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fathomlessgaze · 2 months

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bring your child to work day: zayne and his daughter spend a day at the hospital

fluff, dad!zayne/reader (a little bit), ~2.2k

warnings: reader only makes a small appearance it's mostly about zayne + his daughter spending quality time together tbh, allusions to zayne + mc's lore (no specific memory idt just the overarching theme of their story), zayne is a devoted girl dad bc i believe in girldad!zayne...

a/n: mc/reader + zaynes daughter is named zenith here bc i liked the idea of them sharing an initial 😭 meaning the highest point/the point right above you in the sky bc i think thats what she would be for zayne+mc like one of the best moments of their lifetimes :( anyway it's mentioned in the fic but shes the spitting image of zayne thats his mini-me fr

“good morning,” zayne says, passing by the nurses’ station without much fuss. it’s an ordinary wednesday, after all.

“morning,” greyson echoes with a curt nod, his eyes still focused on the files he’s reviewing from an overnight patient.

“mornin’!” a third voice calls happily.

greyson freezes, his papers falling unceremoniously on the floor. “huh!?” he exclaims, a little too loud for a hospital corridor.

however the chief pays his outburst no mind, and he suddenly sees why, greyson’s gaze finding the little girl perched on his boss’ hip. of course, he remembers, it’s “bring your child to work” day. but for some reason, he never thought that zayne would actually bring his child to work. perhaps that explains why he’d made sure no surgeries were scheduled for this day weeks ago.

zayne strokes her dark hair, brushing a loose strand from her pigtails behind her ear. “this is dr. greyson,” he speaks softly, pointing in his direction. “dr. greyson, meet zenith.”

“nice to meet you!” she exclaims, waving a chubby hand in the air, paying no mind to his wide eyes and slack jaw.

she can’t be over four judging from her height, and, of course, greyson knew zayne had a daughter, but he didn’t really know. he remembers you mentioning her at your appointments, the photos on his desk and, of course, zayne’s paid time off actually being used at personal all time highs (which had already been on the incline after you moved in and then got married) since a few years ago, but it still feels surreal to actually see him with his child.

if she has any opinion on greyson’s lack of response besides the cartoon birds that would appear around his head if they were in an animated tv show, she gives no hint. instead, she smiles brightly, her green eyes sparkling as she takes zayne’s glasses off his face and fists the lenses, trying to rotate them in her tiny hands and fit them on her own face.

somehow, with the much too large frames perched on her nose, she looks even more like her father. everything, from her dark hair tied with ribbons to her hazel eyes, the curve of her brow and little nose, she is her father’s daughter to a t. perhaps the only un-zayne-like thing about her is the permanent cheeriness in her gaze and her gummy smile. that she must’ve gotten from you. while greyson has definitely noticed how his boss has become a little less taciturn and stern over the years, he would be lying to himself if he said he ever thought zayne would become even a miniscule fraction as bubbly as the daughter he holds close right now.

“i didn’t know you were bringing your daughter in today!” greyson exclaims, the realizations of today finally settling and coming together in his mind.

there’s a fondness in his eyes as he glances to zenith, his lips quirking the slightest bit upwards. “she’s been asking for weeks to come with me; i figured now would be the best time with the other kids here. i know you’ve seen the schedule for today, but—”

“oh my god!” yvonne gasps, speeding towards the trio gathered. “you brought your daughter, dr. zayne!” she extends her hand to the girl, which she happily takes. “i’m yvonne, i work with your dad.”

“i’m zenif,” she babbles, her syllables getting caught on her missing tooth.

simultaneously both greyson and yvonne coo at the little girl.

“aren’t you the cutest thing? i’ve seen so many pictures of you but you’re just the dearest little one, hm?”

and word of mouth travels fast, because, soon enough, a whole crowd has come to fuss over the most adorable little girl who looks exactly like the aloof department chair and has the sweetest smile. she graciously accepts their compliments with quiet ‘thank you's' and hides her face in her father’s neck and shoulder, causing even more ‘aww’s to fall from his colleagues’ lips. when the attention dies down, zayne finally gets to his office, nearly an hour later than he usually would have by now, but he can’t even be annoyed. his little girl is the most precious; of course, he would react in the same way.

he shuts the door behind them and puts his bag down by his desk, moving zenith so she has a place on his lap when he sits down. “what would you like to do today, hm?” he asks, booting up his computer and finding a pile of files from the depths of a drawer.

“what do you do?” she asks.

he hums. “well sometimes i see patients who don’t feel well, sometimes i do surgeries on them so they feel better, and sometimes i have to do paperwork. i don’t have any patients or surgeries scheduled today, so we can do whatever you want; how does that sound?”

“what about paperwork?” she exclaims. “you said that’s what you do?”

“would you like to do paperwork with me?”

she nods firmly. “i wanna spend time with daddy!”

his heart softens, his already abnormally warm (at least for work standards) gaze growing even more endeared by his precious, favorite little girl. “you want to spend time with me?”

her head bobs and she wraps her arms around his neck, resting her cheek on his shoulder. “of course! i love you, daddy.”

pressing a kiss to her cheek, he can’t help a smile. of course he knows she loves him, loves spending time with him. when he’s home she’s practically glued to his hip. and he tries his best to make sure she knows the same. but sometimes it’s just nice to hear it from someone you love. “and i love you, princess.”

it used to be a foreign expression on his tongue many, many years ago, before you’d returned to his life, and especially before she came into his life. but as time flew by, thanks to you and your help, he’d grown familiar, comfortable, fond with it. while he knew you didn’t mind him not saying that as much as other boyfriends and husbands might from all your conversations, knowing he expressed how much he loved you and then some through other ways, he knew she might not have understood just how her father expressed his feelings and fondness at her young age.

so beyond his quiet actions, he makes sure to tell her. whether it’s a post-it note in her lunchbox, right next to the heart-shaped sandwich with the crusts cut off, just how she likes it, whenever it’s his turn to make her lunch, or a birthday card she’ll know how to read one day, he tries to tell her through words too. ‘i love you’ went from an expression he seldom said or heard, to one he couldn’t get enough of, whether it be from your lips or hers, and one he always wanted you both to know.

“let’s see what kind of paperwork we can find for you, then.” coincidentally a knock sounds from the other side of the door. “come in.”

“they brought some donuts and coloring pages out in the lobby,” yvonne says, popping her head in. “i figured you’d both be interested.”

“thank you, yvonne.” when the door shuts, zayne leans back to look at his daughter, brushing her hair. “what do you think about that? do you want to take a look?” with her eager nods, zayne stands.

“i wanna walk,” she pouts, tugging on his once crisp button-up, and he puts her down accordingly, taking her small fingers in his.

they make their way hand in hand down the corridor, drawing even more endeared coos from the staff until they reach the table. kneeling down to her height, he points at a smaller kids table in the corner.

“how about you get some coloring sheets and crayons? i can get you a donut and we can head back and do some paperwork,” he explains.

she happily obliges, skipping over and inspecting the books with a familiar seriousness (which also makes the other staff coddle her just as much as her bright smiles. “aren’t you so precious!?” “she’s just like her father!” zayne can’t help the small quirk of his lips when he hears how cute they find his daughter, because she is, speaking from his personal experience.). meanwhile he grabs a strawberry donut with sprinkles and a chocolate one, both her favorites, placing them on a napkin and grabbing a few extra knowing how she takes after you in terms of her messiness.

meeting her in the corner, he bends down, taking a quick look at the drawings she’s taken. “find anything you like?” he asks.

raising her pages to his eyes, she beams. “they have the bears!”

he smiles softly, tucking her loose hair away. “yes, they do,” he hums. “who knew?”

it totally wasn’t like he’d ordered specific character coloring books when it was time for the cardiology department to refill their kids’ activity section. it totally wasn’t like he’d looked for some ones he knew his daughter would love. it wasn’t like that at all; zayne maintains he’s as impassive and serious at work as ever…he’s lying to himself.

when she gathers her crayons, the duo make their way back to his office. the day flies quickly by, her babbles and light, curious questions bringing a new level of comfort and joy zayne never thought he’d get from his job. he loves what he does, of course, but everything just seems more enjoyable and memorable with his daughter by his side. or rather, with her on his lap, in her own little world of just her and her beloved dad, oblivious to the seriousness of the paperwork her father is dealing with as she busies herself with her own “paperwork” and scribbles vibrant colors all over the once black and white image.

and zayne thinks he would be perfectly content if it were to stay like this forever. even with all his prizes and awards, nothing could compare to the reward and title of being your husband and zenith’s father.

he lowers his pen to the desk from his fingers, using his free hand to rest his head as he admires the precious life before him. “i love you, princess,” he murmurs, pinching her cheek.

“i love you too, daddy!” she turns to face him, crumbs of donut glaze still around her lips.

he takes a napkin and dabs at her face before checking his watch. you’d said you’d meet them around now… “how about we get lunch soon?”

right on time, a knock sounds from the door, which opens to reveal you. “how are my favorite doctors doing?” you exclaim.

“mama!” she cheers, hopping off zayne’s knee and running into your waiting embrace.

kissing her head, you give her a squeeze. “how’s work with dada going?”

“i love it here! daddy colors and eats dessert all day,” she cheers.

glancing to your husband, you chuckle. “is that so?”

he makes his way towards you both, giving you a peck as you stand, your daughter now on your hip. “something like that,” he mumbles.

“then maybe i should become a doctor too,” you tease. “is now a good time for lunch?”

he nods, opening the office door once more and allowing you to pass first.

“i wanna become a doc-tor, too,” zenith ponders, suddenly serious with her small fingers tapping at her chin as she thinks, a habit no doubt from her father. “then daddy and i can color and eat snacks together forever!”

“is that so?” you ask, but you can’t help the smile you shoot at your husband.

she bobs her head, a determined furrow in her brow. “i wanna be with mama and daddy forever.”

zayne has a warm fondness in his gaze as his eyes find his daughter. she looks up to him with wide eyes and her gummy grin, reaching her small hand out for his own, which he happily obliges. her tiny fist wraps around two of fingers, and he briefly wishes that she could stay his little girl for eternity. she doesn’t need to know how hard her dad’s job actually is, how much work he had to put in to get to where they are now, the sorrows of her parents’ past. she is a precious gem, the shining peak of all your shared lifetimes.

this one existence, finally at peace, a happy ending for you and him, domestic bliss with the two, now three, of you, he thinks it’s worth every tear that’s been shed before. and maybe in another universe and lifetime, the you’ll get another happy ending. he thinks that even if it’s a simple life, as long as it’s with the two of you, it’d be one he cherishes and treasures close to every fiber of his existence, one he would fight all there may be to remember, for no god could tear his devotion. maybe he’d even bet every splintering past life that led to this one was worth the years he’s gotten to spend with you in this one, and the years still to come. so he hopes she stays as optimistic and bright as ever, that you stay by his side in this heavenly life he could only once dream of. after all, ice is made of crystals.

#zayne x reader #zayne x y/n #zayne x you #zayne fluff #zayne love and deepspace #love and deepspace fluff #love and deepspace x reader #love and deepspace #l&ds x reader #mine

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yaksha-lover · 11 months

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I know there’s a lot of debate about whether Malleus could ever actually be with someone like Yuu, considering he is a fae and prince, but the more I think about it the more it feels plausible. While there’s most likely never going to be any canon romances in the game, I think it’s an interesting discussion. Keep in mind this is just my opinion!

We know about the fae-human war that occurred in Briar Valley before Malleus was born (the one that Lilia fought in). Lilia has talked before about wanting there to be peace and understanding between humans and fae.

Well, what would be a better way to do this than uniting the two groups through a royal marriage between a human and a fae? Irl, this kind of marriage does have historical precedent. This union allows both parties to come together and witness specifically the ruler of their nation forgo any prejudice for the other group by sharing this deeply personal relationship.

Even though a lot of fae may look down upon humans and vice versa (probably similar attitudes to Sebek), if the King of Briar Valley were to marry a human, it would facilitate both political and social change amongst both groups. Families and relationships like Sebek’s parents (human-fae) would probably become much more common and socially-acceptable

Furthermore, the next royal heir would be of both fae and human descent, making them more appealing to both parties (aside from those who would remain prejudiced against half-fae like Sebek).

Lilia speaks of how a constant inability to compromise led to such conflict as the war. Marriage is pretty much the ultimate compromise to tie the two groups together. There will be incentive for both human and fae to support the royals of Briar Valley. The political change would hopefully be having everyone be allies, of this being the thing that makes them actually sit down and have political discussions instead of going straight to war. This would hopefully only facilitate more compromise and unity between the two factions, with them being able to support each other with resources and trade, for example.

The catch is that some of these benefits would likely only apply if the human Malleus married was chosen by the humans in Briar Valley who previously fought against the crown/fae. This is difficult because (as of now) we don’t have much knowledge of any such powerful (human) political opponent groups, or if they even exist after the war.

I think it would still generally be beneficial for him to marry a human (probably one of another kingdom I suppose is another solution). Marrying Yuu specifically may be difficult because of them being of ‘low-birth’ in the eyes of snobbish royals (it seems like Briar Valley is still a feudalist society) and being magicless, but I’m not sure those things are deal breakers.

Another problem that arises is the difference in lifespan, but (and this might be cope) but I like to think the Draconia family would have access to something that would make extending an otherwise healthy person’s life possible (whether magic, magical artifacts, etc.).

I honestly doubt Malleus’ grandmother would really deny him the choice of who he marries after everything that’s happened in his life. Also just like…realistically, who’s going to stop him? Malleus will be King and he also has his magic to back him up, so it’s not like any advisors can say no and his grandmother doesn’t have any other family members so she can’t threaten to disinherit him.

Plus, I don’t think there’s evidence to say that he would necessarily be forced to have a very specifically arranged marriage with any other kingdoms right now. I doubt Malleus is down to marry any of the other powerful royals or families (Leona, Kalim, etc.).

So it’s not really like he’s necessarily making a fatal mistake in ruling by not gaining an essential alliance through marriage. Sure, he probably couldn’t marry just anyone, but I think there is a case to be made for him marrying a human (and perhaps Yuu in some alternate timeline where twst is a dating sim).

