#my regency power couples

[seafoamdew]

Heather and Astrid in the regency au.

Sum lil facts:

- They’re affianced

- Hiccup and Astrid were arranged to be married until Astrid (with the help of Hiccup) managed to annul the contract when she met Heather.

[hetagrammy]

I wanted to draw more of The Girls™ of the Regency AU. Anneliese is an Austrian noblewoman who fled Vienna the previous year when Napoleon invaded. She's also a notable composer, an anomaly for women at the time. Even though she's engaged to Antonio, the two have an understanding that it's more for their personal gain rather than out of love. Erzsebet's been a servant since they were children, and is now her lady's maid and lover (much to Gilbert's chagrin).

[driaswrld]

🪷 — A ROYAL AFFAIR . . . THE SCANDAL OF THE CHILDHOOD CONSORT

LADY DRIA WRITES . . . ˚ ༘ *

🪷 dearest gentle reader, what is a princess to do when she's caught between two dashing princes, both of which are her childhood friends? — one her betrothed and the other her past love... 4.7k words.

🪷 prince gojo x reader x prince geto jjk regency/royal au, use of regency era terminology, longing and more longing.

🪷 taglist : (lmk if you want to be added or removed!) @angelshimaa @yunymphs @todorokies @satocidal @maeby-cursed @rinniessance @cinnabooonn @shegetsburned @starry-grace2 @selfishdoll @shuuennovirche @wishmemel @riaki @yazzzmints @aphroditisxc @gojorbit @izakyun @satoruoo @irisxyphium @zwtari @/lollipop974 @r0ckst4rjk @softgirlgonehaywire @lilvampirina @brianmaysclog

CHAPTER ONE. . . ˚ ༘ *

L'INCOMPARABLE.

Talks of betrothal began in the last Spring of your youth.

Under the cherry blossom trees, you sit in silence, fuchsia petals decorating the length of your hair in messy scatters.

Satoru Gojo, crowned prince and heir to the Gojo throne, picks the fallen remnants of flowers from your hair one by one as the nobles watch on.

Whispers of ‘they would make such a beautiful match’ and ‘look how the Prince dotes on her’ echo in the brush of the gardens, women whispering among themselves and the men chortling between swings of their mallets — in a near deathly game of pall mall.

“Don’t hide from me,” Satoru dips his head, breath fanning the shell of your ear. If possible, the whispers intensify, cutting past your ears and you bite back a giggle, stifling down the thought that crosses your mind, attention whore.

“I’m not hiding, your highness.” You counter, shifting to the side, your smile hidden behind a porcelain teacup, swift sips of ginger warming your cheeks.

“It’s improper, you know.” The words linger in the air between soft wisps of wind, flurries of foreign fabrics and bright layers of skirts pass your vision — and yet, all is drowned out by him.

Your anointed Prince, the attention whore.

“Improper to gaze upon my companion?” Satoru scoffs, grinning wide, toothy, dimples.

Childhood found you both tethered like bee and nectar, always close, always coming back.

At first, it was through duty, sharp tongued ten year old Satoru Gojo, a prince born with a halo and the title of the realm’s strongest to his name, meeting you, the humble princess of the Western kingdom, born in valor and sprouted in pride, a warrior’s code.

It was a disastrous first few encounters—

(—but then he was your bestfriend, and you his. )

His dear mother, bless her soul, had taken the time out to host this marvelous garden party to welcome the newest maidens into their debuts – moreso, to marry Satoru off quicker than he could leave for another battle, chasing another war – and yet, he cared not to meet with any of the women or entertain them beyond an inch of his being.

Not around you, at least.

“You shouldn’t jest about these things—!” A snort leaves your mouth, and whereas the ever uppity ladies of the palace court gawk at you in utter disbelief and mild disgust, Satoru finds himself bellowing a boyish laugh.

That was the last time he’d laugh like that with you, before a warm spring of youth turned to a burning summer, hot with passion, scorched with lust.

THE SCANDAL OF THE CHILDHOOD CONSORT.

Dearest gentle reader,

As all royal scandals do,

It started with an invitation.

We cordially invite you to the Gojo palace grounds to celebrate the betrothal of our crowned prince Satoru Gojo and his bride to be [name] [name].

This author finds herself compelled and rather . . . intrigued.

What a match made in heaven! Our beloved Prince Satoru and his most dearest childhood friend!

Your fingers tremble at your sides, the aura that is the strongest permeates your very being. The soft hum of piano keys coupled with string and bow becomes near inaudible – the power Satoru Gojo has on you is like a moth to a flame, lamb to slaughter.

But I assure you,

When it comes to matters of the heart —

Carefully, your feet carry you across the crowded ballroom, mass of bodies parting the instant they catch a glimpse of your eyes – that desperation is familiar in young women like you – and they pity you.

You, who should be above them, who should be the next Queen, the current Princess consort to be.

And yet.

“I’ve told you endlessly, I will take no wife!” Satoru’s voice is a staccato, bouncing off the walls of the vacant corridor adjacent to the ballroom, echoing past your ears.

Dare I say, our beloved crowned Prince

Is not the strongest.

“Some nerve you have, boy.”

Satoru’s father, the King, is a stoic man.

You’ve come to know this well in your youth. He rules firm and his word remains law. By no means is he the strongest or possesses any more battle capacity than that of any other noble, but he remains a political stronghold.

And his grip over his family — his subjects, remains unwavering.

“I don’t care for your affairs or your crown,” Satoru’s gaze remains hard, even as he meets his father’s ire in tow, and in such a barely secluded place too. “Let one of your bastards have it, my place is on the battlefield doing what you are too cowardly to.”

Your mind runs rampant, palms pressed against the cold wall concealing your presence.

You wonder what Satoru might be thinking — if he’d be so foolish as to forsake his lineage and do away with his duty, if he’d give up simply because his fate was not his choice — he wouldn’t.

No, Satoru is good and kind, and he would see this kingdom to a new realm of peace just with his bare hands alone.

“And that is all? You wish to do away with it simply because it does not suit your childish desires? I have given you everything! And the one thing I ask of you—”

You still yourself at the near animalistic growl that leaves Satoru’s lips.

“She will never be Queen.”

It cuts through you like blades of grass, familiar, scratching at your skin softly, pinpricks of green drawing blood from your calves.

It reminds you of when you were younger, more naive and susceptible to the follies of men and matters of the heart.

“Who’ll marry you if you spend your days swinging a sword and broadening your shoulders?”

“Aren’t there girls your age you can follow around? I don’t care if you’re a princess, we’re not friends.”

“I don’t know why you’d believe he’d ever want to court you.”

Three months, thirteen days.

Your betrothal has long exceeded and broken the record of engagement wait time.

Most women would be married within the same month of betrothal, the longest and most respectable wait time being a month and a half, only due to cases of overdue dowry payments.

Three million dollars was your reverse dowry.

Paid directly from the royal treasury to your father, and four million dollars paid in return. That was how much yours and Satoru’s hands were worth to your families, a testament to the weight you’d both bear by wearing a crown.

Except, you hadn’t been crowned yet. Or married for that matter.

“—summer solstice hunt!” It’s Yuji who exclaims, voice filled with childlike wonder. Recently knighted by Satoru himself and a renowned protege of the Kingsguard, the boy is eager to please. “Who will you cast your bets on, your grace?”

The confines of Satoru’s private study function as a meeting room for idle chatting — he leaves the letters to his advisors when they are of little importance.

Or discards them entirely when he has company, like now.

You sink deeper into the cushioned seat, Satoru’s arm draped over the back of your chair. A tuft of snowy hair falls over his forehead and he breathes a chuckle, your weight curling in on itself with every rise and fall of his chest.

why don’t you want me why don’t you want me why don’t you want me why don't you want me

“It’s out of question to bet on one’s self, no?” Satoru chuckles and it earns a cackle from Yuji, who, despite himself, has already casted his own bet on his annointed Prince. “I wouldn’t want to make anyone’s head bigger than it ought to be.”

The summer and winter solstice brings with it two separate ceremonial festivals — the hunt being the most anticipated due to its cutthroat competition among nobles and peasants alike.

That, and the prize.

The winner of the hunt, the man or woman to capture the famed primordial stag — which is really a regular stag trained and bred to elude even the most skilled knights — would be rewarded a grand jewel from the Queen’s vault.

Gentle reader,

The famed jewel for the taking

This summer, is none other than—

“I’ve placed my bet on you,” you comment plainly with a shrug and Yuji beams.

It isn’t unlike you to root for one of Satoru’s proteges, the ones fairly skilled and new to knighthood – you’ve always found yourself cheering for the peonies in a garden full of roses — the underdogs full of potential . . .

Satoru glances over to you, and for a second you miss how his gaze lingers.

“You’re too kind, Princess…” Yuji sighs, near dreamily. “I will no doubt do well now that I have your favor on my side.”

( losing dogs, satoru wants to say. all you ever do is bet on losing dogs. )

“You have her bet, not her favor.” Satoru scoffs dramatically before you can even think to lend Yuji your well wishes. “It isn’t something given, it’s something won. And from a maiden, not a Princess consort.”

She’s spoken for, is all you hear though.

There’s an air of uncertainty that passes between you and Satoru that only thickens with your closeness.

A pale palm curls around the cross rail of the back of your chair and you lean into his touch subconsciously – it’s warm, secure – he’s saying, I have your favor, don’t I? Tell me I do.

—The champion’s jewel,

A wraith necklace fit for a Queen.

The L’Incomparable.

“Nevertheless, you have my good faith.” You interject, followed by a sharp inhale, and you stand abruptly from your seat. Satoru’s hand falls to his side. He knows what you're thinking.

Three months, thirteen days.

You’ve sat by and watched Satoru deny you marriage – his excuse, that he’s waiting for his coronation first – you’ve watched him continue to entertain the women around him like he’s done since he was merely a squire, plastering a smile on his face from this glass castle he calls home.

He’s close, but never too close. Stringing you on then letting you loose— it’s routine.

It’s eerily similar to your childhood.

“Yuji,” Satoru speaks, soft yet firm. The young boy is on his feet immediately and offers a swift bow to his majesty, handing his service in tow to the call. “Leave us.” Satoru commands, and just as swiftly as he came, Yuji is bowing to you and exiting through the study doors.

L���Incomparable.

The largest internally flawless diamond in the kingdom and the most expensive chain sitting in the Queen’s vault currently, worth eight billion dollars alone.

Allegedly, it was handcrafted as a gift from an ancient Gojo king to his mistress — whom he had knighted and sent off to fight in the war at her wishes once their affair had been brought to light and scrutinized.

A gift he only got to place on her corpse.

Even in death, he loved her. More than he loved his own wife and Queen.

And though many attempts had been made to destroy the necklace, it remains near indestructible.

“Something troubles you.” Satoru murmurs the moment the door clicks shut. His gaze remains strained forward on your form, from where you fiddle with the frayed hem of your gown, back turned to him.

“I simply think of the prospects of the hunt,” you retort. “There are many promising young competitors traveling to partake— I fear my Prince would simply be. . . thwarted, is all.”

L’Incomparable is not a jewel of love.

It's a sickening story of a woman who loved a man who could not love her back in the way she deserved.

A woman who took what she was given, secret meetings, hushed whispers and fleeting gazes.

And when he did, finally love her back wholly and ardently, unable to bury it behind a locked door in the dungeon he called a heart — she was already gone.

“You doubt me?” Satoru’s voice is closer now, and you wonder when he even stood up – if he'd been taking small steps toward you the entire time.

“No.” It leaves your mouth like a prayer, an oath, worship. Every ounce of confidence you have is in him. He has protected you, kept you, safeguarded your sanity and treated you with grace— “Never that.”

( —he is your friend. nothing more than that. )

He exhales, and you hear the faint sound of a swallow, the click of his tongue. Your ear feels hot with the proximity, yet, he inches closer still.

“Will you give this to me, then?” He whispers, faint, uncertain — almost desperate.

And you turn, faces inches apart, breath mingling. “What is it you wish of me, my Prince?” Your pupils dilate.

“Your Prince,” Satoru repeats, like it knocked the wind out of him. It's a common way to address the monarch, you’ve said it before as have others. “. . . asks for your favor in the upcoming hunt.”

He keeps his hands folded behind him, curled into fists and trembling. Your Prince. Yours. Yours.

He’s a gentleman. He was raised right.

This urge—

( you’re his friend. his advisor. his confidant. this is not what he wants. )

The urge to strip you down to nothing but your chemise, lay you on his desk and hike your legs over his hips, show you things you’ve only seen in dreams or read in books — like he’s done to so many women before — he promises himself he’s not a rake, he’s just a man, but when you look at him like that and say his title so softly—

( it will pass. )

“Then,” your breath slows as he steps forward, so easily leaving you pressed back against the hardwood desk, caged by him. “I will grant my Prince my favor.”

Satoru watches in earnest, places his hands on either side of you on the desk as you remove one of your gloves.

Pure white, pearl decor, lace trim.

He would've laughed if he wasn't so enthralled by such a simple thing. Satoru wants to pull the other glove off with his teeth.

“I’ll return it to you,” he says, a promise. He takes the glove as you hand it to him, leaning forward and chasing the remnants of your fingertips against his once you pull away. “When I win.”

( and maybe then, you’ll understand i am devoted to you, wholly and utterly, if only in these moments and never again. )

There's a knock at the door, brief and soft. A maid, come to drop off another stack of letters.

And just as quickly as Satoru had found himself against you, he’s across the room, opening the door.

As if you had never been there.

The only evidence that he had even touched you is the lace cupped in his palm, middle and index tracing over a minute pearl.

L’Incomparable is a jewel of longing.

Morrow brings with it the beginning of joyous festivities.

You woke to another trousseau. This time, from a distant cousin in the Easternmost kingdom.

Attached was a letter of the newest development in her love life – said development being a defected knight nonetheless.

It made you giggle.

The palace corridors are bustling with life.

Servants and attendants eager to welcome early visitors who have come for the summer solstice, robust back and forth on decorations and food and gossip and many a’ things outside the realm of possibility to be discussed in one sitting.

