew across the grassy field. Smoke still rose behind her from fires still not put out long after the destruction, the girl shaking her head to try and absolve the memory from her head.

She gripped the reins, goading the horse to move, Y/n riding across the field. She knew where she needed to go, she knew the coordinates by heart.

No one else knew about the cottage, just two people, and one of them... well, he’s dead. There’s no sugar coating that. It resided far from the server, a little place just for the two of them.

After a few hours, with the sun rising behind, Y/n rode into the woods. She kept going forwards until she reached the river, stopping the horse. She looked forwards, pursing her lips.

The cottage.

“This is the perfect place!”

Wilbur jumped off his horse, pointing to the small clearing along the river.

“You think so?” Y/n asked, walking up beside him to stare at the landscape.

“Of course.” He emphasized. “But of course perfect is wherever you are.”

Y/n scoffed. “Jesus, that was cheesy.”

Wilbur laughed, running down the landscape towards the small clearing. He turned back, smiling.

“Hey, are you coming?”

Y/n tied her horse to a lead, patting it in thanks before moving forwards, approaching the cottage.

It looked frozen in time, from when Y/n had left it to help fight for L’manburg. The flowers still looked kept, the farm out back unharvested. She smiled as she approached the cottage, taking in the blooming flowers.

“It’s a surprise, so no looking.”

“Okay, okay!” Y/n allowed Wilbur to lead her over outside the cottage.

Wilbur stopped. “Okay, you can look.”

Y/n opened her eyes, walking over to peer at several brightly colored flowers planted around the cottage’s exterior. The hues painted the landscape, causing her jaw to drop at the beauty.

“Do you like it?” Wilbur nervously asked, Y/n whipping her head around to cast him a bright smile.

“I love it, Wilbur.”

Y/n pushed the oak door open, the hinges creaking. She let out a few coughs as dust invaded her senses, stepping into the cottage. the lanterns were flickered out, pots of plants and flowers left withered and dead.

She walked past a set of bookshelves, running her fingers across the spines of the books.

Wilbur and Y/n sat together, books in each of their hands as they read and relish each other’s company. A kettle of water was being heated in the kitchen, the sun filtering through the windows.

Y/n flipped a page, not noticing as Wilbur’s eyes lifted from the pages to her face, studying every bit of her. A soft smile crossed his face as he studied her soft green eyes, the bridge of her nose, her eyebrows that were furrowed in concentration.

Suddenly her eyes flicked up, Wilbur’s face going red. “What are you looking at?”

“Nothing! Nothing, no, not at all, no, uh—“Wilbur smiled sheepishly. “You’re... you’re just so ethereal right now.”

It was Y/n’s turn to blush as she tried to hide her cheeks behind the book, the boy laughing.

Y/n grasped a rung of the ladder in her hand, sighing for a moment before pulling herself up. Each step up the ladder her heart quickened, her lips trembled.

She climbed into the loft area, her breath catching in her throat.

The bed was still perfectly made from the day she left it. The sunset reflected perfectly into the room from the large glass window, casting the room into a beautiful orange hue. Y/n turned and saw the chest in the corner, the sight bringing her to her knees.

The letters.

“I’ll write you so many letters, Y/n/n!” Wilbur insisted, grasping her hands. “Every day! Until you can join me, we can send those letters.”

Y/n nodded eagerly. “I’ll miss you, Wil.”

The boy pulled her into an embrace, the girl burying her face in his shirt. He smiled, tracing circles into her back comfortingly. “A letter a day for you, until we see each other again.”

And a letter a day she received.

The letters came daily, some recalling the events of the day, some poems, some love letters. Y/n read each letter enthusiastically, hearing of Wilbur’s adventures and the people he encountered. The nation he was creating, L’manburg.

Then, after receiving a letter detailing the start of the war for L’manburg, Y/n packed her bag, took her horse, and left for the server. She fought alongside Wilbur and the others, resisting for independence.