#tldr i can’t cope with malleyuu not being possible #i need to hang on to this crumb of hope #twst #twisted wonderland #malleus draconia #malleyuu #malleus x reader #malleus draconia x reader #twst theory

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letters-to-lgbt-kids · 4 months

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My dear lgbt+ kids,

So, you have been in a relationship for a while and you’re ready and eager to take the next step - but your partner isn’t. What now?

The “next step” I’m referring to here could mean a lot of different things because relationships do not all follow one specific timeline (and also because my readers may be of wildly different ages and live in wildly different situations) but I am thinking of any “deepening our commitment” things here: for example introducing them to your friends or your family, moving in together or (if you are in a situation where that’s a legal possibility) even marriage or having a child together.

Whatever the step actually looks like, you may have this romantic idea of “If they’re right for you, you’ll always naturally want to take these steps at the same time”… but that’s not really how relationships work in real life. Even in the healthiest relationship and even if you absolutely feel like they’re your soulmate, you may still disagree on when to take those steps or even on whether you want to take these steps at all.

In fact, it’s uniquely frustrating if everything else is going well. If their refusal to meet your mom is just another point on the long list of behaviors that make you feel like they don’t really care about you, that’s also painful but it’s easier to give advice there: maybe you should think about breaking up. It’s tempting to believe that you can make them love you more if you move in with them or that they’ll treat you better once you get engaged, but that won’t work out. You can’t fix a broken relationship by deepening the commitment - commitment needs a stable foundation to grow. And this doesn’t only go for outright abusive relationships: they may be a wonderful person but you two just have entirely different goals and needs, and those won’t suddenly overlap more just because you moved in with them or married them.

With all that being said: if there IS a healthy and stable foundation, if you are happy in every other aspect and they’re just hesitant about this one specific step, then jumping straight to “break up with them” would obviously be pretty unhelpful advice. Differing opinions occur even in the most compatible couple, you are both whole people with your own individual feelings and those do not necessarily doom the whole relationship. It’s important to see this situation in the context of the relationship in general.

You may be able to guess that a big portion of the advice is just gonna be “Communicate with your partner” - but first of all, I’d advise you to have an open and honest conversation with yourself. Why is this step of commitment so important to you? What does it mean to you? Do you feel a sense of urgency in taking it and if so, why? Is this specific step the only possible path for your need to be met? Are you open to alternative approaches, are you open to waiting (and if so, for how long)? The purpose of these questions is definitely not to convince yourself to give up on your needs or to talk yourself into a compromise you’re not really happy with! The opposite of that, actually: It’s helpful to reflect on what exactly you want and why you want it, so you have the clarity you need to discuss it productively. You don’t want to agree to something that ultimately leaves you unsatisfied and bitter, but you also don’t want to push hard for something you later on realize doesn’t even mean that much to you.

When you feel confident enough about your own stance to discuss it with your partner, the most important thing to remember is: you’re on the same team. The goal here isn’t to “win” or to change their mind, but to see each others perspective better and find a solution you’re both happy with. Listen with an open mind. Try to understand before you try to influence. Remind yourself that your partner isn’t your enemy, they also want the best outcome for both of you - otherwise you (hopefully) wouldn’t want to commit to them!

Something you should get clarification on during your conversations: is it a hard no (do not want to do that at all ever), a soft no (open to alternatives or adjustments), a no for now (want to do it but not yet), a yes but (want to do it but only under certain circumstances or in a different way than your original plan) or a I don’t know? How does this affect your feelings on the situation? (I’m sure that even just while reading these different scenarios, some instinctively feel better or worse than others! But it’s still important to take some time to sit with any new information that comes up during those conversations. Neither of you should feel pressured or rushed here!)

You may find that they just never considered that there may be multiple approaches to that step (an example for this would be that they are not actually opposed to the idea of being married to you, just to the idea of a wedding, and didn’t consider yet that eloping is also a possibility) - but don’t set yourself up for disappointment by expecting the conversation to 100% go that way. It may also be a hard no, and that wouldn’t make them a horrible person. People can deeply, truly love someone and still do not want to take certain steps with them. It’s a good idea to remind yourself that you’re not “in the right” or “the better person” for wanting to take those steps. While certain steps may be a big part of your own future plans or even of your identity and self-image (and that’s valid!), they are just personal preferences. It’s not a moral obligation to want them, and your partner isn’t mean for not wanting them. But, of course, at this point we also need to say: if you can not imagine a life where you never get married, you are not a horrible person for breaking up with a partner who can not imagine to ever marry. “Irreconcilable differences” are a common breakup reason for a reason.

So, to summarize: Building a strong foundation is crucial before taking big steps. Communicate openly with yourself first - understand why you want to take this step and if there are alternatives. When talking to your partner, remember you're a team; it's not about winning but understanding each other. Be open to different responses, from a clear no to conditions on a yes. Do not pressure your partner but do not completely give up on your own happiness either.

The journey of commitment should be a shared adventure - not a battle or a competitive race!

With all my love,

Your Tumblr Dad

#lgbt #lgbt+

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mytvjunk · 4 months

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Regarding the media and public opinion, Simon will always receive the most backlash from them. He is the most vulnerable out of him and Wilhelm. And I’m not disregarding or invalidating all that’s happening to Wilhelm, but in many ways Wille is more prepared with dealing with the press and public opinion about him and his family and has been since he was born. He also has the resources to help stop some of the media frenzy targeted at him, Simon does not.

Historically whenever a royal has decided to date or marry a “commoner” there is a specific group of press and public opinion that tends to eviscerate the commoner, for no reasons other than that person existing and being an ordinary person, without rank or title. Largely branded unworthy and a gold digger who finessed their way into the royal family.

Another highly important fact to point out is that Simon is Latino. Simon is a brown boy. With this, he will experience racism sharply targeted at him. Racism that Wilhelm will never experience. So, this will be an added layer of hatred spewed at him on top of homophobia, classism, and everything else in between.

Per the trailer, it looks like someone smashed his window with a rock, so he is already being targeted…he is at his most vulnerable now. So, I hope that the queen is sensible enough to provide Simon and his family some security. Someone who can at least guard their house because it’s clear that people know where he lives, and it feels like things could get worse before they get better for Simon.

These are two 16 year old kids dealing with the most insane situation that no one, at any age, is really equipped to deal with. That no one should be dealing with. We just got to wish them strength and hope that everything will work out for them in the end.

Aside from the negativity, I do believe that there is a large group of supporters out there of this relationship and of Simon himself. I honestly believe that most of their classmates will be their biggest cheerleaders. And I hope we get to see the publics support so that Simon and Wilhelm know that there are a lot of people on their side, despite feeling alone in this. Cuz sometimes the negativity can sound so loud that it drowns out all the love that’s very present.

I just want to wrap them both in a protective shield because everything that’s going on is so intense and unfair. As Simon said, "Love should not be this difficult." And I hope that once all this nonsense has settled down, their love is never difficult for them ever again 💜💜

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mysterious-ocarina · 5 months

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No Control

marauder!Sirius Black x fem!reader

(A/N 1, im american so i’ll prolly get alot of british slang wrong, or just call stuff by what americans say) ( A/N 2, this is kinda an au where Sirius doesn't move in with James and is stuck with the Black family. I had a lot of trouble figuring out what family to put the reader in that would fit my plot and I just ended up putting you in the nott family. I guess if you really wanna think about it (pls don't think too hard about it), your brother is the father of theo nott?) (A/N 3, check this out if anyone wants an explanation of why i've been gone from tumblr for so long)

Warnings: definitely angsty but with some sprinkles of fluff, lots of mentions of abuse (nothing graphic is shown, it's just described to have happened a lot in the past), this is an arranged marriage trope but not enemies to lovers trope, lots of misogyny (lately i've been feeling angry at the world and it's views of women so here is me trying to comfort myself. Sirius black is a woman lover fr). let me know if there is anything else i need to tag cuz this is my most serious fic yet

Main Masterlist HP Masterlist Requests AO3

(5.6k words)

Sirius Black. A name that's known by the majority of the Hogwarts population. And a face that is known (maybe a little too personally) by many wizards and witches at Hogwarts. But not to you.

You've only ever heard about the notorious Sirius black and the gang of hooligans called the Marauders. You've never got to meet any of them personally. You occasionally would see some of them around, but never Sirius. As a Slytherin, you often ran into his brother, Regulus, but you've never really talked to him either, only ever exchanging pleasantries.

It was actually kind of surprising that you've never talked to the Blacks before. You both came from pure blood, supremacist families and both you and Sirius were known to be a bit rebellious against your families (or just rebellious in general).

But none of that matters, when your parents force you to come home for the holidays and basically shatter your resolve.

At Hogwarts, away from the prying eyes of your family, you were most like yourself. Rebellious, outgoing, funny, and even kind. But under the roof of your family's expensive manor, you were nothing more than a quiet, obedient little girl, who's value was determined by whichever man was in charge of her. The perfect, pureblood daughter.

Just as your mother was and is, you are basically a slave to your own blood, specifically your brother and father. And as soon as you're married (arranged to a pure blood. no doubt, without your consent) you'll have to be an obedient little wife for your husband.

The perfect, doting, obedient, docile, pureblood wife. It was all a load of rubbish, you thought, but you would keep the facade up in order to keep the abuse at bay. You learned pretty early on that speaking up for yourself and speaking out of turn was not going to be tolerated.

You were silently eating dinner with your family. Your father and brother were quietly speaking about matters that even if you and your mother cared, neither of you would be allowed an opinion on.

“Honey, we’ll be having important guests for tomorrow's dinner. So make sure you look your absolute best,” your mother spoke to you. She gave you a sympathetic smile knowing the “show” you both would have to put on in front of guests.

“Okay. Am I allowed to know who these guests are?” you swallowed down your food. You were filled with nerves, thinking about what kind of important guests you were going to have.

Your mother bent down closer to your ear, “I’m not supposed to be telling you this-” she shot a quick look to your father to make sure he wasn’t listening, “but it’s the Black family. I’m not sure why they are coming. All I know is that it’s important business with one of their sons.”

You put your fork down on your plate, placing your hands down on your lap in front of you. You let your thoughts wander and only grew more worried. What kind of important business did one of the Black brothers have with your family? To help a little with your nerves, your mother placed a comforting hand on yours before going back to her meal.

The rest of your night was uneventful after that, until you went to bed. You stayed awake for longer than you should have, your mind way too loud to allow you to sleep. You ran through a list in your mind about the millions of different “important business” that the Black family could have with yours. But none of it made sense why they would eat dinner with us. Usually important business was settled in your father’s study, as it was improper for the ladies to be present.

Eventually, you were able to fall asleep and then the next day would start. You woke up late, which was extremely unappreciated by your brother, who was expecting his morning coffee like usual. You were promptly punished, not only by being woken up by him screaming at you, but also with a beating.

You spent the rest of the day trying to find an appropriate outfit for the dinner that would cover the red marks and newly forming bruises on your arms. Your mother lessened the pain of the marks a little during the day but there wasn’t much else that you could do.

Sometimes when you both sat and drank tea, you would often dream together about running away from all of this. The blood supremacy, controlling men, and just downright evil families. But those thoughts and dreams were quickly quelled when the sound of the men's voices could be heard, calling for the maids- I mean women.

Both you and your mom knew, these were only dreams. It was impossible for purebloods to leave the life that they were born into.

You and your mother waited in the foyer, waiting for the guests to arrive. Your dress was rubbing against the lashes on your skin, making you scratch your arms in irritation but soon stopped when your mothers hand landed on yours.

“You’ll only make it hurt worse. Plus, you know you can show any discomfort in front of the guests,” she said softly. She was trying her best to sound comforting but it only served to remind you of the show you both are forced to put on and the lives you’re stuck living.

A knock was heard and muscle memory forced wide, fake smiles onto both of your faces. Your mother opened the door and welcomed the Black family, “Good evening Mr. and Mrs. Black. I hope you had safe travels here.”

As soon as they crossed the threshold, you were in front of them offering to take their coats. They handed them to you as Mrs. Black spoke, “Thank you for having us, Mrs. Nott.”

“My daughter will show you to the dining room while I finish up making dinner,” your mother informed before quickly making her way towards the kitchen.

After you finished hanging up Mr. and Mrs. Black’s coats, you finally had the chance to look at the two Black brothers. Being in his house, you immediately recognized Regulus, who gave you a tight smile. You then looked over to who you assumed was Sirius.

He certainly was as attractive as the girls at Hogwarts always seemed to make him seem. But he wouldn’t make eye contact with you. He was looking toward the ground, still keeping his posture ramrod straight. He had the same look and body language as someone who had just been beaten for disobedience. A look you were familiar with.

Before anyone could get angry with you, you spoke up, respectfully, “If you would follow me, please.”

With your head down, you brought the family to the dining room. Your father and brother both stood up to shake hands with the Blacks. You stood behind your seat, waiting for the men to sit down first. Your father and Mr. Black sat down and engaged in conversation. You watched Regulus take the chair next to his father and looked to see where Sirius was. You were surprised to find him right next to you.

You backed up, unsure why he was standing there. Of course, you would give up your seat if he asked you to. But all he did was pull the chair out and motion for you to sit down. You sat down and thanked him as he pushed the chair in, “Thank you, young master Black.”

In the corner of your eye, you saw your father give a nod at your use of the title. Salazar, you sounded like a damned house elf. But that was the proper way you were to address him.

Sirius scrunched his nose at the title but gave you an understanding smile, “You’re welcome.”

He surprised you once more by taking the seat directly next to yours. You kept your mouth shut, knowing it was best to keep your curious thoughts to yourself, but you did shoot him a kind smile.

Dinner started without a hitch, conversation mostly being between Mr. Black and your father, your mother and Mrs. Black conversing a little bit with each other too. You, your brother, and both Black brothers mostly stayed silent and ate the meal.

Throughout the entire dinner, when nobody was looking, you had been rubbing at your irritated arm in discomfort. You don’t know how long Sirius had noticed but he grabbed your hand under the table just as you were going to bring it back up again. He continued to eat his meal with his other hand, looking like he wasn’t holding your hand under the table at the moment.