Your lady in waiting, Areta, whom you’ve known since your youth, creeps into your room with a grin as wide as a war banner – you immediately assume the worst, mischief is your pastime but you fear the poor girl takes ‘eavesdropping on court gossip’ to another level.

“My lady, you would not believe—” Areta huffs, journeying to sit with you on the balcony, wiping an imaginary bead of sweat from her brow. “The things I’ve heard today!”

“You hear things everyday, I fear.” You indulge her, as always. And she begins to talk your ear off, all in good faith of course.

Down below in the courtyard, is the sound of smacking wood and the occasional chorus of baritone conversation.

Satoru, who should be attending treaty meetings with his father, bides his time sparring on the cobblestone with the other men of the Kingsguard – the noise wakes you most mornings.

“—talking to Julietta, you know? The girl who attends to the countess? And she said—”

You hum along to Areta’s words, eyes peering over the edge of the balcony, gaze fixed on the crown Prince.

His snowy hair is damp with sweat, Victorian style dress shirt rolled up at the sleeves, every swing of his wooden sword causes a commotion — muscles in his back flexing under the sunlight, so easily seen beneath the thin white fabric.

“—that her lady told her that she heard from a cousin-in-law who works at the docks that—”

You wonder what expression Satoru has as he pummels through his underlings playfully, hardly sparring but more play fighting. You imagine he’s grinning wide, crystalline blue eyes shimmering with glee—

“—that Prince Geto is coming for the hunt!”

You choke. Audibly.

Areta is quick to shut her mouth and lend you a concerned gaze. “Princess, are you—”

“I’m alright.” You wave a hand, catching your breath. Prince Geto. If you think about it too hard, you fear your chest might burst open and spill out your insides.

Oh, fair reader, it seems

Our dear protagonist has come upon

A treasure trove of memories.

“You were, ehem, saying?” You twirl your index finger in the air as if to prompt a rewind. “About. . .”

Areta raises an eyebrow, but nods slowly. “About Julietta’s lady’s cousin-in-law?” The girl questions, dim.

“No!” You interject immediately, twirling your finger in the other direction. Fast forward. “The other thing— the thing you heard!”

“Oh, about Prince Geto!”

Dearest reader,

Suguru Geto enters.

A man of great mystique,

the northern Prince.

And striking opposite of

our beloved crowned Prince Satoru.

“Yes! About him—”

Suguru Geto.

In many ways you could say he was Satoru’s best friend, his greatest rival and worst enemy all at the same time.

Through solstice events, formal gatherings and other royal duties, the same way you met Satoru, you met Suguru through him.

“Well, Julietta’s lady’s cousin-in-law works at the docks,” Areta begins again, regrettably. “You know? The private harbor where all the spirit and wheat shipments come in, but that's besides the point—”

( suguru was your bestfriend too. in every way it counted. )

“Areta.” You coo, coaxing her to get back to the main point. Why was Suguru coming for the summer solstice hunt? After being away in the North for so long, why now?

The only correspondence you’d had with him was a few letters years ago. And then he stopped writing.

“So, Julietta’s lady’s cousin-in-law saw the Geto family's ship dock in the private harbor!” The girl exclaims hushedly and you hum to yourself, curious.

Rightfully, you’d hold a grudge about never hearing from Suguru.

But in this moment, you feel no resentment or hurt. Instead, excitement that you might see your old friend once more.

And maybe, you, Suguru and Satoru could spend the summer solstice together— just like old times.

( and that’d be enough to get rid of the heat in your chest when satoru gets too close to you. )

Faithful reader,

she could not have been

more wrong.

Four days remain until the summer solstice hunt.

Satoru is scarce around the palace in preparation for his coronation coming soon and treaty arrangements.

You, on the other hand, have exhausted all your hobbies, biding your idle time helping the other ladies at court pick their gowns for tomorrow's feast — the first of seven nightly ones during the solstice.

Another trousseau is delivered to your chambers when you wake.

This time, you’re taken aback.

Instead of an elaborate stack of gifts, a box of jewelry or even a scandalous collection of seductive corsets and nightgowns to remind you of your predicament—

There's a long wooden box, coupled with a sealed parcel.

Inside the box is a beautiful gown, deep burgundy and shapely. Fitted with a low bust cut and short sleeves. It's a mouth watering dress, one you would've bought yourself if you even knew it existed.

But you've never seen a dress designed like this before, down to the intricate details of the underskirts and the hemming.

It's almost intimate.

When you finally open the parcel, you expect a note, but there's none. Instead, inside is a pair of black silk gloves, so smooth it melts in your palms – your mind immediately goes to Satoru and the glove he still holds hostage for you.

You don't think twice before telling Areta that this is what you’ll be wearing to tomorrow’s feast.

( you ought to thank satoru for this gift by wearing it, no? )

˚ ༘ *

The lights in the dining hall are dimmed perfectly to match the moonlight.

When you slip in from the adjacent corridor, greeting visiting nobles and residents of the palace court alike, a sense of nausea floods the pit of your stomach – what will Satoru say when he sees you? Will he like how the dress looks – or rather how you look in it?

Wait, why do you even care?

You’ve never really cared for these things— it must be the tea you had earlier. You nearly feel faint.

Darling reader,

it was in fact,

not the tea.

Your thoughts don't get the chance to linger very long, as the soft hum of music slows to a halt, and everyone begins journeying to their assigned seats.

Naturally, you fiddle with your gloves, not wanting to sit down at the second table yet.

One, it would be very impudent of a lady of your caliber to be seated without a proper escort by a gentleman.

And two, even though you did decline the few men who asked to escort you, you can't help the anxiety that floods your veins when you begin to realize that so many people are sitting already and you're not!

Sure, you're a Princess, but can't a girl be a little shy?

( not that you were waiting for satoru or anything of course. )

Devoted reader,

our protagonist

is in denial.

“It pains me to see such a beautiful lady left unaccompanied.” A voice flits past your ears, so close you can taste it on your tongue — incense, sandalwood.

( oh god, no. )

Your body turns in an instant, almost too quick, and your underskirts almost trip you as the weight sends you wobbling forward.

“Easy—” Suguru Geto’s arm darts out to curl around your waist, steadying you.

“You're here—” “You’re still clumsy—”

The both of you lock eyes at your shared unison of speech, then chuckle to yourselves.

You let your eyes wander over his features, how much he's grown over these past years.

He’s still as ethereal as the royal painters would describe. Prince Geto, the joy to paint, once in an era type beauty, born to be depicted in art, they’d say.

You don't doubt that.

“You look well,” you say. Suguru glances down at you and shakes his head, as if that is too much of a compliment for him to take. “No, honestly— I don't tease, you look very. . . stately.”

“Are you trying to call me old in a polite way, my lady?” He feigns offense, tilting his head to the side a little. You cover your mouth to laugh.

You don't miss the way his eyes linger on your gloves.

( oh, the gloves ! )

“Your highness,” leaves your mouth in a whisper, half teasing, half regal, and you give a brief curtsy, which he counters with a swift bow. “Would you do me the pleasure?” You grin, extending your hand to him.

Suguru — never Prince Geto, not to you at least — had been your solace, your comfort and your refuge.

The greatest friend you could have asked for in your youth.

“The pleasure is all mine.” Suguru whispers, taking your hand in earnest, escorting you over to the table and pulling your chair out for you — settling himself in the seat across from you, on the other side of the table.

( what a coincidence. )

˚ ༘ *

Time passes in waves.

People are whispering, no doubt. As they always do about you. No matter how hushed, you always hear them.

‘Look at the poor Princess consort, sitting beside an empty chair.’

‘You’d think she’d refer to herself as Lady now instead of Consort—’

‘To think even a Princess is not immune from such things. . .’

‘These things happen when you're sold off to a future King.’

“Bitter.”

Your head snaps up at the sound, dessert fork halting mid stab into your slice of cake.

Suguru’s eyes meet yours, as if he’d been looking at you the entire time, like he reads your thoughts as his own.

The people sitting at the table alongside you both fix their attention on him, the whispers halting.

“The cake,” he leans back in his chair, shrugging strands of his hair out of his face, looking down the length of the table at the spectators, nonchalant. “It's terribly bitter.”

You think you’d open your mouth to scold him a little, to not joke about what people say, royals should never engage in such petty gossip – but instead, you smile in gratitude.

( bitter. everybody's so bitter in this place. )

“That's quite unfortunate.” A familiar voice rings out, your fork sliding out of your hand to rest on the edge of your plate. “I hoped it would be rather sweet tonight.”

When you look over your shoulder, Satoru is already at your side, bending a knee and outstretching an open palm to you. “My Princess.”

He looks. . . disheveled.

Not completely out of order, it's something so small — so minute that only those who know him well would be able to point it out. From the crease of his vest to the shaky rasp in his voice—

And the woman in your peripheral stumbling back into the dining hall from the garden entrance on shaky legs. . .

( so that's what he was doing. )

“Your grace,” leaves your lips in a whisper and he kisses the back of your palm before sinking into his seat.

The way he presses his middle finger against his bottom lip like he’d been burned by the silk makes you raise an eyebrow. Does he not even have the common courtesy of pretending to like the gloves he gifted?

“I’m pleased you took time out of your busy schedule for us regular people.” Suguru chuckles, and Satoru’s mother, sitting near you all at the head table seems far from pleased.

“Well, a small act of kindness goes a long way.” Satoru parries and you force a smile, stabbing your dessert once more. “Especially for someone as regular as you, Prince Suguru.”

If you had initially thought this would be a quaint rekindling of an old childhood friendship, you never felt more wrong than in this moment — the air settles thick between you three.

“Isn't the future King Gojo just so kind?” Suguru addresses you, and you swallow, stifling your laugh.

“I pray for your marriage. . .” One of the Dukes seated at the table jests, to which you fiddle with the hem of your dress, the burgundy falling over your palms as a chorus of laughter ensues.

Marriage.

Suguru notices your gaze on him – or rather far away – and he smiles to snap you out of it. “Lady name?”

Just then Satoru’s hand reaches for yours under the table, halting your fiddling with the fabric, his grip steady and soft.

“Princess Consort.” Satoru interjects with a flat lipped smile, which could be perceived as kind, but to Suguru. . . “She changed titles.”

When was the last time someone called you by your name and not Princess consort? Always that. Not even Princess name.

“Pardon me,” you mumble beneath your breath, your grip on your dress going slack. You shrug your hand free from Satoru’s grip, abandoning your seat in an instant.

Satoru rises from his chair only four seconds afterward.

“Name—” he calls to you, following you out of the dining hall and down a vacant corridor.

Your footsteps evade him as he chases after you wide steps.

But he stops dead in his tracks when he hears you slam the door to an empty side room shut.

My dearest reader,

brace yourself for the

next publication.

Your kind author

bids you farewell.

[monster-disaster]

Request: Chimera inspired monster

Not necessarily a traditional chimera, just a monster that you mish mash together yourself since you’re the author! I wanna make sure you have a lot of creative reign to design the creature how you want to!

Scenario/Plot: A retelling/inspired story of Beauty and the Beast, but female reader agrees to be his bride from the very start. She has abandonment issues and just yearns to be loved by anyone who’ll take her. And reader found her monster groom to be very attractive from the beginning. She’s just enjoying her life living in opulence with a man that’s fully devoted to her. *Cute shenanigans ensue between the couple, that ends in a Gomez and Morticia Adams romance*

Not sure if this’d be good for NSFW, or just a super fluffy romance would be better!

It's spring, and I'm in my historically inaccurate Regency Era. I hope you will enjoy it!

chimera!Lord Elohim x human!Reader Good to know: no warnings, and I can't promise anything, but there is a chance that we will meet Lord Elohim again because I have more ideas for their pair

A soft 'thank you' slips past your lips as the carriage door opens, and a hand reaches out towards you, offering help. Your fingers find a firm grip as you step out onto the gravel path, gathering the soft fabric of your dress to pull it out of your way. The pebbles creak under your shoes, mixing with the bustling noises of the others around you. Your gaze scans your surroundings, finding a few familiar faces among the guests. The ladies are adorned in their latest gowns, following the fashion and expectations of their titles. Their necklaces and earrings glint and shine under the warm light of the lampions and candles like the stars in the dark sky above you. In contrast, the men appear dull in their dark coats and trousers.

"Y/N?"

Your attention shifts from the guests to the mansion before you. Your gaze sweeps over the sturdy walls and delicate carvings and details. Candles glow in every window, dancing and pulsing among the lush vines that climb the grandiose building.

"Y/N?"

A slight frown pulls on your brows as your attention pauses at the wide window above the entrance door. A tall shadow stands firm and straight. The lights streaming out from the house make it impossible to see clearly.

"Y/N!" Your gaze tears away from the sight as an arm curls around yours, pulling you away from the next carriage in the long row of arriving guests. You need a moment to drag your focus away from the window. The back of your mind still lingers on the dark figure, though. "Mother?" "What are you doing?" She asks. Your frown again with confusion this time. "What do you mean?" "Come." Despite her small, delicate form, your mother has every power in her body to drag you into the house after showing the man standing at the door your invitation. "Wow!" Your amazement escapes your lips before you can stop it. Your eyes are on the chandelier hanging from the painted ceiling. "Don't be so crude!" "I'm not!" You reply, looking at the older woman with an amused smile. It's so easy to rile her up. "Come on! Don't tell me you are not surprised." She looks around more discreetly than you. Her attention lingers on the wallpapers with golden details, lush plants, and framed paintings. "I mean…" You can't help but laugh. "See?" "Well, the King was generous," she hums quietly, making sure you are the only one who can hear her while the others come and go around you two. "He saved his nephew," you reason. "He almost died."

The ballroom is already buzzing with life as you and your mother continue further into the mansion, her arm still linked with yours. "Wow!" "Y/N!" You don't even bother with a reaction. You're too busy taking in the green walls with their glinting decor, the flickering candles, and the sturdy wooden furniture. The windows, wide and tall, are framed with dark curtains, offering glimpses of the garden behind the mansion filled with lush greens and flowerbeds. From what you can see, the whole house is elegant and stylish, with the obvious preferences of its male owner.

