#ok apparently I made this as hard as I intended

[eggtartz]

✧ 23th October ✧

Sanzu Haruchiyo // Breaking The Doll (f! sugar baby reader)

kinktober masterlist

warnings : lost of virginity, implied bimbo reader, implied overstimulation

your pink hairband twisted as your hair turned into a ponytail as you sitting in front of the mirror in satisfaction. you combed your hair neatly, placing a little ribbon and hair clips as well. "haru, do i look okay?" you turned your sugar daddy of six months. he looked up from his phone and smiled "you look good, baby. you should use the lipstick i bought you the other day, i like the color on your lips" he said.

a few months back, you were a struggling college student who desperately needed money so in coincidence, he offered to be your sugar daddy. in return, he wanted you to be his company. despite the weird looks and opinions of your relationship, you and sanzu had a quite stable relationship that hasn't evolved anywhere yet. not even sex.

"haru, how come you never want to have sex with me?" you pouted, playing with your hair "is it because i'm too young for you?" you asked again. he smiled warmly "do you want to? i'm not sure if that's what you really want, losing your virginity hurts you know?" he huskily whispered the last sentence that made send a jolt to your core. "i mean.. if it's you, i don't think it would hurt, would it?"

oh, you were a brat and a temptress mixed up in one luscious body. sanzu had to grip on the chair he's sitting on to stay calm and gentle, making you afraid and panic isn't one of his goals. "well, it would still." he said "but we can start slow, do you want that?" your face instantly lit up and you hopped in excitement "let's have sex!" you squealed, sanzu having to hide his erection.

sanzu was intending to be gentle but hell, the sight of your pink skirt hitched to your waist and your pastel panties he has bought last week already slightly damp is making him dizzy. all he wants is bury his face into your pussy that would definitely frighten you so he slowly caressed your covered cunt, making you whine. "a-ah, haruu.."

sanzu was going to break you slow, build you up again and repeat the same process because you were so pretty, so enticing. "patience.." his tone was stern, one hand on your lower lips and one ever so slightly tapping your clit. he could see the cotton panties you're wearing are getting wetter as he smirked. he bought one finger, inserting slowly to your still covered pussy. he wasn't doing direct penetration, only enough to make you frustrated.

"so wet, baby. soiling all over your panties, huh?" he chuckled, making sure to caress your sensitive bud and you started to pant. "n-no.. p-please.. need something inside.." you mewled sweetly.

however sanzu shook his head "no baby, we agreed to do it slowly. have your dumb, little brain forgot that?" he teased as your toes curl, wetness pooling the center of your panties. the dampness was apparent as sanzu pulled out his long cock from his pants. you drooled at the sight of it but he held you down "nu-uh, not today sweet doll" he cooed.

he tapped the head on your soiled panties as you jolted at the sensation, his hard dick making barely any friction towards your pussy. it was something else and you imagined how good it must feel when it's inside. "haru.. need it.. please.. promise it won't hurt" you bit your lip.

sanzu was quiet as he pushed your panty aside, inserting his hard rod in the fabric and caressed your lower lips with his slit. he teased, making sure to coat his cock with your precum. he slowly thrusted againts your entrance, not making any penetration yet. "harruuu! put it in!" you whimpered, rocking your hips

"patience, i said we'll take it slow" he hissed. you let out breathy moans as you felt his head barely grazing your heat, just barely making friction. you're losing your mind, your senses as you feel like you'd do anything for at least an inch of his dick. "haru please.. just the tip? please?" your eyes were teary as drooled dribbled down ok your chin, your nose was sniffling as your neat hair earlier has already loosened up.

sanzu was endeared, the sight of his broken doll was enough for him to finally give her what she wants. "just the tip" he said, slowly penetrating your hymen and into your cunt. it was deep shallow thrusts but you were moaning, your voice cracked as you smiled. "ah! so good! i wanna have sex with you everyday haruuu! everyday!" you squealed as he thrusted inside, giving your virgin pussy a stretch as he rubbed your clit to help you loosen up.

"pretty doll. you're mine, you hear that? so pretty, all for me" he said, a tinge of sadist in his voice but you didn't cared. you could feel the head of his cock barging into your insides as you felt yourself drowning, tongue lolled out in pure lust. "damn it! so pretty, all broken for me!" sanzu grunted, adding his pace as your thighs cramped and your cunt tighten. "cumming!" you joyfully announced as sanzu pulled out his cock, spraying white cum on your panties.

he smiled with satisfaction with your dazed face, as you twitched and babbled words. "haruu.. haru.." you mumbled. he kissed your forehead, softly caressing your body. "you did well, baby"

[macsimagines]

hakkai souya and rindou successfully getting into a relationship with their darling<3 but uh unfortunately it seems like she hates their big brother...and that hate is very mutual

lmfao darling hating their future in laws is so funny to me.

TW: YANDERE BEHAVIOR, MINORS DNI

Yandere!Hakkai Shiba

"Good."

LMFAO he's so relieved you two can't stand each other, now you and him get to shit on Taiju together. It's a couples bonding activity.

Taiju had told him he thought you were some kind of hellish succubus and Hakkai honestly thought the fact that his brother disapproved made you perfect.

"Man fuck your brother. He's so annoying." "What did he do?" "Bitch gon' breath by me!" "Ya, fuck that guy."

You two are the King and Queen of petty, shitting on Taiju Shiba on the regular.

Yandere! Souya Kawata (Angry)

Ok so.... he expected this. Honestly before you two hooked up he knew his brother hated you and that feeling was mutual, but you can't expect him to pick between his true love and his family.

"I can't believe that out of all the sweet ass in town you picked Y/N." "She's my soulmate! Whaddya want from me?" "...Better taste."

"I can't believe that my sweet angelic boyfriend could be related to such an ass! UHG! What do you two even have in common!?" "...DNA?"

Is constantly in the middle of you two bickering. Honestly wants to cry when you two scream and yell at each other. He tries to keep you two separated at all times.

Yandere!Rindou Haitani

Knows there's huge beef between you two. Apparently his brother hooked up with your bestie for awhile and then cheated on her. You almost broke up with Rindou in solidarity but he convinced you he'd sooner slit his own throat than cheat. (Which is horrifically true but a story for later.)

Now its verbal warfare whenever you two see each other. "Well if it isn't my poor brother's ball and chain, Y/N! Anyway I can get his balls back from you? :)" "Wow, Ran! Awake and out of the house only thirty minutes past noon? Is today a special occasion or did you not feel like rotting in bed like a worthless corpse?" "Aight, bitch, look-"

Rindou does get a headache whenever you two argue but he made it very clear to Ran that you were his IT girl and that he wouldn't and couldn't live without you.

So like any good big brother Ran doesn't fuck with you too hard and fully intends on making sure you never leave his baby bro.

[zel-zo]

Hey so you know how in the Izuru-Fuyuhiko conversation, Izuru assumes Fuyuhiko intends to use Izuru for his talents? And Fuyuhiko refutes that like right away. Based on the recent art you made, do you have any thoughts on Izuru making himself useful (as a meat shield apparently) anyway? Izuru usefulness complex vs. Fuyuhiko 'people arent tools' complex or something like that? Sorry if this is a strange ask to get out of the blue haha I am interested in the narrative.

Ok so this is a FANTASTIC question and it took all my restraint not to send back an entire essay lmao💛💛💛 (correction^ I wrote 544 words of this so, maybe a LITTLE bit of an essay)

So, here are my thoughts on Izuru and Fuyuhiko's potential relationship in DRS:US:

I feel like the reason that Izuru may in fact stay with Fuyuhiko in this scenario (I mean, he outright says that if he were told to be free without orders he would probably just disappear overseas and cut contact,) is Fuyuhuko’s resolve not to use Izuru for his talents. I think that, in one way or another, this wont sit right with Izuru, who can easily reason out the fact that he’s a passive force until acted upon, and if acted upon (or used) for the good of humanity, that would have an overall better net benefit to the world than valuing his independence and letting his talents go to waste. As little as Izuru seems to care about anything, the thought process behind letting him do whatever he wants and not like, idk, make him cure cancer, is an absolutely atrocious error in judgement and has to be the fault of some under-developed moral code of Fuyuhuko’s. I think this intrigue is part of why Izuru would want to stay with Fuyuhuko: to see how long it will take for Fuyu, given ample opportunity, to abandon his personal code and start using Izuru (weather for humanity’s benefit or his own).

Note: I also think this is why Izuru would “make himself useful” (like the meat shield incident). By showing how much he could benefit Fuyuhiko when his talents are used, he’s subtly testing his resolve to keep refraining from doing so.

On the FLIP side we have Fuyuhiko, who’s honestly got a point. He’s definitely not thinking of it in the same big moral strokes that Izuru is, but he is thinking of the basic gist of it: What should you value more, a person’s freedom or the good they can do? In his (learned) opinion, the value a person’s life has and the potential they have for good aren’t exclusive, but that person needs to do the good on their own for it to have meaning. His relationship with Peko comes to mind hard here as someone who has been given a role and carried it out perfectly, denying their own free will in the process. Fuyu doesn’t go through the same lesson in the same way as DR2, but it’s clear that he’s coming to similar conclusions about valuing Peko’s free will in their DRUS interactions. I feel like, similarly, Fuyu would just want Izuru to start giving a damn about being used by people and stop treating himself like a means to an end.

So, does this turn into a genuine friendship? Something more?... Maybe??? I see a lot of interpretations of Izuru’s character were he’s an unfeeling machine, which I personally really dislike. I mean, the man has enough emotion to be bored by being unable to be surprised by anything anymore. He does Cry, even if he doesn’t know why. In my eyes, Izuru is mentally incredibly developed, but emotionally underdeveloped because of his emphasis on learning and usefulness since his ‘creation’. So, these two’s relationship is both ambiguous and up for interpretation, but I do think it has room for Izuru to come to understand Fuyuhuko’s thinking and maybe even start caring for him eventually. Honestly it’s all up to your personal interpretation of Izuru’s character!

But yea, those are just my thoughts! Let me know Your own interpretation!! I love these characters and always wanna hear other people's thoughts on them!!! 💛

[jimmy-dipthong]

罠英語・Trap words pt 2

Part 1 had some satisfying explanations for the etymology of trap words. This time it’s the opposite - we’ll be looking at some trap words that have unclear origins.

コーンフレーク → cornflakes ✅… but also → any breakfast cereal ✅

Though the word コーンフレーク is used to refer to cornflakes specifically, it is also used more generally to refer to any breakfast cereal at all. Researching to find evidence of this usage was difficult, despite its widespread usage. Every Japanese dictionary defines コーンフレーク as cereal made of flakes of corn, without so much as a mention of the common “misconception”. You get a hint of the reality of the common usage when you google 「コーンフレーク 意味」— three of the results on the first page are variations of 「シリアルとコーフレークの違いは何？」.

The best I can do for evidence is this video from Kevin’s English Room where they refer to various cereals like Froot Loops and Reese’s Puffs as コーンフレーク.¹

非常に代表的なアメリカのコーンフレークでございます "This is an extremely typical American breakfast cereal."

Part of the silence here is due to Japanese speakers being generally a bit more linguistically prescriptivist than English speakers, especially when it comes to loan words. There seems to be this notion that the original English definition is the “correct” one - but this isn’t the case! The “correct” use of a word is simply one that conveys the intended meaning. That’s just how language evolves. It’s why “nonplussed” has come to mean “unconcerned” instead of its original opposite meaning. Not to mention, when a word is borrowed into another language, it is now a part of that language. It goes through phonetic changes to match the language's phoneme inventory and syllabic structure, gains its own meaning, and can play by the unconscious sound and grammar rules of the new language.² The Japanese word コーンフレーク and the English word cornflake are not the same word! And it’s ok for them to mean different things! I don’t think this sentiment is widely accepted by Japanese culture, which explains why it’s so hard to find a Japanese dictionary definition that defines コーンフレーク as “breakfast cereal”. (Jisho does though!³)

As far as its origins are concerned, I believe this is a simple case of genericisation (though I can't find any evidence to support that), similar to how we call all hook-and-loop fasteners "velcro".

ハンドル → handle ❌ → steering wheel ✅

This word is was also hard to find any etymology on. Even the best articles I could find are unsure about its origins. There are a couple of theories but nothing solid.

The word ハンドルバー for the handlebars of a bike may have been misinterpreted to mean “steering mechanism” rather than “horizontal pole to grab” and applied to cars as well.⁴ Then in standard Japanese fashion, the word was trimmed down to four morae, becoming ハンドル. Another article suggested that it originally came from the “handling” of a car. The wheel controls the handling, so 「ハンドルを操るホイール」 may have just been shortened to ハンドル.