At your confused glance, he leaned closer to your ear, whispering, “I know what you’re doing. It’s just going to make it hurt more, the more you keep messing with it. Just squeeze my hand instead.”

He went back to eating, glancing around to find that no one noticed him whispering to you. You squeezed his hand a bit hard as you went back to eating too. Instead of wincing or doing anything to show discomfort, all he did was rub his thumb soothingly on yours.

The butterflies Sirius stirred up in you was enough to distract you from your irritating arm for the rest of the dinner.

“Now,” your father started, rubbing his napkin on his mouth and setting it down on the table, (the universal sign for “stop eating and listen to me”). “Mr. Black and I have recently come to an agreement.”

Sirius squeezed your hand in comfort as his father spoke up, “Seeing as Ms. Nott is the same age as my Sirius, we have arranged for the two of you to be married. It will be after the both of you graduate from Hogwarts.”

Those words echoed in your head as you looked up to the two fathers in shock. Your silverware clattered as it fell from your hand onto your plate. You must have been breaking the bones in Sirius’ hand, holding it as tight as you were.

Despite the fact that you knew it was a bad idea, your adrenaline forced you to speak up, “You can’t do that, father. You can’t just force me to marry someone that I just met.”

The tears in your eyes didn’t fall, years of “training” keeping them from falling.

Your brother gave you a harsh glare at your disrespect. Suddenly your father stood up, slamming his hands on the table. Staring straight at you, his commanding voice not loud but still thundering all the same, “I can, and I will. Do not forget your place in this family and this world. You will do as I say until you are married. Then you will be your husband’s to command.”

In a haste, you let go of Sirius’ hand, placing your hands on the table to stand up. Sirius, thinking quickly, kept you from getting up by grabbing your legs under the table. That didn’t stop your mouth from speaking harshly, “I am nobody’s to command or control.”

Before you could say anything more, your father reached across the table and slapped you across the face. You held your cheek in shock. He’s hit you before but never in front of guests. The entire table sat in shocked silence.

You looked down at your lap, willing your tears not to fall. You noticed Sirius’ hands clenched in his lap, he looked like he was shaking in anger, but his face had a practiced neutral expression. Regulus’ eyes were wide as he looked at you but had no other reaction at the scene that just transpired. The both of them knew not to speak up.

Your brother had a satisfied smirk on his face. You could just hear the thoughts in his head right now. Thank Salazar, someone put her in her place, his face screamed.

Your father sat down and looked towards Mr. Black, “I’m sorry for my daughter’s behavior. I hope you can forgive me for her impudence.”

Mr. Black simply waved his hand in dismissal, “It’s alright. I understand how women are.”

Picking up his whiskey glass, your father sighed, “It’s a shame we can’t put off the marriage to fix her. Maybe your son will be able to crack her.”

Mr. Black took a swig of his whiskey too, “We can only hope. If not, I can think of a curse that surely helped to fix up my Sirius.”

Sirius tensed up next to you. Your father had never used the Cruciatus Curse on you, but it was clear what Mr. Black was referring to and your father seemed to quite enjoy the idea. The two men simply laughed as if that curse wasn’t named an Unforgivable Curse. They laughed, as if your pain was nothing more than entertainment to them.

The dinner went back to normal for the two men and your brother, not noticing the tension felt between the rest of the group. This time, you grabbed Sirius’ hand under the table and rubbed it soothingly. He let out a shaky breath and squeezed your hand.

Losing your appetite, you spent the rest of the meal sitting in silence, holding hands with Sirius. Your thoughts ran completely wild. You were going to be married to him, for the rest of your life, and you had only spoken once. You didn’t even speak. He whispered to you and you listened. Thinking more about it, there are worse boys that you could have been forced to marry.

At Hogwarts, Sirius was known for being rebellious and against his family's traits and values. Salazar, the boy was sorted into Gryffindor, the opposite of his entire family. But what if that was just in the public eye. You didn’t know anything about Sirius except for what you’ve heard from others. For all you knew, the moment you and he were alone, he would revert back to his family’s pureblood values and abuse you just as most pureblood husbands did to their wives.

No, you quickly thought, stop it. You tried to think about the entire situation with a rational head. Throughout the entire dinner, he did nothing harsh towards you. He offered comfort when your arm was bothering you. He kept you from standing when you argued with your father (who knows how much worse the situation could have escalated if you actually, physically stood up to him). He did his best to offer you comfort without your families knowing it.

He’s not an abuser, you rationalized with yourself. You felt the way he tensed up at the mention of the Cruciatus Curse. He would not be like your father or your brother.

After dinner, you were sent straight up to your room. Before you were separated, Sirius softly spoke to you, “Don’t worry, darling.”

His smile reassured you by a fraction, as you got ready for bed. Maybe all of it won’t be so bad.

You didn’t see Sirius, or his family, at all the rest of the holidays. The next time you did see him was on the train back to Hogwarts. You were simply looking for an empty carriage to settle in, when you noticed Sirius coming towards you.

He grabbed your suitcase and brought it to what you presumed was the carriage he was going to be in. You simply followed him, shrinking under the glare that some of his fangirls were throwing your way.

Once the door was shut and you were alone, he finally spoke up, “So, how are you?”

You sat in the seat opposite of him. You were unsure how to proceed, so you took the safe option and responded, “I’m fine, master Black.”

He opened his mouth in shock, before quickly wiping the look from his face, he basically pleaded, “Please don’t call me that.”

“But-” you went to protest, but he cut you off.

“At least, don’t call me that when we aren’t near our families,” he dismissed what you were going to say. All you could do was stare at him. It really did seem he wasn’t like his family.

Growing embarrassed under your stare, he shyly spoke back up, “I hope you know that you can act like you normally do when you’re around me.”

You looked away from him, face flushing, “This is how I normally act.”

He leveled you with a look, “We both know that’s not true. I don’t know you well but I’m sure you have a number of choice words to call me.”

Seeing the amused smirk on his face, your facade broke. You slightly smirked right back at him, “I don’t have any words to call you… Our fathers on the other hand…”

Sirius’ smirk turned into an almost awestruck smile. Before he could say anything back at you, a gaggle of boys had burst into the carriage.

“Pads, you’ll never guess who sent me a letter during break,” James Potter excitedly said. He went to sit across from his friend only to just now notice you. You gave him a sweet smile.

“Who’s this?” James asked, sitting next to Sirius and throwing his arm around him.

Peter Pettigrew and Remus Lupin followed James into the carriage, taking their seats. Everyone gave you curious but welcoming looks.

Sirius gave you a look, which you nodded to.

“Put up a silencing charm. I’ve got a story to tell you,” Sirius replied, causing the boys to perk up.

The next hour or so was spent with Sirius explaining your arranged marriage to his group of friends. You were relatively silent, not yet comfortable talking to his friends. He left out the parts where you were abused and berated but didn’t spare the details of his own abuse. It seemed he was comfortable sharing what he goes through to his friends. And evidently you too, since you were there listening too.

This was how you found out that he knew about the betrothal before you did. Apparently, he found out just moments before going to the dinner. He tried to refuse his father (the same way you had, you noticed) and received a beating for his insubordination. That would explain the look he had when you first saw him.

You cringed a little, hearing that he was hit but he gave you a reassuring smile. His friends were also really kind and sympathetic to the entire situation. No wonder he seemed comfortable sharing his familial trauma with them, they were extremely supportive.

“Can they really do that?” James questioned, from next to Sirius.

You sighed and crossed your arms, “Unfortunately, yes. There isn’t anything that we can do to avoid it.”

Remus looked up thoughtfully, “Is it possible for you guys to run away from your families?”

You thought about it, “Hypothetically, we could run away from our families and the blood supremacy world, but it would be extremely difficult.”

Sirius spoke up, “Trust me, I’ve debated it my entire life. If we ran away from our families, no doubt we would be financially cut off from them.”

You added, “Not only would we have to somehow have enough money for a place to live, but we would also need to find a job, to keep the place to live. And trust me, families like ours have a lot of power in the wizard world. One word from them, and no one would want or be able to hire us.”

Peter muttered, “That’s horrible.”

Sirius sighed and slouched in his seat, “You’re telling me.”

“Thinking about it, Sirius, you need to put your womanizing ways away. A married man shouldn’t be parading around with any woman that gives him attention,” you added with a teasing smirk.

“You make me sound like a cheap whore,” Sirius replied with a pout.

“You’re not?” James was quick to rebuttal, causing you to laugh at the offended face Sirius gave the both of you. It didn’t take long for the entire group of you to dissolve into laughs and giggles.

Sirius smiled at you, teasingly, “Well how about you? I’m sure your long line of lovesick fools will end up sobbing at the news.”

You glared playfully at him, “I don’t know any lovesick fools. I actually swore off dating a long time ago so this doesn’t affect my love life at all.”

Remus looked at you in bewilderment, “Went from swearing off dating straight to marriage.”

“Quite the jump,” you simply offered in reply. “At least I’m stuck with Sirius and not some blood supremacist twat like my brother.”

“That is true,” Remus reasoned. “You could have been forced with someone who actually believes the rubbish their parents feed them.”

You felt comforted by Remus' words, confirming that Sirius wasn’t like both of your families.

The rest of the train ride was spent getting to know each other. It wasn’t hard to become friends with Sirius and his buddies. The longer you spent with them, the more comfortable you became with the idea of becoming Sirius’ wife. Don’t get me wrong. You still didn’t want to be forced to marry someone that you didn’t know or love, but you were comfortable knowing that he felt the exact same way.

Who knows? Maybe you could fall in love with Sirius the same way a plethora of other girls had.

The rest of your seventh year at Hogwarts went alright. It didn’t take long for rumors to spread that you and Sirius were to be married but for the most part, the gossip didn’t bother either of you that much. It’s not like the rumors were false, so what was the point in denying anything.

The only downside was the threats that a multitude of Sirius fangirls made in your direction. Nothing too serious has happened to you yet, but you knew soon enough that it would be too much for the wrong girl. Turns out, that time would come soon enough.

You were eating breakfast in the Great Hall, Regulus sitting across from you. Since he was to be your brother-in-law, the both of you became friends. You would also find out that he wasn’t like his parents either. He just wasn’t as outward of this fact as Sirius was. Watching what Sirius has put up with, he knew that he wasn’t brave enough to rebel and deal with the consequences.

Earlier in the week, a parcel came by owl for you. In it was a Black family heirloom, a wedding ring. You were told that you had to wear it from now on, even though you guys were still only engaged and not married. Of course, you didn’t argue, though.

You sat staring at the ring. On one hand, you hate what it symbolized. It was your own sick image of slave shackles that tied you down. On the other hand, “It really is quite pretty. If I didn’t know any better, I would have thought Sirius picked it out just for me.”

Regulus looked up at you as you spoke. He was confused for a moment until he noticed you glancing at the ring on your ring finger. He swallowed his toast and took a sip of his black coffee, “Well… I mean, it is charmed.”

You gave him a confused look, which only made him look back at you even more confused. His eyebrows raised, “You don’t know?”

“Know what?” you questioned. You looked at the ring and tried to think of what kind of charm it could have been.

Regulus smirked back at you, “Well, Mrs. Black-” you glared at him, only making him smile harder at you, “-When the ring was first made for our grandmother's grandmother, or some other old bat, it was put under some kind of spell.

“It was always meant to be an heirloom and it was charmed to always look the way that the husband, the male with Black blood, wanted it to look. Hypothetically, it was supposed to be a symbol of great love because the husband should know what kind of ring their wife would like to wear. But with our family being the kind of family it is, it was mostly only ever worn as a symbol of possession.

“Rarely, did the husbands care enough about their wives to know what kind of ring they would like to wear,” Regulus finished his story. He was giving you an unreadable smile.

You stared back at him, your expression almost as unreadable as his, scoffing at him, “Well most jewelry is going to be pretty.”

“Yeah, but doesn’t that look like the perfect ring for you,” he smoothly replied.

You simply ignored him, finishing your breakfast. You did your best to ignore the fluttering feeling in your chest at the thought that Sirius knew what your perfect ring would look like.

The ring on your finger only served as a reminder to all the girls at Hogwarts that you were to be Sirius’ wife, a fact that was not very well received by the female population. Before you had the ring, the most that would be thrown your way was dirty looks and glares, something you could easily handle. But as more and more people noticed the ring on your finger over the next week, the more serious it became.

You started to receive so much hate mail, that you started to only ever open up letters if they had the official Nott or Black seal. Most of the letters only said foul things to you. Not many people were aware of the arranged part of the marriage, mostly only pureblood Slytherins and Black’s friends knew about that, so a lot of the letters consisted of them berating you and wondering how you got the notorious Sirius Black to fall in love with you (A love potion being the most common guess. Because why would the perfect Sirius Black want to be with a nobody girl like you).

People really are dense these days. How could people possibly jump to any sort of conclusions when no one has ever seen you guys kiss… or even hold hands for that matter. The both of you were friends by now, of course. But that’s it. You guys didn’t just magically fall in love now that you are betrothed.

Well… one of you wasn’t in love. Over the course of getting to know Sirius more for the past few months, feelings did start to stir within you. But you always tried to squash them down as soon as you felt them. Which only made you hurt more.

You were going to get married… without your consent… to a guy that you’ve started to truly care for… despite the fact that he could never care for you the same way. It was all kind of sad, when you really thought about it.

You thought about how you were probably, inadvertently, just a symbol of his slavery to his family and their beliefs. Just as he was inadvertently a symbol of your slavery to your family and their beliefs.

But you were able to look past that. So maybe he would be able to look past it too and see the silver-lining to this whole thing.

Breaking out of your thoughts, you muttered a quicked Incendio at the pile of hate mail in front of you, burning it to ash. Slipping your wand back into your robes, you continued to eat your dinner in relative peace.

If only it could’ve stayed in peace. Two girls, a Ravenclaw and a Hufflepuff that you didn’t even recognize, sat down on both of your sides. Your confusion was apparent, only widening the smirk on the two girls' faces.

Understanding what was going on, you rolled your eyes, “Do you guys need something?”