"I will bring us something to drink," you tell your mother when you see the familiar form of your neighbor coming your way. The woman's face is red with excitement, and her eyes shine with news and the latest topics to gossip about. You already know most of them anyway. "Thank you, dear," your mother replies, letting go of your arm to face the other woman.

The excited voice of your neighbor soon disappears in the cacophony of the soft music that is quiet enough to give space for the chatter in the room. Young couples dance in the middle in each other's arms, whispering and swirling at the melody while the others stand around with drinks. Their voices mingle together to the point you can't understand them.

Maybe it's for the better.

After the King bestowed a title, fortune, and lands upon a monster who saved his nephew from certain death on the battlefield, it became impossible to avoid the whispers circulating through the streets and social gatherings. Allowing monsters to earn wealth and find a way to integrate into human society, primarily through the military, was one thing; however, granting them titles and authority was an entirely different affair. The Ton found themselves uncertain of how to react without angering the King.

They don't dare to express their opinions to the monarch; they are not dense, after all. Yet, they can't readily accept the monster into their social circles, either.

Then, a week ago, everyone received an invitation from Lord Elohim, putting many between a rock and a hard place to your utmost amusement.

As you survey the room full of people of the society close to the King, you notice that their curiosity outweighs their resentment. For tonight, at least. The lack of your surprise is understandable; you are sure this party will provide rich fodder for gossip for weeks, if not months. You glance back at your mother and her friend, already chatting in hushed whispers. Yes, you think, it's already started. It started even before the night began.

The table is pushed next to the wall between two windows. Your eyes scan the various drinks, cakes, and fruits, all fresh and ripe. You're about to reach for two cups when your attention shifts to an archway nearby. Through it, you glimpse a narrow corridor and another open door with a tall bookshelf. Your hand hesitates in mid-air, halfway to the drinks.

You shouldn't.

Your gaze sweeps over the guests, observing everyone having a great time. People continue to dance under the watchful eyes of the wallflowers and eager mothers, while the men chat in small groups.

Your mother would kill you.

As you stand still, unnoticed by the others, you find yourself repeatedly turning your attention back to the door outside.

It would be really rude of you.

You take a few tentative steps away from the table, still focusing on the people around you. A few of them smile when your eyes meet, but nobody stops to start a conversation with you.

Just a quick glance, you tell yourself as you slowly back out of the ballroom. Nobody will know.

The corridor appears much darker in contrast to the ballroom, and when you step into the other room, you have to light a candle you find on the small table next to the door.

The small library is much simpler than the other rooms of the house you've had the chance to see. The walls are hidden by bookshelves, with two sofas and a small coffee table in the middle. From there, you have a full view of another part of the garden spreading out behind the mansion.

You move quietly and slowly with the small, burning candle in your hand. The floor creaks under your steps. The dancing flame warms your face as you lean closer to read the spines of the books. The soft glow illuminates the line of your eyes and the slope of your nose. Most of the books are worn and faded.

You glance at the entrance every now and then, making sure nobody has noticed your absence yet. The noises of the music and the guests seem far away through the half-closed door.

You should go, though.

You nibble on your lower lip until it's red and slightly swollen as you reach up to the shelf. The book you grasp is dark red with a golden title. You can see that it has been regularly read.

Just a peek, you try to convince yourself, and you'll be ready to go.

Before you know it, you're sitting on one of the sofas with the candle on the table and the book on your lap.

Your mother will definitely kill you.

"It's from a friend." The deep voice coming from the door almost makes you jump out of your skin. You grab the books at the last moment before they slip from your lap to the ground. "Oh!" Your heart throbs in your throat as you gasp for air. "He wrote it," he continues, stepping closer. His hands are behind his back. The dark blue coat stretches on his broad shoulders. "While he was traveling."

You have seen monsters before. Even though humans are not particularly fond of them, they are not banned from cities and towns. At least, not anymore.

But you have never seen anything like him before.

Your eyes rake over his tall, sturdy form. At first, you think he is a rakshasa, with a thick yet lean body and a dark mane around his head, but there are goat horns peeking out of the thick fur. And instead of the delicate lion tail, a crocodile one swings behind him, dark green and covered in scales.

"Lord…" You gasp again, standing up from your seat. You can't hide the surprise in your voice or wipe it away from your face. Your fingers are tight on the book, still open. "Lord Elohim," he says with a slight bow. "And you are…" "Lady Y/L/N," you tell him. You are still so overwhelmed by him that you forget your manners entirely. You stare at him openly without shame. He is barefoot. The white shirt he wears is a bit bigger than him, showing off a bit of his chest, and tucked into the creamy-colored trousers that hug his lean waist perfectly. A slight grimace pulls on his face, letting you see his sharp canines. "I'm not doing it right, am I?" He seems easy and amused. Even a bit awkward. Your tense posture relaxes a bit. Your shoulders fall. "I mean," you dare to tease him with a small smile. "You should be outside, socializing, but I shouldn't be here either. And for that, I'm sorry." "Don't be," he says, stepping even closer. Your breath hitches. "I love being here too, so I understand." His gaze runs over the shelves full of books before his attention falls on you again. "How do you like it?" He nods to the book still in your hand. "It's interesting," you tell him. "I didn't know orcs have such a rich culture." There is a glint of amusement in his eyes. "How many orcs do you know?" Heat creeps up on your cheeks. "None." "You can take it with you," he says, motioning to the book again. "It's really good." "Oh, I can't…" "You can," he says immediately. "I'm offering." He is so close that you have to crane your neck to see his face. The male is handsome, with his almost black snout and golden eyes. The realization shocks you. You didn't think monsters could be so attractive. "Well," you clear your throat. Your nose is full of his scent. Warmth and nature. "Thank you." You put it down on the table next to you, though. Maybe you can sneak in before you have to leave and take it home without your mother noticing. She wouldn't be happy with you leaving the ballroom and being alone with a man, monster or not. "You are here with…" "My mother," you tell him. "She is outside… where I should be." He grins. "Me too." None of you move. "Do you want me to introduce you?" You ask him. You can't just leave him here. Not after he offered you his book and was so kind to you. "It can be scary around the ton for the first time." There is something wolfish in his smirk that makes your insides tremble with excitement. You understand, though. You don't think there are a lot of things that can scare him. "Thank you," Lord Elohim says in the end, holding up his arm for you to take. He is warm under your touch as you accept his offer.

Your heart flutters at his closeness.

Eyes fall on you the moment you step into the ballroom on Lord Elohim's side. Your fingers tighten on the curve of his elbows, and he squeezes your hand softly as a reassurance. The room gets quiet as you make your way to your mother through the crowd. Her eyes are wide with shock as you approach her. "Mother," you smile at her, not caring about the heavy gazes on you and the monster. "Let me introduce Lord Elohim." Your mother curtsies, taking back the control over her face. A soft smile appears on her lips, and she looks up at the tall male. "My Lord." "Lady Y/L/N," he bows, still holding onto you on his arm. His paw-like hand is warm on your glove-covered skin. "Please," he straightens, looking around the room. "Continue. Enjoy the night."

His words are followed by silence, and everyone needs a few seconds to regain their composure and focus on their business. Quiet murmurs ripple through the guests, the music starts again, and the weight of the others' attention lifts off your shoulders a bit. Not entirely, though.

"Thank you for the invitation, my Lord," your mother says. You know she feels awkward even though she is really great at hiding it. "I hope everything is for your liking." "Of course," the older woman nods. Before another tense silence could fall on your small company, you turn to the male. He is already watching you, and you can see your mother's eyes widening with fear about what you plan to say. You understand her. "It would be really gentlemanly of you to ask me to dance." You hear your mother gasping, but your focus is on Lord Elohim and his sharp canines as he smiles at you. There is something satisfied and cheeky in the curve.

His golden eyes bore into yours as he gently tugs on your hand, leading you to the couples dancing in the heart of the ballroom. You're aware of the gazes fixed upon you, analyzing your every move, yet you couldn't care less. Your attention is consumed by the chimera before you. His paw-like hand trails from yours, grazing over your arm until it settles on the small of your back, drawing you closer until you're enveloped by his embrace. A tingling sensation courses through your entire being. A sigh escapes your lips before you can stop it. "Are you alright, my lady?" The rumble of his chest echoes within yours.

Are you okay? You're uncertain. Unable to tear your gaze away from his, you feel like a raw nerve, sensitive and on the verge of bursting as he encloses you against himself. The air around you grows hot and heavy, causing your chest to ache and throb.

A smirk plays on his lips. "Are you thinking of running?" Lord Elohim teases, regarding you like a deer he often spots in his garden at dawn. With wide eyes and slightly parted lips, you gaze up at him. He's certain the soft skin of your cheeks would be warm under his touch if he dared to act as he desires despite the attention of his guests. Oh, how he longs to send them all home and keep only you for himself. The pretty little lady with the tendency to sneak around.

"No," you breathe out, fighting for air when you find your voice, holding onto his shoulder more firmly as if he is the only one who keeps you on your feet. You can feel the softness of his mane on your fingertips. Your other hand is in the air in his grasp.

It takes a moment for you to register the orchestra and your body's response to the gentle melody. You move mindlessly under Lord Elohim's guide. Swaying back and forth, you follow the male's lead on the dance floor. His embrace envelops you in warmth, leaving you feeling giddy and breathless as he twirls you, pulling you back to him moments later. You smile up at him, on the verge of laughter.

"You're quite the dancer," you compliment him. "Well, thank you," he hums, his gaze still firmly fixed on yours. "In that case, I hope you won't mind if I ask you to dance with me again." And a few more times.

You don't answer immediately. A sense of certainty washes over you, Lord Elohim will be your lifelong dance partner. The thought fills you with excitement for your future as you stare up at him. It seems like the gold of his eyes swirls under the lights that dance in sync with you.

"I'd love to dance with you some more, my Lord."

For an eternity, if it's possible.

[dreamwritesimagines]

Garden of Secrets [24] - Geraniums

A.N: Thank you so much for your wonderful feedback and support my loves, it made my whole week, you’re amazing!❤ I hope you’ll like this chapter as well, and please don’t forget to tell me what you think, thank you! ❤

Thanks so much to @theskytraveler​ for helping me with the chapter!

Summary: Inspiration can strike at midnight.

Warnings: Regency era society and social rules, some gender specific language and terms, mentions and descriptions of domestic violence, injuries and trauma. 

Word Count: 3400

Series Masterlist

Playing the madly in love couple in public had never been challenging so far, so it was quite surprising that the mask was slipping.

You had a feeling that it was mostly because of you though.

For the past week, you had managed to keep your interaction with Benedict to a minimum even though it felt incredibly hard. Whenever you saw him in the hallway or you two went to your separate rooms, you were filled with this powerful urge to talk to him, but after that duel you weren’t so sure you could.

Though, there was no denying it. You missed him terribly.

Benedict on the other hand was respecting your wishes and giving you the space you wanted. Though you two pretended as if nothing was wrong in public, the usual displays of affection were not there, no doubt because he didn’t want to cross the line you drew between you two.

“Are you sure everything is alright?” Felix asked you while he sketched beside you under the tree you were leaning your back against. Charlotte had asked both you and Benedict to join her on a picnic but Anthony had spent no time to whisk her away, and Benedict was busy talking with his artist friends so you had excused yourself to read a book in the shadow of a tree, Felix soon joining you to sketch the view in a peaceful corner.

“Absolutely,” you said. “Why do you ask?”

Felix shrugged before tilting his head. “Is that your brother-in-law?”

You turned your head, then raised a hand in the air so that Andrew could see you, a smile lighting up his face immediately.

“This is a lovely surprise,” he said as he threw himself next to you. “Clover. Felix.”

“Andrew,” Felix said with a smile and you held back a grin upon hearing the first name basis.

“What are you doing here?” you asked and he motioned at the entrance of the park.

“Oh I had this business with an incredibly boring lord about—it doesn’t matter,” he said. “How about you? Is Jo around as well?”

“Mm hm, she and Bess decided to take a walk around the park,” you said and he grinned.

“They do love their walks.”

You shot him a mischievous glance and he looked inside the picnic basket.

“No cookies this time?”

“My reaction exactly,” Felix said and Andrew tut-tutted.

“You play with our feelings, Y/N.”

“I’m just sitting here doing nothing,” you deadpanned, turning your gaze to Benedict at the moment he stole a glance at you, and you both looked elsewhere at the same time. Felix raised his brows and Andrew looked between you.

“Oh something happened.”

“That’s what I said!”

“Nothing happened, you both are being nonsense—” you started but got distracted the moment your looked at Benedict again who was just approached by Lady Margery. That bitter taste climbed up your throat as you gritted your teeth, but then forced yourself to turn back to your book.

“Oh it’s a jealousy issue,” Andrew pointed out and turned to Felix while your eyes widened. “That settles it.”

“It’s not a jealousy issue!”

“Of Lady Margery?” Felix asked Andrew who nodded solemnly.

“Seems like it, is that her name?”

“I’m sitting right here,” you grumbled, turning to glare at Andrew who rolled his eyes at you.

“You were a scrawny little thing when I first met you, that glare doesn’t work on me.”

“You might be the only person in the ton who doesn’t get intimidated by her.” Felix pointed out and Andrew chuckled.

“I built up an immunity.”

“Great, I’m still waiting for that day.”

“Oh you need to put in years before that happens.”

You shook your head slightly and kept your gaze on the book.

“Who is Lady Margery?” Andrew asked Felix who took a deep breath.

“She’s a very wealthy widow,” he said. “A lover of arts and the last I heard, she likes Benedict’s works.”

“Where did she see his works?” You couldn’t help but ask and Felix shrugged.

“At a party, I’m told,” he said. “Either that or Henry showed her.”

“Benedict is in love with you though, don’t feel threatened.”

“I do not feel threatened by her,” you deadpanned, still trying to ignore that burning in your throat. “A lot of people admire Benedict’s works.”

“Not all of them look like that though,” Andrew mused and you narrowed your eyes at him. “Not as pretty as you, obviously!”