テンション → tension ❌ → excitement ✅

テンション is often used in phrases like 「ハイテンション」　「テンションを上げる」　「テンションを下げる」, to mean the energy or vibes of a situation. This graph might help:

I did a lot of digging on this, and I couldn’t find any reliable sources or actual records of how テンション came to have this meaning. The best explanation I could find came from an unsourced yahoo answers question (lol), but there does seem to be a consensus: It seems to come from musical tension, specifically tension chords on guitar.⁵⁶⁷ The first use of テンション in this way may have come from bands playing at live concerts. “Tension” in a chord is an extra note that’s not a basic part of the chord.⁸ Apparently adding this extra sound causes a feeling of anticipation - it feels like the music is building up to a resolution, which gets people excited at a concert. Musicians would use the phrase 「テンションコードを上げる」, meaning “build excitement with tension chords”, which became simply 「テンションを上げる」, and this phrase was then adopted by the general population and taken out of its musical context, becoming a trap word!

[1] https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tROynQjSSVc [2] https://www.tumblr.com/javerend/702780060197879809/these-are-all-good-thoughts-im-going-to-borrow?source=share [3] https://jisho.org/search/コーンフレーク [4] https://nihon5-bunka.net/jinglish-handle/ [5] https://detail.chiebukuro.yahoo.co.jp/qa/question_detail/q13195893143 [6] https://kimini.online/blog/archives/22851 [7] https://dhits.docomo.ne.jp/feed/10004705 [8] https://hubguitar.com/music-theory/chord-tensions

[toushindai]

I finished reading your latest fic and I have to say your character study of both Rauru and Ganondorf and their relationship to themselves and power made for a very interesting read! My question: what parts of Rauru do you enjoy studying and elaborating on the most? What parts of his character endear you to him?

Thank you anon!! And thank you for the question as well. Rauru is my favorite character in the sense that my brain will NOT stop chewing on him but I don’t know if I have ever felt endeared to him, per se. My firstest reaction to him—when the final trailer dropped—was one of suspicion. “Did you kidnap my princess so that I would solve your problems?!” This was mildly unfair. He didn’t kidnap Zelda. He sure does want me to solve his problems, though? So the feeling somewhat persisted.

He’s just sssooooo. Infuriating. In a way that I’m maybe 70% sure the devs didn’t intend? I’m almost but not quite certain that the game’s writers just want me to perceive him as a noble king whose justly founded kingdom was threatened by a scary evil man who had no real reason for his violence against Hyrule, whose courageous sacrifice of his own life is to be admired and emulated (never mind that Zelda doesn’t need to be told that it’s a ruler’s duty to sacrifice themself for their people, she already did that for a century). Almost, but not quite, and 30% is not a small amount of uncertainty, actually. And that uncertainty comes from:

The specifically called-out fact that he repeatedly reached out to the Gerudo in spite of a lack of positive response, whatever that looked like. Buddy that is ✨coercive✨

His cold, superior treatment of Ganondorf in the Show of Fealty cutscene. Which is even more potent linguistically in Japanese and, I am told, in French. There’s something very twisted IMO about treating Ganondorf as a technical equal whose rightful place is beneath Rauru. It makes my brain go brrrrrrrrr real hard (this is known) and it is too apparent for me to think I’m not supposed to find it a little sick. s-sorry I'm just thinking about it and my brain is going brrrrrrr again. give me a second. ok

And—shifting away from that cutscene even though I live there—I have been thinking recently about how much of the game’s message is that you are not alone and yet how heavily Rauru’s instinct is that he must face the Demon King alone. How he sets up Link, only, as Ganondorf’s eventual doom. It’s Zelda and Mineru who build the framework for the future sages to fight at Link’s side. Rauru’s not fully aligned with the theme of the game, and he grunts at his sister, miffed, when she points that out to him.

So was this intended? He is arrogant—the game names this as his fatal flaw, he names this as his fatal flaw—but how much of his arrogance does the game criticize and how much does it treat as his right? My brain will not stop chewing on this question so I make it the central question of his characterization.

What do I like about him. As a person? Not very much. He is kind and supportive to Zelda. He loves his wife. His ears are very expressive and that’s cute. List ends here, I think. I don’t even respect as a person his desire to be a good and just king because it is far too wrapped up in that “king” part.

But as a character, I like him as someone who showcases—if unintentionally on the game’s part—how ultimately insufficient good intentions are. And how solipsistic it is to think that good intentions are everything. I like writing him as someone who truly wants to be a good person, as good as he can possibly be, and who suddenly finds that he has desires and instincts that don’t support that self-perception at all. I think that happens to all of us, sometimes. We all have moments where our instincts are crueler or more selfish than our ideals. It’s how we chose to react to those instincts that matters, and part of that process is to look at them honestly and admit to them. But Rauru, as I write him, fails this step pretty hard. And what happens as a result? He is left in this morass of inner conflict, he is not able to deal honestly with his own desires. They keep building, and he keeps blaming Ganondorf for provoking them. He faces them for just long enough to act on the worst of them and then, horrified by what he has done, he looks away from them again. Not ideal! Not a desirable outcome! But not, I hope, outside the realm of his characterization. (Zelda tells him he will sacrifice himself and he says well that’s my duty but (A) of all you weren’t here before so things will be different! dw about it! And then when he realizes that no, to sacrifice himself is the only option, there is heartbreak on his face. My guy, you were warned. Did you convince yourself this wasn’t coming?)

He’s complex. Maybe on purpose or maybe because the game doesn’t realize how insidious the evils of empire and monarchy are--I think probably the former greatly exacerbated by the latter. I have made up so much about him but he would not be nearly as interesting if exported into an OC because I'd be starting with the premise "ooooh he's a lil fucked up actually" as opposed to my making this point about the game writing about a character the game (mostly, I think) wants us to think of as purely good.

gnaws on him some more. puts him back in the terrarium. gives the terrarium a good solid shake. what a guy

[incarnateirony]

The censorship of Persona 4 has always been a fascinating topic to me.

Not only the whole "deleted queer romance dating paths with full dual language audio on disc still" part, which is over discussed.

But the margin writing. In 2007, the amount of queerness achieved seemed impressive, but SMT had intended more, far more. Kanji needed a "maybe it wasn't about gender but fear of rejection" buffer despite the gay hot tub and split queer self weilding gender signs.

And Naoto?

Boy, Naoto got taken for a ride.

Naoto was first designed as a cis boy, and yes, Kanji x Naoto, and Kanji's bisexual panic. However, the transing and detransing of Naoto began all at once. After all, it can't be censored as gay if ~he's actually a ~she, right? Nevermind maintaining masc presentation and shit but okay it's 2007, we get it. No need for the body alteration procedure with the shadow WE GOT IT OK.

But then like, Golden and later content came out. And while I love me some Chad Yu, I'm less fond of the direction with naoto.

Every fandom in the history of ever has some self interested douchebag that literally refuses to let people debate things like queer cultural limits by era, design intent and changes, it's just What They Can Argue In Hard Canon, rather than What People Might Appreciate In Context Of The Show Paradigm.

So like, that kind of arguing already happened but everything that came in the reboot CLEARLY came with a new command from ATLUS international to Girl Up Naoto. Tittydance butch queen was apparently more marketable than dorky lil trans guy in the sidebar, so all the new content added eyelashes, changed Naoto's face shape subtly, shoved them in naked positions and bathtub scenarios and things they were clearly uncomfortable as hell in, and just left me sitting there squirming.

Even before I had unpacked my own trans shit it made me INTENSELY uncomfortable because NAOTO, regardless of what pronoun or gender you see on them, was intensely uncomfortable and nobody around them cared. And then the animation changed for the design change, and it just kept skewing further and further and further until by dancing spinoffs the character is barely recognizeable beyond color pallate.

Like, I would never buckle down and really argue, "it is 100% hard text canon Naoto is trans and there is no other interpretation." But on the other hand, it's just as silly to argue it from the other absolute. Looking at the game history, a mix of intent, adjustment, barriers, dubs, translations, international marketing limits and whatever else completely recontextualizes the discussion in a way I don't think the average discourse really holds up to in meaningful lit crit, everyone's just yelling NUH UH at each other, as happens, in every fuckin' fandom.

Naoto, if anything, is more an interesting landmark historically IN queer and gender issues, with a flavor of Gold Star Attempt Totally Butchered Trans Stuff circa 200X. Was there stuff that is. Not. Great. Modernly? Yeah. All around. There's still lolgay jokes even in a game this gay, there's some dated elements all around, so it's just weird that this part of the debate is expected to be frozen in time and not discussed in the context of both the series and cultural evolution.

Anyway dems my thoughts.

(WHY DOES NAOTO HAVE A TITTYCUT BUST LIKE THIS IN THE DANCE GAME. THE GOLDEN OUTFIT ADDITION ON THE RIGHT WAS BAD ENOUGH)

[draguta]

.a court of ash and smoke | two.

pairing: lucien vanseera x fem!reader

summary: five years before feyre archeron ever stepped foot in prythian, another human girl found herself in the spring court. but the trials and tribulations of her time under the mountain left her with nothing but a certain red-headed high fae emissary, who had once resented her entire presence, to help and guide her.

chapter warnings: **MAJOR WARNINGS: SUICIDE, SUICIDAL THOUGHTS ** non-con, dub-con, violence

chapter word count: 5237

a/n: I'm posting this a little earlier than intended (was aiming for a new chapter every 2 days) because I've apparently got a scheduled power cut tomorrow (in 40 degree heat - send me prayers). Enjoy folks!

🩸 series masterlist 🩸

please remember to reblog, like, and share a comment if you enjoy this series - it is always appreciated by writers to see their hard work valued.

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Ash Arrow

The first man from Amarantha’s court to grace your bed - the first man you had ever taken to bed - was not gentle. He had hit you so hard that your cheekbone bruised, and even your new High Fae strength was nothing compared to these centuries-old Fae. He had delighted in realising that you had bled shortly afterward, and had made quite the spectacle in telling everyone exactly how he had taken your virtue.

After around two dozen men had come and gone from your chambers, and weeks had passed by, you came to learn what it was that you had to do. They would come, take what they wanted, and leave nothing in return. They didn’t want anything sensual or passionate, there was no kissing or foreplay, they simply wanted to bury themselves for an hour or so, and you were the chosen place to do it.

By the next time Lucien had come to visit, you had become quite adept at pretending to be somewhere else, and the dark shapes behind your eyelids became your best friends, come to you every time a knock came at your chamber door and you closed your eyes, praying that it would be over soon.

It had been three months since Lucien’s initial visit, and this time he found you, not in that dank cell, but in the throne room. A High Fae from Hewn City had you sprawled in his lap whilst he swallowed down glass after glass of wine, his hand resting on your upper thigh - you were his property for the night, and damn anyone who might try to touch you.

“Give us a smile then,” the High Fae growled, looking you over. His friends chuckled low and dark. You didn’t speak, and you wouldn’t dare to, instead simply pulling at the sides of your lips until they resembled something close to a smile. You hadn’t smiled in months. You had very little to be joyful about down here under this mountain.

“Y/N?” Your name came as a whisper somewhere behind you, and you tensed at the voice, turning to find the youngest brother of the Autumn Court staring back at you in pure shock. “What are you doing?”

His face had gone deathly pale - as pale as a corpse - and his eyes were narrowed, lips a thin, straight line. The Fae who was currently providing your seat scoffed, glancing at his friends and then back at Lucien with a snarl. “Wait your own turn, Autumn. Unless you want to lose that other eye too.”

Lucien flinched ever-so-slightly, but didn’t make to reply. Instead, he turned back to you, leaning forward slightly. “I have business to attend to, but I’ll find you shortly, ok?”

You nodded, and watched as he hesitantly turned, almost as if he didn’t want to leave you with the Hewn City Fae, and slipped into the crowd.  You fought the urge to scream after him for him to take you with him, wherever it was he was going. That wouldn’t go down well with the Fae who’s lap I sat in, and definitely not with Amarantha.

He did keep his promise, however. Shortly after the Hewn City High Fae left your chambers, the soft knock sounded on my door, and you braced yourself for yet another client - you usually only had one per night, but sometimes another would sneak in during the late hours when the throne room party was dying down. However, when the door swung open, it wasn’t a client, but rather the red-headed emissary of the Spring Court.

He entered the room slowly and hesitantly, coming to a stop at the foot of the bed, just as he had done on your first day in the Spring Court. He averted his gaze when he realised that you weren’t properly covered, an issue that you fixed by wrapping the sheets around your chest.

“What are you doing?” He all-but snapped. You hadn’t been expecting to see the anger behind his eyes, nor for it to be directed at you. “What the fuck is this game you’re playing?”

“I’m doing what I need to do to survive,” you countered, echoing Rhysand’s words. “This was the only way.”

“No,” he snarled. “There were plenty of other ways to get out of that cell other than whoring yourself out to the entire court. We were-”

You let the bitter laugh that ruminated from the pit of your chest cut him off, glaring at him as you sat up and faced him, hand still holding those sheets over your naked form. “Perhaps you had a plan,” you snapped. “Maybe you would have found a way out for me. But it’s been three months, Lucien. Three months since you last came, and for all I knew, you were going to leave me down there. You were never going to come back!”