“What’s your secret?” the Ravenclaw girl inquired.

You simply continued to eat your food, unaffected by their intimidation. Dryly, you responded, “Whatever could you mean?”

The girls looked at you in disgust, before the Hufflepuff spoke up, “We want to know how you got someone as amazing as Sirius Black to fall for you. I can’t think of anything good about you.”

With another roll of your eyes (if you had a galleon for everytime you rolled your eyes because of these kinds of girls, you would be rich) you cooly replied, “Have you tried, having a personality? I’ve heard it does wonders in making people like you.”

Both girls huffed at your attitude before standing up. The Ravenclaw haughtily informed you, “You better watch your back, Nott. Wouldn’t want anyone to damage Sirius’ goods.”

Using her wand, the Hufflepuff spilled sticky juice all over you, leaving you floundering in shock. You sat for a second seething in anger, only growing more furious as the gross liquid seeped more into your clothes.

By now, most of the great hall was already watching what had happened but at the glare you threw at everyone, people were quick to go back to minding their business.

You got up quickly, making your way out of the Great Hall. You heard footsteps behind you and someone calling your name but you were too blind with rage to bother turning around to find out what they wanted. You had had enough of the girls in this school looking down at you for something that wasn’t any of their business.

You were almost to the girls washroom, when Sirius grabbed ahold of your arm. You quickly whipped around, seething, “What the hell do you want, Black?”

He faltered, unsure how to handle what was happening, “I saw what happened. Are you okay?”

You glared harshly at him, “Do I look okay to you?”

Gobsmacked, he hesitantly replied, “Well, what can I do?”

“Oh gee, Black,” you spit at him. “Maybe you could fix your fanclub who seems to think that I’m Satan incarnate herself.”

Your anger in the moment kept you from thinking rationally, you mocked, “Oh perfect Sirius Black. He’s so hot and amazing. How could a slag like you end up with a man like him?”

Sirius stood, shocked at your outburst but kept silent and let you continue to tear at him, “I’ve heard it all, Black. Your little group of fangirls are so deep into their delusions that they can’t even see that we aren’t in love. The only thing that they are capable of seeing is that I’ll be your wife, consensual or not.

“Those girls don’t even realize the pain it brings me that I’m forced to do this. Those girls don’t see the pain my family has put me in, time and time again. Those girls don’t see the pain they cause me with their vitriolic jealousy,” You finished your rant off, poking at his chest with each sentence. Breathing deeply after explaining how this all made you feel, you watched as he processed everything you said.

He seemed unsure of how to continue, until anger and what looked like insecurity started to cover his face. He moved your hand away (very lightly, you noticed) and started to step towards you as he raised his voice back at you, “Well what do you expect me to do about literally anything about this situation. I’m sorry that having to marry me is the worst thing that ever happened to you.”

“Sirius,” you sighed, regretfully.

But he was quick to continue before you could, “No, you got to tear me out, so now it’s my turn. Trust me, this hurts me too. I know how horrible our families and their rubbish traditions are. You are just as familiar with the abuse as I am, meaning that you know just as well as I do, that there isn’t anything that either of us can do against this.”

He took a step back and a deep, calming breath. He looked at you with an expression that was unreadable, “I wish there was something, anything, that I could do to help us feel less trapped but there’s nothing to do.”

You took a step closer to him, “Nothing about you, is the worst thing to ever happen to me. Really, if anything, you’re the best thing to happen to me. It’s because of you, that I feel less alone.”

At your admission, Sirius let out a breath of relief, as if you just lifted the world off of his shoulders. Was he really that worried about being a burden to you? You spoke up again, “I’m sorry for yelling at you. None of this is your fault and I shouldn’t have let my anger out on you.”

Sirius sighed, muttering the scourgify charm. The sticky juice was instantly cleaned off you and you already felt a little bit better.

Sirius grabbed your hand, holding it in both of his, “It’s alright. I understand what you’re going through. But we can get through this together.”

“You’re right,” you responded with a soft cry. You fell into his chest and softly cried out your frustrations. Sirius stood there, soothing you as best as he could, unwilling to let you out of his embrace.

“How about tonight, you meet me in the astronomy tower? We can do whatever, it doesn’t matter what. We can just hang out and forget about our families for once,” Sirius offered. He still had his arms around you in comfort.

Once your sniffles subsided, you hugged him just a little bit tighter, “That sounds amazing, Sirius.”

(A/N, I was thinking of doing a part 2 if you guys are interested. I was thinking it would be after the marriage but you guys still dance around the feelings you have for eachother. maybe you guys find a way to run away together too. i dont really know, yall let me know what you think)

#sirius black #marauders #marauders era #sirius black x you #sirius black one shot #sirius black fluff #sirius black fanfiction #sirius black x reader #female reader #fluff #fanfiction #arranged marriage #angst

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ofbreathandflame · 27 days

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Not to come off as nitpicking but why can’t Feyre be a high lady? It’s not as if tamlim or Beron are any better and theyre centuries older than feyre. I get everything but I love feyre

Hi anon!!

You don’t come off nitpicky at all! Thanks for the comment!****

[long post - more under the cut - disclaimer at the bottom]

First — I agree with you. There’s no moral reason I can think of that rules out why Feyre can’t be High Lady; so, I agree with it. I’m going to go a step further and say it’s fine that Rhysand makes Feyre High Lady of the Night Court. Obviously, Feyre will learn and ease herself into the role.

Do I think Feyre should be a High Lady? No — but I think that’s because, as I mentioned in a previous post, I’ve always felt that Feyre chafes in structured, heavily-ruled settings and has been characterized heavily as a character whose strength comes from an admonishment of rules and expectations (In my opinion, based in the text ofc).

I also think that the story doesn’t lead with reasons why Feyre specifically should be High Lady. If we go with the logic that Feyre is an inexperienced young-girl who needs to learn how to lead then we acknowledge two things: (1) that Feyre has to learn and (2) Rhysand made Feyre High Lady. That way, the expectation is that Feyre does not know anything but will learn. Traditionally, women have consolidated power by marrying into it; its quite normal for women to be “the queen” because they married into power. If anything – I think it simply makes no sense that there hasn’t been a High Lady in almost 15,000 years; it seems like an obvious choice. There’s also genuinely no difference between Lady of the Court and being High Lady.

The problem with the story is that it does not want to acknowledge -- or at least fully acknowledge many things. The first is that Feyre wants to be made High Lady (or - to push back against that - the story wants her to be High Lady). If Feyre wants power, she's acknowledging she has some skills to be president. But like...she simply doesn't. She has many skills - none that really align, though. I also feel comfortable saying that Feyre doesn’t even really want to be a leader, and her narration often opposes the idea that she wants to be in positions of power; I think we can argue that Feyre wants power over her own life – but that is not the same as wanting power over an entire group of people. I often feel insane because I think its actually kind of weird that the story never spends time developing Feyre as a person with skills that translate to leadership – or even ambition. Let’s think about similar characters like Jude or Dany, the story goes out of its way to establish why they want power, and the skills they have.

Dany is a strategic genius at literally fourteen years; she has to grapple with her kindness and how it can be to her detriment. She has to establish boundaries between the members of her Queensguard. She uses her wits, sensuality (though – I have words for Grrm), strategy to cement her claim to the throne; she is advised to practice her rule in Essos. It’s not just the fact that Dany has a claim to the Iron Throne – she’s proven she’s got the skills to be both kind and harsh; political and strategic, wrathful and powerful. Dany is not a fighter – she is a queen. She’s calling the shots and she’s still kind. Jude is shown the horrors of Faerie very early on in the story – and that anecdote at the beginning of the story essentially informs the story.

And like Dany, Jude has to learn to balance kindness with politics; she learns early on that her kindness, while altruistic, can operate as (1) selfishness and (2) can ultimately amount to nothing. It’s not saying that these characters aren’t kind, or evil, but that they learn, to some extent, how to navigate these worlds by themselves. The story is not arguing that these girls are good and kind and therefore “worthy” to be made the leader; these stories are also not concerned with needing to moralize why the female leads are more deserving – we can just see that they have qualities that will translate well into leadership. So (at least in Dany’s case), when they make a mistake, we can actually think and discuss the validity of what makes it a good / bad action. We’re not just running with the fact that “well Dany is a girl and abused!” but rather “what can Dany do to improve and not make these mistakes again” – Dany herself literally always weighs her past experiences with new ones to avoid mistakes that can detrimental to her campaign. We know Dany has the skills.

Every time we question the validity of Feyre’s actions were often met with that initial argument, which is, that Feyre is essentially “just a girl” and “under duress” and “traumatized.” But they also don’t want to admit that Feyre doesn’t have a lot of the skills necessary to be leading the court, which is true (and not even a criticism, but literally a fact). It’s a fact that Rhysand made Feyre High Lady because she was his mate – which isn’t a negative and literally how nobility has kind of traditionally operated under in the past. Even Feyre going UTM says nothing about her skills as a leader. It's always bothered me that people use the fact that Feyre goes UTM to prove that she deserves be High Lady. It's just...she didn't go down there to save Prythian; as a matter a fact, Feyre only goes UTM because she realizes she royally fucked Clare Beddor - she goes there out of guilt. Once she gets down there, she has no choice but to complete those tasks because of the bargain. That matters. It really does. I also think this logic – someone like Nesta would also be qualified to lead the NC. It's why I think people get testy with the whole 'who would be a better high lady' or whatever. Because the way the book sets it up, everyone, including Feyre sisters are all equally if not more qualified for the role. I'd argue, Nesta has even stronger claim to a leadership. To be clear I am not arguing that Nesta should be HL or would make a good; only that the story provides more concrete examples of why she could be HL than it does its own main character, and by the end of Nesta's book she's clearly the stronger character (*cough* which is why I argue SJM obsession with Rhys comes at the detriment of feyre's character!) - and there are more concrete, intentional moments where Nesta shows skills that are actually relevant.

Again it proves that Feyre can be brave, but naught else. I really thought MAF was going to actually delve into the idea that Feyre feels like a fraud because of she really only went down there for Tamlin and to try to rectify her mistakes – and she ends up in this position of power that she seems super uncomfortable with. Similar to Katniss’s ordeal in The Hunger Games. Like – we don’t even kno the names of the two Fae she killed. The story decides that not deal with it. Feyre literally says something along the lines of “its not so bad I killed those not bad because at least everyone else was freed” – but the whole point should have been that she realizes that she’s not just sacrificing her own body for Tamlin, she’s taking someone’s life for the chance to be with Tamlin. Because she loves him. That should have challenged Feyre’s morals, earnestly. There should be a deep dive to what that means. We know that Prythian becomes free – but y’all that was the afterthought. Feyre deadass only asked for Tamlin’s curse to be lifted. She didn’t even consider the people when she made the bargain and if SJM (or Amarantha) were smart enough she would’ve picked up on it all.

The story essentially bastardizes why Feyre decides to go UTM. Feyre doesn’t learn anything; she doesn’t learn how to read because she realizes It almost kills her, she doesn’t stop making weird, impulsive bargains, she doesn’t learn how to navigate politics, or listen for hints of information when Tamlin says no to her – nothing informs her actions, she doesn’t learn new skills in her arsenal – things just always go well for her. Feyre isn’t diplomatic – at the High Lord meeting she literally attacks another High Lord, she doesn’t show any prowess with Keir, doesn’t do things her own way and decides to defer to “the way its always been”

I’m not talking about how moral it is for Feyre to be able to do something. I’m saying that Feyre never has to learn skills to handle adversity; when she doesn’t get her way the story throws temper tantrum for her. Beron said something mean so Feyre had to attack him – what does that prove? She essentially insults all of the High Lords, doesn’t make amends with Summer or Spring – and the story just expects them to follow her because….shes just a girl. And they do – for no other reason then the fact that Feyre is Feyre. And because there’s no emphasis on her actual skills, when we ask “what makes Feyre deserve to be High Lady’ – we get a frustrated response that says “well – she’s new at the job! She’ll learn!” but like…she never does. And again, what qualified her to be there in the first place If she supposedly still doesn’t have the skills. What moment informs this idea?

So, to stop my rambling, I agree that Feyre should be HL, but I also believe the story should develop her character's actual skillset instead always relying on bastardized generalizations of plot points that the story uses to basically argue that Feyre "deserves" the title without ever giving any skills to actually fall back on. the difference between , then Tamlin and Beron (maybe - we don't know) is that they inherited power, Feyre wants to lead. She wants to be High Lady. She isn't burdened with the responsibility she wants in (or story wants in). That means she should have skills to reflect that want.

***[two things I should note: (1) I was already writing a post that touches on some of the things I've discussed - so there's a lot of universal 'y'all/they/them thrown around - but I am not talking about you nonny; its toward the middle and end (2) this is a longer post bc I combined some of things I already wrote a couple months back! I really appreciate your comment and kindness]

#anti sjm #anti rhysand #anti feyre #anti feysand #anti acosf #anti sjm: feyre archeron #anti acomaf #anti sjm: nesta archeron #anti acotar

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toastandjamie · 6 months

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Tuon meta Tuon meta-

I wanna talk about Tuon and Mat’s relationship and the progression of Tuon’s opinion and feelings towards Mat. So I’m gonna talk about it,

So Tuon is just as displeased by the idea of having a prophecy spouse as Mat is. The difference is that Mat fears that commitment is the same as being caged and Tuon fears the dangers of allowing someone who could overthrow her too close. The difference between the fear of losing freedom vs. losing control. Which makes the fact that they end up married to eachother morbidly funny because their fears contradict each others, but we also see both of them make compromises to reach a stable equilibrium of control and independence.

