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leverage-ot3 · 20 days

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okay I’ve seen a lot of posts about sterling just being crowley and. guys. the implications just hear me out 😭😭😭

bending lore slightly here BUT let’s say crowley’s body was once inhabited by a human and crowley is possessing the body (maybe he kills the initial inhabitant bc he doesn’t care)

but he still has the guy’s memories. he doesn’t bother keeping up appearances with his ‘ex wife’ because he is too busy building up his hell empire. BUT for some reason he can’t quite identify, he still feels something towards his ‘daughter’. he lets the divorce happen and doesn’t feel the need (or desire) to fight for custody, but he can never quite forget her, to cast her out of his mind for good

some hijinks ensue with the leverage team. it’s mostly because even a grind culture demon wants some off time every once in a while, and for him the insurance investigator stuff is more of a hobby. interacting with the leverage crew is very low stakes for him, and honestly, quite amusing. they aren’t on his level power-wise, but that ford character gives him the mental exercise he hasn’t experienced in, well, he can’t even remember

he can feel their frustration and anger when they learn he has become employed by interpol and feeds off it. it’s great, and relaxing in a way he is never able to achieve while conducting hell-related business

one year he gets wind that olivia is in a really bad situation associated with his ‘ex wife’s’ new husband. he’s selling vital hardware to terrorists, and while that might actually be the kind of chaos he would normally support or be entertained by as the king of hell, something feels wrong about letting olivia stay anywhere near that man

he calls upon the body’s adversaries. he wouldn’t admit it, even under duress, BUT he feels slightly fond of them. nate for the three dimensional chess they play, sophie for her ability to charm and disguise, parker for her chaos and slightly unsettling nature (it’s the autism swag and being bad with human interaction but he doesn’t know that lol), hardison for his unapologetic intelligence and eliot for his hardened violent past and take-no-shit persona (he’s fun to tease)

they perform exactly as he expected, right into his carefully crafted plan. and then olivia is under his care and things get more complicated. he keeps her FAR, FAR away from anything related to the supernatural (heh). no one can find out about her, ESPECIALLY not those imbecile hunter brothers (if for nothing else than the embarrassment in revealing he has a weak spot)

not sure how to work it into this post but I also want to add that somewhere along the way he develops feelings for nate and sophie. the frame up job is near and dear to my heart and you can’t convince me that isn’t fighting as flirting behavior. his interpol persona is more of a side hustle so to speak, but he finds it fun (relaxing, even) to fill that role. there aren’t any obligations of other demons, bothersome hunters, or anything like that. nate and sophie are low stakes, except, they aren’t, really. they make him feel things he can’t ever really remember feeling. his heart beats fast when sophie sat in his lap and cradled his face, his hands sweat when nate gives him that certain smug look. he’s exasperated by the way they can run circles around him like no one else has ever before. they annoy him and get under his skin in a way no one else can and it’s infuriating. but also not, at the same time. maybe he likes it

and then the long goodbye job happens

hear me out and suspend your belief here for a second, because I can’t remember if crowley supernaturally knows when ppl die/are dead or not.

so nate is in interpol custody and the interviewer is obviously out of her depth. (most people are, when it comes to nathan ford.) he walks in and pours the man a drink, but he’s fuming. somewhere along the way he came to care about the team. hell and suffering is literally in his (official) job description, but he can admit (only to himself) that he admires what they do. it’s not for him, not anything close to where his passions and interests lie, but he respects their drive and purpose. he is also aware enough to acknowledge that they are a family, a group of misfits that never belonged quite anywhere except to each other.

and nate fucking blew it up, ruined it, because his vice is being so obsessed with the end game that he is apparently willing to let his team, his family, the people that anchor him to reality, die because the ends supposedly justify the means.

not this time. not to sterling crowley

he is enraged. he can admit within the confines of his mind that he cares for nate, for sophie, even for the other three (though nate and sophie have somehow made it a hierarchy where they are more important to him. which he will dissect later in private. maybe.)

nate let them die, he let sophie die, and for what? the black book? hell below, crowley would have made things easier somehow, if he knew that this was where nate’s sights had lied. he would have prevented this somehow. he wants to have prevented this. he doesn’t want any of them dead and is too afraid to check and verify because that would make it real. the idea of sophie (or any of them) somehow making it to hell instead of heaven would probably break something in him he might not be able to repare fully.

he yells at nate- he’s angry. hellfire burning in his heart because everything is ruined. the deaths aside (however hard it is to set them aside in his mind), nate will not recover from this, not ever. this will be the start of the end, he is sure. a miserable, guilt-ridden existence where he drinks himself to death and nothing will save him. it plays out in crowley’s mind in a thousand different ways that are beyond painful to conceptualize, even in theory.

the story starts to unravel and there is a game afoot. a solemn, miserable, infuriating game because the con is still in session because parker is alive and in the building- which sets another fire alight in his chest. ‘parker even know you got hardison killed?’ he rages for her grief when she finds out. he knows it will double when she finds out eliot has perished, too, because he isn’t fucking blind.

but nate is a brilliant man, lest he forget too quickly. they are all alive, and somehow still the entire crew slips through his fingers. he’s not even angry (he never would have been- he doesn’t actually try too hard to catch them. it’s about the game, not the consequences). he lets them keep the black book because he’s fucking exhausted and honestly, they more than earned it.

‘now we’re even. tell sophie to drive carefully’. they will never be even, not really. crowley would never admit or agree that being human is the superior state of being, but that have made him feel human in a way he doesn’t actually mind. they keep him on his toes and match him in a way unique to them, they remind him that there are other things than the realm of hell. not necessarily bigger than hell, but maybe just as important in a different sense.

watching the van drive away, something inside him settles. when he walked into the interrogation room that day he thought this was the beginning of the end. it’s not the end at all, not an end to anything. it’s a continuation of their story. maybe, he thinks, a beginning to a new era in it

#before anyone says anything YES I KNOW HOW SPN LORE WORKS I WATCHED IT FOR MANY YEARS #I am just making this silly post for my own (and possibly your) amusement #I’m not digging too heavily into spn plot because I haven’t watched in forever and don’t trust my memory to make accurate commentary lol #also I know it’s probably layed but lied looked better somehow don’t worry about it #sorry this is so long I wasn’t sure where to break it to a read more bc all of it was too important to me 😭💀#tell me in the comments if you’d prefer a read more and where you think it should go #I haven’t been into spn for years HOW DOES THIS AU HAVE SUCH A CHOKEHOLD OVER ME #eliot spencer #parker #alec hardison #leverage ot3 #parker x hardison x eliot #(background)#nate ford #sophie devereaux #jim sterling #nate x sophie #nate x sophie x sterling #crossovers #leverage x spn #leverage x supernatural #supernatural #crowley spn #crowley supernatural #crowley #leverage #mine #not even queueing this I need it posted immediately. instant gratification #pls like rb comment etc I need the validation #I ended up putting a read more for the long goodbye job

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flowersandbigteeth · 3 months

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Speaking about offspring your wolf king and bunny reader revolves around my head constantly!!! Would Joel get a little sister baby bunny? Mixed ‘monster’ families are so cute to me and I just feel like Sterling is such a good dad. I’d be interested to see what kind of baby they would produce or if they have other forms of having children. I’d love to hear your ideas or if you plan on writing another part to their story!

Regardless I love all your works and your brain. I give you all my kisses you wonderful beautiful artist🤍🤍🤍🤍

Ah! My heart!! You are so sweet!!! 😭😭😭 💖 💖💖 I plan on coming back to their story. I have some really cute requests I'm working on!

Joel would be the best, most doting big brother on the planet! They would be absolutely inseparable. Especially if his little sister was a bunny he would start to teach her wolf things so she can defend herself and pummel anyone who even breathes a whisper of a disparaging remark. He would raise the most brave, possibly slightly feral little sibling! She'd get half of all of his deserts and carried on his shoulders so her little legs don't get tired 🥹

Sterling would be the most protective, indulgent father ever if he had a little bunny daughter. He'd be sure she required ALL the soft cute things and she'd be spoiled rotten and her room would be packed with big fluffy stuffed animals and dolls.

I think it would be super sweet if he did everything he could to dress her up with pretty pink dresses and bows, but one day finds her covered in mud playing war with Joel, armed with branches, a pot lid as a shield, and "war paint" (more mud) smeared on her face. I'm sure he'd be thrilled and set her up with sword lessons, but also wonder what to do with all the dresses he bought 😂

#sweet anons #sweet asks #my asks #my oc art

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secret-history-hyperfixation · 2 months

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Things I love about Bunny:

(a.k.a. me being a Bunny apologist)

• Adhd Humor (“Metahemeralism”)

• He’s definitely a twunk. 6’3” athlete, but also:

“Bunny lay on his stomach on the hearth rug, doing his homework”

• Just wants to be included with what’s going on between his friends. (Fomo king)

• Deflects when people ask if he's drunk or if he has a hickey.