You huffed out and closed your book as soon as you caught the sight of Josie and Bess. “I’ll get some fresh air.”

“We’re sitting outside, Y/N.”

“Fine, then I’ll go and join Bess and Josie,” you said. “They’re over there.”

“Clover—”

“I’m fine,” you said as you stood up, painfully aware of Benedict’s gaze immediately turning to you. “Really. I just need to stretch my legs, I’ve been sitting here for way too long.”

You walked away from them, ignoring the way Benedict’s eyes were following you as you passed through the garden to make your way to Bess and Josie.

                                                   *

The dinner was quiet at first and you weren’t particularly hungry, so you kept playing with the food on your plate, pushing at it with your fork, trying your hardest not to look at Benedict even if you could feel him stealing looks at you.

He took a deep breath when you pushed at your plate, ready to retrieve to your bedroom but before you could stand up, he cleared his throat.

“Y/N?”

You looked up at him. “Hm?”

“I was going to tell you,” he said. “My mother invited us for dinner this weekend.”

“Oh?” you said. “Sure. What brought that on?”

He grimaced, making you bite back a smile.

“She wants the family to have dinner with Charlie’s family,” he muttered. “Which would have been fine if it were for any reason other than…you know.”

“Lottie and Anthony courting?”

He let out a noise of discontent and nodded his head. “That.”

“Will you be alright?” you asked. “During that dinner?”

He thought for a moment.

“…Uh huh.”

You raised your brows. “Very convincing.”

“It’s just—” he motioned with his hand. “Charlie and him?”

“It’s been almost a week since they started courting each other, how are you still so shocked about this?”

“Neither of them told me.”

“I wonder how that feels,” you pointed out and he scrunched up his nose, making you bite down on your lip.

“Walked right into that one.”

“Kind of like walking into a duel,” you mused and he nodded.

“Mm hm, kind of like that,” he said and his head shot up. “Which reminds me, I have something for you.”

You pulled your brows together in confusion.

“What?” you asked as he got up from his chair to come closer to you, then pulled the chair near you to sit down. He reached into the inner pocket of his waistcoat, then pulled out a tiny bag to put it on the table, making your frown deeper.  

“What is this?”

“It’s a gift,” he said, crossing his arms over the table so that you would see he wouldn’t pull the gift out of your reach. “Along with my heartfelt apologies and promise to not keep things from you.”

You stole a look at him, then slowly reached out to take the small bag. You untied it and turned it over, then blinked a couple of times when you saw the tiny seeds falling into your palm.

“Benedict—?”

“Geranium seeds,” Benedict said. “I figured maybe you’d want to plant them.”

Your eyes found his, your heart skipping a beat.

“And I’ve been told geraniums represent foolishness,” he added with a small grin. “Considering my actions of late…”

A small giggle escaped from your lips and you ran your fingertip over the seeds.

“But I haven’t been gardening lately.”

“I know,” he said. “They can grow in a vase as well, did you know that?”

Your jaw dropped, a laughter climbing up your throat.

“Wow, really?”

“Mm hm,” he said, that proud smile playing on his lips before his gaze turned soft. “So until you want to put it in the garden, it can be in your room in a vase. If that’ll be more comfortable for you.”

He was giving you a way to garden and making sure you knew he couldn’t take it from you.

That familiar warmth spread through your chest as you put the seeds back into the small bag, and carefully tied it up before turning to look at him.

“Thank you,” you managed to say, “Really, Benedict. It means a lot.”

He shot you that lopsided grin and you held up your pinky.

“Truce?”

He raised his brows, then hooked his pinky with yours.

“Truce,” he said, tugging at your finger with his before pulling his hand back. You narrowed your eyes at him.

“Who told you where to get geranium seeds?”

“Lady Margery,” he said, making you raise your brows but he looked nearly oblivious to your reaction. “You two have a lot in common, she likes flowers as well. She was telling me about it today—she also has a garden, apparently. Invited us for dinner whenever we’re available.”

“Did she now?” you asked, trying to ignore that bitterness in your throat. “Interesting.”

“You would get along well with her I think.”

“I doubt that,” you murmured and he tilted his head.

“Why?”

“Just a feeling,” you said with a shrug of your shoulders, and cleared your throat. “Speaking of gardens, I think I want to take a walk in ours and get some fresh air before bed.”

“Oh,” he said. “Alright. Do you—?”

You shook your head and pushed your chair back to stand up. “No worries. I’ll just walk around, that’s all. It’ll help me sleep better.”

“Alright,” he said. “I’ll see you later then?”

“Mm hm, enjoy your meal!” you said and walked out of the dining room, still holding the small bag tight in your hand, a smile curling your lips once again.

                                              *

The interesting thing about your nightmares was that they had changed quite a bit after you had found out that Benedict had gone on a duel. Contrary to before, now your night terrors were about his death, getting shot in the duel, bleeding out in that field—

A gasp got caught in your throat as your eyes snapped open into the dark room, and you blinked a couple of times before wiping up the cold sweat off your forehead, realizing just how freezing the room was. Contrary to the pleasant weather from earlier, the warmth was replaced by the cold as soon as the night fell, and not only you had told the maids they didn’t have to start a fire in the fireplace, you had also left the window open as you went to bed.

You pushed the covers off of you and got up from the bed, now realizing you had no idea where the matches were because you hadn’t had to do anything related to fireplace ever since you had moved into this house. The familiar ache in your wrist that came back whenever it was cold made you grimace and you closed the window, rubbing at your arms. You thought for a moment, then walked to the door to peek your head out, the faint light at the end of the hallway catching your attention immediately.

Benedict’s studio.

Well, that room had to be warm.

You lingered at your doorstep only for a moment before you left your room, then made your way down the hallway to reach the studio to find Benedict sketching by the fireplace. Your heart skipped a beat at how effortlessly handsome he looked, and you knocked on the doorframe, making his head shoot up.

“Y/N?”

“Mind if I join you?”

“Not at all, come in,” he said, motioning at the other armchair across from the fireplace and you smiled at him, then sat down on the armchair.

“Nightmares again?”

You stole a look at him, then shrugged your shoulders.

“Just cold,” you said, holding out your wrist so that you could feel the warmth of the flames in the fireplace just so that the throbbing would ease a little. Benedict’s gaze fell on you as you turned your wrist, clenching and unclenching your hands. “What are you drawing?”

“Hm? Oh—” Benedict snapped out of his thoughts and looked down at the sketchbook before looking up at you. “Just some practice, that’s all.”

“Can I see it?”

He thought for a moment, then made a face. “You don’t want to.”

��Why not?”

“Because it’s you.”

You raised your brows, your stomach doing a happy flip.

“The sketch?”

He nodded his head and you arched a brow.

“I don’t want to see it or you don’t want me to want to see it?” you asked and he shrugged his shoulders.

“I’m not sure it’s good.”

“Can I be the judge of that?”

“Will you spare my feelings?”

“Absolutely, because I walk around sparing people’s feelings,” you retorted, holding out your hand. “Come on.”

He heaved a sigh, then handed you the sketchbook, making you giggle before you turned your gaze to the page.

Oh.

The sketch was so beautiful that for a moment you couldn’t help but stare at it, your mouth slightly open. It was a sketch of you from today, when you were sitting under the tree with a book in your lap, surrounded by beautiful flowers-

When you thought he was busy with Lady Margery.

Benedict’s voice pulled you out of your daze; “It’s that terrible huh?”

You looked up at him in disbelief, then shook your head.

“I was thinking the opposite actually,” you managed to say, turning your glances to the page again. “It’s just…”

“Tell me,” he said when you fell quiet and you licked your lips, then shook your head again.

“You drew me prettier than I actually am,” you mumbled, still admiring the sketch in front of you but you saw him tilt his head out of the corner of your eye.

“What?”

You shot him a small smile, then handed him the sketchbook back.

“It’s beautiful,” you said. “Too beautiful.”

Benedict let out a small chuckle, his gaze soft on you.

“Nothing I draw or paint comes close to how beautiful you are, you do realize that?” he asked, a fire spreading on your face. “That’s why I keep thinking it’s not good enough. It’s nowhere near a reflection, merely a shadow.”

It felt as if your heart was trying to escape from your ribcage with how fast it was beating and you felt a smile warm your face, then shot him a look.

“Well then I’m afraid I have no criticism for you,” you said, making him clutch at his chest.

“Oh no.”

“Mm hm,” you said. “Just what every artist hates. No criticism, only admiration.”

“You have no idea,” he played along and you giggled, holding your wrist closer to the fireplace again to feel the warmth on your skin, even in your bones. He watched you in silence for a couple of seconds, then took a deep breath.

“Does it hurt?”

“Not normally but cold makes it ache,” you said. “It should go away soon.”

“How did you break it?”

Your stomach did a painful flip and you bit inside your cheek, pursing your lips.

“That’s not important information,” you said, your voice completely flat and he paused for a moment, then nodded.

“Still don’t trust me huh?” he said with a small smile as you pulled your gaze off the fire to steal a look at him.

“Benedict—”

“It’s alright,” he said. “You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to.”

A silence fell upon you both and you could feel the nervousness filling your system, but you managed to ignore it as you cleared your throat.

“It wasn’t…” you trailed off. “Peaceful. Back home, before my uncle took me in.”

He pulled his brows together in confusion as if he couldn’t understand how it was relevant and you turned your wrist again, still holding it to the fireplace.

“My parents were very different than yours, or my uncle and aunt,” the words left your lips very easily. “We could never tell when it was going to get bad because most of the time there wasn’t even an actual reason behind it, my father was always angry and my mother wasn’t any better than him, they just had different ways of discipline and punishment.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see him pulling back but you didn’t turn to look at him, keeping your eyes on the fireplace.

“Josie got the worst of it, mostly,” you muttered. “She always got in the way to protect me no matter what and like I said, they had different ways, my mother would mostly just slap us or push us around, but my father…” You let out a bitter laugh. “My father was the type of person who would only stop beating the hell out of you when he decided it was enough, regardless of how much you cried—not that Josie ever really cried. I used to, but I learned to stop myself after a while.”

The memory hit you and you shook your head slightly, trying to focus.

“Anyway, there was this one time he got really mad at Josie and he was drunk, and in all that pushing and pulling this bottle got broken, and he had this…this idea to cut her hand with it so that she would ‘learn some respect’,” you quoted him, the words giving you goosebumps even now. “But my mother stopped him, saying it would ruin Josie’s chances to get married if he left any actual scars that her potential suitors could see, making her—what was the term?” you asked more to yourself and scoffed. “Damaged goods, she said.”

Benedict could only stare at you in silence.

“I was very young when it happened, so in my mind I figured that if I had an actual scar, then no one would want to marry me and no one could put me through what my father put my mother through,” you said. “But the problem was that I didn’t have any, so that night after everyone went to bed, I went to the kitchen to give myself one.”

The crackles of the wood in the fireplace echoed through the room, making you heave a sigh.

“I couldn’t really do it though, because it hurt way worse than I thought it would,” you added. “I stopped before I could push the knife deeper or drag it down, but my mother walked in the kitchen and saw me doing that.”

You could feel the tears burning your eyes and you blinked a couple of times to push them back.

“I begged her not to tell my father but of course she did, and father was absolutely furious,” you said. “He yelled at me, then shoved me headfirst into the wall and I hit my head very hard. And the thing about hitting your head is that you can’t really find your balance when it happens, so I tripped backwards and fell right on my wrist.”

For a second, the only thing you could hear was the burning wood and you shrugged your shoulders, then retrieved your hand and turned to look at him.

“That’s how I broke it.”

He looked nearly frozen, staring at you in complete silence as he blinked a couple of times like he was trying to wrap his mind around what you had told him. He gritted his teeth, that fire coming to life in his eyes and he opened his mouth but you stopped him before he could say anything.

“Don’t say you’re sorry,” you said, shaking your head. “I don’t need anyone to do that, I hate that nonsense. I’m fine, that’s not why I…”

You trailed off for a moment before you took a deep breath, your eyes locking in his.

“I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t trust you Ben,” you rasped out, then offered him a small smile and got up from the chair. “That’s the moral of this story.”

“Y/N—”

“Good luck with your sketches,” you said, nodding at the notebook in his lap. “Being immortalized sounds rather lovely now to think of it. Keep drawing me prettier than I am, will you?”

With that, you walked out of the room, your heart still beating in your ears. 

Chapter 25

[lunarheslwt]

Hi! Welcome to fic recs....of fics I've read over the past couple months ! I had started out doing these monthly but then life happened and I didn't read tons so basically here's everything I've read and loved over like 6-8 months? wanted to put them together for the last 28th appreciation of the year, so here they are! Click on the links for full tags and summaries. If you read any of these make sure to show the authors some love by leaving kudos and comments!

⚡️Outside in the summertime by @dreamersdivin-headfirst

(2.2k | E | pwp)

Louis’ eyebrows shoot up in recognition, his lips curling into a smug smile. He brings his hand up to his mouth, taking a long drag, cheeks hollowing. His eyes never leave Harry as he blows out the smoke, the joint almost burnt out. Louis says nothing as he takes a last hit, holding the smoke in his mouth as he taps the end of the joint on the ashtray beside him. He beckons Harry closer with his hand, and Harry goes.

Thoughts: one word - beard burn. Why aren't you reading already?

⚡️Five zero five by @nooradeservedbetter

(2.5k | E | choking kink)

“So,” says Harry, and his fingers trail on Louis’ jaw, over his exposed neck. “I heard your cover tonight. Arctic Monkeys, really nice.” His fingers linger on Louis’ neck, stroke the Adam’s apple. (Or, they told us all they have a choking kink.)

Thoughts: stupidly hot, Louis is singing about being choked so really why wouldn't you read this

⚡️Like a fire burning in your veins by @nooradeservedbetter

(2.8k | E | pain play pwp)

But first kinks are never forgotten, so to speak, and Harry can’t help but go back to them, alone and with Louis, over and over again. Can’t help but ask for bruises and pinches and slaps, can’t help but get on his knees in a bathroom stall, mouth full of dick while Louis bites on his fingers to avoid screaming. (Or, the one with the pain.)