To really understand Tuon’s feeling towards Mat we have to go step by step through their courtship because there’s a subtle shift in their dynamic as time passes. Initially her first impression of Mat is that he is property, specifically Tylin’s property. He is worthless and as low as dirt in her mind. A loyal piece of property for lying to protect Tylin’s honor(or perhaps a cowardly one trying to avoid punishment) but property nonetheless. Then she sees his signet ring and the possibility enters her mind that he could be her prophesied Fox that makes the Ravens fly. The fact that he is property is both convenient and inconvenient. Convenient, because he’ll be easy watch and keep track of while she figures out if he is the Fox, but inconvenient because he’s TYLIN’S property. If he IS the Fox then she’ll marry him but that would require Tylin to free him and the whole thing could be viewed as theft on her part. Not to mention the shame of marrying so far below her station. So she tries to buy him from Tylin which could clear up any unwanted rumors of theft, but Tylin informs her that Mat isn’t actually property. This is once again both convenient and inconvenient. Free of the baggage of potentially marrying ex-property but the trade of being that she can’t control Mat’s actions fully, making determining his identity difficult. Thus begins probably the funniest part of Mat and Tuon’s courtship which is Tuon obviously stalking Mat while he blissfully ignores this because “why would she be interested in me” while she very obviously is TOO INTERESTED in him.

This establishes Tuon’s initial thoughts about Mat which is that he is property, even if Tylin doesn’t technically own him, he is da’covale in all but name to her. Then he kidnaps her and here’s where it gets interesting as we see their relationship develop.

Tuon specifically wanting to make Mat da’covale is actually quite strange without the additional context. In Seanchen culture being made da’covale is a fate worse than death but it’s specifically a punishment for petty criminals and members of the blood. Someone with no rank like Mat kidnapping Tuon is grounds for execution and in any other case that would be the punishment Tuon would deem for him. Part of it is the possibility of him being the prince of ravens certainly but the fact is that she wasn’t going to make him da’covale unless he wasn’t. Unless she misjudged the omens and he wasn’t the one. Executing him would not be an issue in that case. I think the reason she wants to make him da’covale is more specifically because of his personality. He’s stubborn and prideful and puts up the persona of self importance that is very similar to many Aes Sedai. Early on we learn that Tuon takes active enjoyment in the process of breaking and training damane and da’covale, especially ones that fight submission tooth and nail. She considers breaking an Aes Sedai into her most loyal damane one of her greatest accomplishments. The act of capturing and breaking Mat would be more satisfying to her than simply executing him. To her it’s a game with Mat as the prize. It’s why she specifically calls out making him a cupbearer despite admitting that he’s not traditionally pretty enough for the role. Historically the position of cupbearer was a status symbol especially if they were pretty, having a cupbearer of “high quality” indicated wealth and prestige. The purpose of the cupbearer is specifically to be objectified by the court guests, to be looked on with envy and desire. Making Mat a cupbearer draws attention to him, and this is only reinforced by her comments about having his robes tailored to have ribbons and lace. Drawing even more attention to him by making him standout from the other da’covale. Partially it’s to humiliate Mat by drawing attention to the fact that he’s property but it’s also Tuon showing off her prize equivalent to gleefully hanging the head of a deer you hunted on your wall. Those who knew Mat in Ebou Dar would also know that he wouldn’t submit to being made da’covale easily, breaking him so publicly only adds to her accomplishments, especially since Tylin failed to domesticate him prior to this. An added level of challenge that comes from succeeding where others failed, capturing a wolf and making it a lap dog. Making him da’covale originally is all a matter of ego, Mat as a person means very little to Tuon once the charm of breaking him wore off he’d be discarded since to her he has no real use.

This changes however the longer they spend together. Tuon begins to grow fond of Mat as an individual. Finds him entertaining and witty and begins to genuinely enjoy his company. We also see her begin really considering the possibility of him being the prince of ravens. Starting in the “hell” where he proves both an adequate player of daes da mar and competent enough to fend off assassins, she notes that will serve him well in Seandar, her acknowledging that if he was made her consort he wouldn’t be a liability and would be able to keep himself from getting killed. She isn’t convinced yet that he’s actually her prophecy husband so she still has the back up plan of making him da’covale but she is no longer solely thinking of the satisfaction of breaking him and instead thinking about his use to the empire. When Mat got her a horse he showed that he not only had a good eye for horses but was also good at handling them and enjoyed working with them. She proceeds to tell him that she’s changed her mind about making him a cupbearer and instead she’ll make him her personal stable hand. In the event he isn’t the prince of ravens she chooses a job that he’d not only be good at but that once he’s properly broken might actually enjoy. There’s also an element of possessiveness in the idea of having him as her stable hand, not just any stable hand, but hers. It’s a position in which he’d rarely interact with anyone other than her, where his time and attention would be solely on her. She’s no longer interested in showing off her prize, it’s more like a favorite toy she doesn’t want to share. She grows more possessive of Mat as time goes on showing more hostility towards anyone or anything potentially “stealing” him, whether that’s Jolene wanted to bond him or Mat getting himself killed by acting recklessly. He still not a person to her but she’s starting to consider him as an object of affection rather than ego.

The biggest shift comes once she learns who Mat is. Learning that he’s not only someone with rank and leads decent sized army but also someone connected to dragon reborn. Mat becomes a truly viable option as a consort, he’s a very appealing political match and make a good consort for her once she’s empress. As well as a tool to get what she wants out of the dragon reborn. This is when she stops thinking about him as property in the literal sense and more of a metaphorical ownership. Crucially though she still considers him something that she owns. Mat isn’t her equal and is barely his own person in her mind.

Here’s the thing. I do think that Tuon does genuinely care about Mat but she also doesn’t know how to express love or even really knows how to identify it. The closest thing she has is within the confines of her owning the object of her affection. Such as Selucia and Karede though her fondness is a familial one with them. The way she expresses her feelings is through leniency. Allowing those she cares about get away with things that would normally be punished. Such as speaking to her directly and honestly. She shows that she cares about Mat by allowing him act above his station with minimal chastising. This doesn’t mean she treats him as an equal however, we learn that she does punish him for pushing too far past her limits of patience. The implication here is that she still intends on “training” him to be obedient and submissive to her, but in the way that a dog will jump at their masters command but will snap at strangers and steal food off the table. He’s given freedoms that he would normally be punished for taking as her property in exchange for what Tuon considers undying loyalty to her and the empire. Of course Mat is also trying to change Tuon, in his conversation with the ex-Sul’dam he mentions wanting to use them to dismantle the damane system. It’s battle of wills between Tuon wanting to make Mat completely obedient to her and Mat wanting Tuon to stop being evil.

Of course there’s also the third option where Tuon does break Mat but breaks him the wrong way and she learns first hand why owning exotic pets rarely goes well. Either for the person learning first hand that you can’t tame a wild animal or the animal learning the consequences of biting the hand that feeds it.

#wheel of time #wheel of time spoilers #wot book spoilers #wot meta #mat cauthon #tuon athaem kore paendrag #problematic fave tuon

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aizenat · 2 months

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I’m going to say this and it sounds like it’s gonna be an unpopular opinion but whatever, but I’d love to meet these supposed evil feminists who are putting down and berating stay at home moms/wives/gfs. Outside of the context of criticism towards the tradwife idiots, who aren’t just sharing their cute little stay at home lives but are specifically looking to use their platforms to encourage young impressionable girls to put themselves in danger by not pursuing education and/or a career (specifically looking to reach out to girls who would have grown up to value those things: NOT isolated and/or conservative women raised to value being a stay at home wife/mom), who are there ppl chomping at the bit to shit on women who decide to be stay at home wives/moms?

Specifically, what FEMINISTS are doing that? At most, feminists will push for women who do choose that to make sure they’re protected (be married to the man so you have a claim on his money, make sure your name is on all bank accounts, property titles, businesses, etc, maybe even set up a prenup so you’re not sol if and when he decides to leave you, still pursue schooling and/or some sort of job even part time so you can have work experience/an education if things don’t work out, etc), but I have never ever EVER seen a feminist, an actual feminist, from any wave or type, not libfems nor radfems nor 2nd wave or 3rd wave nor “intersexuality” feminists nor womanists nor black feminists nor global south feminists, literally ZERO feminists are out here shouting at any woman who is a stay at home wife/mom and throwing visceral hatred towards them. If you cannot discern the difference between feminists being concerned by women encouraging other women to literally put their entire lives and livelihoods in men’s hands and some foaming at the mouth hate for a woman DARING to not work (when we’re all living in an capitalist hellscape that has us all making jokes about how working sucks and we wish we could just sit by the ocean or run to a secluded cabin in the woods), the problem isn’t with feminists.

I literally have never seen this shit, and can only conclude that everyone reblogging that one post thinks women getting snappy with these trafwife idiots is somehow a hatred for any and all stay at home moms/wives. Do you think any Black person who shit talks Candace Owens just hates Black ppl in general? Is that how that works now? Fascinating.

Stop creating strawmen to argue against and virtue signal about. Stay at home wives/moms are always supported by feminists. If anything, men are the ones who hate them the most because they resent the expectation of having to provide for her, and they feel like she didn’t do anything to “earn” the lifestyle she’s living. The passport bros who go oversees looking for a “submissive” wife only to be pikachu faced when those women expect him to support her comfortably. The Tate-heads obsessed with a woman’s “body count” and think spending $1000 on an engagement ring is asking for too much. The red pilled idiots who hate independent women for being able to live and survive without them all while hating the women who want to stay at home because they’re “lazy” or gold diggers. That’s MEN doing that. Not women. Not feminists.

There are more men hating on stay at home women than women, especially feminists, every day. But please, do make and reblog a post that felt the need to call out the evil and mean feminists for doing what men actual do without criticism all the time. I mean, when aren’t women blamed for shit men do all the time?

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dreamwritesimagines · 2 years

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Enamored [42] - Uninvited

A.N: Thank you so much for your wonderful feedback my loves, you’re amazing!❤ I hope you’ll like this chapter as well, and please let me know what you think, thank you! ❤ And as always, thank you @theskytraveler for helping me with the chapter and the story❤

Summary: Some guests are not welcomed.

Warnings: Regency era society and social rules, mentions of sex, some gender specific language and terms, mentions of pregnancy, drinking.

Word Count: 5100

Series Masterlist

You had to admit, you’d had your fair share of nights where you drank too much.

Back at home, you and your friends liked going to parties a lot, and most of those parties and their aftermath came with a lot of options in drinks, including alcohol. Especially if it was a gathering that mostly consisted of your friends, you would more often than not find your mind all warm and fuzzy when you went to bed for a deep slumber.

Granted sometimes the next morning would be a bit unpleasant but this?

This was something else.

You were pulled back from the comfort of your sleep by a heavy throbbing in your head that seemed to get worse and worse by the second. You furrowed your brows and opened your eyes, but as soon as you did, the blinding light shot right into your skull, making you let out a groan and turn your head to bury it into the soft, fluffy pillow.

You heard Anthony’s chuckle from beside you, then felt his hand caressing over your hair.

“Good morning to you too.”

“Did I get trampled by a horse while sleeping?” you croaked out, still not pulling your face off the pillow, too tired to even lift a finger and he scoffed a laugh.

“You mixed about five different drinks.”

“But it was fun!” you protested and forced yourself to turn a little in bed, opening an eye while the half of your face still pressed against the pillow. Anthony kissed you on top of your head and pushed himself off the bed to stand up.

“Anthony you can’t leave me like this, I’m dying!”

“You’re not dying and I’m not leaving,” he said as he walked to the door. “I’ll just tell a maid to bring you the remedy.”

You let out a whine while he opened the door to talk to someone, then closed it again to approach you again. You pouted your lips.

“I don’t think there’s a remedy for this.”

“No?”

“No, because I am dying—”

“Don’t joke about that,” he cut you off and sat down on the edge of the bed. “And you’re not dying. You just drank too much.”

You grimaced. “I will never drink again.”

“You know, I’ve heard your brother say that multiple times and you’re both liars,” he stated and you rolled over, pressing your palms over your eyes.

“What happened last night, exactly?”

“Well you came home at around three in the morning, shouting,” he said. “And ate half of a whole strawberry cake, rambled about blindfolds and being tied up...”

You could feel the fire burning your face and you slipped further into the covers. “Stop.”

“Oh I won’t,” he said with a grin. “What else… you had a lot of opinions about what we should name our children; we’re not naming any of them François Guillaume Andrieux by the way—”

“It’s a strong name, Anthony!”

“Yeah we’re not going to do that, neither will Cece and Elias,” he said. “Then I carried you here, and you woke up and gave me a detailed explanation of how you’re planning on getting Cecily’s sister and Lord Holloway together—simulating a carriage accident just to get them together is a terrible idea by the way, don’t even consider that as an option.”

“Well—”

“Cecily doesn’t need the stress of thinking her sister has been in a carriage accident, Y/N.”

You heaved a sigh, still frowning because of the headache.

“I will just save that idea to use it in the future. For Eloise perhaps, when she falls in love.”

“Mm hm. Speaking of my siblings, I don’t know when Benedict will finally fall in love and get married just so that you can say I told you so.”

“It’s alright, I’ll take the matters into my own hands when I’m done with Abigail and Eloise,” you mumbled, entwining your fingers with his. “That is if I can leave the bed.”

He smiled down at you and pressed a kiss on your hand. “You’ll be fine darling—” he started but then turned his head when someone knocked on the door. He pulled away from you to open it, then took a glass from the person at the door and closed it behind him again.

You eyed the glass in his hand wearily as he placed it on the nightstand and tugged you by your wrist to pull you up into a sitting position, much to your whining. Even your head felt heavy and every single movement, as little as they may be, felt like someone was ringing a gong in your ears. He handed you the glass and you looked down at it, the sharp smell hitting your nose, making you grimace.

“What is this?”

“This is the best remedy for the morning after overdrinking.”

“It smells disgusting.”

“I know.”

“What’s in it?”

He raised his brows. “It’s better if you drink without knowing it.”

You frowned. “What’s in it, Anthony?”

“Raw eggs and garlic.”

Your jaw dropped and you made a face, pulling back.

“I’m not drinking that.”

“It’ll help,” he assured you. “I promise. I’m not doing this to torment you—”

“It sounds like you are!”

“I know it sounds disgusting, and it will taste disgusting but it’ll help.”

You let out a whine, pouting your lips as you looked down at the glass. “You’re certain of it?”

“I swear to you.”