• He’s a good artist.

• He says this about Charles:

“Charles is a handsome fellow and a sterling character all around, but I wouldn’t want to marry him, would I?”

• The jokes he makes, albeit insensitive, are so ridiculous. He definitely likes attention and making himself and other people laugh.

(The “queers being obsessed with food” gibe was so ridiculously funny to me. Bc he says that and then proceeds to be obsessed with food himself.)

• Steals a cheesecake, doesn’t like it, keeps eating it anyway.

• That time he kept stealing lamb chops, and Charles was babyishly pleading for him to “wait a minute, there won’t be enough to go around.”

• Henry being his best friend.

- Changed his major to be in Henry's class

- Wears the same glasses

- Gushes to his dad about him

- Says to Richard: “That Henry… I love him, and you love him”

• Sidenote: I love Bunny's dad. He seems so sweet. He likes to dote on his grandchildren and also their pets.

• Bunny is the baby in his family.

His terrible jokes are prob a result of this. Most likely the only way to get attention being the youngest in a family of FIVE BOYS. (nightmare)

• He is so submissive around Marion.

It’s adorable that Marion is his girlfriend bc she is such a mom, and Bunny so easily submits to her.

(When Marion is mad at him, he still sulks his way home to her even tho he's like: "who does she think she is? telling me what to do?” And then five minutes later he goes “anyways guess I'll head home now.”)

• Also, their relationship is described as that of a 20 year marriage. (silly. sweet.)

• Every person that is not the Greek Class seems to *love* Bunny.

• But Julian calls him, "timid, puritanical, almost"; "He's such a sweet boy, so silly; I'm really very fond of him."

• And Judy thinks he's hilarious.

• Bunny is not violent, unlike Henry, or even Charles. He really just talks a lot of shit.

Even when he says queer people should be burned at the stake, Richard asks him "What about Francis? He's your friend.” (Bc obvi Richard, with his amazing gaydar even tho he’s straight, can tell Francis is queer.) And Bunny is like, “He just needs to get a girlfriend.”

That’s clearly a shitty, tone-deaf thing to say, but he's not violent even though he just said “burn them.”

• Also, why is Bunny inquiring about the stuff Francis is into? He must be wondering for himself.👀

I was rooting for Bunny the first half of the book, even when I knew what would happen.🤦

#he just like me fr #minus the -obias and -isms #bunny corcoran #secret history #richard papen #francis abernathy #charles macaulay #camilla macaulay #henry winter #julian morrow #tsh #tsh donna tartt #the secret history

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leeknowsintrusivethots · 15 days

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A Stray Concubine

| Part 1 | Part 2 | Pairings: Prince!Lee Know/You, Prince!Bangchan/You, RivalNoble!Hyunjin/You? We are all about possibility here. Summary: Entering into a harem choosing was something you have been groomed for since you were young. Your aim is to make Crown Prince Christopher fall at your heels in order to restore your ruined family name and fortune, but games of love are much harder than games of lies and deceit. Content: Angst (is it me if it's not?), slow burn, smut(warnings below when applicable), fictional historical universe, dark themes, second person perspective, historical-typical gender roles, imperial harem-inspired concubine system, multi-pov, lotsa plot/world building, political intrigue WC: 5246 Minors do not interact. Do not repost my content to other websites.

Taglist: @blondechannie @torialefay

Notes: Things got out of hand. Side note, our main character now has a last name to avoid the excessive use of 'Y/N.'

You

“I’ve heard the young Lord Hwang is here in the Capital for the festivities.”

“I do wonder what the the Lord is up to now. 'Twas a nasty business with his parents' death and all.”

A flutter of feminine words carried by the cool breeze of dusk. They were as hollow as the chirping of birds, but with the weight of lords clanging swords.

“I suppose that's why he's here,” the middle aged gentleman said conspiratorially to his companion. He was dressed in the fine, rich fabrics of the upper class, but his dress did not hide the lascivious glances he would steal at the young woman he spoke to.

It was another lesson you had learned: social standing was meaningless when it came to the lustful notions of men. It didn't matter King, priest or commoner; all men floundered their morals when presented with something pretty dressed in silks. This gentleman was no different.

“It's such a shame to have felt such tragedy so young,” the woman said softly. It was another flutter, a fine beating of appropriate sympathy and poise. Whatever lot she had hailed from, she had been trained well.

“Oh,” the gentleman intoned with a glance around him. He seemed to be looking for something, or someone. He scanned the ladies and lords who conversed and drank around him quickly before his eyes settled. He was looking directly at you.

You had been wandering through the throngs, seeing and being seen for most of the festivities. You had to ensure you played your part of a well-bred lady making connections. It also served to listen; gauging the mood of the nobles who inhabited the palace alongside the royal residents. You had expected attention, but none so blatant.

“But I do hear the daughter of the Wicked Witch of House Sterling is in attendance,” the man stated, loudly enough for his feminine companion, you, and everyone within the breadth of the long table he occupied to hear. Lords and ladies alike recoiled as if hit. Some laughed with unease, but most seemed unsettled by the reminder of years past.

“My Lord,” she exclaimed with exaggerated scandal covering her classically attractive features. She fanned herself as if the wave of her hand could rid her of the shock of his statement. “Is it true?”

“It is, my dear. They say The Witch and her daughter ensorcel men with the bat of their lashes, and use their livelihood to keep themselves young and beautiful. I fear for the young bucks of the court.”

The woman saw her cue, and like any well trained woman – she took it. She leaned in with the bat of her own lashes to whisper into the man's ear. At her attention, his own wandered from you back to her and her hands on his weak shoulders. She pulled back just far enough to wink directly at you. She was playing the game, and she was playing it well.

Grateful for her intervention, you gathered your skirts loosely in hand and set off through the crowds.

The banquet hall of the palace was large enough to house the entirety of the nobles in the realm and most of their major retainers as well. It was a grand structure with elegance and richness built into the very walls. Tapestries with the heraldry of the Bangs hung from every beam and nook— The yellow eyes of the black and white wolf following all those who dared their presence with a sly keenness.

The women who made up the King's Harem had their own heraldry, passed down from the families they hailed from and kept if only as a token of fondness from their lives before. They were not permitted to hang in places of state, nor were they permitted to even be within eyesight of the Wolf. It was a threat to their power to place such importance on lower houses, and could be seen as an act of treason to even suggest such.

It was a shame. The banners of houses Seo and Yang in particular were vibrant and colorful. They would have brought life to the white, gray and black of House Bang but nothing could overshadow the crowned wolves.

Your thoughts of banners and symbols were a distraction from what you planned. The beating of your heart had its own flutter, one far less beautiful and flattering than the woman from earlier. It's crescendo sped as you stepped into the line of courtiers that neatly led up to the dais where the royal family sat like pretty paintings. The line moved, but painstakingly slow. It inched forward like the crawling of a slug after a hard rain, and you could only wish someone would salt you and be done with it.

Those in front and behind you chatted and carried about merrily as they waited their turn. They were of two sorts: simple creatures who had neither hide nor hair in the affairs of court or sordid schemers whose flattery and lies were concealed enough to be on the winning end. They had no fears of how their presence would be received by the rulers of their realm. They were safe, while your head was already placed on the metaphorical chopping block.

Your only hope at calm were the banners.

Every time the herald at the head of the procession called out names and titles, you brought their banners to mind. House Jeon, Lords of the Anpanman Woods: a wooded forest with an archer riding atop a monstrous hare at its forefront. House Wang, Wardens of the Southern Border: a thin sword with a snarling hound’s head as the pommel. House Kwon, Protectors of the Treasures of the East Sea: an extravagantly colorful sea dragon dripping in molten gold as it ascends from a deep blue ocean. House Min, Keepers of the Western Jungles: a rare, white tiger stalking amongst a dark green growth.

Every Great Lord was in attendance with their minor counterparts, and every one of them had their proud banners and symbols with deep rooted history and lore. You had been taught all of them by your tutors in your childhood, growing up with stories of their conquests and lineages.

You remembered that House Jeon was one of the youngest of the great houses, rising to power by claiming the timber bounty of their woods. House Wang was older and more storied, a history of mismatched allegiances with the King across the wastes and ancient claims to the Crown of Miroh. House Kwon was even older and as powerful as it was queer: Sea Lords with ties to the Free Isles in the West. House Min was the most shrouded. They were covered in the mythos of legends, with fact and fiction blurring reality.