“You think that I would leave you there?” He hissed through gritted teeth. He glanced away again as you rose from the bed and threw a silk nightdress over your body, and you knew even as he glanced back and winced that it still wasn’t enough to properly cover you, the thin, light material practically see-through, and showing the entire length of your legs.

“I don’t know what you would do, Lucien,” I snapped back. “It’s not as if you didn’t make it perfectly clear during those months at the Spring Court that you would rather me gone. Perhaps leaving me here was your plan all along, to get me out of your way so that I didn’t bother you anymore.”

“Y/N,” he growled, and you could help but take a step back from him. That fire burning behind his eye was brighter than you had ever seen it before, stronger and harsher. He was furious with you, and you didn’t like to think what that entailed. “Did I not tell you that I would come here whenever I could?”

He moved to perch on the edge of the bed, fists clenched to white knuckles, frowning once he realised the act that had just been committed between those sheets, but he ignored it, and kept that firm stare on you. “When I told Tamlin that you were going to stay here, he was enraged. He trashed half of the house.” He let out a low and heavy sigh. “What do you think is going to happen when I tell him that you’re whoring yourself out to Amarantha’s entire court?”

“Right now, what Tamlin does is not my concern,” you muttered, moving to sit at the vanity, watching him through the reflection in the mirror. “I need to focus on surviving, on living.”

“You would call this living?” He countered, running a hand over the silk sheets of the bed. “Don’t you see that you are playing entirely into Amarantha’s hand? She wants to spoil you, wants to keep Tamlin angry, to tease and torment him, because she thinks that you are his lover.”

You paused, spinning in your seat to stare at him, mouth slightly agape. Suddenly, everything made sense. Everything that Amarantha had done became clear to you. She was using you to try and torture Tamlin, and this was simply another step in her plan. To see his lover be whored out to her court and know that he was powerless to stop it. Only, you weren’t his lover, and she had made a mistake. You were stuck there because of a mistake. Your stomach swirled in anger.

“But Rhysand said this was the only way,” you whispered, tears beginning to well in your eyes. “He said that this was the only way I could survive.”

“Rhysand told you that?” Lucien scoffed. “Surely you should have realised that Rhysand is Amarantha’s lap-dog. Anything that he says is only ever to benefit himself, or her. You can’t trust him.”

Your shoulders began to shake, just slightly, as the sobs wracked through your body one by one, waves of anger and sadness and frustration and mourning for what could have been, the life you could have lived at the Spring Court, washing over you inch by inch. You weren’t sure when you fell to the ground, when you crumpled onto your knees and began to weep, yet, to your surprise, two strong arms wrapped themselves around you, grounded you and comforted me. It was overwhelming, the information that he had given you was too much. You had gone through all of this simply because Amarantha had wanted to destroy Tamlin, and had thought that you - his supposed lover - was the best way to break him.

“It will be ok,” Lucien whispered soothingly, and you were too wrecked to even spare an ounce of surprise at his kindness. “I’ll come more often, I promise.”

“I’m a fool,” you choked out between sobs.

“Well, as much as I’m inclined to agree,” he smirked. “In this instance, I don’t think so. If you say this was the best way to keep you alive, then I believe you.”

You sniffled, wiping your nose on the back of your hand, and looked up at him. He was smiling - a real, shining smile that seemed to leech through the darkness and coldness of the room. And for some reason, you couldn’t help but reciprocate it. When he saw your smile, he nearly beamed.

“Keep your chin up, human,” he said softly. A calloused finger hitched itself under your chin and lifted it, just as he had said. “And don’t let them know how much it pains you to do this. They will only use it against you.”

“So I truly must stay this way?” You asked quietly. “I must remain as this…whore?”

“Unfortunately, you’ve already agreed to it,” he said solemnly. “There’s little I can do to stop it now.” He paused, twisting his lips in thought. “I will try - I promise you that - but I cannot say that my pleas won’t fall on deaf ears.”

With that, he rose to his feet, his hands on your shoulders pulling you with him. “Now, I have to go,” he said quietly. “I had to sneak past your guards to get in here, and I have to be out before they realise.”

Ah yes, Harden and Carson, the guards that Amarantha had stationed at the door to your chambers, and your two most frequent clients. You watched as Lucien made his way to the door, the gold of his dagger hilt shimmering in the candlelight. He paused, just for a moment, and turned back to you.

“Just remember,” he said slowly. “You can’t trust Rhysand. Don’t take anything he says at face value.”

You just nodded as he threw you one more sympathetic smile, only the second real smile you had ever seen from him, and disappeared back into the hall, the door clicking behind him as he went.

After that visit, Lucien began coming to the mountain once a month, frequently checking in on you, and bringing Amarantha news from the Spring Court - you could only hope that it was false information, and that he wasn’t actually selling Tamlin out.

His arrival would always be the same. You would be in the throne room, surrounded by drunk faeries, waiting for one of them to pick you from the crowd and claim you for the night. Lucien would stride through the door, parting the crowds and earning snarls of distaste from the other Vanserra boys, who you quickly worked out to be his older brothers. He would stop at the foot of the dais, and request counsel with Amarantha, and as they left, his eyes would scan the crowd to find you, offering you a reassuring nod that told you he would find you that night.

He had begun informing Harden and Carson that he was a client, hoping to be serviced by the court’s whore during his visit, and they would let him into your chambers without a second question. He would bring with him news of the Spring Court, only for your ears, and messages from Tamlin. Usually, those messages conveyed only that he missed you, his sister, a title that you had cemented together over those months, and that he would find a way to get you out and take you home. You weren’t sure, when he said home, if he meant the Spring Court or the mortal lands. At the end of each meeting, Lucien would be sure to ruffle his clothes and hair, and you the sheets on your bed and your own hair, lest someone question what you had been doing.

It wasn’t until six months later that Amarantha even realised that Lucien had been coming to your chambers during his visits at all. However, it was on one late evening that you finally realised she knew.

As always, Lucien entered the throne room as you hovered on the outskirts of the room, trying to cover your modesty in the skimpy dress that you wore as you usually did. Your eyes followed his figure as he strode through the room, an heir of unadulterated confidence, and stopped to kneel at the edge of the dais. “I bring news from the Spring Court,” he said, not looking up at Amarantha who lounged in her throne, a goblet of wine hanging from her thin fingers. “I beg an audience so that we may convene and discuss it.”

“Tomorrow,” Amarantha snarled. She leaned forward in her chair, peering down at the emissary. “For now, why not enjoy yourself? You work so hard, Lucien.” She smirked, those red lips curling into the malicious smile that you were so familiar with now. “I heard that you have quite the affinity for my favourite little pet whore. Why not let her show you a good time?”

Lucien’s shoulders tensed, but he bowed his head and rose to his feet, not another word uttered, before turning and scanning the crowd, the throne room now silent, until his golden eye landed on you. He strode toward you, and took your hand in his, making a move to depart through the parting crowd and retreat to the safety and relative comfort of your chambers. But Amarantha’s voice stopped him in his tracks, toxicity laced into every word.

“Leaving so soon?” She sneered. “Why not stay and enjoy the party for a while? I’m sure the whore can keep you company here.”

He winced and turned back to you, scanning your features as if to say, ‘if you’re not comfortable with this, we don’t have to, and I can make an excuse for us to go’. But you just nodded, and watched as his shoulders rose and fell with a shuddering breath. He led you now in the opposite direction, taking a seat at the table on the far side of the room. His legs spread ever so slightly, an invitation to sit, and whilst he grabbed your hips and pulled you down to him, his rough fingertips were still gentle against your skin.

Amarantha rose from her throne, clicking her fingers once to command that the others go back to what they had been doing, before taking slow steps down and long, floating strides toward us, coming to a pause before you. You flinched, but Lucien’s strong hands squeezed at their lingering presence on your hips, a silent comfort.

“I’m intrigued to know, emissary,” her voice snarled. “What does your High Lord think of you taking his lover to bed each time you come here?”

Lucien smirked, but you knew better than to think it was real humour he felt. “What Tamlin doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”

Amarantha’s sharp laughter echoed above the noise from the party. “Well then, I’ll ensure he never finds out.” Her dark eyes flashed, but Lucien simply tipped his head. She turned to the nearest servant. “Fetch some wine for our guest.”

“Two, please,” Lucien called, and the servant nodded, disappearing for a moment and returning with two goblets of wine. Lucien took one and handed you the other. The wine was the colour of blood, of Amarantha’s lips, of Lucien’s blood that day he had lost his eye.

“You plan to ply the whore with wine?” Amarantha smirked. “It is her job to do as you bid. You have no need to get her drunk first.”

Lucien let out a small chuckle, shooting me a sideways glance. “With the night that I’ve got planned for her, she’s going to need it.”

Amarantha laughed again, and the sound made my blood run cold. “Perhaps I’ve underestimated you, emissary,” she leered. “Enjoy the party.”

Lucien nodded once more, and Amarantha left, but you knew that her eyes were still trained on you and Lucien, watching, studying calculatingly, noting every movement that you both made. You knew what she was doing - she was trying to catch us in our falsehood, to ensure that there were no lies being spewed to her, and that Lucien did in fact have every intention of taking you to bed.

You felt his breath, hot on your neck as he leaned into your ear and whispered, “Just play along. There are too many eyes watching.”

You didn’t need to be told twice. After a while his hand left your hips, repositioning you slightly so that you were no longer perched on the edge of his knees, but instead completely on his lap, flush against his broad chest. One hand snaked its way around your waist, and the other came to rest on your thigh, higher than you thought was necessary for appearance sake, but you didn’t dare argue. You allowed your own arm to slip around his neck, the other cradling your wine, which was emptied and refilled more times that night than you would care to admit to.

Your skin was burning hot, flushed and riddled with gooseflesh. The fear of being caught in your lie was enough to make every hair on the back of your neck stand to attention, especially when a faerie dressed in all-black, presumably from Hewn City in the Night Court, struck up a conversation with Lucien about what he planned to do with you that night.

You winced at the crude conversation, knowing that none of it was true, but even just hearing him speak of you that way was enough to twist your stomach into knots. Lucien’s grip on your thigh tightened and released, tightened and released, his way of telling you that it wasn’t true, that he was just playing a part and he meant none of it. And you knew that already, but it didn’t stop you from downing two more glasses of faerie wine, and allowing the sweet drunken bliss to take over.

You leaned your head back against his shoulder and closed your eyes, taking in his scent. He smelt like the forest after a light rain, like apple cider and cinnamon, and you let the smell envelope you, let his arms hold you in place. The first moment of peace and tranquillity that you’d found since arriving Under the Mountain, and it had come from Lucien of all people.

You could still barely wrap your head around it, how it was he who came so regularly to check on you, he who made you feel better, he who protected you. He had once hated you so much, had resented you and loathed you being in the Spring Court - perhaps he still did. Maybe his words on his first visit had been true, that he simply didn’t think anyone deserved this, not even you. Either way, you were grateful for him, and grateful for the small semblance of normality that came with him.

You felt his hand hook under your legs, pulling them over his thighs, allowing you to nestle closer to him, so close to sleep that had evaded you for so long, finally feeling safe enough to let it overtake you.

When you woke the next morning, you were tucked into your bed, and Lucien was nowhere in sight. You couldn’t help but feel disappointed that he was gone, that the only friend you had in this wretched place, no matter how unlikely, had left without a word. Not that you had expected him to stay. He would never have done such a thing, if only for fear of Tamlin’s wrath should he ever find out that his emissary had spent the night in your chambers, even if only for appearances, and even if nothing would have actually happened.

Yet, you found yourself longing for that smell of him, that feeling of safety that he provided. Lucien, despite himself, despite his hatred to you, had become the only form of kindness that you received, and had quickly become the lesser of two evils. You could deal with Lucien’s snarky remarks and cold glares, even if they were few and far between now, if it meant that you were kept away from Amarantha, and away from her sickening court for even just one night.

He was your safety net now, and as much as you hated that it was him, and as much as he surely thought the same, he was all you had left.

Three years passed by in the blink of an eye, and yet nothing changed. You remained chained to that bed, and remained Amarantha’s loyal little pet whore. Lucien’s visits became more infrequent, citing problems in the Spring Court as the reasoning, and you felt the loneliness slowly taking over, wrapping you in its darkness. You began to fall in on yourself, to refuse food, leaving you nothing more than skin and bone - it always came up after your clients left anyway. You stopped speaking, no longer pretending to be that good little servant to your clients, who feigned laughter at their jokes and faked pleasure in bed. You no longer made any effort with anyone at all. You became a shell of yourself, and everyone could see it.

When, to your surprise, Rhysand came to visit you, appearing in a cloud of dark shadows inside your chambers without so much as a knock on the door, you hadn’t seen Lucien in nearly five months. Rhysand looked you over, curled up on your bed, wrapped around yourself. You didn’t even so much as spare him a glance.