Thoughts: it's Harry and pain kink and hot smut and great look into his internal mindset literally what more do you want

⚡️Take the moment and taste it by @hellolovers13

(6.4k | E | meet cute and smut)

“You made him a bracelet?”

“Yeah. It’s a whole thing, people make these friendship bracelets and trade them at the shows. I got a bunch from fans while I was there, but I wanted to give Harry one, with my number on it.”

“Your number as in 28, your squad number, or your phone number?”

Louis smirked. “You know which one.”

or, Louis didn't get the chance to give Harry his bracelet in person, but Harry isn't one to leave fate alone.”

Thoughts: obsessed, cheeky Harry is such a delight, some of my fav characters I've ever read and fav smut I've ever read

⚡️True blue by maroonmoonlouis

(23k l E l established relationship)

Louis and Harry are the most codependent couple. Harry's life purpose is to take care of his omega & Louis' is to be doted on. After a few too many jabs from their friends and coworkers, Louis is determined to show Harry that he's capable of surviving on his own while Harry is certain that Louis is going to break up with him at any moment.

Thoughts: perfect, they are sickening and you'll love it, couldn't get enough of it

⚡️Let your damage, damage me by @outropeace

(57k / E / regency arranged marriage au)

A low and dangerous growl was ripped from the future King’s chest. “Who the fuck do you think you are?” the alpha snarled, eyes dark and nostrils flared. Even as anger rushed through him at the alpha’s brutish display, Louis felt breathless at the intense gaze of the man that was going to be his future mate. ‘Tomorrow I’m going to be under all that. He will be inside me, all muscles and rage.’ Louis felt his cheeks heat again, but refused to be cowed. So he put his best smirk on display, the one alphas despised to see, the one that assured them all he had the upper hand. “Thought you were expecting me, dear husband. I’m your future mate.”

Thoughts: I don't even have words actually, its perfect, I'll think about her for ages and firmly in my top5 fics.

⚡️Men of Steel, Men of Power by @nooradeservedbetter

(58k / E / political abo?)

Louis has one goal: survive this year unscathed to complete his grand plan, for which he has sacrificed his family, his friends. His identity. he's not expecting Alpha Harry, who manages to get under his skin and inside his heart. He suddenly has a lot more to lose, and a lot less control.

Thoughts: incredible plot, made me feel many feelings, layered characters and a story you can't put down. Bonus: animalistic sex?

⚡️Catch me if I fall by @shimmeringevil

(18k / E / enemies to lovers)

Lovers when on the stage but bitter rivals as soon as they step off, Harry and Louis have butted heads from the moment they first met. Locked in a stalemate that they hope to ride out until graduation, things take a turn when Harry learns that Louis is hiding a secret.

Thoughts: the enemies part? chef's kiss. The enemies with sexual tension part? chef's kiss. The sweet sweet lovers part? also chef's kiss. all of it really.

⚡️Don't want no other shade of blue by @louisisworthit

(30k / E / royalty aranged marriage au)

It was foretold that Alpha Prince Harry would be mated to a beautiful male omega with eyes that could rival the stone amethyst, but Omega Prince Louis refuses to believe it.

Thoughts: their banter is unmatched, Harry is the sweetest little character and they're perfect just like this story is.

⚡️Makes me feel alive by @itsnotreal

(8k / E / pain kink)

Louis hated when people came in to get tattooed and couldn’t sit still— bunch of fucking squares is what they were. If only that had been the issue for his newest client.

Thoughts: you cannot go wrong with a tattoo artist au ft pain kink. Naturally this is hot as hell so do yourself a favor!

⚡️But when we kiss by @indiaalphawhiskey

(24k / E / age difference, sugar daddy au)

Louis only nodded, still smiling. “Right, okay. As much fun as this has been, I really doubt the lovely heated seating of my car will dull our banter. Or...” he dragged out the ‘r’, eyes mischievous. “Are you really going to let a…” he assessed Harry. “Twenty? Twenty year gap,” he confirmed. “Be the reason you get hypothermia? Is that really the hill you want to freeze on, Mr. Principled?” –– Or, while Harry and Louis adore the chase, they find they adore each other much, much more.

Thoughts: listen I love everything I read from this author. It left me gasping for air in the middle of the night and I don't have enough words for how perfect it is in every way. If I try I'll write an essay. Go read.

⚡️Vine ripe by @bluestgrey

(11k / E / mommy dom H, sub top L)

after a night out, Harry and Louis have a little fun.

Thoughts: Top 5 smut i have ever read, what are you doing if you haven't read it, so fucking hot and perfect I couldn't breathe etc 10/10

⚡️Apple pie baked just right by @28goldens

(99k / E / cottagecore farm boy x city boy au)

Louis has to get away. The news of his father’s terminal diagnosis, the loss of his job, and the breakup with his girlfriend leads Louis to leave for a life of slower things in the small town of Cedar Hills. His new neighbor is the Cox Family Apple Farm. Harry Styles, the oldest child of the Cox Family, might just teach him how to live life a little simpler, bake an apple pie, and breathe.

Thoughts: perfect, so warm and sweet and like a hot cup of cocoa while winter rages on outside. So comforting, I adored.

⚡️Play by the rules by @shimmeringevil

(21k / E / disaster dom au)

Fed up with the excess energy that’s wreaking havoc on his personal and professional life, Louis asks his boyfriend to dom him in the hopes that it’ll help him relax. Unfortunately, Harry is a bit of a disaster when it comes to being a dom. So, Louis decides to get creative to try and encourage the dominant side out of him.

Thoughts: best characters, the humor is top notch, and they have the most perfect dynamic. its a shimmeringevil fic, you don't wanna miss out.

⚡️Your eyes outshine the town by @insightfulinsomniac

(19k / E / christmas fic)

When a freak French snowstorm traps Harry's family in Paris, he's suddenly left flying home for a Christmas spent alone. However, everything changes after a chance encounter with an undeniably attractive, generous alpha who suggests that Harry join his family's Christmas celebrations. Against his better judgment, Harry agrees, and follows Louis back to Doncaster for the holidays. Little does he know, he'll not only become attached to the alpha, but to his entire family. Maybe his Christmas won't be as lonely as he expected. Complete and utter fluff ensues. Sappy Christmas tropes abound.

Thoughts: so utterly sweet and soft, perfect for the holidays but also if you're looking for the equivalent of hot cocoa on a rainy day. I adored it

I honestly wish I had read more, and hopefully next year I'll have actual monthly recs and more fics I devour. I'd like to send so much love to all fic writers who created something this year and even more to those that may have struggled this year. Your passion and work gives so much joy and fulfilment to so many. I'll love you forever, I hope the next year brings you so much creativity and good vibes. Anyways if you check these out please show the writers some love.

Happy new year (in advance!)

[acourtofthought]

SJM didn't even realize she was setting up Elucien to be the Regency couple of the year when she wrote ACOTAR

"A rake is a particular type of romance hero—a loveable scoundrel whose goal in life is to enjoy being single"

“Ah.” Lucien chuckled. “Well, Tam’s not the only one who gets to perform the rite tonight. Once he makes his choice, we’re free to mingle. Though it’s not the Great Rite, our own dalliances tonight will help the land, too.”

A cork popped, followed by the sounds of Lucien chugging the bottle’s contents and chuckling with a muttered “Brushed.”

“I’ll have you know that while you two were dancing with the spirits, I was stuck on border patrol.” Tamlin gave a pointed cough, and Lucien added, “With some company.”

"Many a Regency heroine has gone to London to have a ‘season’ in the hope of finding a husband.

“We can’t afford a dowry,” I continued, and though my tone was firm, my voice quieted. “For either of you."

But we had nothing—absolutely nothing—to entice any suitor to take my sisters off my hands.

“Isn’t that right in the middle of the season?” The socialite season, which had ended a few weeks ago, apparently, full of parties and balls and luncheons and gossip, gossip, gossip. Elain had told me all about it at dinner the night before" / “And I’m surprised you don’t have a line of suitors out the door, begging for your hand.”

The ball my father was throwing in my honor was in two days, and the house was already a flurry of activity. Such money being thrown away on things we’d never dreamed of having again, even for a moment. I would have begged him not to host it, but Elain had taken charge of planning and finding me a last-minute dress,

Elain, who flitted about the room, personally greeting each guest and dancing with all their important sons.

"Known as the “Ton,” they were comprised of a few hundred wealthy families whose strict codes of conduct, fashion, and social customs dictated who and what was socially acceptable"

—a faint gleam in Tamlin’s eyes at that—“and being with females who were a far cry from the nobility of the Autumn Court.

“Lucien fell in love with a faerie whom his father considered to be grossly inappropriate for someone of his bloodline.

Though the tunic isn’t as pretty as a dress.”

Though she was bundled in a threadbare blanket, her gold-brown hair—the hair all three of us had—was coiled perfectly about her head. Eight years of poverty hadn’t stripped from her the desire to look lovely.

But once she did, she let that snowball roll down the hill.

"The idea that rakes are redeemable is their most attractive quality."

“You know it’s … hard for him, where females are involved,” I said neutrally. “He has been with many females since the death of his lover.” “Perhaps it’s different with you—perhaps it’d mean something he’s not ready for.” I shrugged, searching for the right words. “Perhaps he stays away because of it.” She considered, and I prayed she bought my half lie.

He’d always had a casual grace about him, but here, tonight, with his hair tied back and jacket buttoned to his neck, he truly looked the part of a High Lord’s son. Handsome, powerful, a bit rakish—but well-mannered and elegant.

I asked Lucien to escort me, and he’d been more than happy to do so, given that his own status as a mated male made him uninterested in any sort of female company these days.

“I’m a mated male now.”

"Clothing and shoes served as necessary survival tools in the 18th century as well as powerful ways to communicate status, ideas, and a person's role in society. Fashion was a very important way that people expressed their ideas and economic status during the 18th century."

He had to give Lucien credit: the male was somehow able to move between his three roles—an emissary for the Night Court, ally to Jurian and Vassa, and liaison to Tamlin—and still dress immaculately.

Elain … She’d taken one look at us in the swaying grasses outside that wagon, the legs and assets on display, and turned crimson

"I'll be right back," she murmured and hurried down the hall before I could explain that no one care if she showed up to dinner covered in flour.

Elain had let her golden-brown hair down tonight, and pinned it back with twin combs of pearl.

Gone was the ill-suited black dress from the ball, replaced by a gown of amethyst velvet, her hair half-up and curling down to her waist.

It wasn’t a formal dinner by any means—though Lucien, standing near the windows and watching the sun set over Velaris, was wearing a fine green jacket embroidered with gold, his cream-colored pants showing off muscled thighs, and his knee-high black boots polished enough that the chandeliers of faelight reflected off them.

"By the 17th Century (and beyond), ribbon usage was vast. It showed purpose in extravagant garments, hair accessorizing, and ornamenting furniture and linens. With the demand for the material rising, Coventry, England and Lyons, France became capitals for ribbon production and design."

Even during their squabbles in the cottage, fighting over who got clothes or boots or ribbons, it had never been like this.

"Regency's formal décor has recently made headlines and piqued interior designers' interest thanks to the series "Bridgerton." / The Regency period was one of elegance and opulence, luxuriousness and grandeur" / “The Regency is loud, glamorous, colorful, and much less stuffy "

Elain cut her a look. “This house has needed a woman’s touch for years.”

He tried to sound casual—comfortable. Even as his heart raced and raced, so swift he thought he might vomit on the very expensive, very old carpet. From Sangravah, if the patterns and rich dyes were any indication. Rhysand was many things, but he certainly had good taste. This entire place had been decorated with thought and elegance, with a penchant for comfort over stuffiness.

"Neither a lady nor a gentleman discussed private business in the presence of servants."

Possibly a factor in why we don't see Elain and Lucien interact when EVERYONE AROUND THEM US EAVESDROPPING! 😂

"A well-bred person maintained an elegance of manners and deportment."

Elain flinched again, her face coloring. Nesta snorted. “You’re living amongst beings who have none of our human primness, you know.”

Elain had blushed muttering about the impropriety of such things

He wasn’t sure if she truly meant to address him, but he said, “No, lady. I cannot.”

“I’m going to assume that one of those cups belongs to your sister.” “Do you mind if I help myself to the other?”

“There’s a plate of biscuits. Would you like one?”

The sound seemed to startle Elain, who swiftly set down her teacup. She rose to her feet, and Lucien shot to his. “I’m sorry,” he blurted.

“I’m sorry—if that unsettled you.”

"A lady did not engage in any activity that might give rise to gossip."

No wonder nobody knows what the hell Elain does or thinks 😂

"It was unacceptable to owe money to a stranger."

"I can't stand to be in this court and have your mate pay for the very clothes on my back"

"A well-bred person walked upright, stood and moved with grace and ease."

“I’ll do it,” Elain said, taking a deep breath and squaring her shoulders. She didn’t wait for either of us before she strode out, graceful as a doe.

He’d always had a casual grace about him,

"A well-bred person was never awkward in either manner or behaviour and could respond to any social situation with calm assurance."

“Nesta, please,” Elain murmured.

She put a hand on Nesta’s knee, the purple of my sister’s gown nearly swallowing up the ivory hand. “Feyre gave and gave—for years. Let us now help her. Help … others.”

Elain crossed her arms and said calmly, sadly, “Feyre warned me this might happen.”

“I still wanted to come,” Elain went on with that focused calm, the quiet steel building in her voice. “I wanted to see you, to explain.”

The male had grown up alongside Eris. Had dealt with Eris’s and Beron’s cruelty. Had his lover slaughtered by his own father. But Lucien had learned to keep his cool.

Lucien threw him a withering look. “I’m not your enemy, you know. You can drop the aggressive brute act.” Cassian gave him a grin that didn’t meet his eyes. “Who says it’s an act?” Lucien let out a long sigh. “Very well, then.”