“Lord Hyunjin, of House Hwang, Keepers of the Heartlands,” the Herald called. Their banners depict a common ferret curling around a brilliant sapphire. They were upstarts who had risen with the Bang's rule; they were no friends of you or yours.

You watched as the handsome Lord smiled and jested with the Royals, even with stern King Bang himself. He seemed to pay close attention to the Princes’ Christopher and Felix. It would not do to dwell, but you noted his connections with a keen interest.

The Hwang's had been close to the crown for more than two centuries, since the House Bang had risen from their ancestral home of the Forded Rivers to claim the throne through blood and war. The Hwang's had been Champions of the cause, steadfast allies of the offensive in the Red Rebellion . Their loyalty had not been forgotten and their rise had been meteoric and quick compared to the lengthy reigns of other Great Houses. In a matter of a few generations, they had risen from titles minor landholders to a major power in the politics of the realm. You had no doubt that Lord Hwang sought even more favors with the friendships he curried with the Princes.

As you continued your wait, you watched the man in question lobby about. He was tall, but graceful and as elegant as any old house could be. Even as he spoke to fellow couriers, he was refined but approachable in a way that most were not. He smiled coyly at another courtier before his eyes met yours and his lips fell flat. You averted your gaze quickly, your mind faltering. You had not killed Princess Mai, but his stare suggested otherwise.

“Young Lady Sterling,” was all you received from the Herald when your time came. There were no titles, no honors, no places of power. All you had was a family name that was dying, connected to a murderous traitor.

Relying on your training in graces and decorum, you dropped to your knees and bowed to the family who ruled the lands you called home and recited words from a distant memory. “Of bravery and courage, of rule and might; blessed and long be your reign.”

“You may rise,” King Bang commanded.

And so you rose to regard the man who condemned your father to death.

He sat in the middle of the dais with his queen to his right and his Most Favored, Beauty Lee, to his left. She was as resplendent as ever in expensive silks with her hair coiffed into the most stylish fashion with a pleasant smile curving her rouged lips. The queen was more somber. She wore the dark purple hues of royalty, and kept a regality that was unapproachable to say the least. She regarded you coolly, but you could see the hostility in her eyes. Princess Mai had been her natural daughter.

“You certainly favor your mother,” King Bang commented gruffly. It was not an exclamation of emotion, it was a simple observation.

“I’m pleased to hear I have my mother's charms, Your Majesty,” you replied with eloquence. You spoke softly, keeping a demure coyness about yourself that you had honed to a fine art.

“She was always a welcome sight,” the King added. Courtly arrogance mixed with courtly love. He too was playing the game. He blessed you with a smile that had the scar at the corner of his mouth standing to prominence before posing a question that had you caught off guard. “Which one of my sons is it then?”

“I'm sorry your majesty, I don't–”

“Is it the laughing and fierce Prince Jeongin? Or mayhaps the shy and courtly Prince Jisung? Or do you prefer the bold and strong Prince Changbin?”

“I–”

“Or perhaps your mother plans to aim higher?” He barreled along, his words never losing the flirting intrigue of courtly love but gaining the edge of a longsword. He glanced down the table of the dais, past his queen and to the silver crown threaded with dark iron wolves that sat atop Price Christopher’s head. He made no comment, but he did give you a look akin to pity. You hated it that look and everything it stood for.

“Your Majesty,” you spoke, inflicting an intentional waver to your voice and forcing your eyes to water with tears. It was not hard to fein being the weak, scared girl that King Bang required of you. “I would never dare to presume any grand intentions. I a humble servant of the crown, and I will do whatever you require to earn your love back for the House Sterling.”

“I owe no love to your family, young lady, and I never intend to. House Sterling is dying, and I will not save the family of Traitors. It's only by the good graces of your Mother that you both were not banished across the northern border.” The edge was dulling. One flutter. Two flutters. A few more until it wouldn't even be able to cut butter.

“My mother has retaken her maiden name, returning to the mantle of the Jeons. I have no such luxury, Your Majesty. I will forever be cursed by the sins of my father, but I will forever work to make amends.” A flutter of a sweet song. Honeyed with the naivety of a girl, and blessed to come from pretty lips. The blade was dulled, but you were set on making it crumble to iron dust.

“And how would you do that?”

“Put me to work, Your Majesty. I will slave as a Maid until I earn your love, or my death.”

A rumble went up behind you at your proclamation. You paid them no mind. Your attention was on the King.

He's the king of a realm. Make him feel like the King of the world. The only man within your sights. The highest of them all– a God.

“The youngest of the formerly Great House Sterling content to scrub floors and empty chamber pots?”

“My House’s pride is nothing to me. I serve the crown before all others. My duty is to to realm, Your Majesty– to you.” You dropped to your knees to peform the formal bow again. It was a sign of respect, a sign of your servitude.

“You may outdo your mother's charms yet,” the King remarked with a hidden smile playing in the shadows his golden, heavily bejewelled crown cast upon his face. “I will discuss your plight with my Councilors, Lady Sterling. Until a decision is made, you are welcome to feast and revel in the glory of the Royal Court.”

“You are most kind and just, Your Majesty.” You stood from the ground with the help of the Herald. He touched you delicately and respectfully as the flutters stirred up the dust of iron. You had won. It was a small victory, the first of many, but it was still a victory.

In the haze of the glittering particles, the court watched.

Beauty Lee regarded you with renewed interest. Queen Bang was stony, her murderous eyes portraying her displeasure but no words leaving her pursed lips. The Princes all watched with varying levels of interest in their Father's affairs, but the only one whom mattered still looked at you with pity.

It stoked your anger. You were a daughter of the Great Sterlings, former Wardens of the war torn Northern Borders. Your family was fierce and proud, tempered by the harsh climate and the even harsher hands of the war torn barbarians. You had the blood of warlords, conquers, and leaders. You may strip your pride to appease the King, but it would always be in your heart. You hated the Princes' pity, but you could use it in the same way you used the King's fondness for beautiful damsels.

His son would be no different. He would fall at your feet, ready to restore you and your family for no other reason than the love of being a hero for a the songs of singers across the continent. It was as simple as playing him like the harp you spent so many hours practicing. His tune would be notes of restoration and riches.

“Lady Sterling!” A boy called as you made for the Hall’s exit for a breath of fresh air and to revel in your victory. He was young, freshed faced with the hint of acne playing across his forehead. He dressed in the livery of House Wang: the metallic glint of iron present on all the accents of his dark clothing. He bowed politely before handing you a scratch of gray fabric.

It was rimmed with shiny silver thread and had intricate wolves with gems inlaid into the fabric for eyes at all four corners. The initials LMH elegantly scrawled along the center in delicate lines and swirls.

It was a royal favor, but not the one you had desired.

Christopher

To the great ire of their father, Minho had refused his place on the dais.

The refusal had led to a screaming match that could be heard in the next wing. The roars of his brother and father filled the halls with curses and anger. It only worsened when Minho refused to attend the festivities all together. King Bang had threatened to have him whipped, to which Minho had laughed maniacally and downed the rest of the fire whiskey he insisted on having on hand with his father.

“Do it! I've learned well how to bear pain, Father,” Minho screamed in rage at the threat.

Christopher wasn't certain on what lengths King Bang would have gone had he not stepped in with a sobbing Beauty Lee at his heels. He wasn't even certain on which had calmed the King; his intervention and promises to handle his wayward brother or the tears drenching Beauty Lee's silks. Either way, he had relented and Minho had avoided the whip.

It was the beginning of a deadly dance. He would have to balance the both of them: his father's hot headed rages, and his brother’s own uncontrolled hatred. The price of losing would not be a simple sore foot. A wrong step could ripple across the floor and disrupt the entire performance; sending everyone toppling to their dooms.

“That was the murderer?” Changbin asked from his side. The third prince had been too preoccupied with his food and the ladies milling about to pay much attention to the King's audiences. He had only taken note when the girl had fallen to her knees to prostrate herself in desperation.

“She's no murderer,” Christopher chided.

“Did her family kill our sister or not, Chris?” Changbin countered with annoyance. Anger simmered just under the surface. Princess Mai was a sore topic even so many years later.

“They did. She did not. She was just a kid when it happened.” They had all been young then. A child's blissful ignorance was no place for the blame of their parents’ faults. All of the Princes' should know that, but Christopher knew it most.

“Mai was just a kid, too. An innocent, sweet, lively and damn charming kid. Had she lived, I would probably be in debt for sweets and dresses. I would have been a beggar proudly for our baby sister, yet you take up in defense for the blood of her murderer?”

“I miss Mai as much as you do, more even, but her murderer was executed. There's nothing else for us to do,” Christopher shot back. He was feeling his own anger rise. There were few things that he wouldn't do for his family, his siblings. Changing the past was not within his realm of capabilities.