“You’re playing a dangerous game,” he muttered. It was the first time he had come to your room since the day he had shown you this prison. “Amarantha isn’t happy with how you’re acting. The court’s men are complaining.”

“Go to hell.” It came out in no more than a whisper, your voice aching at the first use for months. Rhysand chuckled.

“I think it’s too late for that. We’re already here,” he stated, circling the bed to crouch down in front of you. You didn’t allow your eyes to focus on him, his face a blur of dark skin and violet eyes and black shadows. “You need to eat something.”

“Why do you care?” You growled out.

“You’re right,” he said, throwing his hands into the air. “I shouldn’t care. Except that I do. I gave a lot to get you this position, to get you out of that cell and save your life. Now you’re throwing away all of my hard work.”

You didn’t grace him with an answer, and he simply tutted his tongue, running a hand through his dark locks. “If Amarantha thinks that you are no longer of use, what do you think will happen?” Again, no answer. “She’ll kill you.”

“Then let her,” you mumbled, fighting back a sob. “Lucie was right, this isn’t living anyway.”

Rhysand groaned in frustration. “Do you think your little emissary would be happy if you were killed?” He snapped. “Do you think your High Lord would be pleased?”

“He’s not my High Lord, and Lucien isn’t my emissary,” was the only reply that you could muster. Rhysand groaned again, but seemed to give up fighting. He knew as well as you did that there was nothing he could do to change your mind.

“Well, if you’re really not going to eat anything, then prepare yourself,” he stated blandly, rising to his feet. “You’ve got an important client coming to visit.”

And then he was gone.

The important client in question was a High Fae from the Autumn Court, and as soon as he entered your chambers you knew him to be one of Lucien’s brothers - the second eldest, if you were correct in your thinking. He hovered by the door awkwardly, as if not sure how to proceed, and you lounged on the bed. You watched him, but didn’t move to bring him closer to you, didn’t spread your legs or edge him into your bed. He pulled off his bow and quiver and placed them on the vanity table, before slowly moving closer to the bed.

It was fast, and messy, and painful, but you kept still, allowing him to take from you whatever he needed, as so many others had done before. It wasn’t until the final few thrusts that you allowed your eyes to open and focus on the mirror across from you, drawing them down to the quiver on the table. Your heart nearly stopped.

Ash arrows.

You knew the stories, that ash arrows were the only way to kill a faerie. Perhaps they would be your salvation, would be your ticket to freedom. The Vanserra brother finished with a growl, rolling off you, muttering something about cleaning himself up, before disappearing into the washroom. You moved quickly and quietly while he was gone, unsure of how much time you had left before he came back. You pulled one of the ash arrows from the quiver, studied it as it sat heavy in your palm for a moment, and slipped it under the mattress, sliding back under the covers, pulling the sheets up to cover my modesty.

The red-head appeared again, and quickly dressed, grabbing his weapons, not noticing the missing arrow. He threw you one last sneer over his shoulder, and made a promise that he would return later in the week. Little did he know that you would be here.

You had hoped that the ash arrow would kill you the second that you plunged it into your stomach, but little did you know that those stories you had grown up on were greatly exaggerated.

It was Lucien that found you. You hadn’t even known that he was Under the Mountain that day, but even through the haze of blood-loss, you could still hear his shouts and cries and wails, could still feel his arms pull you into his lap, his blood-sticky fingers pushing the hair away from your face as he practically begged you to come back, for his sake, for Tamlin’s sake.

A sharp pain erupted through your stomach as the ash arrow was pulled from your body, but you didn’t even flinch, not enough energy to even register the pain. The metallic stench of magic filled your nostrils, and even in your disorientation, you knew that Lucien was trying, and failing to heal you. And then there was another voice, lower than Lucien’s - Rhysand.

They worked in tandem, another wave of metallic magic flooding your nostrils, masking the bitter stench of your own blood as two sets of magic worked to heal the gaping wound in your abdomen. Something dripped on your cheek, blood that had coated the ends of Lucien’s hair and now fell to my face.

Their voices became more distant, foggier and muted, as you wandered closer to that light, to the end of the line.

You didn’t die. You found out later that Lucien had stayed Under the Mountain as you recovered, and had stayed in your room every day until you woke up. Rhysand hadn’t returned, however, but you couldn’t help but consider what Lucien had said about him, about how he couldn’t be trusted. If he had truly been working against you, would he have helped save your life? Maybe it was simply a means to an end, to keep you alive so that you could keep up this charade, and play out his and Amarantha’s plan, yet after that day you had a new-found respect for him.

Lucien was still there when my eyes fluttered open, taking in that same bed-chamber, almost coughing out a cry when you realised that your own plan had failed, and you were still stuck in that prison. He rushed to your bedside as soon as he saw that you were awake, the mattress dipping with his weight as he sat down.

“Y/N?” He whispered the question. You allowed your blurred eyes to fall to him, noting the relief on his face, a peculiar stance for someone who had hated you so much. And yet, you could only assume that he no longer loathed you, for if he did, surely he wouldn’t have spent so much time there, so much time checking on you and protecting you. Surely he wouldn’t have saved your life, wouldn’t have been such a frantic mess when he saw the blood pouring from the wound made by the ash arrow that had been protruding from your gut. In truth, the hatred that you had once felt for him had dissipated too. You didn’t despise him anymore, much to your own surprise, because he was the only kindness that you still had left. He was the only one who seemed to care. “Thank the Cauldron!”

It only took a second for your features to contort and crinkle, eyes screwed shut as the sobs wreaked through your body. Lucien simply pulled you closer to him, and held you as you cried, as you mourned and grieved for your own worthless existence.

“It didn’t work,” you sobbed into his chest.

“I know,” he whispered into your hair. “You’re lucky I was here, and that Rhysand of all people helped.”

“Lucky?” You cried. “You think I’m lucky? I wanted that ash arrow to kill me, I wanted it to end my miserable life! I can’t live like this, Lucien! I can’t do it anymore!”

He pulled back, face pale with shock as he searched your features, brows furrowed. “Y-You mean you did that to yourself?” You let out another choked sob, nodding your head. “Aeryn got thirty lashes for that.”

Aeryn, his brother from the Autumn Court, the one you had stolen the ash arrow from. And it all came down to that; here, under this mountain, your life was worth only thirty lashes against his back. But Lucien didn’t speak of it again, not when you let out another shaking gasp surrounding a wailing sob, and he pulled you back into his chest and rocked you gently. You let that scent - his scent - envelope you once more, just as it had that day in the throne room, and allowed it to comfort you into calmness.

Lucien returned to the Spring Court a few days later to inform Tamlin of what had happened and assure him that you were ok. That, much to your own despair, you were still alive.

And so, your life returned to what it had been. When you were strong enough to return to your duties, the men began knocking on your door once more, and you returned to despising your own existence.

[wisteriasymphony]

LORE DROP TO KEEP THE NATION FED!

(Chloé + Sabrina centric)

"Oh my god, so- Dupain-Cheng, right? You'll never believe what I heard her say to herself earlier today."

"What?"

Chloé had to giggle and snort to herself for a few seconds before she was even able to say it. "Ok, so she was— She dropped her pencil, or something, right? And like—" Chloé started twirling her gum around her finger, before popping it all back in her mouth. "—She said 'Oopsie'. Fucking 'Oopsie'."

Sabrina broke out into laughter that she couldn't contain behind her hand no matter how close she kept it to her face.

"Like- We're in terminale, Cheng, you can say 'Fuck'. It's literally so not hard."

"I've never heard her swear ever."

"What do you think she does if she burns, like, the little cookies she spends all day making?" Chloé shrugged, leaning further into the locker she was up against. "'Oh golly gosh darnit!'," she mocked. "'What a predicament!'"

"'Oh jinkies, my sweet treats are ruined! Whatever shall I do?'"

Sabrina liked seeing Chloé laugh, no matter what she was laughing about. Out of anything Chloé could've been doing that morning, gossiping was the least likely to get them hurt.

"Mademoiselle Bourgeois, that state of attire is not appropriate for a learning environment."

Chloé pursed her lips upon hearing Madam Bustier call her out. She tugged onto the lace hem of the tanktop below her crop jacket, bringing the hem just to touch the waistband of her jeans despite fully intending to not keep it that way.

"Fine, better?" she frowned.

"...Have a pleasant day, Mademoiselle Bourgeois. Don't make me chat with your father again."

At the 'next chat' they would be having, her Daddy would be the one doing the talking, that's for sure. All these stupid rules just seemed to be put in place to mock the concept of being fashionable. Hell, the other day she'd been chastised for showing up in Juicy Couture—Juicy Couture! Apparently it wasn't 'academic enough'. It was almost like they fucking knew half of Chloé's closet was Juicy Couture.

"God, what a bitch."

"It's whatever, Bibi," she mumbled under her breath. "If they want me to start dressing like a kindergarten teacher, I'll be the hottest kindergarten teacher they could ask for. With like... little yellow jackets or striped shirts or whatever."

Sabrina giggled at the thought of such a thing. "Catholic housewife style?"

"Pfft, no— Dupain-Cheng dresses enough like that for the whole damn school."

Adrien passed by them, not bothering to even wave like he used to. He didn't really even acknowledge anybody in the hallway, actually. It was weird.

"By the way, Chloé—" Sabrina grimaced nervously, lowering her voice to a whisper. "Is it true that he's, like..."

"I don't want to talk about it," Chloé said.

"What?! Come on, you told me you guys were engaged at one point, there's no way you wouldn't know."

Chloé took in a sharp inhale through her nose, her shoulders rising with it. "Beebs, if we're talking any more about this, it'll be in the bathroom."

They made sure to find one that any teachers wouldn't stop by. Coincidentally, it was the same one that all of the druggies would use for the very same reason, but it was so early in the day that most of them weren't even out of bed yet. Except Chloé, that is.. but coke is a party drug, so it doesn't count.

Sabrina braced herself as Chloé readied to break the news.

"No."

"...Seriously? That's all you had to—"

"No, Bibi, that's not all of it!" Chloé then shoved Sabrina and herself into the nearest stall, still unsure if they had enough privacy to talk about it. "I know that he's not because I've fucking kissed him before!"

Sabrina seemed to think this was the equivalent to Chloé winning a million dollars when it really wasn't. She was being totally ridiculous about it, like it was worth caring that it happened.

"You kissed Adrien Agresté? There is no way—"

Reflexively, Chloé forced a hand over Sabrina's mouth. "God, Beebs, it's how I figured out I wasn't into guys! Also, we were like 12 when it happened, so it didn't even count."

"Buht shtill!" Sabrina's ridiculous little goofy smile could still be seen through Chloé's hand just as much as her voice could be heard. "I dohn't fhink anywone's evah kisshed 'im befo—"

"Well, he's not gay, because if he was, he would've reacted like I had afterwards," Chloé simply spat. "He had that goofy little smile on his face like yours, too. ...Weirdest part was that he mumbled something along the lines of me looking like his mom."

Sabrina was now free from the grasp of Chloé's hand, even if she was still backed up against the door of the stall. "Weird," she said with a smirk.

"Yeah, and she wasn't even, like, dead yet."

"Totally. Gosh, no wonder you guys couldn't get married, that'd be so gross."

Chloé looked off into the distance (that, in their situation, was the tiled wall of the bathroom maybe two away at most). It wasn't worth mentioning that the kiss had happened after that point anyways; That's not what Chloé was the most hung up about.

"That's not why," she said. "I was never told why."

[generalallxsanjishipper]

Icon made by: @kittycatasaurus

Hi! Welcome.

This is Generalallxsanjishipper's blog

(A long ass nick, I know.)

*stares at the (not many) but 100% "Yes" votes that was in the poll* (How the hell am I supposed to introduce myself? I have no idea, but okay, whatever—)

Killian here! It's not my real name, but it's my art name. I can be called Isa or Bibi as well. My real name is Barbara.

I'm from Italy and I'm a 2001 girl, She/her pronouns, bisexual, introverted, Virgo (too much of a perfectionist sometimes. Ops)

I am a Writer, a Screenwriter and an Artist. I even went to an art school, but the only thing that I learned there is anxiety. Yey.

I love reading. Like tons of books, but for whatever reason I stopped entirely reading books written in Italian and now I'm constantly binge-reading english stuff.

As a Writer, I create tons of Own Characters, yes. I have honestly so many OCs that it's hard to keep track of them between Original Works and Fanfiction. I have to admit that I never wrote as much fanfiction as I'm doing during those last years, mostly for bad experience with criticism in my first fics. But apparently I got over it after randomly starting to write little One Shots of a few different fandoms. It excalated, now.

To read my stuff, you can find me in AO3, Efp and Wattpad under Killian44peeta's nickname. Even as an Artist, you can find me with that nickname on Instagram. I DO NOT have TikTok and I DO NOT intend to have it. If I change my mind, it's gonna rain for months lol.