[fanaticsnail]

Mihawk kissing Governess' hand and her allowing herself a slip in her exterior armour to kiss his cheek and his reaction, oh my god oh my god oh my god oh my god

"Reaching upwards, you placed your left hand on Mihawk’s cheek and shepherded him into yourself, placing your lips gently against his left cheek as you cradled him against your palm. He sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth and froze his shoulders in place." <- tattooing this passage on my brain, thanks

I'm sorry but this whole passage had me giggling and flinging myself about in bed as I read it like a school girl, and it is so funny to me that they did All That in front of an audience of not only four powerful men but also a soiree of guests. It's like when you see regency era period pieces of a couple breathing heavily with barely contained lust after one dance bc they're Repressed Virgins, and remembering that there is a whole ballroom of other people there.

"He doesn't love you." <- NO! BAD! (spritz with water). My immediate thoughts is Sapsorrow or some other force is interfering.

"“I just thought I saw-...” Perona began, cocking her head sharply to the side and holding firm her gaze, “Something watching.”" <- screaming and wildly swinging a baseball bat. I'm so emotionally attached to these characters and invested in this story that I know that there's no way it ends on so soon all happy so there's got to still be conflict before the wedding in order for a resolution and I'm excited but at the same time I Refuse.

“The symbolism behind it is you, yourself, are the sun. The gold is what encases you beneath it," <- well goddamnit snail that is poetry.

The description of Beckman and Governess' relationship!!!! I love them so much!!! "He treated you with the utmost respect and found himself hanging onto your every command as a loyal knight taking instructions from his queen. From then on, you were the friend he confided in and trusted to handle the troop easily when ushering you throughout the seas on the red-force. Of all aboard, you trusted Beckman the most to treat you well." AAAAAAAAAA

“It won’t be enough. It will never be enough.” BACK! BACK I SAY

“You watched as he began to scramble, at first attempting to askew the floral arrangement behind his back from view before holding it at heart-level.

“Lost-Lady,” his voice called to you, disguising what you thought to be a small stumble in his footing as he began to clamber towards you from his prior position gardening. His boots met with the sludge, sliding the earth from beneath his footstep and successfully dropping him down to his knees. You sucked your lips into your mouth, witnessing a man full of dignity and grace be brought down to his knees while cradling flowers against his chest." Oh my gawd. She's literally making him fumble over himself. Just the thought of such a serious figure doing all this to strip himself of his dignity just for his beloveds comfort so that she might have a confidant in a new place where she is alone and so that he might be able to partake in her unadulterated company, and the idea that he loses all his composure around her and fumbles, is so sweet. The way you write it manages to work with his personality and not feel out of character, and it's so romantic I Love it.

"I am uninjured, my darling," MY DARLING??? What happened to keeping up the facade, Governess?

"“I believe the world of your abilities, sir. Now, allow me to aid in your rise to your feet once more,” you smiled down at him, his eyes meeting your own with an almost overwhelming amount of adoration. You hoisted him up to his feet, uncaring at the passing of grime onto your clothes from his." Governess stand up, get off your knees, put away the ring, you're already engaged to him!! My girl is swooning

I do love how the Governess recognized the voice as being external and even noticed it having a physical presence, and not letting it overtake her by assessing her thoughts rationally. It shows her strength and smarts in being beyond just a Damsel In Distress but still believably in distress if that makes sense? It kind of makes me excited that now that she actually knows she wants the marriage and future with Mihawk I feel like she'll be beyond angry when she finds out something/someone has been trying to take it from her, and I really can't wait.

"He yearned for this deceit to flee from his form. No longer desiring to adorn this shield and to be the man beneath this amassment of muck for you; he wanted so desperately to cast aside titles and just truly be yours." A man that loves his wife! What a lovely gift for me! Chewing on him as we speak <3

"“Step away from my governess, Hag!” Her voice held several tones within the single vocal strand, the air sucked from its delight of the morning rays." I FUCKING KNEW IT!!!

"Zoro immediately was drawn to his feet, unsheathing his sword from beside him and brandishing it with flourish. Mihawk also rose to his feet, nodding to Zoro briefly, before he closed and reopened his amber eyes; now a ruby iris surrounding its glow. Zoro did the same, his iris crackling under the new color within his orbs." Get her! Go boys! Sick 'em!

Fr loving the protectiveness of the Governess' new family

"“How long has she been here, Mihawk?” Perona asked at your other side, her eyes fixed on a pinned point in the roof and remaining unblinking, “She seemed so sad.”" (visibly vibrating) I Am Being So Completely Normal About This Lore.

I love Perona so much, I (and the Governess) am so proud of her, she was brave, and kind and observant enough to notice when things were going wrong with someone she cared about, and she stood up for her friend, she's obviously always been an awesome person but I feel like her time with the Governess has allowed her to direct herself more and therefore do more and it's really cool to see the good influence on her daughter ward.

“What was it you told the clown? We are more than the titles that make us?” hhhhhhhh he values her thoughts so much he memories all her words and conversations even those that don't involve him

“I had always thought of you as a woman who commanded every space she found herself within. Even as a man far more advanced in his years,” he continued, reopening his eyes to look lovingly into your face, “I had always seen you as a woman who could have the mighty fall to their knees- much as you had me do this morning.” <- if anyone needs me I'll be drowning in a river

Forehead touches forehead touches foreheadtouchesforeheadtouches

“If you so desire for your Farm-Hand to bring his Lost-Lady your daily gift of flowers, I will gladly become him once more for you. However,” Mihawk drew his eyes back to yours, an almost playfulness dancing behind his honeyed gaze, “I expect my Lost-Lady to be in naught but her nightdress in return.” AAAAAAAAAAA (pt. II)

The EPILOGUE!!!! the teaser/reference for Shanks' Sapsorrow ring, the hinting to the law!!! You truly know how to feed us

“That’s what you want, isn’t it? To see others have what was taken from you? To see them happy and thriving with each other?” AAAAAAAAA (pt. III)

SNAIL!! BACK AT IT AGAIN WITH THE CHAPTER 6 REVIEW!!! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

I'm so glad you freak out about this story as much as I do. Makes it feel more alive to know how it moves you. Thank you for taking the time to go through it bit by bit to notice the little bits I add for Mihawk's humanity and adoration for him and his governess.

Openly flirting with his bride in front of Perona and Zoro, without them saying anything about it, was one of my favourite parts. He loves her so much, finally admitting it both to himself and to her without saying the three little words we want him so desperately to say.

I have drafted their vows and began working on chapter 7 to be out soon!

"If anyone needs me I'll be drowning in a river" <- I would not say such things if I were you. Our little ghost has some fight yet remaining.

[ariainstars]

The Genius of Georgette Heyer

Georgette Heyer, an Englishwoman who lived from 1902 to 1974, is one of my favourite novelists, and I often reread her books or at least some parts of her books just to retire into an agreeable world. She wrote historical novels and thrillers, but I must admit I don’t like these very much. To me, Heyer’s genius was giving a breath of fresh air to the overworn genre of romance novels set in the English Regency era. (Although some of these Heyer novels like These Old Shades or The Convenient Marriage are set during High Rococo.)

In my opinion Heyer is highly underrated, standing in the shade of the more known Jane Austen or the Brontë sisters, books women most relate to when they want to read historical romance novels; Barbara Cartland is also more known, an author whose works are too saccharine for my taste.

Austen’s or the Brontë sister’s novels are not actually romances although they are often described as such; they are accurate portrayals of the society the authors lived in, romantic attachments playing a major role of course, but the focus is on the importance of family and society framing them and influencing them, for good or for bad.

I always found myself drawn to Heyer’s stories, long before I fell in love for the first time myself; the average romance novels get on my nerves. Now, and after having experienced love more than once, I can say that I wholly share Heyer’s approach that no matter how much in love you are has no influence on whether you and the object of your interest fit together.

The common trope in romances is “love conquers all”, which I personally dislike because it strips the protagonists of having their own mind and their own agenda. “Love” makes the choice for them; they don’t consciously choose to be with this person or other. Alternatively, the protagonists are “meant for each other” but “star-crossed”, i.e. circumstances or their own folly (or both) prevent them from being together, in which case the novel is framed as a tragedy and we are expected to cry buckets over it.

This is fortunately not the case in Heyer’s romance novels. Like Cartland, she writes of an England that was long gone before she was born, of course in a romanticized way. A lot of her stories mirror how the do’s and don’ts of those times, in particular in the upper class, influenced their lives and made it very difficult to navigate society.

Georgette Heyer’s genius is her capacity to imbue old tropes with new elements, and most importantly, to detach herself from the adage “love is all you need”. Without being sarcastic, she is at her best (in my opinion) when she weaves stories about people who realize that being in “love” is not that important at all. Her romances do end well, yet not due to the influence of a higher power but because the couples involved had the chance to realize who is the right partner for them to spend the rest of their lives with. Her heroines are usually headstrong, independent and reasonable; they may act on a whim or following their heart, but it is when they listen to reason - or are pushed to do so - that they finally get their happy ending.

Warning: spoilers ahead.

The Cinderella Trope

Arabella, and also Friday’s Child and The Convenient Marriage deal with the subject of a poor, or at least modest-living, female from a good family being launched into London’s high society by a strike of good fortune. In the latter two novels, this includes for them the chance to buy a heap of beautiful new clothes, strongly reminding of the Cinderella trope.

But Heyer would not be who she is if the novels would not be original in their own way: Arabella, far from being a modest, kind girl, pretends to be a rich heiress in order to “show his place” to a man who believed she wanted to ensnare him due to his wealth; Hero from Friday’s Child and Horatia from The Convenient Marriage both do not end but begin the story through marriage, and the plot unfolds as they slowly realize (and their respective spouses, too) that they have married the right person after all.

Finding Love in an Unexpected Place

In The Convenient Marriage, the Earl of Rule is ready to marry a certain girl to make a match, arranged years earlier, with a poor but very aristocratic family; it is on meeting her younger sister that he realizes “he does want to ally himself with the family”, to put it in his words.

In The Quiet Gentleman, as he has to deal with conspiracies and attempted murder, the protagonist Gervase Frant learns to put his trust in a female he first found dull, and who is not aristocratic the way he is.

In Sylvester or The Wicked Uncle, the Duke of Salford is at first disappointed by Phoebe, the girl his mother and her friend had chosen for him, and she doesn’t like him any better; they have to live through a number of adventures, together with friends and family, until they realize that they fit together perfectly.

In Sprig Muslin, Sir Gareth Ludlow overcomes his grief over his lost fiancé due to being responsible for Amanda, a girl of similar temper, and getting the chance to compare her to Lady Hester, a shy, unremarkable woman whom he liked but did not appreciate enough before. A beloved theme of Heyer’s romances is brought up here, too: having the same sense of humour shows to be indicative for two people fitting together.

In Charity Girl, notorious bachelor Viscount Desford gets involved both with a very beautiful girl named Lucasta and another, quite helpless damsel named Cherry, but none of them turn out to be right; instead, he finally realizes that Henrietta, an old friend of his, whom he had not wanted to marry years earlier, is the right mate for him after all.

In Faro’s Daughter, Mr Ravenscar gets interested in Deborah, a girl who works in a gaming house, which makes her free game to all men who visit it although she is a decent girl and only wants to earn a living for herself and the aunt who owns to place. A parallel is made through the protagonist’s niece Arabella, forever being in love with one guy or another but then refraining at the last moment. Finally, her uncle gives her a sound advice: that only if she will meet a man whom she will be ready to introduce to her family, she will know that he is the right man.

In False Colours, twin brothers Kit and Evelyn literally switch their places, one of them finding the right girl in the process by getting to know his brother’s prospected bride.

In The Foundling, the Duke of Sale is all but pushed to make an offer for Harriet, a girl he likes but is not in love with; but as he lives through some adventures and meets Belinda, who is very beautiful but also superficial, he learns to appreciate his future bride better and to realize that he would not want to be married to anyone else.

The Wrong Match

In An Infamous Army, Lady Worth wants to match up Colonel Charles Audley with Lucy, but then has to find out that the sweet, innocent-looking damsel is already secretly married, and that the temperamental Lady Barbara whom she had not liked for him is exactly what he needs since she has courage and straightforwardness.

Not Falling in Love at All

In A Civil Contract, Viscount Lynton, heir of an impoverished family, marries the shy and average-looking Jenny, the daughter of a rich, vulgar merchant to keep his family out of debt; she loves him but is aware of the fact that he does not requite her feelings, since he secretly loves Julia, a beautiful woman who does not have much money of her own. It is only as the plot thickens, the woman he loves marries another man and his wife gives him a son that he realizes “his Jenny” is the best wife he could have found.

Falling Out of Love

In Friday’s Child, Lord Sheringham believes to be in love with Isabella, an acclaimed beauty, until he has lived for a while with Hero, the young woman he had married on a whim. “Bella with her airs and graces, her moods and her sharp tongue! No, thank you!”

Isabella on the other hand was about to contrive a brilliant match, but good sense makes her refuse it after all. “When I thought how my life would be, that I would have to spend the rest of my life with him… oh, I could not!”

In The Grand Sophy, Cecilia is besotted with Augustus, a very romantic but unreliable young man. After a trying period spent nursing her small sister, who was critically ill, she finally realizes that the less romantic but more worthy Lord Charlbury who had offered for her in the first place is a much better partner for her.

In Cotillon, Kitty enters a fake engagement to teach a lesson to Jack, the man she is in love with; but when she comes to London for a while and learns more about him and the world, she slowly realizes that she was in love with a figment of her imagination, and that Freddy, the man she is engaged to, is a much better person.

“He seemed like all the heroes in the book, but I soon found that he is not like them at all.” “No. I’m afraid I ain’t either.” “Of course not! No one is.”

Heyer’s chief oeuvre in this respect is in my opinion Bath Tangle, where Serena and Lord Rotherham, both hot-tempered protagonists get engaged to someone much gentler than them, only for them to realize that they would not be happy with them. The heroine’s fiancé Hector gives her up amicably, having also found a much better life partner.

“You are a grander creature than I even imagined.” “And you are the kindest and best of men, but not my love!”