Y/n’s hands trembled as she sifted through and read each letter, the open pieces of parchment cast about the floor in front of her. Her heart ached as she read the words of a man whom she had lost so long ago, so long before his death. The Wilbur that had wrote Y/n songs and poems declaring his love and admiration had died in that war, leaving a man she could hardly recognize.

The orange glow of the sun was fading from the room, darkening the inside of the cottage. Y/n felt tears gather in her eyes as she finished reading the last letter, two teardrops pattering on the wood floor. The letter fluttered from her hand onto the ground with the rest, the girl wiping the tears from her cheeks.

She stood, looking out the window and noting how night was fast approaching. Y/n frowned, reaching into her pocket to produce a box of matches, walking over the the bedside lantern to light it. She struck the match, the flame igniting, lighting the lantern.

Y/n went to shake out the match before freezing, her eyes fixed upon the yellow light of the small flickering flame.

The fire crackled softly as melodic guitar chords filled the night with sweet music. The river rushed by near them, as well as the sounds of the rustling leaves in the wind, creating an orchestra of soothing sounds.

Y/n smiled, closing her eyes and resting her head against Wilbur’s shoulder as he strummed the guitar. They sat on a blanket in front of the fire, one of Wilbur’s coats draped over the girl’s shoulders.

Peace. Both felt total and complete peace.

“I wish we could stay like this forever.” Y/n mused, staring up at the stars.

“Maybe, someday, we will. We’ll just lay and chart constellations.” Wilbur responded confidently.

Y/n smiled, closing her eyes and letting the sounds of Wilbur’s guitar and the campfire lull her to sleep.

“I’d like that.”

The lit match felt heavy between Y/n’s fingers, the girl sitting amongst the countless letters once more. Night had fallen, the stars dotting the sky. Y/n stared out at the stars, catching sight of constellations and clouds and the moon.

She reached for a letter, parting her lips.

“You lied to me.”

Y/n stood once more and let the letter meet the match, the paper going up in flames. She dropped it, the flaming parchment falling to the floor and igniting the rest of the precious letters that could have redeemed Wilbur.

She stepped back, watching as flames set to the wood of the room, the bed, the carpet. The girl spared the room one last look before climbing down the ladder, throwing the match onto the bookshelf, and walking out of the cottage. Y/n walked backwards, watching as surely the cottage was caught in a fury of flames.

Y/n finally let herself breathe, exhaling deeply as if a weight had lifted off her chest. She watched her old home burn, finally feeling a sense of finality.

“You sure did a number on that house.”

Her eyes widened, spinning and quickly unsheathing her sword and raising it to the person behind her’s neck. Y/n’s eyes hardened, glaring at the unwanted visitor.

“What the fuck are you doing here.” She spat.

She could almost see Dream’s smile from under his mask. “Wilbur sure did love his secrets. Was will to impart a few to me in exchange for some TNT. I figured you might be here.”

Y/n furrowed her eyebrows. “He... he told you about the cottage?”

“Y/n... he told me everything.” Dream responded. She slowly lowered her sword, stepping away from Dream. “I understand everything now. Your blind devotion to him, the loyalty. The server that drove him to betray that trust.”

“You did.” Y/n insisted. “You drove him to his death. You caused all of this.”

“Wilbur made his own decisions.” Dream shrugged. “And as I can see now, so can you.”

Y/n turned to look back at the fire. “So, you’re here to kill me then, yeah?”

“No, I’m not.” Dream quickly replied, Y/n looking back at him. “I’m here to make you an offer.”

“An offer? What the hell does that mean?” She scoffed.

Dream approached her. “They’re rebuilding L’Manburg as we speak. They never learn, they never understand. They call Wilbur insane, yet maybe he was the most sane of us all. He saw and understood the truth, and that scared them. So here’s what I offer you, Y/n. Help me take them down. I’ll pay you a good price.”

“What could you pay me that’s worth my time?” Y/n raised her eyebrows, crossing her arms.