I have many, many fandoms.

Listing them all is impossible, but my obsessions usually stuck the most when I have a "main crush" in said fandom. If not, they are fleeting at best... And usually the same main crush is the one that I ship with most people (Not always though).

Yep. I'm a multishipper, pro LGBTQ+ and I love polyamorous relationships.

When I hate a ship, I just hate it. No matter how hard you try to change my mind. Still, I'm of the "live and let live policy" because, damn, ship wars are boring and if you dislike something, YOU BLOODY IGNORE IT.

YOU DO NOT STUPIDLY FIGHT SOMEONE AND SAY TO THEM TO K*LL THEMSELVES BECAUSE THEY DO NOT SHIP YOUR PAIRING. THOSE PEOPLE YOU SHIP DO NOT EXIST. THEY ARE JUST A WRITER'S FANTASY. NO NEED TO BE SO STUPIDLY CHILDISH. JUST CALM DOWN.

*takes a deep breath*

Thanks.

A few examples of my main crushes:

Animated ones first.

Sanji, Corazon, Reiju and Vivi (One Piece), Douxie (Tales of Arcadia), Zuko (Avatar), Mika (Owari No Seraph), Levi, Jean and Yelena (Shingeki no Kyojin), Akashi and Kise(Kuroko no basket), Gwen (Total Drama), Megara (Hercules), Dark Bloom (Winx Club), Hijikata (Gintama), Hyoga, Eden, every Virgo Saint ever except Shun (Saint Seiya+), Shiro and Pidge (Voltron), Lust and Roy(Fullmetal Alchemist Brotherhood)

Not animated crushes (directly the person, not the role, because if not the list would be sooo much longer, ok)

Daniel Sharman, Danielle Campbell, Colin O'donoghue, Richard Armitage, Ian Somerhalder, Josh Hutcherson, Zoe Kravitz, Tom Ellis, Hayden Christensen, Bridgette Mendler

(am I forgetting someone? Probably. Sorry)

Welp. I dunno what else to say. Hope you have fun inside my blog? If you wanna be friends (chat here, on Discord, WhatsApp... ) and ask questions I'm okay with it? If you wanna talk with me about (my, yours) stories, I'm DEFINITELY okay with it.

:D I love to rant about fanfictions and original works. I love ranting about ocs and headcanon about characters. Yes.

(do not kill me if I don’t answer immediately, I have a life/I need time to draw/I need time to write)

Bye.

-Killian

[tameodesza]

Love’s Maze (BretShawn)

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AO3 link

Shawn puts down his guard and finally let's Bret in. Literally.

a/n: Not me posting this on a Sunday, lol, but spicy times await!

NSFW below 🗣️🗣️🗣️

They started out slow, just as Bret had promised. Their lips moved in sync in an unhurried kiss as their hands slowly traveled along each other’s body. Bret was first to break away from the kiss, placing his head on Shawn’s as he whispered, “Let’s take this to the bed, ok?”

Shawn nodded, holding Bret’s hand as the older man led them to the bed.

“Oh, wait,” Shawn said after Bret sat him on the end of the bed. “I still have my shoes on.”

“I got you.” Bret kneeled in front of Shawn to help the blond tug off his boots. Shawn could only blush at the sweet gesture.

After setting Shawn’s shoes aside, Bret walked up to Shawn saying, “Scoot up some,” as he guided Shawn towards the headboard. He then helped Shawn lean back until his head made contact with the soft pillow placed on the mattress.

After making sure that Shawn was comfortably settled in, Bret crawled on top of him, placing an elbow near the blond’s head to hold himself up as he placed his other hand lightly on Shawn’s cheek.

He guided Shawn’s lips to his, initiating another painfully slow kiss. Shawn brought his arms around Bret’s shoulders, letting out a content sigh through his nose at the euphoric feeling of Bret’s lips on his again.

It was when a tongue slipped into Shawn’s mouth that things began to heat up once more, the kiss turning increasingly passionate as Shawn allowed Bret’s tongue to toy with his own.

Bret’s hand traveled from Shawn’s cheek down to his torso, stopping to rub at Shawn’s left nipple through his shirt. Their rhythmic kiss faltered as Shawn let out light moans, his nipples hardening just at the touch.

Bret broke away from the kiss, briefly pausing his hand as he asked, “You good?” He wanted to be certain Shawn wasn’t just going along with it. 

Shawn nodded, desperately bringing Bret back into the kiss, this time shoving his own tongue into Bret’s mouth. With that confirmation, Bret confidently trailed his hand down to Shawn’s waist. His hand stopped in hesitation before trailing further down to palm at Shawn’s crotch.

Shawn threw his head back onto the pillow as a moan escaped his lips. Satisfied with the blond’s reaction, Bret trailed his lips down to Shawn’s neck, kissing the sensitive area as he continued to touch Shawn through his jeans.

Shawn’s breathing quickened as he rolled up into Bret’s palm, so unbelievably turned on by Bret’s gentle touches. It’d been so long since someone touched him like this. Feeling cared for and having someone put Shawn’s sexual needs first before their own was…different. In a good way.

Towards the end of his past relationship, it became apparent that the only agenda in their sex life was to make Marty feel good. There were even times where Shawn wasn’t able to reach an orgasm, not that Marty cared.

But this? What Bret was doing? Shawn hadn’t realized how much he missed a gentle touch.

Bret pulled away from Shawn’s neck, intending on pulling Shawn’s pants down, but stopped when he looked up to see Shawn’s face. The blond’s eyes were closed, but he had a scrunched expression that looked as if he were about to cry. 

Bret whispered, “Shawn, are you ok? Do you need me to stop?”

Shawn slowly opened his eyes, which were indeed a little misty. “No, keep going. It feels…really good.” Yes, Shawn was a bit overwhelmed, but there was no way he wanted this to stop.

Bret brought his hand back up to Shawn’s cheek, stroking it softly before leaning down to peck his lips. “Ok. Just let me know if it’s too much.”

“I will,” Shawn whispered back.

At that, Bret leaned back on his knees to unbutton Shawn’s pants. After pulling down the zipper, he gripped the waistband as he slowly pulled down Shawn’s pants along with his underwear to reveal Shawn’s semi-hard cock.

Shawn let out a hitched breath as his dick was freed.

After setting Shawn’s bottoms aside, Bret returned to Shawn’s lips, kissing the blond ravenously whilst steadily stroking his cock. Shawn wrapped his arms back around Bret’s shoulders, spreading his legs wider as he moaned erratically into the kiss, struggling to keep up with Bret’s tongue.

It was evident to Shawn that Bret knew what he was doing. The way Bret gripped his cock with just the right amount of pressure, speeding up his strokes just to slow down at the right moment before speeding up again, never losing his rhythm while kissing Shawn was very impressive.

And Shawn knew he wouldn’t last much longer like this. 

Bret then moved down to kiss Shawn’s neck, Shawn’s moans no longer trapped as he began bucking his hips up to match Bret’s strokes. Sensing that Shawn was close, Bret slowed his strokes to a stop before placing a hand on Shawn’s waist to hold him in place. 

Shawn opened his bleary eyes after feeling Bret leave the bed only to see the man standing up with a large tent in his pants. Bret then pulled down his own pants and underwear, his shirt following suit. 

Shawn’s cheeks heated up as he watched Bret stand there in full naked glory, his girthy cock standing at full attention. It was without a doubt that Bret was a lot bigger than what Shawn was used to. That’s for sure.

Bret helped Shawn lift off his shirt, adding it to the pile of discarded clothing on the floor, before crawling back onto the bed. 

With them both now stark naked, Bret kissed Shawn as he placed a hand on the blond’s bare hip the before asking, “How are you feeling?” He felt things were going well, but still needed Shawn’s confirmation.

“I’m good,” Shawn whispered as his lips ghosted over Bret’s. “So good.” He pulled Bret’s head down to kiss him again, never tiring of the man’s lips on his own. He brought his arms back around those broad shoulders, fully appreciating Bret’s muscles now that his shirt was out of the way. 

As their passionate kiss continued, Shawn rolled his hip, their erections pressing against the other, causing both men to break the kiss in a moan. Bret rested his forehead against Shawn’s as the blond continued his motion, driving both of them to the edge with lust. 

Bret said through gritted teeth, “I don’t know how much longer I can hold back.”

It became apparent to Shawn that Bret was purposely holding off, the man going slower than he was probably used to. All for Shawn’s comfort. 

“Then don’t,” he whispered.

With Shawn’s permission, Bret fully gave into temptation. He held Shawn’s hips in place before getting out of bed to walk to his gym bag. He unzipped the side compartment, searching it for a moment before pulling out a small bottle of lube and a condom. 

The fact that Bret was stocked with lube and condoms would’ve normally raised questions for Shawn, but he was thankful that Bret came prepared. 

Bret briskly made his way to the bed, placing the condom on the nightstand before lathering up his fingers with lube. He kneeled beside Shawn on the bed, leaning over the blond to bring him back into a kiss.

As he inserted his tongue back into the blond’s mouth, he chose that moment to slowly insert a finger into Shawn’s entrance. 

Shawn clenched at the intrusion, taking in a breath as he allowed himself to relax around Bret’s finger. Bret continued to kiss and finger Shawn, deciding to insert another when he noticed Shawn’s moans starting to pick up.

Bret inserted a second finger, this time causing Shawn to gasp as his brows furrowed in slight discomfort. Bret moved his lips down to kiss at Shawn’s neck as he continued stretching the younger man. It was when Bret inserted the third finger that Shawn stilled, grunting as he gripped tightly at Bret’s shoulders. 

Bret paused, asking, “Are you ok?”

Shawn took a moment to respond, needing to just breathe. He nodded, “Yeah.”

“Do you want me to stop?”

Shawn shook his head no. He was so appreciative of Bret’s concern for him, but he made it this far and was not turning back. So he brought his hands to both sides of Bret’s face, guiding the man back to his lips. 

Bret took that as a sign to continue, stretching Shawn carefully as he kissed the man. Pretty soon, the kiss turned sloppy as Shawn’s mouth went slack as he felt his pleasure rising.

With Shawn now fitting perfectly around his fingers, Bret broke the kiss as he slowly pulled his fingers out, causing Shawn to quiver slightly in the process. Bret reached over Shawn to get the condom, ripping it open with shaky hands before rolling it onto his dick.

After lathering himself with a generous amount of lube, Bret looked up to see Shawn looking at his cock in a daze, pupils almost looking dilated. Shawn really wanted this. And Bret was more than willing to give it to him. 

Shawn widened his legs as far as they could go, his flexibility paying off, as Bret got in between them. He leaned over the blond as he used a hand to align his dick to Shawn’s ass. As the tip of his dick touched Shawn’s entrance, Bret moved his hand from his dick to Shawn’s hip, gripping it firmly before slowly pushing into the tight muscle. 

Shawn let out a sharp cry at the insertion, hands springing up to wrap around Bret’s back. Bret briefly stopped moving in concern for Shawn, but the blond shook his head in defiance, signaling that he wanted Bret to keep going.

So Bret continued to push until he was all the way in. Shawn groaned the entire way, legs shaking as he was stretched open more than he’d ever been. Once Bret was fully inside, both men let out breaths that they were both holding.

Shawn felt so full, like he could feel Bret in his stomach. Bret buried his head into Shawn’s neck, internally fighting the urge to slam into the younger man as he tightly clenched around his dick. 

Shawn rested a hand on the back of Bret’s head, rubbing it softly as he continued to breath. His breathing eventually slowed as his ass adjusted to Bret’s width. Shawn uttered softly, “You’re bigger than what I’m used to.”

Bret replied with a strained voice, “You’re tighter than what I’m used to.”

Shawn let out a humored breath. He turned his head slightly to peck Bret’s temple, thankful that he was being so patient with him. After a moment of allowing himself to get comfortable, Shawn whispered, “You can move.”

Bret lifted his head from Shawn’s shoulder, resting it onto Shawn’s forehead as he began to slowly thrust into the younger man. Shawn let out small whimpers, his ass stinging as bit as Bret’s dick continued to stretch him into shape. 

Sensing Shawn’s discomfort, Bret gave Shawn light kisses to distract him as he continued to move in and out of the man. It seemed to work as Shawn’s whimpers slowly turned into light moans, the blond finally relaxing as he loosened around Bret’s cock.

Bret steadily rocked into Shawn for some time, wanting to make sure the man was not in pain. Eventually, all signs of discomfort seemed to disappear once Bret hit that certain spot that caused Shawn to break out of the kiss, letting out a boisterous moan that seemed to surprise them both. 

Bret gave another thrust in the same spot, causing Shawn to moan loudly again as he slightly arched his back. That’s when Bret knew that he found Shawn’s prostrate. 