You took a deep breath, then pinched the bridge of your nose and downed the drink, trying not to heave at the taste. You coughed as soon as you lowered the glass, a whine escaping from your lips while you wiped at your mouth, a grimace etched on your face. Anthony let out a laugh, pulling you to his lap easily and you buried your face to the crook of his neck, inhaling his pleasant scent almost like a remedy to the bitter taste at the back of your throat. He rubbed your back with one hand while the other one cradled the back of your head, making you smile.

“Promise to stop me if I ever try to drink this much again?” you croaked out and his chest vibrated with his quiet chuckle.

“I’ll try,” he said. “I mean, it’s not as if you’re the most defiant person I’ve ever met in my entire life and are known for not listening to anyone at all, hm?”

You couldn’t help but smile. “You love me though.”

He placed a kiss on top of your head, nuzzling into your hair.

“I do,” he said, making your smile widen. “More than you could ever know, darling.”

As he had promised, that disgusting drink had made you feel better for the rest of the day, and the next day it was as if nothing had happened. While you were still quite certain that you would never drink that much again, you were still looking forward to the next married ladies’ night in Lady Danbury’s house, which she had already invited you before you even left.

Perhaps by then, you would have gotten better at card games.

You wondered whether Anthony would teach you some tricks or at least explain the game better before attending the next game night, but you were pulled out of your thoughts when you heard footsteps approaching the room. Both of you were invited for dinner at your father’s house, and after getting into your dress you had excused Lucie, seeing that she had spent more than an hour helping you with your hair and picking the gown. You held two different earrings in your hand, holding them over your earlobes before your door opened to reveal Anthony, a smile warming your face instantly at just how handsome he looked.

“Hello mon amour.”

“Remind me again why we’re doing this?” he asked, leaning to the doorframe and you suppressed a laugh, turning back to the mirror on the vanity.

“A mere listener would think we’re going off to somewhere terrible.”

“It is going to be terrible.”

“It’s going to be fun!”

“We can just do something else instead,” he said almost too fast. “Anything you want.”

You shrugged your shoulders. “Oh that’s wonderful; I want to go to this dinner.”

“Alright but if we skip this dinner, I will buy you ten new gowns.”

“Bribery doesn’t work with me,” you pointed out. “And you will buy me ten new gowns anyway, with the rate you keep damaging my already existing gowns.”

“So we’re actually going to—”

“Have a dinner with Elias and Cece?” you finished his question for him, putting the earrings on the vanity table to grab a different pair and put them on. “Yes. Elias is your best friend, and you said it yourself that you will always be in Cece’s debt for helping you.”

“It’s not just going to be them though.”

“My cousins like you.”

“Your father doesn’t,” he pointed out. “Or your aunt.”

“They’re warming up to you.”

“You can say that at my funeral after I get poisoned at tonight’s dinner and leave you a widow.”

You gasped, turning around to look at him. “Anthony!”

He grinned at you and shrugged his shoulders. “What? Could happen.”

“Don’t even jest about your death!” you insisted and grabbed a bracelet from the small box on the vanity, then walked to him and held out your wrist. “It will be a completely normal dinner.”

“Am I allowed to touch the fine china though?”

You let out a giggle. “I’ll put in good word for you to my father, I promise.”

He smiled at you and clasped the bracelet, then placed a kiss over your wrist before pulling you closer to his body. Your eyes fluttered close as he kissed you, making you heave a content sigh, sparks of desire shooting through your body but you forced yourself to pull back, his lips chasing yours as you leaned back in his arms, a giddy laugh escaping from you.

“Anthony!”

“They can wait.”

“They cannot!” you said. “This is our first dinner with them as a married couple so we mustn’t be late, as irresistible as you look right now.”

A smirk appeared on his face before he pecked you on the lips, and you wiggled out of his embrace.

“We are to behave,” you insisted. “The whole night.”

Anthony tilted his head.

“A mere listener would think you didn’t wake me up in the middle of the night last night to—”

“No!” you flailed your hands in a stop motion, making him chuckle while a fire burned your face. “We have no time for chit chat I’m afraid, we must go now.”

“Darling, we—”

“Now I said!” you insisted, already making your way to the door and stepped out to the hallway, trying to ignore the burning on your cheeks. Anthony easily caught up with you as you walked down the stairs, and Lucie rushed to grab your coat from one of the maids by the front door.

“Thank you,” you said as you got into your coat and stepped outside. Anthony threw an arm over your shoulders, pulling you to him and you buried your face to his chest, entwining your fingers with his.

“You’re doing this on purpose,” you grumbled and he let out a laugh, then pressed a kiss on top of your head.

“Yeah I am.”

You smacked at his arm playfully and pulled back to narrow your eyes at him, and he held out his hand for you, still grinning.

“Shall we?”

“Wait, what do you mean you ordered a rocking cot for the baby already?”

“He’s going to need it Elias!”

“She!” Elias insisted and Anthony chuckled beside you, exchanging glances with Cecily who looked very much comfortable, enjoying her food as she looked between you. Aunt Lavinia shook her head slightly while your father leaned back in his chair, sipping his port. It was the middle of the dinner, and after a small period of glaring and veiled snarks between your father and Anthony, you had all started enjoying the food and conversation.

“Wait,” Kenneth said, motioning between you two. “How are you two so sure about that when even Cece says she doesn’t know?”

“I just have a feeling.”

“I have a feeling too and it will be a girl,” Elias pointed at you and you shrugged your shoulders and sipped your port.

“We’ll see about that.”

“Oh I hope it’s a girl as well!” Iona added. “We can dress her up with ribbons and such, she’d be adorable.”

“Thank you cousin.”

“It’ll be a boy, you’ll see. I even have a list of names if you two would like to see it.”

“Nah, you should probably save that list for yourself for the near future,” Kenneth said, nodding at you and Anthony, and the port Anthony was drinking seemed to have gone down the wrong tube because he coughed, then cleared his throat.

“Right, thanks Ken.”

“Of course Anthony, anytime.” Kenneth said, smiling innocently. “We’re family now. And when you two have your own family—”

“We’re not even talking about the possibility of it,” Elias waved his hands in the air, making Cecily tilt her head.

“Why not?”

“Because I still do not like this….this union,” he motioned at you and Anthony and you pulled your brows together.

“What? On my wedding day you said you approved—”

“I cannot even begin to explain how much I do not approve.”

You and Anthony exchanged glances and turned to him, wearing similar grins.

“Well, you told me to dance with him—”

“Had I known it would result in this,” he said, pointing at you and him. “I would’ve kept you locked in your room that night.”

“She does have a point though Elias,” Anthony said. “You’re the architect of this union when you think about it.”

Your father made a face and nodded.

“Yes you are Elias,” he said and Aunt Lavinia raised her brows.

“Wait, how come?”

“Elias told Anthony to dance with me on my first ball here.”

“I also told Anthony specifically not to court her,” Elias added in a haste and your father rolled his eyes.

“Jesus.”

“I told her too!”

“And you thought that would work?” Kenneth asked and scoffed. “Great plan there, dear cousin.”

“I don’t know why everyone thinks it’s my fault—”

“Your fault?”

“No I’m thanking you here.” You and Anthony said at the same time and Elias groaned, slipping a little in his seat.

“That makes it even worse! I told you not to even talk to her during that ball—”

“We talked before that ball Elias,” you reminded him, “In the drawing room.”

“Which when you think about it, was also because of you,” Anthony taunted him. “I was here to see you, and then…”

“Then you two talked for the first time, aww!” Iona pressed a hand over her chest and Anthony shot Elias a teasing smile.

“None of this would’ve been possible without you.”

Elias shot him a glare. “Stop.”

“It was meant to be if you ask me,” Cecily said and Kenneth raised his glass slightly.

“Hear hear…”

Your father let out a groan, making Aunt Lavinia pat at his arm as if trying to console him.

“I’m blaming you for all this,” he told Elias and Cecily sipped her water.

“To be honest with you, I doubt Elias could’ve done anything to stop it,” she said. “I mean I’ve seen what Y/N was like around Anthony even before they were courting.”

You gasped. “Cece!”

“What?”

Anthony let out a chuckle and turned to you. “Oh is that right?”

You let out a whine, burying your face into his arm and he reached out to rub at your back with his other hand while the table descended into chaos.

“Cece come on!”

“What? Romance runs in your family my love.”

“With the exception of me.”

“Ken, come on now.”

“We all know that’s a lie Ken.”

“What? I don’t even believe in romance or love.”

“You will seriously look me in the eye and tell me—”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about Cece, I’m not a romantic person.”

“It does run in the family, I knew I wanted to marry your father the moment I saw him.”

“See?”

“And Percy here knew he wanted to marry her the moment he saw Cassie—”

“Lav!”

“I still have that letter Percy.”

“You know, Iona has been suspiciously silent about this whole discussion.”

“Elias!”

“What? I’m merely sharing an observation.”

“I believe in love and that’s all I’m going to say about that.”

“Wait a second, does that mean—”

“Are you alright there darling?” Anthony murmured and you pulled your burning face from his arm to look up at him. The fond light in his eyes made you smile and you heaved a dramatic sigh.

“You’re never going to let that go, are you?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Anthony said. “On a completely irrelevant note, I will ask Cecily every single detail about what you were like around me.”

Your jaw dropped. “She will not tell you the details!” you said and Anthony chuckled, his hand cupping your cheek, his thumb caressing over your cheekbone.

“Don’t worry, you can ask Benedict about what I was like when I was so much as in the same room with you.”

“What were you like when—” you started but was cut off when there was a shuffle and some yelling by the hall, making all of you turn to the door and you pulled back as soon as you saw who had just walked into the dining room.

It was the man who had called you by your mother’s name the other day by the jeweler, the one that had left before you could ask him his name. He fixed his sleeves, looking around the room.

“Oh my, I hope I’m not interrupting.”

You frowned and turned to look at your father, your frown deepening as soon as you did. Both your father and Aunt Lavinia looked almost frozen in their spots, Aunt Lavinia’s eyes wide in surprise while your father’s jaw clenched as his glare sharpened.

“My apologies my lord, I tried to stop him,” the steward said and Elias tilted his head.

“Do we know you?” he asked and the man let out a chuckle.

“Oh I’m offended Elias,” he said. “I used to carry you on my shoulders around this very house, it was your favorite thing to do.”

Aunt Lavinia stole a look at your father.

“…Percy, don’t do anything you’ll regret.”

The man’s gaze fell on you and his smug smirk faltered for a moment, a look that you could only describe as anger crossing his face before he smiled again.

“Y/N. Hello again.”

“Hey!” Anthony snapped, his voice stern. “I didn’t catch your name.”

“Oh my apologies,” he said. “I was very excited to see all of you together, so I forgot my manners it seems. Frederick Jennings.”

Your head shot up, and out of the corner of your eye you could see Cecily furrowing her brows while Elias pulled back slightly in his seat, staring at him.

Frederick Jennings.

The man who had carefully plotted your mother’s demise just because he had been allegedly in love with her since they were young, your father’s former best friend who had made sure he believed him over your mother—

The reason of their divorce.

The man who had lied about your parentage to your own father and led your mother to go through that scandal only to flee to France.

“Earl of Woodhall,” he added. “And an old family friend.”

Cecily reached to touch Elias’s hand and she shook her head slightly, wrapping her fingers around his wrist while he glared daggers at him.

“It brings back the memories though Percy!” he said, “You haven’t changed anything have you?”

Your ears were ringing so loudly that you could barely hear him, the fury slowly poisoning your system as your fingertips started burning, your heart pounding in your head. Anthony straightened his back, his complete focus on you while you kept your gaze on Frederick who seemed like he was having a lot of fun.

“Percy, don’t…” Aunt Lavinia said and your father raised his brows, his face a picture of calmness.

“I’m not doing anything Lavinia,” he told her without so much as a glance at her. “Frederick. Get out of my house and go back to whatever corner of hell you crawled out of.”

Frederick heaved a sigh while you slowly dragged your fingertips over the smooth tablecloth, Elias stealing a look at Cece before clenching his teeth, as if she was the only thing that was making him sit there in his seat which—

She probably was.

“Come on Percy, don’t be like that,” he taunted him before turning to the table. “Elias, congratulations on the baby! Have you picked a name yet?”

Cece tightened her grip around Elias’s wrist as if reminding him she was there while Elias remained silent, and everyone at the table knew it signaled his complete fury.

You on the other hand?

You felt like you were swallowing coals. Your whole body felt like it was on fire and your breathing got faster as you tried to keep your anger at bay, but it was no use.

You knew it was no use, and judging by how on edge Anthony looked, so did he.

Kenneth scoffed and ran a hand through his hair, then stood up from his seat.

“Alright, I have no idea who you are and I couldn’t care less,” he said, “Get out before I make you.”

“Who are you?”

“Family. And you’re clearly not welcomed, so I’d gladly drag you outside if you persist on staying here.”

Frederick raised his brows,

“Very well,” he said, then slowly turned to you with a smile and let out a breath. “God, you look so much like your mother, Y/N.”

That right there.

That was what burned down the last ounce of control you had, setting the fire inside you free. Your vision almost turned red and you jumped on your feet, grabbing the knife on the table but Anthony was much faster than you. Before you even got to leap at Frederick over the table, Anthony had already grabbed you from behind, pulling you back, grasping your wrist to keep your hand that was holding the knife tight away from your own body.

“Y/N, no!”

“And you got her temper as well, I see,” Frederick commented and an inhuman growl escaped from your lips while you tried to get out of Anthony’s grasp. “That’s quite interesting.”

You didn’t even completely know what the curse word meant, but you had heard both Elias and Anthony use it on different occasions so you didn’t even think twice before it spilled from your lips, your accent getting stronger with every word.

“I’ll carve your fucking heart!”

It seemed to shock everyone in the room but Anthony was the first one to recover and he twisted your wrist so that you would drop the knife back to the table, his iron like grip not even budging around your waist.

“Alright, that’s enough—”

“Anthony get her out,” you heard your father say and the last thing you saw before Anthony dragged you out of the second entrance of the dining room was Kenneth making his way to Frederick. You could still feel the anger pulsing through you and you thrashed against his grip while he all but carried to the backyard, ignoring the string of demands in French that you were firing at him echoing over the walls. It was only when you both got to the backyard into the cool air that he let you go, making you snatch your arm back from his grasp.