Dream reached into his pocket, throwing a few netherite ingots and several diamonds onto the grass in front of her. Y/n’s eyes widened slightly, looking up at him. “There’s so much more where this came from. And better yet,” Dream tilted his head slightly as he held a bundle of fabric to her, the brown shades and patches so very familiar; Wilbur’s coat. “you can finish what Wilbur started.”

Y/n stared wordlessly at the piece of clothing held out in front of her, before closing her eyes.

“Wil?” Y/n wandered over to where Wilbur sat in the darkness of Pogtopia, the girl kneeling down next to him.

“Hey, Y/n/n.” He smiled tightly, sitting forwards. “What’s up?”

The girl smiled sadly. “I don’t know. I just... everything’s all wrong. I don’t know how to fix it.”

The man pondered her words, considering how the events of the next few days would play out. The heartache and betrayal.

It was no secret Wilbur and Y/n had been drifting apart. The lingering trauma of her torturous life in Manburg and the loss of her first two canon lives, him grieving the loss of his country. They were both hanging on by a thread, and comfort was hard to be sought between the two of them.

Wilbur knew he would die soon. He knew that the end of his story was approaching, but maybe, he could have one more sweet memory with the girl he had fallen helplessly in love with.

“Let’s go look at the stars.”

Y/n perked up, her featured contorted in surprise. “What?”

“Like we used to, by the river. Let’s go stargazing.” Wilbur stood, holding out his hand to help her up. The girl took it, the boy pulling her up to standing and intertwining his fingers in hers, pulling her through the ravine.

They trudged up the stone stairs and through the hidden doorway, out into the open air. Wilbur led Y/n into a clearing, where he shrugged off his jacket, laying it on the ground. He beckoned her over, the two laying on top of the fabric and staring up.

The sky was exceptionally clear that night, the stars glittering beautifully against a dark sky. Wilbur turned to watch Y/n stare up at the stars, noting her lips twitch softly as she began to list constellations under her breath. He took her hand once more, looking up at the stars.

That was the last moment they shared together before he died.

Y/n opened her eyes, looking up at Dream, who held out a hand to shake. She sheathed her sword, nodding slightly before taking the jacket and reaching her hand out, clasping his palm in a firm shake.

The man chuckled from behind his mask, stepping backwards. “You’ll be hearing from me. Goodbye, Y/n.” With that he left, the girl left standing alone on the riverbank. She stood still for a beat before bending down, moving the items to her inventory, shrugging on the trench coat, and turning back to the cottage.

It was nearly burnt to the ground at this rate, the flowers outside catching. Y/n swore for a moment she could see a glimpse of a tall boy in a yellow sweater in the flames, but brushed it off. She made the trek over to her horse, climbing onto the saddle.

She cast one more look at the remains of the cottage before cracking the reins, riding away.

It was time to finish what Wilbur had started.

a/n: i wrote this before the philza lore where wilbur fabricated history in the letters, so just assume that wilbur was truthful in these letters and y/n arrived directly before the duel and the betrayal.

[snaredogs]

Carpenter and Faulkner - Twin mouths agape ?

ok so !! I never really do this kind of analysis but these characters have been living in my mind rent free so bear with me

I’ve seen some great points about Faulkner and Carpenter’s contrasting relationships with their religion and how they might learn to understand each other better, and I feel like a parallel can be drawn between the roles they’ve assumed/been forced into and the Trawlerman’s two faces :

Carpenter - the face that listens

Carpenter was born into the faith. She carries the memory of its traditions passed down by her Nana Glass, and bears witness to its destruction. Her calling comes by witnessing and understanding the River’s power. As for her role in the religious community, Mason talks at her until she rejoins it, and she spends year after year searching for signs and whispers of other practitioners. She dislikes being lectured or rambled at but ends up on the receiving end of the conversation a lot, notably with Hayward. This isn’t to say she doesn’t have an active role, but she tends to seek out information even in extreme circumstances (taunting Charity by asking her to « tell her more about her God » in chapter 4, telling Faulkner to hear Roake out in chapter 8).