Bret placed his lips back onto Shawn’s, their kiss soon losing its rhythm as Bret sped up his thrusts, never leaving that spot that satisfied Shawn to no end. It didn’t take long before Shawn was a moaning mess, clenching tightly around Bret’s his dick as the feeling in his stomach became tighter. 

“Mmm, yeah. That feels so fucking good, Bret. Ah!”

Bret let out satisfied grunts, tightly gripping Shawn’s hips as he rocked fluidly into the man. The bed creaked loudly, almost drowning out the noise of their skin slapping with each thrust.

“Shit, Shawn,” Bret said, feeling his orgasm building up. 

“Go faster… mmm, yeah!”

Bret gave Shawn exactly what he wanted, balls slapping rapidly onto the younger’s ass as he pounded into Shawn with no mercy. It was a type of pleasure that Shawn had never experienced, the blond not even being able to think straight.

Greedy for more, Shawn pushed up on Bret’s chest, causing the man to stop his thrusts, nervous that he was hurting the younger man. Quite the contrary.

Before Bret knew it, Shawn used what little momentum he had to roll them over, hissing as his ass stretched a little wider now that he was sitting fully on Bret’s cock in a straddle.

“Slow down,” Bret cautioned upon seeing Shawn’s pained expression, but Shawn had no intention of slowing down.

After allowing a short moment for himself to adjust to the new position, Shawn slowly rolled his hips forward, moaning in complete bliss as Bret’s cock fully hit on his prostate.

Bret was also in his own ecstasy, groaning as his hands gripped Shawn’s waist, slightly lifting him to help guide him on his dick. “Mmm. Like that, Shawn. Fuck! Ride me just like that.” And Shawn did just that, confidence through the roof at Bret’s encouragement.

It was taking everything in Bret not to lose control. However, his resolve soon crumbled after hearing Shawn basically beg, “Oh, fuck me. Please! Bret, fuck me!”

“Come here,” Bret said as brought Shawn down to his chest, tucking the blond’s head into his neck before thrusting relentlessly up into Shawn.

Shawn wailed loudly in Bret’s ear as drool pooled outside of his mouth. “Yes! Yes! Oh, just like that. Ah, fuck!”

Shawn’s endless moans were a huge turn on for Bret. “You like that, huh? You like the way I fuck you?” Bret asked the question this time not to check if Shawn was ok, but because he had no doubt that the blond was enjoying it.

“Yes! Give it to me,” Shawn pleaded, orgasm on the horizon. Bret was getting close as well, but he wanted Shawn to finish first.

After one particularly hard thrust that hit Shawn’s g-spot perfectly, Shawn’s eyes nearly rolled into his head as he shouted, “Oh my god! Don’t stop. Don’t fucking stop!” Not long after, Shawn was letting out short, rapid moans as he came. 

Shawn’s orgasm alone was enough to bring Bret to the edge. He turned his face towards Shawn, kissing him sloppily as he jutted into the man greedily. His thrusts came to an abrupt halt as he gave one final slam into Shawn’s ass, grunting as come shot into his condom, sparing Shawn’s ass of the heavy load. 

Shawn shook violently in aftershocks, collapsing onto Bret’s chest after coming down from his orgasm, both men breathing heavily in exhaustion.

Bret let out a sigh as he rubbed his hands across Shawn’s back soothingly. He brought a kiss to Shawn’s temple, closing his eyes as he tried to calm his racing heart, which was nearly impossible to do with his dick still inside of Shawn.

“Shawn,” Bret whispered.

“Hmm,” Shawn said faintly.

“I need to pull out, ok?”

“Hmm,” Shawn said again, not really paying attention. He was still out of it, his head feeling fuzzy. That was until Bret slowly pulled out, causing Shawn to let out a mixture of a moan and hiss until the man was all the way out.

Bret rolled them over, laying Shawn on his back before tending to his cum-filled condom. He pulled it off, tying it lazily before tossing it somewhere across the room. He then tugged Shawn back into his arms, guiding the blond’s head to his chest as he placed an arm around his waist.

Both men laid there for a moment, completely spent. 

When Shawn felt Bret’s hand stroking the side of his face, he fluttered his eyes open and looked up to see Bret smiling down at him. “Hey. How are you feeling?”

Shawn smiled lazily at him as he answered, “Tired.”

“I figured. Did I hurt you,” Bret asked worriedly. 

Shawn placed a hand on Bret’s cheek, caressing it to ease his worries, “Besides stretching my ass to next Tuesday, no.”

That did manage to bring a smile to Bret, but there was still something he needed to be sure of. “Did you…did you enjoy it?”

“God, yes. If you couldn’t tell by my vocal performance, it was really good, Bret,” Shawn said bashfully, though they were way past the point of being shy. “Fuck, I don’t think I’ve experienced an orgasm that intense in a long time.”

“That’s good to know,” said Bret, pecking Shawn on the lips just because he could. “If you ever need to experience it again, I’m at your service,” he said, giving a sly grin. 

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Shawn watched with a smile as Bret intertwined their hands together before kissing the back of Shawn’s. “Thank you for being so careful with me. I really needed this.”

“Of course.”

They laid in each other’s arms for some time, both relishing in the silence as they each replayed the moment they’d just shared. They both knew they needed to take a shower, but neither wanted to be the first to break away from the hold.

With Shawn so close to him, and after they’d just been so intimate, Bret felt he needed to tell Shawn exactly how he felt about him. There was no better time.

“Shawn?”

“Hmm?” His eyes were closed again as he laid comfortably on Bret’s chest.

“Look at me.” Shawn slowly opened his eyes at the request, his smile faltering when he noticed Bret’s serious expression.

“Is there something wrong?”

“No,” Bret said as he tread his fingers through Shawn’s hair. “I need to be honest with you because I don’t know if I’ll ever get the chance again.” He took a deep breath before continuing. “Look, I really like you. I’m sure that’s not hard to guess after what we just did.”

Shawn cheeks reddened, nodding his head before Bret continued. “But I’m not just interested in your body, Shawn. You’re funny, smart, talented, and so damn beautiful. How could anyone not fall for you?”

Shawn’s heart melted at the kind words, especially coming from Bret. However, panic slowly began to rise as he realized where Bret was going with this. “Bret-”

“And I know that you just got out of a shitty situation, but I’ve got to be honest with you. I’d really like to give us a chance.”

The blond looked at Bret speechless, not knowing what to say.

He’d just recently come to terms with the fact that he had feelings for Bret. The man was so sweet to him, he listened to him, and cared about his feelings. Plus he was Shawn’s type looks-wise. And apparently was really good in bed.

A relationship with Bret Hart sounded so appealing, and there should really be no reason why Shawn should say no. 

However, Shawn was a complicated man, and he still had doubts.

It was hard to forget how much Marty shattered his heart into a million pieces, and as much as Shawn didn’t want to admit it, he still wasn’t over it. He wanted to be, but it was so hard, especially after spending such a long time with him.

Kissing Bret, having sex with Bret, cuddling with Bret – that all felt right, like it was meant to be. But jumping into another relationship so soon didn’t sound like a good idea. 

Shawn looked down at Bret’s chest, not having the courage to look the man in the eyes as he said, “Bret, I’m sorry. I really am, but I don’t know if I have it in me to start dating again right now. I really like you, too, but the truth is I still haven’t completely healed, yet. I don’t know if I’m ready for something serious right now.”

That certainly stung, Bret’s heart feeling like it had been stabbed by a hundred needles. He didn’t know what he expected Shawn to say, but it certainly wasn’t that.

Bret put a hand on Shawn’s cheek, lifting his face so that Shawn was looking up at him. As much as he understood where Shawn was coming from, he couldn’t hide the hurt in his voice as he said, “I get it.”

Shawn frowned, “Bret, I’m sorry-”

“You don’t have to explain yourself to me, Shawn. I just needed to get it off my chest. That’s all.”

Shawn furrowed a brow asking, “Are you mad at me?”

Bret immediately softened at how vulnerable Shawn sounded. He was disappointed, yes, but he couldn’t be mad at Shawn.

He stroked a thumb across Shawn’s cheek as he said lightly, “No.”

“Why,” Shawn asked genuinely. If anything, it made less sense for Bret not to be angry.

Bret sighed, “I know how much Marty hurt you. It takes time to get over something like that. And I never want you to feel like you need to spare my feelings. I’ll always be here for you, Shawn. Whether it’s as a friend, an acquaintance, or something more. I want to be here for you. You don’t have to go through this alone.”

Shawn teared up a bit as he said, “You’re so sweet, Bret. I don’t want you wasting your time on me.”

Bret wiped at the corner of Shawn’s eye at the tear that threatened to fall. “Trust me. You’re not a waste of time. Whether you know it or not, you’re special. And you deserve someone who’ll treat you right, even if it’s not me. Even if you don’t want to be with anyone and just want to focus on yourself, I’ll still be here to support you.”

Bret’s thumb caught another tear that escaped down Shawn’s cheek. Shawn smiled sadly, his voice trembling as he said, “Thanks, Bret.”

He placed his head back onto Bret’s chest as the older man tightened his arms around him, sighing heavily at the weight of the situation .

It was silent for a moment, Bret thinking Shawn was starting to drift off to sleep before he heard the blond whisper, “Try again in a couple months?”

That was all Bret needed to hear to remain hopeful. It wasn’t a hard ‘no.’ Just a ‘not right now.’ He could live with that.

Bret nodded saying, “I like that sound of that.”

Both men eventually got up to properly clean themselves and collect the scattered articles of clothing from the floor. Although the status of their friendship was still uncertain, they ended the night in each other’s arms, both thankful that they did not have to spend Valentine’s Day alone.

[aldbooks]

A Strange Melody - Chapter 10

@sunshinebingo

Read on AO3

Groaning at a faint throbbing in his head, Azriel slowly blinked his eyes open to find his brothers hovering over him- soaking wet. It took him a moment to remember what had happened. He’d been tossed about by the waves and hit his head, which explained the ache. Rhys and Cassian must have come after him after he’d stupidly thrown himself over the balcony after-

“Gwyn,” he croaked, sitting bolt upright. The room spun slightly but his brothers’ hands on his shoulders steadied him.

“Easy brother,” Rhys said. “You took quite a blow. Madja will be here soon to heal you.”

“No,” he muttered, fighting weakly to stand as he was held down. “Gwyn- she jumped- have to-”

“Easy.” Rhys’ power rippled through the room, setting Azriel’s teeth on edge but he was unable to fight the command, stilling. “Gwyn is safe. She was the one who saved you from drowning, you idiot. What the hell were you thinking?”

“I had to-’smymate,” he slurred slightly as his temples throbbed sharply and he reluctantly lay back down.

“Did he just say mate?” he heard Cassian ask. “That explains a lot but… how? She’s-”

“Not a syren,” Rhys said firmly. There was a tinge of amusement in his tone as he said it. “She’s corrected me enough times on that particular nuance, I wouldn’t suggest saying that in front of her.”

“But you called her ‘little syren’?”

“Just a little inside joke,” Rhys said dismissively.

“Well what is she then?” Cassian asked as Azriel listened to their conversation in vague disbelief. 

“Oceanid nymph,” Rhys informed them. “A relative of sorts to the syren but less… murdery.”

So that really had been a tail he’d seen? He hadn’t imagined it. It also explained many of the missing gaps in the puzzle he’d been trying to piece together for three days now. Why she could speak their language and looked mostly fae but was also so fascinated by everything she saw. She lived below the surface. 

Which brought him back to Cassian’s initial question.

How? How was she his mate? They weren’t just different races of fae like his brothers and their mates, they were different species. How was that possible?

“As for the how,” Rhys said, reading his thoughts. “That’s a question only the almighty cauldron can answer. Seeing as it was the one who apparently decided to pair the two of you… for what it’s worth, I think it’s a good match.”

“Did you know?” Azriel asked, glaring at Rhys. “That she was my mate.”

“No,” Rhys said, looking genuinely surprised. “I just- had a hunch. Even I wouldn’t have guessed that though.”

“What bargain did you make with her?” he demanded. “What does she owe you?”

“Bargain?” Cassian’s gaze snapped to Rhys. “You made a bargain with a syren?”

“Not a syren. And yes, I did. Nothing nefarious. I could sense that she was lonely, all she wanted was a chance to meet our Shadowsinger, here.”

“Me?” Azriel wondered aloud. “Why me?”

Rhys shrugged. “She saw you flying one day and was apparently infatuated.” Cassian snorted at that.

“What favor were you intending to collect from her?” Azriel growled, grabbing his brother’s shirt and hauling him closer to his face. Rhys’ eyes widened a fraction but his expression remained as infuriatingly cool as always.

“Honestly, I hadn’t really intended to collect at all, not on this one.”

“Bullshit,” Azriel sneered. “You always collect. What could you possibly hope to gain from someone like Gwyn? She has nothing, no family-”

Rhys’ hand wrapped around the one still balled in his shirt, imbuing a bit of his power to soothe Azriel’s temper. The mating instinct was riding him hard now that he was aware of it- and aware that his mate was currently beyond his reach. He loosened his grip slightly, allowing Rhys to sit upright again. 