“Are you truly that much of a fool?” Changbin asked incredulously. His anger was still held tightly in check.

“Is it foolishness to allow a person to pave their own path?” Christopher returned. He lacked the heat of his younger brother. He could never be mad at any of the boys who shared his blood. They were all young, still finding their way into manhood and rule with the black and white lens of good and evil. If only the world were so simply colored.

“It's foolishness that could end in an early grave.”

It was not Changbin who answered. The voice was feminine, but hard. It was the voice of a woman who had seen too much, been forced to harden her edges at the behest of those in power around her.

Queen Bang regarded her natural son and his brother with a stern stare. The panes of her face were sharp, severe even. Hers was a beauty that didn't often mesh with the other ladies of the palace. It was refined but not delicate; the type of face that would strike fear in a man's heart as much as lust. It had both Christopher and Changbin sealing their lips tight to stave off any protest that bubbled.

“This is not appropriate banquet conversation,” she stated with a final withering stare before turning her attention back to the audiences entertaining the King. He was deep in conversation with a Captain from the Free Isles about some strange sea beast that had been spotted. From the look of the table, he was also deep in his cups as he boasted about hunts from his youth of beasts of yore.

Taking the reprieve, Christopher searched the room for Minho. He had promised he would at least be present, wandering the room discreetly so as not to raise gossip about the Second Prince being excluded from the dais. He was to have his first pick of any Lady that caught his eye, and he had only to choose one– one gentlelady to give his father the illusion that the wayward Prince had been subdued into court life.

Of course, Minho had to make even a simple task an effort in patience and persistence.

However, Christopher could not have patience. It went against everything he knew and everything he was, but he had to act. There was no room for error, nor weakness in the Court of Miroh.

At a look, the page was running towards him. He was well dressed in the colors of his Liege, the fabric glinting in the light like polished iron. With a well placed command and Changbin watching curiously, the boy took off with quick feet and vigor for a promised knighthood.

A future King had to be a man of action.

Minho

The palace library was a place of wonder for any intrepid mind. It was filled with the works of great scholars and war strategists renowned for their taciturn. Works from all across the world, they told of histories, battles, and gentleman's philosophy. It was all knowledge that any young man should know, approved by the crown and kept up by an army of ever present eunuchs who dusted the shelves and kept the sight fit for royalty.

Tomes upon tomes of knowledge lined the high walls with ladders placed at intervals to reach the topmost shelves. The tops of the ladders ended in marbled ceilings that supported the second floor balcony. It was a wide open walkway lined with yet more books that opened up to show the floor below.

Minho had spent a lot of his youth in the brightly lit rotunda. He studied with his appointed tutors, absorbing the knowledge a spare must have like a sponge desperate for hydration. Even when the old men would give him leave, he would stay. Day would turn to dusk as he poured over the words of wise men.

But Minho had learned what the library could teach him. When he had reached out for more, he had been denied. The Library eunuchs had told him that they held all the knowledge in the world in their shelves. His tutors had brushed off his queries with well mannered hands. His father had outright scoffed and berated him to work harder at his swordsmanship instead of wasting his time with yet more books.

Desperate for more, Minho had sought knowledge through travel.

His early years had seen him guesting the courts of Great and Lesser Lords, browsing their own shelves for things he had yet to learn. Each time, he was disappointed. Each time, he moved on with more vigor. It wasn't until his desperation took him to the city taverns, art houses, and lone monasteries in tall, reclusive mountains that he learned the greatest lesson of his life: through understanding of life could never be found until one experienced the people of the world itself.

He had come to hate the palace library, disdaining the time he had wasted learning what was deemed appropriate for a Prince. It was unfortunate that it was an excellent place to find a quiet and unassuming corner with few ears that listened. It was even more deserted with the Selection happening. No Lords browsed the shelves, and few eunuchs were on duty.

“How have you been, old friend?” Hwang Hyunjin asked as he slid into the seat next to Minho. They were cushioned and pushed into an empty corner, meant for spending hours reading.

“Better,” Minho answered. The table between them held a silvered platter complete with three tumblers and a decanter of liquor. He poured them both a drink and took a healthy swallow of his own.

“Does the idea of Miroh court life distress you so much?”

“As much as having my manhood chopped off,” he answered wryly.

“I'm sure our glorious King would love to have that arranged if you don't fall in line,” Jackson Wang joked as he took a third seat. He squeezed in next to Hyunjin, the table separating the Prince from his guests.

“Yes. He would,” Minho agreed grimly. Another sip of the liquor had fire burning in his throat. He poured some for the new arrival in the empty glass.

“It needs not be that way,” Hyunjin stated. “It's as simple as doing what he asks.”

“I will not, and I'm surprised you would even suggest such.”

Minho had spent time with almost all the Lords of Miroh. He had supped in their dining halls, listened in on their councils, advocated for reform favoring the small folk with what attention he curried. He was familiar with them all, but none more so than Lords Wang and Hwang. They were as close to him as his own brothers. They knew his views and he knew theirs.

“We have discussed this before. If you want to seek change, you have to be in a position to do so,” Jackson said. He picked up his tumbler and sniffed the liquid indulgently before taking a healthy swallow.

“And it shall not be by so blatantly ignoring your father's wishes,” Hyunjin added. His own glass remained untouched.

“You wish me to abandon everything I believe and play the part?” Minho was annoyed, but not surprised. This was a normal point of contention in the trio.

“Jackson controls the Southern Border. I have dominion over most of the Midland Plains. We have influence, but with a Prince advocating to our ends, we could scarcely be denied”, Hyunjin said, passion deepening with every word. It was the same old conversation, but never had he pushed so blatantly. Minho's return to Court seemed to heighten his resolve.

“We could not risk altering the realm within a fortnight. We have to play the long Game. Even revealing our cards too soon could lose us royal favor, and power. Your father is not so inclined to a liberal nature,” Jackson added. He had abandoned his seat all together, glass of liquor in hand.

“The long game is waiting until Christopher is crow–”

“Your brother is a strong and moral Prince, but he is a traditionalist. Even in him, you will not find the ally you think,” Hyunjin cut off Minho's protest.

“If you are suggesting we overthrow my brother, you won't have to deal with my father. I'll have your head of my own accord,” Minho spat, sudden anger getting the best of him. His brother's all had their faults, but he would forever be loyal to them.

“We would never suggest such a thing, but he will need the right people around him when he ascends. The current Council, baring myself and Lord Wang, are all bootlicking yes-men with traditionalist loyalties. They would see the same wars and the same laws in place for eternity,” Hyunjin countered.

“Ah, the Late Lord Jeon’s writ on the rights of a nobleman. What a crock of shit,” Jackson hummed as he browsed the shelves. He was sipping his liquor as Minho and Hyunjin spoke, browsing through the tomes on the shelves next to their group as he did. Even though he didn't seem too invested, Minho knew it would be unwise to think so.

The Wang were an old name and had ancestral rights to the Southern Border. Across that border, was an endless stretch of desert ruled by a King shunned and forgotten by all except the Wang’s. It was said the family's outlandish politics were an extension of that King's will, and the Wang's did not hide it. If anything, they flaunted it and were the only Great House to push for liberal reform– at least with any visibility.

“He needs you to be his right hand, but the other Lords would never accept you as you are now,” Hyunjin advised, ignoring his friend's outburst.

“What our ever so serious Hyunjin is suggesting is a mummers’ farce. Do your father's bidding where the world can see, while playing your hand behind the scenes,” Jackson said, still making the odd disproving noise as he browsed the books written by less inclined individuals. “It's not ideal, but it's become necessity.”

Minho did not like anything that was being said.

He had spent his whole life concentrating on the belief that rule and power could never end without corruption. It didn't matter how just and moral you were, the reigns of an entire people would callous and blacken your beliefs until your life revolved around cowing populations into submission with the threat of a sword. That was simply how human nature worked.

His beliefs had not come without cause.

The Red Rebellions had torn the realm asunder. It had been all in the name of ridding themselves of a tyrant King Kim. When the Bang's had won, the Kingdom entered a golden age. Arts and philosophy flourished and laws changed to usher in a new world for the people of the time, but history had proven to be cyclic. Even being his own family, Minho could not deny that the reign of the Bang family was heading in the direction of the Kim’s.

His only consolation had been Christopher. He was a just and upright man, but he had been raised to rule under the constant traditionally forged sword of their father. He had never seen the world outside of the Capital, and likely never would.