Faulkner - the face that speaks

Faulkner finds the faith on his own and spreads the word about it. His calling comes through sacrificing his brother to his god. He thinks of himself as a prophet, and is much more expressive in his acts of devotion. To get by, he puts on a naïve persona, part of which is asking question upon question. He often acts impulsively, by making the hotel clerk into a saint or walking out to face the crab-dog. He also announces several events by calling out to Carpenter (when they see the dead man or spot the fishing boat in chapter 1, when Paige finds him stealing her car in chapter 7...)

even in the very first lines of chapter 1 (“Marco...Polo”) Faulkner calls and Carpenter answers

and their development seems to hinge at least partly on their ability to communicate with each other

idk I just thought it was a fun frame of analysis and I’m very interested to see how/if this will apply as the characters evolve :-)

[piccolina-mina]

The entire One Chicago franchise is a mess when it comes to the romantic components of the series. But Chicago PD continues to be the most uninspired, boring, and redundant mess when it comes to their romantic ships and how they display them.

It's as if someone holds a gun to their head and says "let's choose the most basic, young, white heteronormative relationships and smack a cutesy name on them. Fandom will eat it up!" And without fail, fandom always does.

It's bad enough that half the Intelligence Unit thinks they can only date or sleep with each other. It's also bad enough that it further contributes to Chicago PD's ongoing issue with rarely knowing what to do with its female characters beyond specific plots I've come to call the "traditionally feminine womanly plots" and tying them in with a male character where everything about them hinges on their connection to a male. And also that "there can only be one" issue where only one of the female characters can serve as the primary one while the others duke it out for screentime, plot, and relevancy (congrats on always winning Lindsay and Hailey).

But they recycle the same things ad nauseum. For eight seasons, they would rather devote all of their time cooking up romantic subplots that exclusively feature a constant rotation of Ruzek and Halstead. I get it, they're attractive, hell, I'm no stranger to thirsting over Ruz myself, but they're the lotharios of the unit as if only they can be desirable, and it's gotten so old. My God.

They would rather give us these two involved with mostly young and white women, especially their squad mates, then devote screentime to literally any alternative couple.

I mean they have SHARED a love interest. Why? The only ships they have ever devoted significant screentime or development to: Halstead and Erin, Halstead and Upton, Ruzek and Burgess, Ruzek and Upton, Burgess and Roman. Qwhite shocking, I know.

Trudy and Mouch have one of the sweetest crossover romances from the franchise, and it's so refreshing to see a middle-aged couple find love, and yet, they've all but cooled off showing them, rarely give that ship screentime, and it tends to stay in the peripheral compared to the big ships.

Dawson had a romance with Brett from Chicago Fire (another character who gets passed around to the point of absurdity), but they did very little with it, and most of THAT even took place on CF.

They gave Dawson something troubling with another law enforcement officer or whatever for like a single episode, but hell, they still devoted more time and actual arcs to the two or three times where they put Halsted in similar relationships because of course they did.

Never forget that the first relationship that dates pre-series was Chicago Fire's Gabby with *spins wheel* you guessed it, Jay Halstead.

And of course there was Erin and Severide. So pretty. So ... basic.

Yet they never attempted to give us more of Dawson and his wife or Olinsky and his. The women were barely characters on the series. It would've been something.

I don't mind Burzek. Out of all the ships, I enjoy them most more often than not, but it has been eight seasons of will they/won't they bullcrap that they've drawn out. All of these ups and downs. The one non-cop related romance Burgess had lasted all of a second and ended in tragedy because heaven forbid they DON'T put that woman through endless pain.

But they've always remained the second place ship of the series, and it's just... enough. Meanwhile, we started the series with Erin and Halstead monopolizing screentime with their romantic situationship drama, and instead of giving it a rest and changing things up when she left, they switched it out with the Halstead and Hailey will they/won't they. Why?

Heaven forbid Halstead or Ruzek don't have a piece of ass.

Ruzek was even Trudy's choice for a relationship ruse to dupe her father.