“Relax, if anything, I would’ve asked her for something inconsequential. A few pearls to make some jewelry for Feyre, perhaps. She was never in any danger.”

“Ok-” Cassian said, holding up his hands and frowning. “We’ve established that Gwyn is a not-syren, and made a bargain with Rhys to meet Azriel. That explains why you brought home a random, naked stranger. How did this lead to Azriel jumping off a balcony into the ocean?”

Rhys sighed. “Oceanid’s can walk on land for short periods of time, usually no more than two days. Part of the bargain we made included giving her extra time to spend here- with Azriel. And then you went and wasted an entire day trying to find answers about who she was, which, I admit, I probably should have foreseen.”

Straightening his rumpled, wet shirt, Rhys continued. “The three days of the bargain should have ended at nightfall but she must have been feeling the magic early which is why she decided to return to the waters. Probably wasn’t helped by the fact that you were mooning over Morrigan all night at dinner,” he accused, leveling a look at him.

Azriel startled. “What? I was not.”

“It certainly looked that way,” Rhys cocked a brow. “And Gwyn noticed too.”

“I wasn’t-” Azriel dragged a hand over his face, swearing. “Maybe I had been staring at her last night, but not for that reason. I had just decided I would court Gwyn and was surprised by how little I felt for Mor when she finally returned. I- she thought-?” 

Breath left his lungs in a woosh as he started to piece together the events of the night before. Why Gwyn had been so quiet at dinner when she’d previously been so effusive. Why she seemed to disappear as soon as they finished eating. “She thought I wanted Morrigan,” he breathed.

Rhys nodded. “She was quite mad at me for ‘not telling her you were already in love with someone else’ actually. I tried to talk her down but she’d already convinced herself.”

Azriel cursed again. “I need to fix this,” he said, once again trying to rise from the bed. The pain in his head was already ebbing but he was still woozy. Again, is brother’s stopped him. “I have to talk to her. Tell me where she is Rhys,” he begged. “How do I find her?”

“I will take you to her,” he promised. “But not today.” Ignoring Azriel’s growl he continued. “She’s been away from her waters for several days, she needs time to recover and so do you. Besides, it’s still storming.” 

They all glanced out the window where rain continued to slash against the glass. 

“Give it a day or two and I will take you to her,”  Rhys swore. “Besides, if she’s your mate and you want to be with her, I suggest you start considering how the hell you’re going to make this work when neither of you can live in the other's home for long. It’ll take some work.”

“You didn’t consider that before you agreed to bring her here?” Azriel asked.

Rhys shrugged. “Honestly, no. I didn’t even know if anything would come of it. Like I said she just seemed lonely and- she reminded me of my sister. My big heart got the better of me,” he sniffed.

Az and Cass exchanged a look. They never spoke about Rhys' late sister, or his mother, but they all missed them both. Az didn’t comment on it.

“Is there not some magic that can be used, like how you gave her an extra day? Surely there’s a more permanent solution. There has to be if the cauldron made us mates?” If the cauldron had intentionally mated him with someone he could only rarely see… Azriel did not wish to contemplate what might mean, it was too cruel. 

“Perhaps,” Rhys said. “We would have to look into it, perhaps Helion has something on it in his libraries…. Which is why it’s best to take a bit of time before you see her again. I promise she will not forget you in the meantime.”

Azriel’s chest ached as he flopped back down on the bed. His shadows were crying out, a lamenting song for the nymph. That same strange melody he’d heard from the first moment he saw her continued on and he clung to it as he forced himself to concede to Rhys’ suggestion.

When he saw his mate again, he would come to her with his heart in his hands, and a plan for their future.

[mariana-oconnor]

The Blue Carbuncle pt 2

In the larger and older jewels every facet may stand for a bloody deed.

*coughBritishCrownJewelscough*

"It is, I think, much more likely that Henry Baker is an absolutely innocent man, who had no idea that the bird which he was carrying was of considerably more value than if it were made of solid gold."

I quite agree. I also hope that Mr Henry Baker gets some of the reward money if that is the case.

As I approached the house I saw a tall man in a Scotch bonnet with a coat which was buttoned up to his chin waiting outside in the bright semicircle which was thrown from the fanlight.

Oh no! He's had to replace his hat with a chilli!

...yeah, yeah. I'll see myself out.

It is a cold night, and I observe that your circulation is more adapted for summer than for winter.

Does that mean he's red in the face? Because... his capillaries work well? I'm trying to follow the logic here. I too go red in the face easily, but I most certainly am not well adapted for summer. Most of summer I hide in a darkened room and hiss at anyone who tries to make me go near sunlight. It burnsss uss precious. So I feel like a cursory examination of the subject might render a different conclusion.

"Is that your hat, Mr Baker?" "Yes, sir, that is undoubtedly my hat."

Case closed! We can all go home for tea. Huzzah. The hat is returned.

A touch of red in nose and cheeks, with a slight tremor of his extended hand, recalled Holmes's surmise as to his habits.

I don't know whether this is intended also as support for Holmes' comment about his circulation, as I theorised, or if it merely is a sign of alcoholism. Merely, I say. Henry, if you do get any reward, please don't spend it all on the booze.

He spoke in a slow staccato fashion, choosing his words with care, and gave the impression generally of a man of learning and letters who had had ill-usage at the hands of fortune.

I know that the conceit of the stories is that Holmes knows all these things and is proven right time and again, but I am struck by the question here on whether Watson has perception bias and assesses Henry Baker in this way because Holmes has already primed him to see those things.

I'm not saying they're false, and I know this is entirely pointless as it is a fictional work and therefore the question is moot. But how much of Watson's view of the man is entirely accurate and how much of it is what Holmes told him to see?

Of course, then we have the third layer of how much is what Watson adds on when writing his narrative from a future perspective and I honestly don't think ACD thought that hard about these stories, so I probably shouldn't either.

"Very naturally. By the way, about the bird, we were compelled to eat it." "To eat it!" Our visitor half rose from his chair in his excitement.

OK, well now I think he's involved in some way.

"Of course, we still have the feathers, legs, crop, and so on of your own bird, so if you wish—" The man burst into a hearty laugh. "They might be useful to me as relics of my adventure," said he, "but beyond that I can hardly see what use the disjecta membra of my late acquaintance are going to be to me.

OK, so that was a feint. Well played, ACD. Well played.

And there's the evidence of his learning and large brain, I suppose. 'disjecta membra'? Strangely enough in my Latin lessons we didn't cover those words. Apparently it's a direct translation of dismembered limbs.

What a peculiar phrase to randomly translate into Latin while talking. I suppose a lot of latin texts are war treatises and the like, so it's entirely possible he learnt it while reading, but such a specific phrase to translate. Is it supposed to soften the brutal nature of the phrase? If it's in Latin it can't possibly be unpleasant.

"I am somewhat of a fowl fancier, and I have seldom seen a better grown goose."

Once again the 21st century reading makes me giggle just a bit.

The fanciest of geese!

This year our good host, Windigate by name, instituted a goose club, by which, on consideration of some few pence every week, we were each to receive a bird at Christmas.

Ah yes, I remember the goose club. So many geese. They will be avenged.

"Ah! yes, I see. But you see, sir, them's not our geese." "Indeed! Whose, then?"

THIS is the bit I remember best. The genuine, bona fide goose chase of it all. Your goose is in another castle, Mr Holmes.

"Remember, Watson that though we have so homely a thing as a goose at one end of this chain, we have at the other a man who will certainly get seven years' penal servitude unless we can establish his innocence. It is possible that our inquiry may but confirm his guilt but, in any case, we have a line of investigation which has been missed by the police, and which a singular chance has placed in our hands. Let us follow it out to the bitter end. Faces to the south, then, and quick march!"

I love this speech. Chasing a goose on the chance it might be proof of a man's innocence. It might not, but even a chance is enough to make this important.

Things are heating up on the goose hunt. Holmes and Watson charging across London in one direction and then another. I wonder if they'll be redirected again at the next place they visit.

[faeparrish]

What did you think about Adam apparently trying to talk himself out of being in love with Ronan when he went home to st Agnes every night?? It sounded so prosey but it didn’t feel like it was supported by the text? Like I felt the Opal story and CDTH did nothing to indicate that

omg sorry i only just saw this q !! but yeah idk i’ve been thinking a lot about that recently. i think with certain contexts it does make some sense to me? not that adam would want to stop loving ronan but that he’d feel like he should stop loving him. that ending things sooner rather than later felt like the safer thing to do for both of them, emotionally speaking. having said that, i feel like if we’d been in adam’s head at all through trkopal or dreamer trilogy, it would’ve made this information less surprising (another loss for the adam pov agenda rip). i have a lot of thoughts on this tho and i ended up writing a lot more than i intended to so i’m going to get into it under the cut !

ok so first off, i think in terms of adam’s arc in dreamer trilogy (or what we saw of it lol) it would make a lot more obvious sense for him to be having that dilemma. at that point he’s actually living in this version of himself that can’t coexist with the version of him who chose a life with ronan. it did kind of surprise me that he’d been feeling that way in the opal story, but then again that story was only told through opals eyes so we only really got bits and pieces of the full picture. we weren’t in adam or ronan’s heads. i think it’s kind of interesting that maggie went back to it from a sort of omniscient point of view in greywaren tho — she tends to do that a lot, like retrospectively add new context to previous scenes by changing perspectives. i guess a perk of writing multiple points of view is that you get a novel filled with unreliable narrators, which means you can withhold information from readers by having characters misread or ignore certain aspects of a situation.

going back to what you said tho i feel like some people would read that section you mentioned and take it to mean that he was going back on his conversation with gansey in trk or that he didn’t want to be with ronan. i don’t think that’s it at all - i think he saw that they were heading towards a future that couldn’t hold their relationship without either of them having to compromise some fundamental part of their lives. and these were compromises that neither of them could make or would let the other make. it was also a conversation they weren’t having; we know they weren’t properly communicating at that point, not in the way they perhaps should’ve been given their situation. but it’s also heavily implied that the reason they weren’t voicing their concerns was because they both knew they wouldn’t be able to fix these problems by just voicing them. they were going to go in circles: adam didn’t want to do long distance; ronan couldn’t move to boston; adam could go to a closer school but ronan would never let him do that.

i think it’s also important to note that they were both at a crossroads in their lives that summer. they’d survived past the point where they thought they would, and now the things they thought they wanted in life were starting to feel different to them. everything was going to shift when adam moved away. they both knew something about their situation had to change but neither of them were ready or able to make it happen. and so they spent a blissful summer trying to avoid confronting it, because it hurt too much to admit that it all felt impossible.

i think we should also remember that we didn’t have any povs from adam in dreamer trilogy OR the opal story. every time we saw the pair of them interacting in dreamer trilogy it was through ronan, who was absolutely in denial about how hard it was going to be for them (see: his theory of plausible deniability at the beginning of cdth). we have to base our understanding of adam’s behaviour on outside observations of him. ronan’s pov in cdth does mention how tumultuous adam’s mental state had been during that summer, especially when he found out he was accepted at harvard. he was anxious about starting something he’d been working towards for years, and he was anxious about leaving ronan and having to deal with the reality of their relationship outside of the barns. it makes sense that adam, who is generally less in denial about harsh realities than ronan, was probably having a silent dilemma over it. he’s an incredibly practical character, he over-analyses everything, there’s not a single outcome of a situation that he wouldn’t consider. there was no way that he hadn’t at least touched on the possibility of having to end things with ronan, however painful that outcome is. he was probably debating whether it was worth dragging themselves through something that was inevitably going to hurt them, or if it would just be easier to confront it head on. it’s one of those things that sometimes happens in relationships where, yes, the love between the two people is strong and present, but the love isn’t the problem. it’s their circumstances. sometimes you can’t see a way to fit your life and your relationship together, sometimes you can’t find a compromise that works, and i think that’s what adam was afraid of. he associated ronan with the magic part of his life. in his mind, magic and harvard couldn’t coexist.

the problem adam clearly had was that while this self-preserving and practical side of him was trying to reason it out (i.e. if you convince yourself you don’t love someone then you save yourself the pain of losing them), the more emotional side of him couldn’t fathom not loving ronan. as soon as he was with ronan again, the reality of loving him was too tangible. which also fits into why it feels slightly surprising to learn this information: we pretty much only saw adam when he was with ronan in trkopal, and (as we now know) every time he was with ronan he forgot everything he’d been telling himself when alone. it became impossible for him to imagine ever throwing their relationship away for anything. i also think that’s why that line is so sad. ronan meant so much to him that adam couldn’t convince himself to step away and save his heart from further pain.

and then we have ronan. he’d essentially been having the same dilemma over their situation as adam. distance from someone makes it easy to convince yourself that things won’t work out. isolation and distance makes it even easier. which is why (amongst other factors) it reached a point in book 2 where ronan, more isolated and distanced than ever, ended up being the one to call it. because ronan sees things in black and white and adam tends to focus on the grey areas. because ronan is driven by impulse and adam is driven by considered decisions. because at that time, ronan couldn’t exist in multiples; he was already being pulled in so many directions by his human side and his magic side. he didn’t know how to exist as both: as soon as one thread from his human life came loose, he was unable to contain the rest. adam, however, has always existed in multiples. student and logician, man and boy, etc. his life is a balancing act. he’d balanced friends and school and magic and work and an abusive home life; he could balance this too. he could hold on to this. to quote adam himself, he wanted it too much. even after ronan had essentially ended things between them, adam still found somewhere safe for ronan’s body, still came back to visit him, still risked his life scrying in order to find him. it’s like adam said in greywaren, ronan was where he stored all the reality. with the direction he was going in his life at that point, if he lost ronan, he was losing the one person who knew the truest version of him — he’d essentially end up losing himself fully.

so yes. i think considering everything, it does make sense to me that adam had that dilemma because it fits with the way he behaved in dreamer trilogy. it also feels very realistic. everyone has doubts, or considers cutting loose to avoid the risk of heartbreak. i think it’s quite an accurate depiction of how a lot of people behave and feel in relationships, especially when it’s your first long-term relationship, and especially when you were never taught how to properly and healthily communicate (which neither of them were). it’s hard to imagine a way out of the problems you’re facing, especially when those problems feel out of your control. but i think for me it only solidified how strongly adam felt for ronan, because even with those fears and those doubts he was never going to walk away. no matter how much easier it may have felt to do so, he always came back.