You gritted your teeth, glaring daggers at him, still breathing hard.

“How dare you?” your voice didn’t even resemble your own anymore, laced with so much anger. Anthony frowned, letting out a tense laugh.

“How dare I?”

“You do not drag me out of rooms.”

“I had to do it when you pulled a knife on him—have you gone insane?”

“I’m going back there,” you said and took a step towards the house but he gripped you by the arm to push you back gently, his voice almost too calm unlike yours.

“No you’re not.”

Your eyes narrowed into slits like a cat’s and you tilted your head. “I beg your pardon?”

“You heard me. You’re not going back there,” his tone held no room for any sort of discussion and he nodded at the marble bench behind you. “Sit down.”

A hysterical laughter spilled from your mouth and you dragged your tongue over your bottom lip. “Shall I curtsy as well?”

“Y/N.”

“Who on earth do you think you are?”

“Do you know what happens if you kill someone?” he asked you. “Hm? Do you know the punishment for it in this country? The house is full of staff, do you think they would stay quiet about it if you stabbed someone? You would be imprisoned at best, hanged at worst!”

It felt like you were swallowing fire. “What, so he gets to walk away?”

“Y/N I don’t know what it is you’re finding it so hard to understand here, I don’t want you to end up—”

“He ruined my mother’s life!” your voice rose, your accent slipping. “What do I care what you want?”

He let out a breath of frustration, as if trying his hardest to remain calm before he want a hand over his face.

“Fine, don’t care then. Doesn’t change the outcome, you’re not going back there.”

You opened your mouth to retort but then both of you turned your heads when you heard someone clear their throat. Elias looked between you and Cecily offered you a small smile.

“Uh, he just left,” she said. “Figured you would want to know.”

You rubbed at your eyes and turned to Elias. “Are you alright?”

“Not really. You?”

You scoffed a bitter chuckle and sat down on the marble bench. “No.”

Elias lingered there and opened his mouth, then stole a look at Anthony and Cecily before turning to you. “Where did you learn that word?”

You shot him a glance. “That’s what you’re worried about right now?”

“I should know if your husband is a bad influence on you.”

Anthony raised his brows. “Elias…”

“Both you and Anthony use it Elias,” you said and looked at Cecily. “Cece?”

“I’m alright, so is the baby,” she assured you in a haste. “It’s just…”

“What?”

“His name sounds familiar,” she said. “It sounded familiar when Elias first told me, and it sounds familiar now, I just cannot put my finger on it.”

You pressed your palms over your eyes and Cecily squeezed at your arm as if trying to console you before you lowered your hands again.

“How’s father?”

“You know how he is. He is calm and collected as always,” He tilted his head at Anthony. “Very fast reflexes by the way. How did you know?”

Anthony shrugged his shoulders.

“I’m the oldest of eight,” he muttered. “You learn along the way.”

Your hands were still shaking from anger and you bit inside your cheek, fury still bubbling inside you, making it hard to even think. You closed your eyes for a moment and took a deep breath, then opened them again.

“I’m going home.”

Anthony looked between you and Elias. “Now?”

“Yeah, I can’t stay here right now.”

“But…”

“I’ll see you tomorrow, alright?” you asked, already making your way through the yard to the stone road where your carriage was, with Anthony following you suit. You got in the carriage as Anthony told the coachman to take you home, then got inside as well.

The whole road –as short as it was- was completely quiet. You were still so on the edge that you could almost feel the adrenaline making its way through your system, along with the headache pulsing in your head.

You got out of the carriage the minute it stopped and made your way straight into the house, and Anthony heaved a sigh as you both reached upstairs, running a hand through his hair. You knew you were supposed to calm down, but you had no idea what to do with this anger still poisoning your insides, and it was getting way too hard to control it.

You walked into your shared bedroom and he leaned on the doorframe, crossing his arms. You could almost feel his burning gaze on you as you pulled off your earrings to toss them on the vanity, then unclasped your bracelet.

“Are you going to be silent for the whole night then?”

“I have nothing to say to you,” you said, blinking back the tears of frustration as you threw your bracelet on the vanity as well. The weight of the whole night was slowly starting to crash down on you, and even though somewhere in your mind you could understand why he had dragged you out, it still—

You still couldn’t see past that anger muddying up your thoughts.

“Really? Nothing at all?”

You turned around to look at him better. “I will not apologize.”

“Well that makes two of us.”

You scoffed a bitter laugh and licked your lips, then took a step closer to him, your eyes locked in his.

You weren’t supposed to. You knew you weren’t supposed to, but somehow, the anger seemed to have taken control of your body, and especially your words. If you could calm down, if you could actually think straight, you would have insisted to talk about what had happened, but—

Not at that point.

Not when your mother’s anger was running through your veins.

And you knew it was the worst thing during or after a fight. Some small, logical part of you knew that, the inability to have a good communication had been the main problem that had ruined everything in your parents’ love story but somehow the fury seemed to have hushed everything else in your mind.

Maybe you really did have your mother’s temper.

“It’s not your place to give me orders,” you heard yourself say, your voice nearly a hiss. “Nor will it ever be. Keep that in mind the next time you have the audacity to assume otherwise.”

With that, you walked away from him and entered your own bedroom, slamming the door shut behind you.

Chapter 43

#anthony bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton #bridgerton #bridgerton x reader #regency fic

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goodqueenaly · 5 months

Text

I just finished The Black Rose, a 1945 historical fiction novel (though I’m using the term somewhat loosely) written by Thomas Costain. GRRM has openly described his fondness for Costain (1, 2, 3, 4, 5) - not the least example of which is in his creation of House Costayne, whose sigil references both this novel and another, The Silver Chalice - and I thought it would be fun to read more GRRM inspiration books in the new year (although that’s not a demand for anyone to stop asking me about The Accursed Kings and ASOIAF, of course). As a story set in the 13th century across both England and the Mongol Empire, starring a young aristocratic would-be knight, this novel seemed like much more obvious grounds for comparison to ASOIAF than, say, The Silver Chalice (a Holy Grail origin story set in first-century Judea) or one of Costain’s (ostensibly) nonfiction Plantagenet histories, like The Conquering Family. (You might say I should have started with GRRM’s own Costain favorite, The Moneyman, but I didn’t, oh well.)

Now, do I think The Black Rose is on the same level as, well, The Accursed Kings in terms of specific influence on ASOIAF? Probably not. While there were definitely elements to this book that I could reasonably believe were in GRRM’s mind while he was writing ASOIAF, these parallels remained largely surface-level, and in some ways indistinguishable from familiar tropes of romanticized medievalism.

For one, the novel’s hero, Walter of Gurnie, is a little bit of a Jon Snow figure. Like Jon, he is an aristocratic bastard openly recognized by his father (ostensible father, in Jon’s case), and perhaps like Jon, his (biological) father and mother had some secret pledge to marry prior to his birth (though unlike Jon, Walter’s father broke that pledge to marry another woman, the daughter of the Norman family that paid his Crusader ransom). The “Saxon” ancestry of Walter, derived from his mother’s family, compared to the “Norman” ancestry of his father, may likewise parallel the First Men ancestry of the Starks, and specifically Lyanna, versus the Valyrian ancestry of the Targaryens who had conquered Westeros in the same fashion as the Norman William the Conqueror. Too, each bastard son physically closely resembles his father (or, again, ostensible father for Jon): Walter shares the blue eyes, blond curling hair, and “Norman” nose of Earl Rauf, much as Jon shared the long face, dark hair, and gray eyes of the Starks. As with Jon, there is no love lost between the bastard son and his father’s wife, with “the Norman woman” (othered by her foreignness, very loosely akin to Catelyn and her southron origins) denouncing Walter as a “Saxon cur” (though the dowager Countess of Lessford is a tyrannical and openly villainous woman, in all other respects totally different from Catelyn). This is about where any real, even if minor, parallels to Jon end, to the extent they existed in the first place, but they’re worth noting as possible ideas for GRRM when the latter was first dreaming up Jon.

Additionally, Walter’s love interest, Maryam, has her share of parallels to Daenerys, though I think this comparison is even more limited than that between Walter and Jon. Maryam enters the story as the beautiful teenage sister (or, rather, ostensible half-sister) of the rich and thoroughly unlikeable Greek merchant Anthemus, who wishes to sell Maryam to Kublai Khan to be part of his harem - a plot point recalling Viserys’ willingness to sell his sister to Khal Drogo, into a position not too dissimilar from what Costain envisions for Kublai Khan’s harem slaves. It is worth noting, in exploring this parallels, that Maryam is revealed to be the biological daughter not of her and Anthemus’ Greek father Alexander, but of an English soldier-turned-slave in Alexander’s household, insofar as this ancestry marks Maryam (in the opinion of herself and the two main protagonists, at least) as “English” rather than foreign (much as Daenerys, though raised almost entirely in Essos, is still Westerosi in her birth and (recent, for the Targaryens) ancestry). Indeed, Maryam and Walter’s pseudo-familial connection - Walter believes that Maryam’s biological father was his own father’s faithful squire, captured during the Crusades - may link them to Jon and Daenerys, themselves related much more directly by their shared Targaryen bloodline. Again, these comparisons are pretty thin - Maryam certainly never comes into power in her own right as Daenerys does, and most of the novel consists of her either being rescued and/or protected and hidden by Walter or her attempting to reunite with him after being separated in China - but there may have been some limited inspiration here.

There are, moreover, some other minor points of potential inspiration in the novel. Costain’s version of the medieval Oxford University, where Walter begins the novel as a student, might have resonated in GRRM’s mind when the latter was creating the Citadel (especially the divisions of learning among the students - Walter’s program of study focuses on languages, for example, while his comrade and secondary protagonist Tristram Gruffen studies math and science with Roger Bacon), though Costain hardly invented either Oxford University itself or the general idea of a medieval institution of learning. Bacon himself might have figured, or will go on to figure, into GRRM’s development of Archmaester Marwyn - an intelligent but controversial scholar, rumored to dabble in magic, fascinated with the technological innovations and learning of the east - although again, the smart, unorthodox teacher who Doesn’t Play By The Rules TM is not a trope unique to either Costain or GRRM. Overall, I think, this novel belongs to that same class of what I’ll call midcentury medievalism that seems to have had quite the impact on GRRM, without necessarily being foremost in the author’s mind.

(Also, a friendly word of warning for anyone else who wants to delve into The Black Rose. If you thought ASOIAF occasionally falls into bad old orientalist tropes - and it does, no question - these tropes are magnified to the eleventh degree in The Black Rose. Maryam, for example, is initially introduced by Costain as having “skin of a slightly olive tint”, but consistently thereafter is referred to, and indeed defended as, “white” or “English”, specifically to negatively charged accusations of being “Greek” or “dusky”. The cruelty and barbarism depicted as normal for Mongol warriors make GRRM’s descriptions of the Dothraki appear subtle and nuanced by comparison: Costain spends several paragraphs in one chapter detailing the gruesome Crusade souvenirs carried by Mongolians (including “skin (flayed, presumably, from the hides of Western soldiers) … as saddle-cloths” and “a human skull … which had been converted into a drinking cup”) and the child-murdering game supposedly practiced by Mongolian riders, ending with the conclusion by the main character that “[t]hese Mongols are not human — [sic] not as we understand human nature”. Even Costain’s attempts to portray one (real-life) Mongol, Bayan of the Hundred Eyes, in a relatively more positive light reflect the author’s general antagonism toward the Mongolians: Bayan is distinguished initially by Walter because his “eyes … lacked the cruel slant at the corners” and were instead “full and large … and warmly brown, glowing with a pleasant intelligence”, while Walter later informs Maryam (convinced that Bayan “must be as cruel as all the other Mongol leaders”) that Bayan “has been criticized for his leniency many times”. What’s more, when Bayan confronts Walter on the seeming hypocrisy of the Christian crusaders, who profess monogamous love while raping women in their campaigns, Walter never actually provides a defense; Walter’s later criticisms of the English feudal structure do not extend to either a repudiation of the sexual crimes associated with Western chivalry or a reconsideration of Mongolian society as anything other than terrifying and brutal.)

#asoiaf meta #the black rose #thomas costain #jon snow #daenerys targaryen

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precious-little-scoundrel · 7 months

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I saw a post of yours saying you'd accept prompts for the reader character from Honeymoon, and while I don't have one yet I was wondering if while writing Honeymoon, did a particular name/coined nickname come to mind to you for the character? Or were there generally any side thoughts that came to mind like little headcanons that you couldn't get into the work?

(I know you've gotten a lot of asks about Honeymoon lately so I'm sorry if you're getting tired of getting asks about it specifically 🫠)

Oh I never tire of it, in fact the more y’all ask the more I go from it being perhaps one of the most solitary pieces I’ve ever written to finally having a little more of a concept behind it. So it helps me start thinking up plot. >And I’d welcome all the suggestions!!<

I was captivated by the wholesome salaciousness of a next morning walk with Elvis after the wedding night and how the whole world would be invested in it,. That alone drove that fic, very isolated. If you’ve ever been to a good ole fashioned southern Baptist wedding you know the tittering blushiness of what everyone knowing “what’s gonna happen to you tonight.” So I was thinking of that but magnified by global interest and Elvis’ carefully crafted image of his perfect little lady.

SOOOO….

First off, no, I’ve no nickname in particular, which honestly now I’m realizing that would be a lovely way to keep it a reader fic but have a little name for her. I’d want it something soft and sweet like Bunny or Buttercup, Honey Bunch, Schooby Doo or something similarly saccharine. Elvisey.