In the meantime, one of the most outlandish and unrealistic parts of this series is that Kevin Atwater-- young, smart, just as hot as Chicago PD's golden, pretty, white boys hasn't had a real, significant romantic storyline in the eight years this series has been on air.

In what universe does that make sense? Single, eligible, employed, decent black man? Da faq?

Pardon my bluntness but Kevin Atwater should be seeing more ass than a toilet seat. The fact that he isn't batting folks off with a stick is ludicrous.

He had ONE fkd up romantic storyline in his one "very special black Kevin" episode in season SIX and that's it. Pardon me? Do you know how many of those Jay has had? Twice or more than Kevin.

On a series that pairs up colleagues like it's their mission, they never once even considered taking the Burgess and Atwater relationship in any other direction beyond platonic (and even that is underused these days). I'm not even saying I would've wanted that. I'm just pointing out that it made no sense given their track record to not even tease it. But Kevin is only good for platonic purposes, I suppose.

The fact that they put all their eggs in a potential Atwater and Rojas ship, that never even came to fruition, in season SEVEN of a series Atwater has been in since the beginning when characters like Adam and Jay have already had two relationships or more under their belts by then is ridiculous.

And then there's Voight. He's the lead character and never once had a romantic storyline. If he were younger, you already know they would've went there a few times over.

Yet the closest Hank has come to one is an ambiguous scene with him talking to a sex worker in a hotel room back in, like, season two. Are we to believe that he has never once developed feelings for or even had sex with anyone else since his wife died? He's never moved on after that?

They could easily allude to him being on an ace or demi spectrum if they want, even if I would side eye them for choosing the older character to do it, but if that's the case, they should do something with that.

Even a storyline with a widowed, middle- aged hardass finding love or getting some would be infinitely more interesting and at the very least something different than the same old same old Ruzek & Halstead merry-go-round. Damn, the 50 and over crowd need love too.

And yet Chicago PD keeps feeding us the same bland diet repackaged.

Fine. Burzek has been a thing from the beginning. But after Jay and Erin WHY did they need Hailey and Jay? And if they were going to do Jay and Hailey, why in the mother loving fk did we need Hailey and Adam?

The good sis bagged not one but both of the coveted white boys.

I mean, just for variety, Dawson was right there. Kevin was right there. I wouldn't have been a fan, but hell, it would at least be something different. Much better than acting as if Halstead and Ruzek are the only viable romantic options.

Why subject her to that?

Isn't it bad enough that she's more often than not reduced to being Lindsay Lite anyway? They struggle to give her a presence that deviates and distinguishes her from Erin as is. From her troubled past, and her stage of being mini- Voight and challenging his authority, to this thing with Jay.

Hell, they even repeated a whole job offer thing.

Mind you, don't get me started on how they missed what should've been the obvious chance to make Hailey queer. If I'm stepping on toes, my bad, but everything about Hailey screamed bi or lesbian. She radiated queer energy, but INSTEAD they chose to pair her with not one but both of CPD's romantic male leads.

Why beat this well-tread path yet again?

Of all the possibilities, and all the different avenues they can explore, they just keep dipping into that same well, and it's so tiresome. It's so unoriginal and uninspired. Yes, it's just so basic. I'm talking 20th century shipping... CPD is so outdated with this and it makes it hard to invest or care about any of them, especially if you already aren't inclined to ship within the series as is.

Shock me. Thrill me. Intrigue me. Bloody hell.

[mediaevalmusereads]

When A Scot Ties the Knot. By Tessa Dare. New York: Avon Books, 2015.

Rating: 3/5 stars

Genre: historical romance

Part of a Series? Yes, Castles Ever After #3

Summary: On the cusp of her first London season, Miss Madeline Gracechurch was shyly pretty and talented with a drawing pencil, but hopelessly awkward with gentlemen. She was certain to be a dismal failure on the London marriage mart. So Maddie did what generations of shy, awkward young ladies have done: she invented a sweetheart. A Scottish sweetheart. One who was handsome and honorable and devoted to her, but conveniently never around. Maddie poured her heart into writing the imaginary Captain MacKenzie letter after letter … and by pretending to be devastated when he was (not really) killed in battle, she managed to avoid the pressures of London society entirely. Until years later, when this kilted Highland lover of her imaginings shows up in the flesh. The real Captain Logan MacKenzie arrives on her doorstep—handsome as anything, but not entirely honorable. He’s wounded, jaded, in possession of her letters… and ready to make good on every promise Maddie never expected to keep.