The “Pride and Prejudice” Trope

The themes of Jane Austen’s famous novel is upended in Faro’s Daughter, where it is the man who has a strong prejudice against the girl, whom he inevitably believes to be a scheming, money-grabbing minx because she earns her living in a gaming house. The girl on the other hand has strong personal pride and would never accept money from anyone, or accept marrying or becoming the mistress of a man for whom she doesn’t care. Far from declaring his devotion to her, the man insults the woman repeatedly, before he finally realizes his mistake and also that she is the right mate for him.

The Beauty and the Beast Trope

In Black Sheep, the protagonists Abby and Fanny are aunt and niece, both at the same time in love with two members of the Calverleigh family who both have a bad reputation; but while Beauty (the niece) has to realize that the man she had fallen for was only after her fortune, non-Beauty (the not quite so pretty, but intelligent aunt) realizes that the uncommon Miles who gives nothing on society’s standards does care for people, and that he is the broad-minded, worldly-wise partner she exactly needs.

In Venetia, the person falling out of love is a Edward Yardley, a sidekick, who really ends up being disillusioned; but the story had made it abundantly clear that he had been a fool all along to believe that he and the protagonist would suit. Venetia, the Beauty, has to find out that she cannot tame the Beast Lord Damerel, and that she wouldn’t want to do it additionally. The Beast is not a bad man but someone who does not fit in with society; which makes him ideal for her since she does not, either.

This trope is brought to a climax in Lady of Quality, where the protagonist Annis, who never felt the slightest interest in the gentlemen she met, on getting to know the rude but protective and straightforward Oliver finally gets to fall in love, despite the fact that they argue frequently. At one time she muses that “Surely kindred spirits did not quarrel?” only to then add mentally, with a little self-irony, “How mawkish!”

If you are tired of Jane Austens’ prim heroines and the Brontë sister’s drama, I invite you: give Georgette Heyer a try. Her novels are entertaining but neither flat nor sentimental, and I always find new layers and aspects in them when I reread them after a few years. Her heroes of course live in an idealized world, but it’s just what you might need after a hard day’s work. 😊

[inky-duchess]

To set up the scenario, (and sorry in advance for the long post) the Queen of kingdom A got married to the king of the kingdom B. They have one son together. King B dies, leaving his son to inherit the kingdom fairly young. Queen A sets up a regency council with nobles from kingdom B that she trusts, then she goes back to her kingdom. A few years later, she remarries to a prince from kingdom C to strengthen that alliance and to ensure she has spares in case anything happens to her son from her first marriage. Sometime later, she gets her spare. The queen’s eldest son primarily spends his time in kingdom B trying to consolidate and expand his power there, while squashing conflicts that come up as he grows older. As a consequence of that, he doesn’t spend as much time in his mother’s kingdom. (Kingdom A & B aren’t super far away from each other, but it does take a couple of months by boat to get to one to the other. Kingdom C is right above kingdom A, but a lot further from kingdom B and doesn’t have a direct connection with them.) However, his younger brother has spent his entire life in his mother’s kingdom, so he’s a lot more familiar with the nobility and general public. As both grow older, factions are starting to form. One faction wants to encourage the union of crowns between kingdoms A&B by allowing the eldest son to rule due the access of trade that Kingdom b could bring to them. Another faction wants to put the younger brother on the throne to avoid a mostly unknown “foreigner” taking over and out of fear that the eldest son will bleed their kingdom dry to fund campaigns for kingdom b. (They’re not worried about kingdom C forming a union with A since the father wasn’t as close to the throne anyway.) Eventually, the queen’s heath will begin to wane and she’s worried about a possible succession crisis. So my questions are:

1. Would the faction supporting the younger son actually be a credible threat to the elder brother’s rule and if so, what could be done to neutralize them?

2. Is the brother himself a threat just by his presence, even if he doesn’t personally want the throne?

(just a quick note to start off, The Queen wouldn't pick the Regency council, she has absolutely no say in who runs B)

Yes but all of this would be eased if A and B had a discussion hegore the wedding, as in discussing how heirs would work. Usually the firstborn gets everything unless they are unfit in some way, therein the next heir comes to power (look at the Hanoverian succession after Victoria's ascension). They would have had this talk. But let's say, in spite of agreeing the eldest would inherit it all, the little brother's faction is a threat - especially to the little brother. The best thing that can be done, is the removal of the lil brother from A, the mother taking action against the nobles or the return of B to remove the nobles. Either the threat dies or the little brother will suffer the consequences, even if this isn't his choice.

Yes. He's a focal point for tension. Have a look at young Elizabeth I, Lady Jane Grey, King John, Richard the Lionheart. Even the mere threat to the succession therefore the peace, must be answered.

[archduchessofnowhere]

The Accidental Empress Reading Blog I: Evil Gackl and the regency of Archduchess Sophie

I knew what I was getting into when I started The Accidental Empress, I really did. This historical fiction romance novel by Allison Pataki about Empress Elisabeth of Austria doesn't have particularly flying reviews in Goodreads, mainly to the historical inaccuracies and mischaracterizations. But I wanted to judge it by myself, specially since this is a very popular novel.

But I'm only one chapter in and this is my only reaction:

I have so many things to say about this chapter alone that I'm going to do a break down of it. I'm not planning to do this with every chapter (it will take me forever to finish it if I do), so enjoy this over analyzing reading blog, it won't happen again!

We start the chapter with Elisabeth and Helene outdoors, hiding from someone. We soon learn that that someone is their 13-years-old brother Karl Theodor "Gackl". Who is a bully that constantly torments them and insults them. I wish I was making this up.

...

In reality, Karl Theodor was Elisabeth's favorite brother and they remained close all their lives; he even named one of his daughters after her. Karl Theodor must have been a very charming and likeable man, since everyone that knew him held him in high esteem. Needless to say, he was nothing like how Pataki chose to portray him.

Because changing Gackl's personality was a deliberate choice by the author, in her own words: "I needed a mechanism for some early character development for the spirited, plucky young Sisi, and so Karl became an early opponent of sorts". I'm not that advanced into the book to decide if this benefited Elisabeth's character arc; but Gackl just bullying his elder sisters with no consequence seems kinda... dumb?

Continuing with the chapter, after this (they escape from Gackl by throwing rocks at him or something? I don't remember) the family gathers to dinner. Here we are told a little more of the family, and we find out that Elisabeth's eldest brother Ludwig Wilhelm "Louis" just... doesn't exist in this book? Karl Theodor is referred as the eldest son and heir more than once?? Weird choice, specially since the second book (yes this has a sequel) covers the Mayerling affair, in which Louis' daughter Countess Marie Larisch played a key role.

During dinner comes the unavoidable moment in which Ludovika announces that her sister Sophie asked for Helene's hand in marriage for her son, the young Emperor Franz Josef. This never happened, but (with great sorrow) I'll let it slide for the sake of the narrative.

Up until that point this novel had been your average, overly done, "Sisi lives free of worries in humble Possenhofen until her sister is told she's going to marry the emperor". I had nothing positive to say about it, but also nothing negative. It is a curse of contemporary Sisi adaptations that a relative she had a good relationship with is turned into a sort of antagonist (think Helene in RTL's Sisi and Ludovika in Netflix's The Empress), so even Gackl's villain arc didn't upset me that much.

You know what did upset me? This:

WHAT??? Franz Josef had been emperor since 1848. There was no regency, Sophie didn't had to rule anything. He was only eighteen, but he was of age and took charge of his reign from the very beginning. The implication that only since 1853 he had power is insane.

I already fear that Pataki went down the path of "Franz didn't do anything wrong, ever! It was his evil mother who ordered all those executions!" In fact, a couple of lines later Elisabeth recalls Franz Josef as "schrink[ing] whenever his mother had spoken" when she met him in 1848, a few months before the abdication of emperor Ferdinand. Which is also total crap.

And if I had any hope left for nuanced portrayal of Sophie, I completely lost it when Elisabeth recalls her meeting with her aunt:

Wow I can't wait to see the rest of her characterization! *sarcasm*

So far the writing itself had been okay-ish, even if I already had problems with the characterization and historical accuracy. But from this point onward we are delivered incredibly awkward expository dialogues, which completely took me out of the novel because it was obvious that the characters weren't talking to each other, but explaining to the reader the historical context. Like this just isn't a natural sounding dialogue at all:

"Your father is referring to the fact"???? I understand this novel is aimed at a general audience, but having the characters literally explaining the history (specially since this is recent history for them! it happened less than five years ago!!) feels extremely forced to me. Duke Max's dialogue alone worked fine, a voice in off could've explained the rest.

The chapter wraps up after this with Ludovika informing that Elisabeth will also accompany Helene to meet her betrothed (say it with me: Helene and Franz Josef were never engaged!), then the girls have an emotional talk in their bedroom and the chapter is over. I'll give Pataki one point for originality because she didn't follow the typical path of Helene being groomed to become empress for years and even had her oppose to the idea of marrying Franz Josef, but that's it.

And to finish this ridiculously long reading blog, I left under the cut all the inaccuracies that, while don't actually affect the plot so in theory can be forgiven, annoyed me anyway!

The Aunt Myth strikes! I don't blame Pataki for this mistake, since she probably took it from Hamann's biography. I made a whole post about how this is incorrect, but in short: while it's true that the Ducal household was in mourning, it wasn't for an aunt, but for Duke Georg of Saxe-Altenburg, Queen Therese of Bavaria's brother (so he wasn't even related to Elisabeth).

Actually Ludovika herself was extremely introverted, and according to her granddaughter Amalie of Urach, every interaction with people outside her inner circle was a torment for the Duchess. Public events and social gatherings caused Ludovika a lot of anxiety and she tried to avoid them at all cost, often excusing herself alleging being ill. All her children were said to also be very timid, most famously Elisabeth, who apparently spoke so lowly that sometimes it was hard to understand what she was saying.

It wasn't unusual for royals to marry people they had never met in their life (that ended up being the case of Sisi's sister Marie), but Ludovika and Max knew each other since they were children. King Maximilian of Bavaria, Ludovika's father and Duke Max's great-uncle, was fond of his nephew and wanted him to be close to his daughters, partly because Duke Max was quite lonely as a child, and partly so he wouldn't be a stranger to his future wife. A nice gesture, but that didn't prevent the couple of being utterly miserable together once they married at 20-years-old.

I am once again asking writers to understand that this was just not a possibility. Netflix's The Empress also has a moment of "You will stay with me as a lady-in-waiting!!", ignoring that being a lady-in-waiting was technically a job that belonged to the women from the highest ranking noble families in the empire. Noble, not royal. Elisabeth was the granddaughter of a king, being a lady-in-waiting was beneath her status. Also, why is this presented as a good thing anyway? Sisi serving her own sister would've been humiliating for her.

This is a silly mistake to point out since it can even be justified within the text as Sisi not knowing the proper titles for being so young; but this is the me being annoying section so I'll point it out anyway: there was only one Crown Prince, the rest of Helene's hypothetical children would've been Archdukes or Archduchesses (the Crown Prince was also an Archduke, but it was more usual to call him by the former title). And the Crown Princess was the Crown Prince's wife, the Habsburgs never had a Crown Princess in her own right.

High class girls going into marriage completely ignorant about sex is an strangely common trope in historical fiction, and while this was true for some (this was the case of Stephanie of Belgium, at least according to her memoirs), most of them knew exactly what was supposed to happen. After all, producing an heir was their more important task, so why would they not be told how they were meant to achieve that?

Ludovika was well aware of that, and she did not keep her girls in the dark about sex. She always talked very openly about it, and was proud of having educated her daughters about what happened on the wedding night. So no, she didn't "only ever implied things"

To be fair with Pataki, she wouldn't have found this information regarding Ludovika in Elisabeth's biographies in English. All of this information I found in Martina Winkelhofer's biography, only published in 2021 and still untranslated in English. I think the biggest problem with this book in regards with historical accuracy is going to be that Pataki relied solely on outdated English sources that perpetuate myths that have been challenged in German works for the past decades.

[checkoutmybookshelf]

I am...a Professor

I've been on a bit of a faerie kick lately, and Emily Wilde is one of my favorite human protagonists for fae books. She is objectively bad at people, but that's not unusual for academics in general. As a recovering academic, the fact that this book is about how bananas field work can go just tickled me. If you squint, there are echoes of Evy Carnahan from The Mummy in this book, and between that and the wintery vibes, this book was just a delight to read. Let's talk Emily Wilde's Encyclopaedia of Faeries.

Emily Wilde is a career academic whose career has been stalled by the fact that she is...straight-up bad at peopleing. Her saving grace is the solidity of her scholarship, which is why she rocks up to a rented cottage in Hrafnsvik with no grad students and no sense of how to take care of herself while in in the field. Our girl cannot split wood and doesn't so much as know how to bank a fire to stop herself from freezing to death overnight. She also accidentally manages to offend every single one of her hosts and the village headwoman, so she is in very real danger of freezing or starving to death by like chapter three.

And then Wendell Bambleby shows up on her doorstep with a pair of grad students and charm to spare.

Y'all...without giving too much away in spoiler territory, can I just say that I adore how Emily and Wendell are essentially two complimentary halves? Emily is all hardcore scholarship, the scientific method, and goal-focused to the exclusion of other people. Wendell is all flash, showmanship, people skills, and innate knowledge. They would be THE academic power couple at Cambridge...except that right from the get-go, Emily is not shy about telling us the Wendell is kind of a dumpster fire of an academic. He objectively exploits his grad students (although they do get co-authorship on papers and he doesn't sleep with them, so he's already better than most of the horror stories I was aware of in academia), he blatantly falsifies his research to basically no consequences, and he's objectively less interested in the academics than in the clout and money that comes with being a world-renowned academic.

The problem is that faeries--their chosen academic subject--aren't known for hanging around Cambridge and popping into office hours for in-depth interviews. So Emily and Wendell are both well and truly out of their comfort zones doing research in a tiny, wintery village. And for all Emily is terrible at people, she is stunningly good at faeries. Brownies, small folk, and even a changeling don't give her pause, and at no point is Emily out of her depth in terms of knowledge--even if actual magic tends to trump KNOWING that you've been magicked.