He would never see the villages in the dense Jungles of the West. The deeper you went into the verdant green, the more sparse populations got until civilization gave way to angry wildness that had retaken abandoned towns; their peoples forever lost to disease. Many still living remained under constant quarantine, never able to leave their homes for fear of spreading illness and death by the swords of those who held them there. They would not be helped. They would die and be forgotten like the others.

He would never know the desperation of the poachers in the Anpanman Woods. They were injured soldiers who had served the realm only to be discarded when they were no longer of use. They were green boys who were forced to support their families. They were the downtrodden no one cared for until they stepped on the toes of a Lord.

He would never see the sorrow of the wives of the Eastern Coast. Their husbands left them with babes still at the breast to mine gold in the crown controlled Free Isles. For the cost of the Crown's coffers, a lot of them would perish at sea or in the mines. They would never see their children grow.

Christopher would have to connect with his people. He would have to live amongst them to remember that it was not a Nation he ruled, but living humans with lives and stories of their own. Forgetting that was often the fall of a good King. He could not forget. Minho would not let him.

“Give me a script and dress me in motley, damnit.”

#stray kids smut #stray kids fanfic #skz ff #stray kids ff #skz fanfic #skz smut #skz x reader #lee know fanfic #lee know ff #lee know smut #lee minho fanfic #lee minho smut #lee minho ff

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goodqueenaly · 1 year

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It’s like poetry something something but also comparing and contrasting Dontos Hollard being saved as a boy and Dontos Hollard being saved as an adult.

Dontos Hollard owes his salvation as a child not just to Ser Barristan Selmy, but specifically Barristan Selmy’s commitment to his own conception of knighthood. It was not simply that Barristan’s ironclad belief in his duty as a knight of the Kingsguard - such that he volunteered to rescue the king - prevented Tywin’s plan of razing Duskendale (perhaps with young Dontos Hollard inside, if he had been there). With the boy Dontos, Ser Barristan demonstrated his belief in an even more fundamental knightly charge than that of his Kingsguard vows - that is, to “defend the young and innocent”, as Lyonel Baratheon commanded of young Raymun Fossoway at the time of the latter’s knighting (a core virtue for Barristan, as evidenced by his later horror at the murders of Rhaegar’s children and the suggestion of killing the Meereenese child hostages). Dontos Hollard the child would presumably have meant nothing to Barristan; indeed, as the nephew of Ser Symon Hollard, who had slain Ser Gwayne Gaunt of the Kingsguard during the Defiance, Dontos might have appeared to Barristan as the heir of that past wrong, and so a fitting outlet for vengeance (just as Barristan had himself slain Symon, thus avenging his sworn brother). Yet Barristan called for Dontos to be spared anyway; Dontos’ identity as an innocent child appears to have mattered to Barristan far more than his so recently traitorous (and for Barristan, personally antagonistic) familial connections.

Of course, Barristan did not go quite so far as to challenge the order of a king now consumed by paranoia and a mania for violence. Rather, Ser Barristan couched his obedience to his chivalric charge in similarly knightly terms - begging young Dontos’ life as a “boon” which a grateful king could grant to this sterling knight who had done him such a service (compare, say, the would-be king Renly’s ceremonial grant of a boon to the melee champion Brienne, or the would-be king Joffrey’s likewise formal offer of a boon to the the knightly Tyrell sons after “[t]he roses [had] support[ed] the lion” at the Blackwater). In this moment completely devoid of chivalric courtesy - the ruthless, near absolute destruction and damnatio memoriae of two noble dynasties in the aftermath of a hostage crisis and siege - Dontos’ one hope rested with the promise of knighthood. Handed back his life as a knight’s boon, Dontos was allowed to journey to King’s Landing to serve as a squire, with the promise of a knighthood of his own one day. If there could never be (certainly not under Aerys II) a return of House Hollard to its pre-Defiance standing, Dontos’ knighthood might at least have restored some sense of personal dynastic honor; Dontos could, so it might have been presumed, live out his life as the sort of deposed but genteel knight Jaime imagines Edmure becoming in AFFC. Knighthood, in other words, both immediate and promised, comes to the rescue for the boy Dontos Hollard.

As an adult, Dontos Hollard finds himself again needing rescue from the murderous whims of a violent, sadistic king - but his salvation comes in a form far different from that he had experienced as a child. Summoned to the lists for Joffrey’s namely tourney - if no grand event, at least ostensibly more peaceful and chivalric than the Defiance of Duskendale - Ser Dontos appears as a foolish, indeed obscene drunk; only his horse maintains any sort aristocratic dignity, its “swirl of crimson and scarlet silks” denoting the barry gules and rose of House Hollard’s sigil, as Dontos himself stumbles half-naked around the yard. The promise of knighthood as his childhood salvation has soured badly: Ser Dontos may have the formal title of knight, but in his utter failure to make even the barest showing at that core knightly sport, the joust (and against a freerider, of the lowest class of knight often scorned by blue-blooded Westerosi chivalry), Dontos has hardly demonstrated himself a knight in practice.

Yet Dontos is saved from the king’s command for his death - not by a knight, but by a facially un-knightly expression of true knighthood. Indeed, there is something of a role reversal here from Duskendale, where Ser Dontos the knight (roughly about the age Barristan once at the time of the Defiance) owes his rescue to a child - not only one roughly about the age Dontos was at the destruction of the Darklyns and Hollards, but one who had herself so recently experienced the cruel extermination of her father and the Stark household, leaving her, like young Dontos, a child of a traitor dynasty (at least in the eyes of the crown) alone in the capital. Yet if Sansa is herself no knight, she nevertheless reveres the mystique of knighthood, understanding the role of a true knight as one who is (so she will think later) “sworn to defend the weak … and fight for the right”. Seeing a man who “was drunk and silly and useless, but … meant no harm” - that is, one of those “weak” whom knights were sworn to protect - Sansa takes the (considerable!) risk of arguing for his life to Joffrey, just as Barristan Selmy had done to Aerys in begging for the life of young Dontos. Just as Dontos had personally meant nothing to Barristan during the Defiance, so Dontos means nothing personally to Sansa here (his involvement in Littlefinger’s scheme to spirit her from the capital not yet begun); Sansa calls for his life simply because it is not right that a weak and innocent man should be murdered at the king’s whim, an expression (albeit unconscious on her part) of that core knightly responsibility.

Naturally, Sansa cannot rely, as Barristan did, on any sense of royal gratitude to save Dontos; where Aerys II could not refuse his so recent rescuer when the latter asked for a boon, Joffrey is as of this tourney regularly abusing Sansa, even threatening here to drown her for merely suggesting Dontos’ life should be spared. Instead, it is Sandor Clegane who provides the justification, corroborating Sansa’s clumsy warning of ill fortune to convince Joffrey against murdering a man on his birthday. Sandor Clegane, perhaps more than any other character in the series, specifically reviles and disdains the formal conception of knighthood - yet here, draped in a white cloak in a bitter parody of Barristan Selmy (as Sandor himself had replaced that virtual epitome of the Kingsguard), Sandor laconically (and, to be sure, indirectly) fulfills that knightly charge of defending the weak. Sansa then seizes on Joffrey’s temporary stay of execution to transform Dontos into a royal fool; where Barristan’s plea for Dontos’ life had set the latter on the path of royal squire and eventually knight, Sansa’s suggestion strips Dontos of any future knightly dignity, but in a way which would (so she might have presumed) save his life long-term (as indeed, a fool’s very position allows him some sense of license, preserving the fool from retaliation by the people he taunts). Once, one of the the most (publicly) admired knights of the Kingsguard (themselves supposed to be “the finest swords in all the realm”) had used his knightly position to save the life of the young Dontos and given him the promise of knighthood for his future; now, a young girl and a man who had vehemently rejected knighthood save the adult Dontos through the elimination of his knightly identity.

#asoiaf meta #acok #dontos hollard #sansa stark #barristan selmy #sandor clegane #knighthood

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gracehosborn · 16 days

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WIP Questions Tag

Thank you so much @sunset-a-story for the tag!

Going to answer for The American Icarus: Volume I for this one. May do another for Ink of Destruction later, we’ll see.

What was the first part of your WIP that you created?

I had originally written the first part of a prologue on a whim set the night before Hamilton’s duel with Burr (back when I thought having this story be in one novel was a feasible idea). But a few minutes later I scrapped this because I thought a prologue was stupid. Years later I have gone back and added a prologue, but now it’s in the form of a fictional letter to the reader wherein Alexander explains why he’s sitting down to write his “memoirs”.

If your story was a TV show, what would the intro song be?

I would actually love to have an original piece be composed. I just think that would be more fitting. In an ideal world, I’d love for the task to go to Lindsey Sterling.

Who are your favourite character(s) and why?