***Full review under the cut.***

Content Warnings: graphic sexual content, blood, violence

Overview: I came across this book while doing research for a blog post on Scottish fetishization in romance. While writing the post, I encountered YouTuber Jean Bookishthoughts’s video “ An Actual Scot Reads Highlander Romances,” and she gave this novel a fairly positive review. So I decided “why not? I’ve got nothing better to do.” Overall, the premise of this book was really enticing - the idea of a woman writing letters to a fictional sweetheart only to have a flesh-and-blood man show up at her door is quite the setup. I also think Dare does a good job of writing humor and moving the narrative along. But I ultimately couldn’t give this book more than 3 stars for a number of reasons: for one, the main crux of the plot felt like it could have been a bit more robust. Two, I didn’t find Logan to be a very interesting character. And three, some of the random “Highlander” references felt cheesy.

Writing: Dare writes prose that is quick, witty, and humorous. I very much enjoyed the jokes and the banter between our protagonists, and I appreciated that Dare didn’t get bogged down in some of the details of day-to-day life. If I had any criticisms, it would be that I think Dare moves almost too quickly at times. Some of the more emotional moments could have used some room to breathe or some more description of how the characters’ emotions are faring. But it wasn’t so bad that I felt like I was being rushed through the novel. Another way of putting is may be that sometimes Dare told where she could have shown, but the balance of telling vs showing didn’t feel egregiously off.

Plot: This plot mainly follows our heroine, Maddie, and our hero, Logan, as they try to work out an agreement. Maddie, in the attempt to avoid going on the marriage mart, invented a sweetheart at age 16 and wrote letters to a “fictional” Scottish captain in the army for years. Unbeknownst to her, the letters were actually being received by Logan, and when he and his men come home from the war, Logan is determined to marry Maddie in order to get her land in Invernesshire.

Personally, I found this setup to be quite intriguing and whimsical. I liked the embarrassment that arose from Maddie’s letters actually being received and read. I liked that Logan secretly looked forward to the letters from a stranger. I even liked the dilemma of negotiating a marriage of convenience. But I think where this plot fell apart for me was the whole challenge of consummating the marriage. Logan and Maddie agree to marry and live separate lives (it’s early on, so this isn’t really a spoiler), but Logan is adamant about consummating the marriage so that there’s no possibility of an annulment. Maddie, for her part, wants to avoid consummating the marriage because she finds that marriage will threaten her career prospects; as an illustrator, she finds that men will not hire her for work if they think household or parenting duties will interrupt her work schedule. To be completely honest, this challenge was quite good; I thought there was a real opportunity here for Dare to explore the sexist challenges women face in the workplace. Where I thought the challenge was weak was in the whole obsession with consummation. Unless there was such hostility between the Scottish and the English that an Englishwoman’s word would always be taken over a Scotsman’s, I found the question of “did they actually have sex or not” to be quite trivial. From what I know, annulments were notoriously difficult to obtain, so it wouldn’t matter much if Maddie and Logan had consummated the marriage. It seems like Logan could just say they did and an annulment would be near impossible. Nor do I think the law would care much if they only had non-penetrative sex. It seems like the whole plot hinging on whether or not they had “real sex” was a non-issue for me.

Instead, I would have liked to see more conflict in Maddie between balancing her desires for romance and a family with her career aspirations. Once Logan enters the picture, it seems like her career takes a backseat (except for a couple of scenes), and I would have rather seen it be more front and center. Either that or I think Maddie’s story could have mirrored her aunt’s more closely. Maddie’s Aunt Thea was long ago caught up in a scandal that ruined her, but later, Thea reveals that she had enjoyed the freedom. I think having Maddie be independent and struggle with the idea of being “tied down” by marriage could have also been good, and while there’s a little of that, I think it could have been more apparent to the reader.