While Emily, Wendell, and the other characters are what you read this book for, the faerie lore, setting, and sheer winter vibes are phenomenal. I also loved the journal format of this book more than I thought I would. First-person journal style novels (I could maaaaaaaaaaaaaybe justify calling this an epistolary novel, but that might be stretching the genre a little, since the perspective is pretty firmly limited to Emily, with only I think two interludes from Wendell) tend to either feel like there's a lot of distance between reader and character, since the story is literally mediated through multiple meta layers of textuality, or that there isn't enough distance between character and readers. Emily being bad at people means that the book leans toward more distance, but as you get to know her, that distance closes a little, and the understated, scientific tone honestly makes some of the more objectively emotional events hit weirdly harder than they might have otherwise. I think the writing style works brilliantly with Emily as a character, and honestly the whole thing reminds me a little of Olivia Atwater's Regency Fairy Tales in tone and mood.

I am loathe to offer any plot spoilers here, because frankly this book was excellent and I strongly recommend it. It's a very, very slow burn romance with fantastic lore and Emily is a compelling character on her own merits long before she realizes what book she's in. I am absolutely psyched for Emily Wilde's Map of the Otherlands, and you will likely (eventually) get a review of that one from me as well. In the mean time, remember to be polite to you fae, bring gifts, and keep an eye on your mind just in case something decides to enchant you.

[fio-renze]

November 28 - Day 3 Inspiration/Unresolved

Continuation of Day 2 

“Is one of those choices my freedom?” She knew it was foolish to even ask, but it was a barb worth throwing out. 

The Grand Magister gestured toward the small dining table in the Perfect Penthouse spell’s kitchen, “Yes, though I doubt you’d know what to do with it.” 

Surprising. Not incorrect. Still, Fiorenze had no rebuke for it — she hadn’t anticipated an actual yes. She regarded him warily as she took the dictated seat, “Really?” 

He sat across from her, as they would have if this meeting had instead been hosted in his office in the Court of the Sun, “Your service to the Regency these many years has, even under bond, been laudable. You can be entirely free of your obligation and do what you will with the rest of your years as a regular citizen, or you can continue to work for Magistry Intelligence.” 

“What more is there for me to do in Magistry Intelligence? I can’t work in the noble Court anymore,” she leaned back in the plain chair, her thoughts shifting between the options as she attempted to glean his next move before he made it. 

Rommath remained as unreadable as ever, and content to make her wait in unresolved tension as he considered the overall play. She was about to start in again as he held up a hand, “There’s more to the job than just the Court; the greater push among the nations for “unity” means that we’ll all be gathering information on each other again. There are open ambassadorships and other jobs of state you could be seated into, or you could continue field work — though I think that’s a waste of your talent.” 

Her ears flicked up a bit, “I don’t think it’s a waste of my talent at all; mercenaries get to go everywhere and with far less scrutiny, especially those considered neutral. But, I can see the need to have “trusted”, known entities in visible positions of power, too. Do you think the Director could be inspired to have a bit of a wildcard?” 

A quiet, amused hum resonated from just beyond the scarlet cowl that hid most of his face, “They’re interested in retiring in the next decade, I imagine they could be inspired to do quite a bit if it ensures an airtight succession.” 

There had been rumors, but that was certainly news. She kept her own expression as unreadable as possible, “Are you setting me up for that position?” 

“You and a few others,” he set the hook as easily as it had been cast, “Farstrider Intelligence and the Blood Knights obviously have their own candidates within the Magistry they would like to have in that role.” 

What else was new. On the surface they all worked together well, but the internal politics between the various levers of the Sin’dorei state had always been a deadly mire. 

“Do you need a decision now?” She knew better than to accept outright, these offers were worth turning over again and again until the sharp edges of them had worn into a more comfortable understanding. 

“No; you have some time. Settle your business here and consider the kind of freedom your ambition truly wants,” he waved a hand idly and conjured a wine bottle and a couple of glasses onto the table, warping her Penthouse a bit to fit his own needs, “Before I go, I hope you’ll indulge me on what you’ve learned here so far.” 

Fiorenze smiled sharply, the subtle flex of his own arcane skill not lost on her, “As you wish.”

@daily-writing-challenge

[longbobmckenzie]

I've been reading LITG fanfiction for over 3 years now (!!), so I've read quite a few fics! I thought it was about time I updated my recommendations. You can find the original recs here! There are some duplicates but for the most part I decided to be a bit more biased with these.

Since I have a lot of recs and didn't want to narrow things down too much, I'm splitting them into two posts - this one for chaptered fics, and another for oneshots!

Note: In putting together this list, I included my personal faves and a bunch of fics that I just have good memories of. I'm in no way saying these are the best of the best (which is up to personal opinion anyway), as I've left off a lot of great/popular fics. Plus while I've read a lot, I haven't read everything, especially over the last year or so. Also, like everyone, I'm biased towards certain characters, but if you want specific recommendations for your faves, feel free to send me an ask and I can provide a few!

For more comprehensive lists for each character, you can also check out @litgreadersroom!

Bobby

An Infinite Deal of Nothing by @eskiix - Post-villa fic in which Bobby meets someone after the show. Must-read Say When by twofoursixohone - MC is a CA girl who hits it off with Bobby The Greatest of Them All by @throughthejunobush - MC is with Gary at the time of Hannah's return The One That Got Away by neld13 - Post-villa, Bobby has a thing for MC but she's with Lucas What Other People Say by @thoracic-orchid - Super cute Hallmark-esque alternate universe! Whiskey on Your Lips by @lucas-koh - Love triangle with Bobby and Lucas, alternate universe. Must-read.

Noah

Don't Disappoint Me by @throughthejunobush - MC reconnects with Noah after the show History written in moans and writhing by @bypine - porn AU Of twos and threes by @bypine - Noah/Bobby/MC poly fic told through villa snapshots Rosehill House by @ariendiel - Regency-era Noah fic. Must-read

Jake

In My Veins by @chroniccomicobsession - vampire AU. Must-read Reasons to Be Brave by MamaMiaOhMy - ultimate Jake villa fic. Must-read

Other

Are You The One? by @queen-of-boops (Henrik) - mixed cast on a different reality dating show Capturing the Circus King by TwoSpoonsOfSugar (Rohan, Jake) - love triangle S1 villa fic Caught in the Act by @throughthejunobush (Lucas) - in-villa Lucas fake dating Ego and Enmity, Hannah's Song by @becangle (Hannah/everyone) - Hannah's fanfiction. Must-read

These are either abandoned or still works-in-progress, but

Bobby

The Sun in My Eyes by @sparxaf - angsty, smutty villa/post-villa fic. Might be completed sometime this decade. Must-read Begin Again by @fuseboxmusebox - fluff to heal your soul after TSIME It's Different This Time by Island_Project - very close to canon but it really fills out the villa experience. Abandoned Maybe, sort of, kind of, possibly by @blueberrycupcak3s - villa fic with some of the best banter. Canon mix-up, abandoned Sick Like Me by neld13 - smut-filled AU. Abandoned but outline/extra bits posted at the end. Must-read

Lucas

Damaged Goods by Finality2020 - MC is with Gary until he cheats on her. Inspired by what Lucas says in the wedding episodes. Abandoned Ghost Light by @fuseboxmusebox - exes/enemies-to-maybe-lovers-if-Ash-will-ever-finish-this Playing By Your Rules by @eskiix - spinoff of An Infinite Deal of Nothing with Lucas as the LI. In progress. Must-read The Power Couple by BattleBelle23 - in-villa fake dating/playing a game for the money. Quasi-abandoned Where The Tulips Bloom by @lucas-koh - Friends-to-lovers AU. On hiatus

Henrik

Powder Days by @mountainmanxoxo - snowboarding AU. On indefinite hiatus Lay All Your Love On Me by OverdressedandUnderwhelmed - basically finished villa fic Moss, Eternal by @mountainmanxoxo - hilarious, kinda spoofy villa fic. On indefinite hiatus

Other

Island Villa Apartments by @kittidot (Multiple) - cute, fluffy fic of interconnected stories centred around an apartment complex. On indefinite hiatus Shiny Demon by @throughthejunobush (Seb) - ultimate Seb villa/post-villa fic. On hiatus/WIP The Fortunate Ones by theriverlea (Noah) - MC is a Casa Amor girl who hits it off with Noah. WIP

[la-merlaison]

Hey hey hey I'ts me again and I came with another nerdy Louis post!!

Okay guys, the time has finally come! I'm not strong in french at all (for now) but my half french friend kind of is, so I asked them for some help during my research and I hope it turned out okay!!

So, no time to explain, right now we suggest you make yourself a cup of tea and prepare some marzipans (or at least omelettes if u don't have marzipans) because it's going to be a very big and really grandiose post!

Exactly 407 years ago, on sunday, Jan 29th, a huge intrigued crowd gathered in a giant ballroom of the Louvre palace to watch a truly legendary event in the history of France... Still very young King Louis XIII paid extremely close attention to the preparation of the ballet, as his doctor Jean Héroard noted on January 19th: "He rehearses his ballet twice a day."

Why all this mishmash of sentences, you may ask? *ahem* Lemme explain from the very start... (those who already know of all the drama between Louis and his mom, feel free to skip a couple of paragraphs but if you'd still love to dive even deeper into this rabbit hole and connect two dots then let's go!!)

When little dauphin lost his father (Henri IV) at the age of 8, he was still too young to be a king, so for quite a long time his mother Marie de Medici had to take the place of a regent. And it was all cute and stuff, except for the dauphin had already turned 13 for a year and a half (it was considered the age of majority and gaining power over the state at the time) and Mary did not even think of giving up her career, and especially leaving the throne, no matter how pissed off the young king was because of all the ridiculous formality of his "reign".

He was even more disturbed and frankly enraged by the favorite of the Medici - Concino Concini, who had a terrible effect on his mother according to the prince's beliefs (not only his beliefs at all but let's focus on our blorbo's pov). But don't worry! In January Louis along with his friend, with whom he loved to spend time and in general was emotionally very close, conceived how to end this exhaustingly endless regency, which already had a questioning reputation... And I guess it meant, that the time has come for truly dazzling performances in every single way!

Among all the options proposed by Etienne Durand, the court poet of Marie de Medici (he's also responsible for organizing the performance), the king chose a very specific plot which was taken from the old chivalric poem “Jerusalem Delivered” by Torquato Tasso, as if this choice carried a certain kind of symbolism, but what it really meant??

Keep in mind, Louis really chose the following plot himself: "The valiant knight Renaud de Montauban, played by Charles d'Albert (that one close friend and favorite of the king I mentioned before), succumbs to the charms of the sorceress Armide, who takes him into her enchanted gardens and... enchants him (wow who would've thought)! However, his comrades, including Godeffroy de Bouillon (edit. I accidentally thought that Godeffroy and the demon of fire were the same character, but actually they were two different characters both played by Louis XIII oops) came to save Renaud and break Armide's spell."

Finally, on Sunday, January 29th, 1617, the premiere of "The ballet of Renaud's deliverance" eventually happened yayy, but the crowd was so huge that even the king(!) could hardly make his way through such a large audience, the performance even had to be slightly delayed. But it was worth the wait, because in the end everyone were struck by the fiery appearance of an impressive figure in a black mask, covered from top to bottom with flames. It was the king (OUR BLORBO YASS)!! You can see his costume on the first pic below under the number 1 and Charles as Renaud right above him.

It's believed that the ballet about the liberation of Renaud from the spell of the sorceress Armide has a symbolic, even double meaning. Many people recognize Louis himself in Renaud, who seeks to free himself from the oppression of Marie (as if from the spell of Armide). One of the lyricists of "The Deliverance of Renaud", Rene Bordieu, even compared the fiery image of the king with a phoenix, which could hint at the rise from the ashes because it also sounds like an allegory to getting rid off the pressure. Etienne Durand himself also said a lot of different words related to the costume, but there are so many of them that it is better to leave them for another post idk...

Anyways, each of these versions is wonderful in its own way, but the clothes of flame, which Louis demonstrated on himself that day, symbolized not only anger and a burning desire for revenge, but also those were clothes made of the light of justice and the desire for something light and devine like the enameled blades that reflected the light of countless torches and candles in motion, illuminating a hall full of spectators blinded by such a perfomance both literally and figuratively.

Plot twist.... On April 24, 1617, less than three months after the performance of La Délivrance de Renaud, Concino Concini was assassinated by the Baron de Vitry, captain of the royal guard. And about ten days later, Marie de Medici was exiled to Blois =)

Since then, Louis XIII became, in fact, a king but this time with all seriousness!

Well, I hope you enjoyed the post and had a great time with it! Wishing you justice, deliverances, marzipan & omelettes and a guarantee that no one will ever sit for too long on your throne, gotta love anyone who read this 'till the end <3

[allthemarrowoflife]

hc that in the early 1800s aziraphale was tasked with guiding a popular british viscount towards the Path of Good

and crowley was tasked with Tempting the viscountess towards the Path of Evil

so they decide the easiest way to influence this powerful couple would be to seem trustworthy to both

as in, maybe, a respectable young couple who becomes friends with them

so crowley and aziraphale go undercover in high london society for quite a few years as the newly weds ezra and lilith fell (ez and lily, if you're close) just moving from the country

those bitches eat up the regency era

they're friends with every powerful person in the city and get an invitation to all the balls

crowley gets invited to a different tea party at least once a week and she knows what she's doing. the women and children absolutely adore her. she gets enthusiastically waved at multiple times during morning promenades with her husband.

aziraphale infiltrates the most popular gentlemen bar and he's so nice and polite to everyone that after some time even the duke starts coming to him for advice

they never have kids of their own, to the londoner old ladies' great sadness ("yes, my ezra and i are unable to bare children, but do not worry, we're very happy with just the two of us"), but they do end up as godparents to many children of nobility

they have two horses, adam and eve, and crowley feeds them apples just for the joke of it

after the original job is done, Upstairs and Downstairs end up with lots more souls than they intended just because an angel and a demon in a fake marriage were too well liked