As most everyone in Volume I of TAI (and the rest of the series for that matter) are based off of real people, I’ll just be super predictable and say here that I of course find Hamilton super interesting. The man was complex, and getting to explore these complexities through a first-person narrative has been super fun. I get to be in his head and play around with all the gritty details in crafting motivations and stringing real events together into narrative form through his actions.

What other pieces of media could share a fan base with your WIP?

TURN: Washington’s Spies, Hamilton, potentially 1776, though I could see this being wide reaching.

What has been your biggest struggle while writing your WIP?

Oh God. The research, for starters (due in large part to my spite compelling me to go above and beyond what’s necessary), but being a history major who wants to specialize in early American history as it is, I find the struggle here to be more overwhelming than actually difficult. In terms of an actual difficulty, that would be the writing itself. As ironic as that sounds. Having TAI be framed as Hamilton sitting down 200 odd years after his death to write his memoirs means that I have to emulate Hamilton’s actual writing style and oof that’s hard. Also, Alexander Hamilton was very extroverted and I am simply Not That so dialogue is a pain in my ass. 😭

Are there any animals in your story?

Yep! Lots of horses will feature in TAI Volume I. And eventually some dogs (owned by generals Washington, Lee, Howe, and the Baron von Steuben).

How do your characters get around?

This is the 18th century. Everyone’s only options are: ride a horse, get a carriage or coach, procure a boat if on water, or walk. Lots of walking and riding feature here.

What part of your WIP are you working on right now?

I’ve been stuck on this one chapter for months that closes out Alexander’s time studying at King’s College as he decides to drop out to put all his focus towards the artillery company he has been granted command of. I’m super excited to get into Alexander’s time as an artillery captain but man this chapter. It’s the dialogue that’s holding me hostage I fear.

What aspects of your WIP do you think will draw people in?

Oh definitely the premise. If that doesn’t draw people’s attention, I’ll be super shocked. Another aspect I can think of would be the time that the novel spends on the American Revolution in a way that’s vivid and detailed. Beyond that, I’ll just say that name recognition is a powerful thing.

Tagging with no pressure: @kaylinalexanderbooks @meerawrites @thestarsfightagainstusmyfriend @almaprincess66 @rwwinton and anyone else who wants to jump on in.

#tag games #the american icarus #TAI #alexander hamilton #writers on tumblr #writing community #historical fiction #amwriting #amrev

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ourvanishingghosts · 9 months

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Hihi hope ur doing alright could I request Raihan x f reader but reader has a flu? and is terribly sick 😭

Sure. I hope you’re alright with making the reader have a shiny Rillaboom as their partner Pokémon and a talking Meowth.

The Flu

Raihan x Sick! Fem! Reader

You were starting to feel unwell towards the middle of the day. It started with a headache, then a sore throat, and once you and Rillaboom got home was when the body aches hit. Rillaboom caught you as you started stumbling. She took to your bedroom and laid you down on the bed. It was around 6pm when Rahain came home and he was concerned when you did not greet him at the door. He walked into the bedroom and saw you laying there looking very ill with Rillaboom sitting by your side.

"Hello, sweetheart. Would you like me to get you anything?"

You look at him and your face was looking slightly more pale than normal and your nose was red.

“Could you please get me some water and a cough drop?”

He looks at you softly and nods as he leaves. You sit up and Rillaboom reposition your pillows so that you’re more comfortable. Around five minutes later Raihan came back and handed you your water and cough drop. You drank as much water as your body would allow and put the cough drop in your mouth.

“Have you had anything for dinner yet?”

You shake your head no.

“Would you like some soup? I’ll also make you some lemongrass tea as well. Clover would you like to help me?”

Clover looks at him then at you and you smiled weakly at her letting her know that you’d be alright. She moves your hair/gently pats your head before she leaves with Raihan. It takes about an hour for them to come back with the soup and lemongrass tea.

“Clover you can go rest. I’ll look after her while you sleep.”

Clover gently hugs you good night and goes to her room and sleeps. Raihan starts feeding you the soup and makes sure that you drink the tea.

“Thank you, Raihan.”

“You’re welcome. Tomorrow I’ll take you to the doctors and I’ll take off of work for as long as I need to. Just so that Clover doesn’t get overwhelmed and overworked.”

You nod and smile at him knowing that there was no use in arguing with him.

~The next day~

You were diagnosed with a severe case of the flu. It won’t kill you, but Raihan has to wear special protective equipment when he’s in your room. It won’t infect Clover but she does sleep outside your bedroom door. The doctor estimated that it would probably take a month until your body gets rid of the virus. The other gym leaders understood the situation. Bea and Gordie decided to take turns running Raihans gym while he takes care of you.

~A month later~

Your body finally got rid of the virus. Raihan is currently disinfecting everything in your room for the final time today.

“Raihan, you know that you can go back to work, right?”

He sighs and looks at you and Clover laying in bed.

“I know. I’ll let Leon, Bea, and Gordie know that I’m willing to return to work next week.”

You close the book that you and Clover were reading.

“Why? My body is healthy now.”

“But what if you need me? I can’t stand to think that my Blossom would need me and I’m not here because I’m at work.”

You smile at the nickname. You get up, walk over to him and cup his face with your hands.

“Raihan. My Dragon King. I’ll be alright. I’ll have Clover. If I need to call anyone and I don’t have my phone and I can’t get to the house phone I’ll have Sterling (Meowth) make the call.”

He smiles warmly at you and kisses your lips. Clover ends up finishing disinfecting everything since you and Raihan ended up on the bed and fell asleep cuddling.

~Epilogue~

When Raihan went back to work Bea and Gordie were relieved. Bea runs up to Raihan and hugs him.

“Thank goodness you’re back. There were fans who were pissed that you weren’t here.”

Bea releases Raihan from her bone crushing hug. Raihan looks at Gordie.

“A few of them ended up making me cry. I honestly hate admitting that.”

#pokémon raihan #gym leader raihan #pokemon raihan #raihan x reader

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blackswaneuroparedux · 1 year

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Onwald mæg wel reccean se þe ægðer ge hiene habban con ge wiðwinnan.*

- Old English

He wields power well who can both hold and resist it.*

Penny Mordaunt, Leader of the House of Commons and Lord President of the Privy Council, took on a leading role during the coronation service at Westminster Abbey of King Charles III. Many commentators agreed she stood out for doing such a sterling job in standing to attention and holding up a sword weighing around 3kg for a good part of the proceedings. She didn’t waver once.

It’s all the more surprising that the upward political trajectory of the MP from Plymouth had flatlined after she had a promising junior ministerial career before losing out twice in the Tory leadership elections to Liz Truss and later Rishi Sunak.

It was the ill-fated Truss in her brief stint as Prime Minister who had given the 50 year old Mordaunt the wooden spoon of political offices, Leader of the House of Commons, often seen as half-way house for a minister on his way down the greasy pole of ministerial politics. Sunak kept her in the same position after annoying Sunak loyalists for staying in the leadership race to the bitter end. In that position she has thrived somewhat for her debating skills and being good on her feet as well being loyal to the Prime Minister.

Little did anyone think - least of Mordaunt - that as Leader of the Commons she would also breathe life into the nondescript title of Lord President of the Privy Council. But in one of the more arcane details of that title is the right to hold the Sword of State in any royal coronation.

As Lord President of the Privy Council she was expected the wear the august robes of that office but chose instead for a more modest presentation of a blue dress with mute gold olive leaf trimmings. As Lord President of the Privy Council, Mordaunt exchanged the larger Sword of State, a steel blade with a silver-gilt hilt that symbolises royal authority, for the jewelled Sword of Offering, which the Archbishop of Canterbury Justin Welby then placed in the King's right hand. Mordaunt later redeemed the sword by offering 100 newly minted 50 pence coins and carried the sword before the King for the rest of the service.

Symbolising the protection of good and the punishment of evil, the jewelled sword was used as a Sword of Offering at the coronation ceremony of George IV in 1821. It wouldn't appear again at a coronation ceremony until 1902 for Edward VII and it has been featured at all subsequent coronations since. The sword features partly blued and gilt steel decorated on both faces with national emblems, including roses, thistles and shamrocks, while the hilt and scabbard are decorated with numerous jewels such as diamonds, rubies, sapphires and emeralds.

There is no question that Penny Mordaunt cemented herself in the public consciousness, with even Labour counterparts commenting that she looked 'damn fine' and 'stole the show'. Admiration for her sword-bearing skills at the coronation might just reignite her political fortunes especially if Sunak and his government are widely expected to lose the upcoming general election. She may be third time lucky at getting the chance to be the leader of the Tory party. In any case many would agree in watching her steadfast performance at the coronation, it really might be the case that the ‘Penny is mightier than the sword’.