[chronologicalhomestuck]

karkat pov liveblog: hivebent, part 1

we begin in a lab on a meteor in the furthest ring.

computer enhance.

look at all those little goobers! i am not replaying this whole flash just for this moment but in lieu of that, here's hussie's commentary on the scene from the book, just for a bit of spice.

as far as i can tell, karkat's first chronological appearance in hivebent is 2177.

vriska has just jumped tavros off a cliff, and he chooses to message karkat about it. im not sure what he hoped to get out of this since karkats only reply is characteristically snappy.

we then jump to 2025. karkat is messing around with some .~ATH files. in the middle of examining the mobius double reacharound virus (titled check_thii2_2hiit_out.~ATH), he gets trolled by its author. hello sollux.

CG: SO YOU MADE THIS GAME? TA: no no. TA: more liike ii adapted iit. CG: FROM WHAT. TA: 2ome crazy technology AA dug out of 2ome ruiin2. TA: havent you talked two her about iit? CG: MAN, NO. CG: I CAN'T TALK TO HER, SHE'S SO SPOOKY.

we start talking about the game that will take up the rest of karkats story, and get a hint about this mysterious "AA."

he then hears crabdad complaining, and chooses to put this off...long enough to introduce himself, i guess.

karkat's introduction is 1992, written in a way directly referencing john's introduction.

Earth, also for convenient reference, is a planet that does not yet exist.

see how we are doing this? logical! earth doesnt exist yet, so of course we arent starting with the humans!

homestuck does not want me to read it chronologically. it is doing everything possible to stop me from reading it chronologically.

This game, for convenient reference, is a game that DOES NOT YET EXIST.

please. please let me obey chronology.

Later on, you would swap your modus with your hacker friend, a guy who unlike you happens to be competent with programming. It would only make sense.

i thought i would embark on this quest and find its purpose along my way. that purpose, it seems so far, is to acknowledge just how stupid this chronology is.

It is your sixth wriggling day, and as with all five preceding it blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah.

yeah i was about to say something like that. that being that i wont have much to say so long as the plot remains linear.

It figures that installing this new beta chat client would open the floodgates

i always forget that trollian was brand new when hivebent starts. i wonder what they used to message each other before then?

speaking of which, his first pesterlog after his introduction is page 2010, with gamzee. its kinda sad how mean karkat is to a lot of his friends tbh.

TC: iSn'T sOmEtHiNg BiG aLl GoInG dOwN? CG: WHAT? TC: i HeArD sOmEtHiNg bIg WaS gOiNg AlL dOwN. TC: JuSt AlL bE tElLiNg Me AlL wHaT mOtHeRfUcKiN iT's Up AnD aLl AbOuT. CG: STOP SAYING ALL. ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT TA'S THING? TC: yEaH!! fUcK yEaH mAn, So MyStErIoUs. TC: I'm NeVeR bEiNg GeTtInG cEaSeD tO bE aMaZeD bY aLl ThEsE fUcKiN mYsTeRiEs LiFe'S gOt FoR uS. CG: UUUUUUGH. CG: ANYWAY, I DON'T KNOW WHAT'S UP WITH THAT. CG: MAYBE I'LL TALK TO HIM TONIGHT ABOUT IT. MAYBE I WON'T. CG: IT'S PROBABLY JUST ANOTHER ONE OF HIS PROJECTS THAT WINDS UP BEING COMPLETELY USELESS AND A HUGE WASTE OF MY TIME.

(apologies if the text is hard to read on dark mode. i use cyber theme myself and cant see a word gamzee says here)

according to the pov cam, the next page karkat is on chronologically is 2058. the great team divide / team leader argument of hivebent has officially begun, with karkat and terezi. and in the end, it wont even matter at all. lmao.

CG: OK WELL CG: SPEAKING OF THAT CG: I SHOULD GO DOWNSTAIRS AND DEAL WITH THIS GRUMPY CUSTOMER. CG: IT'S GOING TO FONDLE MAJOR SEEDFLAP, BUT HOPEFULLY IT'LL BE QUICK. CG: YOU CAN ESTABLISH YOUR CONNECTION AND DO YOUR TRIVIAL SIDEKICK STUFF I GUESS IN THE MEANTIME. GC: OK! >:D

and apparently karkat intends to deal with his quite grumpy crabdad at the end of this conversation.

but then his computer explodes.

interesting. sburb equipment already? i suppose he was right:

CG: TEREZI AND I HAVE ALREADY ESTABLISHED A CONNECTION AND WE ARE MAKING GREAT PROGRESS HERE. CG: WE ARE A GREAT TEAM, AND I AM A FANTASTIC LEADER.

welp. guess he didnt have to deal with him after all. although the drawing on the fridge is very cute.

terezi has continued to make progress on his hive...

and he gets his new weapon...

only to find his toilet detached from its fixings.

GC: 1M YOUR S3RV3R PL4Y3R SO PR1OR1TY H4S TO B3 ON M3 G3TT1NG 1N TH3 G4M3 GC: B3FOR3 1 G3T K1LL3D BY M3T3ORS GC: 1N WH1CH C4S3 YOUD B3 SCR3W3D 1N TH3R3 GC: TH3N TH3 N3XT GUY COM3S 1N, TH3N TH3 N3XT GC: 4ND YOU BR1NG TH3 L4ST ON3 1N CG: WHOA WAIT, WHAT? CG: METEORS? CG: WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT. CG: WHAT DOES THIS HAVE TO DO WITH METEORS. GC: OH BOY YOU N33D TO G3T W1TH TH3 PROGR4M K4RK4T

karkat, i think you are a bit behind on what this game is going to be like. yet you are already on your planet despite that!

i gotta go now but ill be back

[conquerthenight]

44. With the de Winters!

TW: Suicide attempt

He had slipped out of the house hours before dawn, wandering the grounds aimlessly. The sun was just on the horizon when he caught sight of two silhouttes standing near the window of Rebeca’s bedroom. For a moment, Maxim wondered if sleep deprivation had caused him to begin hallucinating. No one ever went in there, no one except Mrs. Danvers. He had refused to set foot anywhere near the west wing since that night. It brought back far too many memories.

The way she used to taunt him, laughing in his face about the men she had had. He had never satisfied her and she made sure that he knew it. He had been content to ignore her, live separate lives once it was apparent that she would never love him. Rebecca had chosen a different course. If he thought about hard enough, he could feel her nails digging into his skin. He had never thought of himself as the type to lay his hands on a woman, and he had never retaliated.

Never, until he lost all control and throttled her. He had lost his temper plenty of times in a verbal sense. Ileana, Bea, and even Frank could attest to having heard him yell, curse, and sometimes even threaten. It was something Maxim was not at all proud of, especially last night’s outburst, but he vowed never to go as far as physical violence ever again. No one would know that he was a murderer if he had any luck.

No one except Rebecca herself.

Maybe he really was hallucinating, for the only explanation for someone else to be in Rebecca’s room with Mrs. Danvers was if Rebecca herself had had enough of tormenting his mind and rose from the grave to haunt him in the flesh.

Then the window opened, and the two figures stepped towards the edge. As expected, Mrs. Danvers was standing there, staring out at the sea in the distance. Her hand seemed to be placed on Ileana’s shoulder.

Ileana. Not Rebecca. What was Ileana doing there? She had stepped away from Mrs. Danvers and was looking downward, standing so close to the edge. Far too close for comfort.

Was she about to jump?

Immediately, Maxim made a mad dash toward the house only to stop dead in his tracks when he saw his young wife plummeting toward the ground. He knew he was too far away to catch her, but still he shouted her name and ran to her like he never had before.

“God damn it, Ileana, please be alive” He repeated the phrase with desperation as soon as he reached her. She had landed on her back, and there was blood coming in from what Maxim could only assume was a head wound. He scooped her up and ran her inside, shouting barely coherent pleas for someone to call a doctor, for his wife to be ok.

Ileana began to stir after a few minutes. Her eyes opened very slowly. “Maxim, what happened?” She asked groggily, groaning in pain.

Maxim immediately sat down by her side and squeezed her hand. “Thank god you’re alive! What the bloody hell were you thinking jumping out the window like that?” His voice betrayed a sense of worry that he had never allowed anyone to hear before.

In a way he already knew the answer. No one would jump out a window unless they intended to end their own life.

“I…wanted to die” There it was. Ileana had confirmed the worst. “You’d be better off”

Last night. The ball. The dress. The way he got up in her face and screamed. He hadn’t even apologized for it. Had he driven her to try and kill herself? He must have.

“Don’t say that, please,” Maxim begged her. “I’m so fucking sorry, for everything. You weren’t to know about the dress last night and I was a bloody arsehole. I love you. You know that”

It was a lie, she didn’t know he loved her. This was the first time he had said it, and he hadn’t shown it very well at all since their arrival at Manderley nearly 5 months ago.

He would remedy that and more, if only the powers that be would let her live.

Ileana stared at him with wide, exhausted eyes. It was painfully obvious that she hadn’t expected his declaration. However, the shock gave way to a smile as she closed her eyes once more. “I love you too”

She was about to drift out of consciousness again. Maxim couldn’t let that happen. “No. No, stay with me, darling. The doctor’s going to arrive any moment” He gently tapped her cheek in an attempt to keep her awake.

Ileana hummed. “I don’t know…how long I’ll last” She did not open her eyes, and there was an audible crack in her voice.

Maxim kissed her hand, then her forehead. He could not lose her. He would not lose her. Not here, not now. “You’re going to live, Ileana. I swear to god, you’ll live”

“You…really think so?” Ileana asked.

Maxim nodded, wanting to offer his poor wife some comfort, but finding himself struggling for words. “If you die I’m going to kill you” He blurted out impulsively after a short silence, realizing too late what he had said. For one thing it made no sense, and for another he had no intention of killing anyone, let alone Ileana.

He would never repeat what he had done to Rebecca.

“Wouldn’t that rather defeat the purpose, darling?” His wife had just repeated the exact same words he himself had used in response to that insipid Mrs. Van Hopper back in Monte Carlo. Maxim would have found it funny had those words come out of anyone else’s mouth, but Ileana said them with such sincerity that he couldn’t laugh.

He gave her a quick peck on the lips, stroking her cheek with his free hand.“Yes. Yes it would”

[fanonsupremecy]

Ok so I did it. I wrote my fanfic inspired by @bennyyrabbit post. It's called The Awakening Of Betty Weir. I'm on chapter 2 and I'm like halfway through it but I'm a little stuck because even though I know what I want the whole chapter to say it's proving hard to actually get it out of my brain but I hope to get it finished and start chapter 3 today. My brain has big goals apparently regardless of the fact that it doesn't want to cooperate. Anyway it's on wattpad. I also made a playlist on Spotify for it while I was procrastinating. I'm actually obsessed with the collage @bennyyrabbit made that inspired it so I used it as the cover and credited them. Also I didn't intend to from the start but I made Sarah and Erica a side pairing without meaning to somehow so theres that also go lesbian vampires i guess. but here's the link to the Spotify playlist if you want to take a listen.

https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6dnWVf6Bq1kUpkkDJIXpV9?si=4ENJ89X9S4qUI0Law8kwyw

Maybe I should make a playlist for Sarah and Erica too. *no brain stop procrastinating *