In terms of small-scale narrative points, I think a lot of the scenes Dare writes are very funny and entertaining. I liked, for instance, the scene where Maddie falls into a bog, or when Maddie shows kindness to Logan’s friend, Grant. The scenes that truly did bother me, however, were some of the more “fluffy” ones that were a bit too cheesy for my tastes. For example, there’s a scene in which Maddie finds Logan reading Pride and Prejudice and he’s wearing spectacles. She makes a big deal about him being a reader and I had to roll my eyes. There’s also a scene towards the end in which Maddie attempts to make haggis, and I hated it because it felt like it was inserted so Dare could check off a “Scottishism” in a list. Tartan? Check. Brogue? Check. Haggis? Check. The scene also erupted in random violence, too, which felt out-of-place and inserted for pointless drama towards the end of the novel.

But I will admit, I did like the scenes that were very self-aware about what Dare was doing. For example, there’s a scene in which Logan is debating about what to do to get Maddie into bed. His friends give him suggestions like “offer your heart to her on a platter” or “throw in a lot of oochs and bonny lasses when you speak” or “dive into the loch and have her go looking for you. Then, when she’s found you, pretend you don’t notice her and have her watch you bathe for a while. Then emerge from the lock all dripping wet.” This self-awareness was a nice stab at romance cliches, though I wish Dare had done a better job herself at avoiding them.

Characters: Maddie, our heroine, is fairly likeable in that she’s bookish, generous, and a bit clumsy at times. I liked that there was a juxtaposition between her confidence and her social anxiety: while she wasn’t afraid to assert herself in some situations, big crowds made her nervous, and I think navigating those two scenarios made for some interesting characterization. The main thing I didn’t like about Maddie was how quickly she seemed to give up her career ambitions for Logan. There’s a point where she has to make a choice between letting Logan go and following her dreams, and she claims that she’s choosing Logan even though the choice is really made for her based on sexist norms of the day. I would have liked to see her wrestle with her ambitions a little more.

Logan, our hero, has some admirable qualities, but in the end, I found him rather uninteresting. He’s your basic roguish Scotsman with a tragic past, and though I liked the loyalty he showed to his men, I ultimately though he was a little too jealous and a little too used to his orders being obeyed. I would have liked to see him be a little less dictatorial so that his romantic appeal would shine through a bit more brightly.

Side characters are charming but, in my opinion, underutilized. I liked all of Logan’s army buddies and appreciated that all of them had disabilities in some way (and those disabilities were important but didn’t define them). I really appreciated Maddie’s relationship with Grant, the soldier whose memory resets every hour or so. She was kind to him and he was sweet to her; I just didn’t think his random violent outburst towards the end was necessary or in-character. Maddie’s Aunt Thea could have also been used more effectively, but I did like that Thea had this quirk of making a lot of cosmetics and remedies that were, ultimately, rubbish. It was charming.

Romance: Logan and Maddie’s romance was... ok. The premise started out really interesting, but over time, I lost some enthusiasm because I felt like I was being told that they had feelings for each other (rather than being shown). Sure, Logan does some things that challenge Maddie’s assumptions and vice versa, but I wanted them to have a stronger basis for a romance than just “they’re hot and I’m horny oh wait they were nice to me and aren’t exactly what I expected.” Part of the reason I wasn’t super enthused might also be the focus on sex and sexual attraction as well as Maddie feeling pity for Logan on account of his past. I prefer romances where the focus is on each person lifting the other up emotionally, and while there was a little of that, I think I would have liked to see it be more of a centerpiece within the plot.

TL;DR: When a Scot Ties the Knot is a funny, light, historical romance, but ultimately doesn’t have a “meaty” enough plot for my personal tastes. Some readers might enjoy the banter and the heroine’s determination, while others might be turned off by the cheesiness and lack of a complex hero.