#Old English #oe #quote #penny mordaunt #mordaunt #coronation #king charles III #leader of the commons #privy council #sword #sword of state #sword of offering #monarchy #britain #british monarchy #ceremony #ritual #politics

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pink-amethyst-tarot · 3 months

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♡ YOUR NEXT SIGNIFICANT RELATIONSHIP ♡

P I L E 1 ~ P I L E 2 ~ P I L E 3

This PAP reading is the winner from a poll that I previously posted a week ago! Follow me for more PAP readings and polls so that you can help me decide what readings I do next!

take a deep breath and pick the pile that you feel most drawn to.

♡ p i l e 1 ♡

Ace of Wands, Queen of Pentacles, King of Cups, Knight of wands

Bottom of the Deck: Eight of Swords (Reversed)

"You are a badass being, full of life, love and possibilities. Through this deck, may you find a path to your best self." -Lisa Sterle, Modern Witch Tarot Deck

The first thing I heard, was something along the lines of, "you set me free". The writing is kind of on the tin with this one, but I feel like you have liberated this person in some way, shape or form.

This is a new person who is going to come into your life when you are the most secure in yourself and when you are at peace with yourself. If you have been trying to manifest someone who is kind, caring, loyal, faithful etc., this is who is coming your way. You will be each other's peace. Even if it feels like the whole world is against you, you know that your person is there by your side. I'm sensing that Pile 1 have had to deal with a lot of B.S. as far as romance goes; giving your heart fully, only to have it stomped on repeatedly. The person that is coming in for your next significant relationship, is coming in like a knight on a white horse. This person is such a flirt, and they want to make you feel wanted and special all the time. I feel like it's their goal to always make you feel sexy and good in general.

This might be a bit niche as far as this pile goes, but I feel that pile 1 has met this person and maybe even had a fling with this because I'm hearing, "I don't want to kiss anyone else; no one feels like you."

Thank you so much for participating in this pick a pile reading; if you want a more personal reading, you can see this post and you can see this post if you would like to see more about my Alice In Wonderland Sale.

If you would like to leave a tip, you can on CashApp ($oddlycozycottage), PayPal (@/oddlycozycottage), or Ko-fi (@/oddlycozycottage)

♡ p i l e 2 ♡

The Sun (Reversed), Page of Swords, King of Pentacles, Two of Wands

Before even pulling your cards, Pile 2, I just felt a wave of calm wash over me. It kind of felt like, "finally." Either, finally, you see me or finally you're here.

I'm also hearing that this isn't a case of confirmation bias. I can't confirm or deny if that's true for you, only you can. listen to your intuition/gut/heart, whatever you want to call it.

Getting into the cards, I feel that with Pile Three, there is distance between you and your person and a lot of you even know this person. You may not be together right now mainly because the distance is too much for the both of you but it makes you both really unhappy. The two are going to come together because you can't take being apart and not in a relationship anymore. There will be travel and for some of you, it will be a case of choosing this person or another path. It could be related to your career or choosing another person. The main thing right now, is to be patient. Everything will happen when it's supposed to happen, how it's supposed to happen. Taking your time and letting the chips fall where they may will be rewarded. You will be with your person.

Channeled Song: Long Distance by Brandy

I wish that you were here with me // but we're stuck where we are // It's so hard // so far //

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♡ p i l e 3 ♡

Seven of Cups (Reversed), Five of Swords, Eight of Cups, Six of Wands

"You are a badass being, full of life, love and possibilities. Through this deck, may you find a path to your best self". - Lisa Sterle, Modern Witch Tarot Deck

I feel so out of my element all of a sudden; like I don't know what I'm doing even though I've done two other piles before this one and have done other PAP readings before and that may be something that you can relate to. You may feel out of your element or alien to something that you are usually so familiar with.

Don't shoot the messenger but, what I'm seeing is that you need to accept change before you can even worry about your next significant relationship. Learning to let go and when to walk away are things that Spirit is asking of you. In a way, they are saying that your next significant relationship needs to be with yourself. Your head is too wrapped up in all the things that you do wrong, you don't focus enough on all the things that you do right. You don't see how amazing and beautiful you are. You don't see yourself as worthy enough for love. You don't see your value and all of the wonderful things that you deserve. At this time, it should only be about you and your happiness. That doesn't mean to neglect your responsibilities, but it does mean that you matter, too, especially in your own life. It doesn't matter if your person comes in and tells you how amazing and beautiful, they believe you are if you don't even believe it. You are a masterpiece in progress but a masterpiece, still. You are so magical, and you have to take the time so that you can believe that and know that in your own heart. You should not rely on others to validate that for you. You should already know it and when someone else says it, it's seen as a plus or a bonus.

Channeled Song: Anklebiters by Paramore

Fall in love with yourself // oh, again // fall in love with yourself // Because // Someday you're gonna be the only one you got // Someday you're gonna be the only one you got // Why you wanna please the world to let yourself drop dead? // Someday you're gonna be the only one you got //

Channeled Song: Last Hope by Paramore

It's just a spark // But, it's enough/ to keep me going // and when it's dark out // noone's around // And it keeps going //

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LEGAL DISCLAIMER: FOR ENTERTAINMENT PURPOSES ONLY. THESE READINGS ARE FOR ENTERTAINMENT PURPOSES ONLY. no guarantees are implied. These readings are not a substitute or replacement for any professional help or services. My readings are not a substitute for any form of professional legal, medical/psychiatric, relationship, religious/spiritual or financial/ business advice nor consultations. You should always see a professional legal/trained adviser for help in any matter. I am not responsible for any decisions/ actions you take.

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acotars · 1 year

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books read in 2023

january

sweep in peace by ilona andrews

one fell sweep by ilona andrews

a court of mist and fury by sarah j. maas

sweep of the blade by ilona andrews

sweep with me by ilona andrews

my best friend’s exorcism by grady hendrix

kiss her once for me by alison cochrun

the seven husbands of evelyn hugo by taylor jenkins reid

i’m glad my mom died by jennette mccurdy

love and other words by christina lauren

sweep of the heart by ilona andrews

the only living girl on earth by charles yu

witches get stuff done by molly harper

you had me at hola by alexis daria

her vigilante by lillian lark

inconvenient daughter by lauren j. sharkey

anon pls. by deuxmoi

you are eating an orange. you are naked. by sheung-king

legends & lattes by travis baldree

bad vibes only (and other things i bring to the table) by nora mcinerny

signs of cupidity by raven kennedy

bonds of cupidity by raven kennedy

crimes of cupidity by raven kennedy

february

exciting times by naoise dolan

sweethand by n.g. peltier

you made a fool of death with your beauty by akwaeke emezi

something wilder by christina lauren

highly suspicious and unfairly cute by talia hibbert

you deserve each other by sarah hogle

this is how you lose the time war by amal el-mohtar and max goldstone

would you rather by allison ashley

march

meet me in the margins by melissa ferguson

king of battle and blood by scarlett st. clair

the exotic by hampton sides

river of shadows by karina halle

alone with you in the ether by olivie blake

lovelight farms by b.k. borison

the soulmate equation by christina lauren

before i let go by kennedy ryan

haunting adeline by h.d. carlson

the lies i tell by julie clark

one jump at a time by nathan chen

our wives under the sea by julia armfield

all systems red (the murderbot diaries #1) by martha wells

before the coffee gets cold by toshikazu kawaguchi

april

funny you should ask by elissa sussman

make a scene by mimi grace

sweeter than chocolate by lizzie shane

the kiss quotient by helen hoang

my favorite half-night stand by christina lauren

romantic comedy by curtis sittenfeld

icebreaker by a.l. graziadei

the wedding proposal by john swansiger

circling back to you by julie tieu

by the book by amanda sellet

a lady’s guide to mischief and mayhem by manda collins

love in the time of serial killers by alicia thompson

if the shoe fits by julie murphy

whispers of you by catherine cowles

the kiss curse by erin sterling

by the book by jasmine guillory

honey & spice by bolu babalola

one night on the island by josie silver

the bodyguard by katherine center

the reunion by kayla olson

the neighbor favor by kristina forest

crooked kingdom by leigh bardugo

do i know you? by emily wibberley & austin siegemund-broka

just my type by falon ballard

delilah green doesn’t care by ashley herring blake

happy place by emily henry

dating dr. dil by nisha sharma

icebreaker by hannah grace

count your lucky stars by alexandria bellefleur

stone cold fox by rachel koller croft

fake it till you bake it by jamie wesley

may

the dead romantics

motherthing by ainslie hogarth

the woman in the library by sulari gentill

artificial condition (the murderbot diaries #2) by martha wells

the last word by taylor adams

you shouldn’t have come here by jeneva rose

june

fourth wing (the empyrean #1) by rebecca yarros

the very secret society of irregular witches by sangu mandanna

love, theoretically by ali hazelwood

july

the traitor queen (the bridge kingdom #2) by danielle l. jensen

the beast by katee robert

baldur's gate: descent into avernus by by james introcaso et. al

forget me not by julie soto

the wishing game by meg shaffer

august

the true love experiment by christina lauren

pachinko by min jin lee

almond by sohn won-pyung, translated by joosun lee

hook, line, and sinker by tessa bailey

september

hey, u up? (for a serious relationship): how to turn your booty call into your emergency contact by emily axford & brian murphy

everyone knows your mother is a witch by rivka galchen

fangs by sarah andersen

a room with a view by e.m. forster

juniper bean resorts to murder by gracie ruth mitchell

one's company by ashley hutson

the mysterious affair at styles by agatha christie

solita: a gothic romance by vivien rainn

you, again by kate goldbeck

the undertaking of hart and mercy by megan bannen

my roommate is a vampire by jenna levine

the picture of dorian gray by oscar wilde

the vampires of el norte by isabel cañas

her body and other parties by carmen maria machado

evil eye by etaf rum

the seven year slip by ashley poston

october

keeper of enchanted rooms by charlie n. holmberg

the serpent and the wings of night by carissa broadbent

shy by max porter

down comes the night by allison saft

the unfortunate side effects of heartbreak and magic by breanne randall

the hurricane wars by thea guanzon

november

a witch's guide to fake dating a demon by sarah hawley

the wake-up call by beth o'leary

when in rome by sarah adams

the view was exhausting by mikaella clements and onjuli datta

hello stranger by katherine center

practice makes perfect by sarah adams

do your worst by rosie danan

december

bookshops & bonedust by travis baldree

the fake mate by lana ferguson

final count: 127/100

#kate’s reading log #read in 2023*#a little late but i wanted to get this up here !!#i’ll update as i go so if you don’t want to see this just blacklist kate’s reading log :)#we hit character limit so i had to reformat lol

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46ten · 15 days

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Rethinking the narrative of Hamilton as a poor child held back by illegitimacy

We’ve outgrown a number of the myths that Chernow invents or embellishes from Flexner and Miranda ran with, but AH as a humble child in the West Indies, struggling with poverty and the stigma of illegitimacy seems to persist, no matter the lack of initial evidence for that narrative and the excellent scholarship over the past 10 years or so that flips it on its head.

AH’s maternal grandfather was very wealthy; Rachel Faucette’s inherited wealth was what supposedly attracted John Lavien.

James Hamilton (b 1725 or so) was notably not wealthy. Though a “gentleman” from a respected Scottish family, as a younger son he went to make his way as a merchant at the Caribbean, and pretty much failed at every business venture, as far as we know. In 1765, he was hired to settle a matter in St. Croix, and at some point Rachel and their two kids, James and Alexander, either joined him or made their way there independently. It’s not at all clear that James “abandoned” the family or what happened - it seems just as likely that Rachel, perhaps realizing that their sons’ best options were getting involved in trade, decided to stay where she had an extended wealthy family who could also support her as a merchant/shopkeeper. AH started working really young (he’s 9 if you believe the 1757 birthdate), which was a pretty fantastic way to gain knowledge and experience, especially if his parents realized - and they likely did - that he was intellectually gifted.

Upon the death of his mother, who owned 5 enslaved persons, had silverware and leather chairs and a decent collection of books - definitely middle-class-ish - AH initially goes to live with his uncle and cousin, who were the two wealthiest people on St. Croix. As mentioned above, he was also already working as a clerk, ascending to what can best be described as the business manager by the time he leaves for NY, earning a pretty tidy sum as a single-man - he was likely upper-middle class. [A brief note: at no point does Edward Stevens or Thomas Yard, his brother-in-law, state that AH or his brother ever lived with the Stevens family. That conjecture comes more than a century later sourced to a census of the Stevens family that they had two male servants around the ages AH and his brother would have been. But I think if AH lived with the Stevens family, that would have come up well before the 1920s.] His first cousin provides him with what Newton calculates as 196 pounds sterling at that time, when the average British and American worker made somewhere between 10-15 pounds sterling PER YEAR. AH arrives in the colonies and lives with either the comfortably middle-class (Mulligan) or the wealthy elite (Elias Boudinot and William Livingston) before beginning his studies at King’s/Columbia College. There’s also no note about any difficulty in him getting into Elizabethtown Academy or King’s - no one was holding it over his head that he was a bastard.

So the facts of AH’s life 1768-1779 don’t really seem to be what’s shaping the narrative. Instead, it seems to me that two things are interfering with the interpretation:

1. AH’s 1769 letter to Edward Stevens in which he gripes “I contemn the grov’ling and condition of a Clerk or the like” which makes him seem somehow downtrodden in poverty. But there’s no evidence that that was the case, or that AH wasn’t just annoyed by being a clerk and thought a different job - or a war - would better employ his talents/allow for greater study for him to become a leisurely gentleman.

AH may have started working for Beekman and Cruger as early as 1766, at the age of 9-12 years old, perhaps having previously worked in his mother’s store. JCH writes:

The little leisure which he could command from his mercantile duties was devoted to study; his knowledge of mathematics was enlarged; he became fond of chemistry; and although his proficiency in it was small, he often urged it as a pursuit well adapted to excite curiosity and create new combination of thought.

Among the books to which he had access, he preferred those which treat of some branch of ethic. His favorite authors were Pope and Plutarch....

He often also, at this time, exercised himself in composition on moral topics, to which he afterwards occasionally resorted as a relaxation from the arduous labours of his professional life; and thus, by his varied studies, his mind became rich in materials awaiting his call. The Life of Alexander Hamilton

Although AH wrote to Edward Stevens in 1769 that "I contemn the grov’ling and condition of a Clerk or the like,” and Nathaniel Pendleton would later write that Hamilton “conceived so strong an aversion to [clerkship] as to be induced to abandon altogether the pursuits of commerce”, according to JCH, his father also felt his time as a clerk was very important:

This occupation was the source of great and lasting benefit to him; he felt himself amply rewarded for his labours by the method and facility which it imparted to him; and amid his various engagements in after years adverted to it as the most useful part of his education. The Life of Alexander Hamilton, my emphasis.

Other biographers have speculated that AH’s time as a clerk was probably critical for his understanding of commerce and finance and to the development of both his leadership and writing skills.

JCH also writes:

With a strong propensity to literature, he early became a lover of books, and the time which other youth employ in classical learning, was by him devoted to miscellaneous reading, happily directed by the advice of Doctor Knox, a respectable Presbyterian divine, who, delighted with the unfolding of his mind, took a deep interest in his welfare. The Life of Alexander Hamilton

This role for Knox is doubtful; Rev. Hugh Knox first visited St. Croix Sept/Oct 1771, and did not come to reside there until May 1772, only a few months before AH would leave for NY.

2. AH, in 1779-1780, certainly is sensitive to his lack of advancement in the army while others with less ability/experience advance thanks to nepotism. He doesn’t have the family connections, true, but he’s far from the only person frustrated by the way appointments are handed out - James Monroe also left the army because he couldn’t get a command.

And at no point does AH’s illegitimacy ever seem to hold him back - in fact, up until he made a number of political enemies, no one seemed to care. Illegitimacy was not at all uncommon, particularly in the West Indies; Newton offers up another example of a couple pretending to be married. There’s no record whatsoever that AH was ever taunted about being a bastard as a child, adolescent, or young man (the first recorded innuendos about it actually date from the late 1780s - he’s 30 or older). Likewise with the loss of his mother - a lot of children were orphans. These were just not life details that put him outside any veneer of respectability.

He’s able to rise to the level of aide-de-camp for Washington and married into a wealthy Dutch-American patrician family with, based on the lack of comments on his birth, not even a shrug. JCH does note that marrying into the Schuyler family was one of the most important events of his father’s life, but one never gets the impression from AH’s own writing that he thought they were inherently superior to him - no, this was the class of people whom he had always belonged with and rubbed shoulders with.

And perhaps other than the times he was in school, I’m 90% comfortable stating he almost always had servants - while living with his parents, his mother alone, his cousin, as a clerk, in the colonial American households, and then perhaps with a brief break while studying, he also had at least one servant in the colonial Army and for the rest of his life.

Hamilton’s St Croix education

More about Hamilton’s Faucett relations with links to Newton’s discussions

A summary of the amounts Anne Mitchell (and Peter Lavien) provided to AH.

#Hamilton was not like us and I wish that narrative would die #For many reasons #he's not relatable

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