Now as for plot, much of what I might’ve done back when I wrote it has now been written by others, and written very well. So I’ve started to simmer on something else, maybe regarding the Governor’s daughter at the time he came home, except not Ann the eldest who he flirted with and maintained a friendship with, but rather a baby sister? Someone far too young when he first came back yet was star struck and dreamy over him in 1960. But Honeymoon and any of its new surrounding fics would be in the late 60’s and perhaps she ends up the bride. I’m really intrigued about exploring two things:

1. Elvis marrying a sweet little baby belle to spare her reputation after a bit of his foolin’ got her name gnarled up with his and shenagins that never did go as far as the papers say, but she’s a bit ruined all the same in her father’s circles. So perhaps outta respect for her father and the appeals of her older sister to help somehow and his almost mystically idealistic appreciation for rewarding virtue and defending the innocent, he marrys her to save her good name. And dear me, she’s so in love with him, she’d do anything for him and he’s terribly nervous that he’s not cut out for marriage but he’s trying and goodness me it is fun to play house with someone so sublime.

All this is just me spit balling.

2. I want more of Elvis actually getting commissioned as a agent or ambassador or something of that nature for once, the dear man so wanted to be of use to his country and sure, maybe his new posting isn’t what he expected without much gun fighting and need for karate kicks but his his career was lacking anyway and his helpful little wife knows this world well and is an immense help and assures him that his smile alone could bring world peace. Germany again, perhaps? Cold War shennagins? Middle East? Where would y’all like to send him?

Does this inspire any thoughts? Opinions? That’s what I’m stewing on so far though it’s not sure enough for me to have the vision for a scene I can write out.

Thank you again for asking and sorry for the way I’ve just word vomited lol.

Xoxo

#prompts most welcome #elvis fanfiction #elvis presley #honeymoon #honeymoon asks #elvis and me #welcome home elvis #oh elvis #elvis presley x reader smut #elvis presley x reader #elvis and priscilla #priscilla presley smut #priscilla movie

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arcadekitten · 10 months

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Hello Arcadekitten!!! I read the Stellamb wedding post(s) and it got me wondering about how Stella’s wedding dress would look like… I absolutely love Sweet No Death, so I knew I had to make some artwork of it!! And, because I absolutely suck at explaining things through text, here is my interpretation of Stella’s wedding outfit in traditional art! ✨💫🌟

Materials Used: Mixed Media Paper, Ink Fineliner Pens, Alcohol Markers Gel Pens, Paint Pens, Highlighter and Mechanical Pencil

Time Took: 1 week

I don’t know if you’re okay with people sending fanarts and stuff to you, but I absolutely love your work and well, I’m quite proud of this piece (even if I probably shouldn’t be lol) as I worked extremely hard on this and wanted to share it with you! I hope that’s okay ❤️

A little artist “#Deep Dive tm” because I put WAY too much effort into the tiniest details and I am NOT gonna let them get overlooked 😤 /jk

-Stella’s dress is made with her signature colors rather than white, because I felt that with her being a Star Witch and all, a species that mostly has extravagantly colorful clothes (in my humble opinion) she felt that just going with plain white on what is possibly the most important day of her life would feel… well, a bit redundant, so she opted for a more ‘colored’ ballgown, with lacy gloves and a pearled veil and all. The local tailor and dressmaker is a bit confused, but Lambchop is definitely not complaining! ;) 💕💓

-(Well, that, and I also felt that the color blended WAY too much with her skin tone and changed it, but that’s my little secret hehe 👀😉)

-In my mind, Stella can make her hair look like it has a small galaxy within it! With actual moving stars and little twinkling lights. ✨💫✨⭐️🌟I think that she usually saves it for special, grandiose occasions, buuut since she’s not the kind of person who would THROW a grand, special occasion, she never unveiled it before her wedding day! (Poor Lambchop’s heart nearly gave out on the spot right then and there! 😭❤️)

-I didn’t add her usual Star hair clip because she already has like… 10 stars in her design already lmao /lh ⭐️

-As you can see, her bouquet’s… cloth? Fabric? I’m not sure what to call it… thing? The stuff that her flowers are wrapped in are Lambchop’s colors! Thought that it would be a neat visual detail… also, I can totally imagine Stella requesting that specific color scheme from the local florist! 💐🌷🌸

-Speaking of flowers… I decided to color in one of the moon daisies a little bit… differently hehe ;) It’s a small reference to the beginning of the game, where we see Stella change the color of the one rebellious moon daisy, from orange to lavender, except this time… she keeps it and uses it in her bouquet! 💖💗

-I like to think that it symbolizes Lambchop versus the rest of the townspeople… and Stella’s way of acknowledging him as a “real person”, at least compared to the others… one who is different, one who is unique… the one that she’s going to marry 💍🩷

-(it’s so absolutely sappy when she tells him so that he just couldn’t resist kissing her right then and there)

-And finally… (this is the last one I promise) I cut out the entire drawing to make it look like a potion bottle, partially because Stella is a witch, and partially because I had this cute lil idea that she stores all of her happiest memories into a magical bottle and takes it out whenever she feels sad, so that she can ‘experience’ it again and feel happier. Of course, with Lambchop by her side, she never really has to use it!💞🩷💗

-And yes, I also made the bottle have Lambchop colors as well 🐏 Just a nice little thing tying em together more visually… ❤️

…And I am SO SORRY for ranting!!! I worked incredibly hard on this piece (traditional art is NOT my strong suit, lol) but I wanted to make something special for one of my favorite games and one of my favorite game devs! So here it is, and I hope that you like it! 🤞❤️😁

(P.S: Any ideas for Lambchop’s wedding design?)

Oh my goodness this is BEAUTIFUL!! The artwork itself is just stunning!! You took so much time on it and it really shows, especially with all your attention to detail in it(and I LOVE hearing your explanations for some of the choices you made!! They're just so darling!) Everything about this is stellar and I'm in love with it, thank you so much!! ♡ ♡ ♡

Also I TOTALLY AGREE Stella would not wear white for her wedding!! Color all the way!! ♡

As for Lambchop's outfit...I think I've got it envisioned in my head but I haven't quite drawn anything for it yet! Top hat, definitely. I think his suit isn't black. Probably brown! Bowtie on the neck. His pants are more like shorts and are cut juuuuust above the knee! Still wearing long socks with garters. He looks incredibly dapper--as he should!! It's his wedding!

Hopefully he at least looks good for the photos before he decides to get any mysterious red stains on his outfit. (It's fine. Stella could clean them with the snap of her fingers, but still!)

#sweet no death #stellamb #witchywool #lambchop #stella #fanart #ask

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doll-elvis · 10 months

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I like Priscilla and I appreciate that she has managed to keep Graceland afloat along with Elvis’s legacy but it irks me how people act like she was perfect. Everyone acts like Elvis is the sole reason their marriage failed but no one talks about how what she did, like having affairs herself

thank you so much for the ask <3!! sorry y’all this is longg

before I give my opinion, I just want to say a quick disclaimer because it’s important to acknowledge that I was obviously not apart of their marriage or their relationship and therefore my opinion is essentially irrelevant. I always find it weird when people talk about celebrity relationships with authority as though they were actually apart of it 😩, so I just want to say that at the end of the day it wasn’t my relationship, I don’t know the full truth, anything I say is just from what I’ve gathered from books/interviews

and just from what I have read, I honestly think their marriage was doomed from the very start because when Elvis married Priscilla in 1967 he essentially married a caricature version of her🤧 Priscilla created a look and personality that she believed embodied all of the traits that Elvis found ideal in a woman, and by doing so she created a fantasy that she wouldn’t be able to uphold as she grew older and became her own person. And when it comes to her and Elvis, I always felt like they fell in love with the idea of each-other, which is probably not the best foundation to build a marriage on😩 As the years went by and as they changed as people, they definitely grew apart and grew separately. I think Priscilla even said it was like they both lived separate lives

(Red West speaking on Elvis and Priscilla in “Elvis: What happened?” ⬇️)

as for affairs, Priscilla did indeed confirm that she had an affair with her dance instructor who she refers to as “Mark” in her book, soon after Lisa Marie was born. To give context this was also when Elvis began withdrawing from her s*xually, as she tells it, because he had pause about making love with a woman who had given birth to his child. She said the affair with Mark was very brief and it ultimately made her realize she wanted more out of her relationship with Elvis. The Memphis Mafia have also alleged that Priscilla had an affair with one of the male dancers in the 68 comeback special but she hasn’t spoken on that specific allegation herself. Then of course there was her affair with Mike Stone which is much more infamous and is what gave Priscilla the final nudge to ask for a divorce from Elvis. Tbh I’m really curious to see if the upcoming Priscilla movie will acknowledge the affairs on both her and Elvis’ end… like if they show Ann-Margret and they better include Mike Stone also 😩

And yeah while she did admit to being unfaithful while being married to Elvis, obviously in comparison to Elvis’ affairs, hers were much fewer in count. But on those grounds, like you said they both went against their vows and again, I don’t think we are in any place to judge either one of them because we didn’t live the relationship 🤷🏻‍♀️

Your ask also made me think about how they were incompatible on many levels which I’m sure put strain on the marriage. The biggest one to me is the lack of interest on Priscilla’s part in Elvis’ spirituality, and books on the subject. And again I’m not placing any blame on Priscilla because you cannot force interest in a subject, you either like it or you don’t. And to be fair to Priscilla, Elvis didn’t exactly support all of her interests, like how she wanted to pursue modeling in the 60s. But there’s one passage from her book that I think really summarizes their incompatibility on a mental/emotional level ⬇️

“Although I was striving to be his soul mate and subtly becoming more aware of myself as a spiritual being, my heart longed for the very temptations he was fighting to conquer”

The very first sentence of this quote is very telling ⬆️: you don’t strive to be someone’s soulmate, I feel like you either are, or you aren’t 🤧

“As his soul mate I was expected to search for answers as fervently as he did, but I just couldn’t bear reading the ponderous tracts that surrounded us in bed every night. Usually within five minutes of opening one, I’d be sound asleep. Annoyed at my obvious disinterest, he woke me to share an insightful passage. If I voiced the slightest protest, he’d say, ‘Things will never work out between us, Cilla, because you don’t show any interest in me or my philosophies’”

Priscilla was extremely unhappy during this time and their relationship was really rocky as Elvis explored his spirituality. And in an effort to please her, he agreed to burning all of his spiritual books, which I always thought was so sad because he felt like he had to abandon such a major part of himself just to keep peace in the relationship

I think divorce was definitely inevitable for these two, and like you mentioned it’s just not fair to place all of the blame on Elvis when they both didn’t fit each other’s needs as partners

#thank you for the ask!!#marriage is not easy #sometimes I wonder if their relationship would have lasted longer had they not gotten married 👀#elvis presley #elvisaaronpresley #elvis #priscilla presley #elvis and priscilla #elvis history #elvis fans #elvis asks #elvis book excerpts

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training4theapocalypse · 4 months

Text

A Nest of Vipers Ch6. (Cormac McLaggen x Original Female Character - Slytherin)

Rating: Explicit 18+

Word Count: 4.8K

Warnings / Tags: A little bit of smut, pure blood supremacy, tragic romance

Summary: Slughorn's party is tonight and it's time for Una to choose between the Vipers and Cormac McLaggen.

A/N: Una gets worse every chapter I swear to GOD.

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Chapter 6: Slughorn's Party

Una entered the dimly lit common room arm in arm with Meredith and Sabine, their entrance causing a sudden silence among the four Slytherin boys in dress robes.

“Wow, Sabine, you look… wow,” said the usually aloof Theodore Nott, causing Blaise to give him a haughty look.

“Put your eyes back in, Nott,” said Blaise, rolling his eyes.

“Now you know how I feel,” grumbled Graham. “Having one of your friends go out with your sister.”

It was the night of Professor Slughorn’s Christmas party, and both Una and Blaise had their own agendas for the evening. They were attending as friends, united by separate pursuits of the heart.

“Una and I are going as friends,” Blaise reminded him. “Better that than fraternising with the enemy.”

“The enemy,” snorted Graham but Una knew Blaise was overcompensating, that he’d slink away and find Ginny Weasley as quickly as he could.

“Well, I think you make a lovely couple,” smiled Sabine, showing off her perfect row of white teeth as she greeted Blaise with a kiss on each cheek before taking Theodore’s extended arm.

“I dunno, it’s all a bit incest-y for me,” said Graham with a sour look on his face. “You’re going with my sister, your sister’s going with Nott. We’re a hop, skip and a jump away from getting married off to our cousins.”

“Well, I’m glad you’re not my cousin,” said Albie Selwyn, taking Meredith’s hand and kissing it. Una wrinkled her nose. It wasn’t even eight o’clock yet and in her opinion, that was much too early for public displays of affection.

“Just Sabine’s ex,” muttered Graham to Una who covered a laugh by opening her bag and checking her lip gloss in her little black mirror.

This was exactly how Sabine liked it. Having power over Meredith and Una by persuading them to go to Slughorn’s party with people she thought she had influence over. Albie Selwyn was a perfect match for Meredith - he wasn’t good enough for Sabine so of course Meredith was permitted to have her sloppy seconds.

And Blaise, well, Sabine didn’t know her brother as well as she thought she did. Una had found an unlikely friend in Blaise after her confrontation with Myrtle in the girl’s bathroom. He was alone in the common room when she had returned and she’d confided in him. He was the only person who could understand how she was feeling. Although by Blaise’s account, his and Ginny’s secret was progressing much more discreetly, and successfully, than her’s and Cormac’s. But Blaise didn’t have the same jealous streak as Una and Cormac. In fact, he didn’t even seem to care that Ginny would be there with her boyfriend, Dean Thomas.

Una took Blaise’s arm and the seven of them ascended the stairs, the salty seaweed-tinged air of the Slytherin common room turning to Christmas pine and firewood as they entered the Entrance Hall.

Cormac McLaggen and Hermione Granger were standing beside Ginny Weasley, Dean Tomas and Katie Bell as the latter awaited the arrival of her date. When Graham saw Katie he practically bounded over, taking her hand and making her do a little spin to show off her dress. It was so sickeningly cute that the other Slytherins rolled their eyes at each other but it made Una’s throat knot in jealousy. Why must her own pursuits be so complicated when Graham could so openly and unashamedly go with Katie?

When Katie stopped her spinning she looked giddy. Graham took her arm and led her towards the direction of the corridor where Slughorn’s office was. Just as Katie and Graham passed between Una and Cormac’s line of sight, they locked eyes.

It was irritating how handsome he looked tonight. Una supposed he must come from money like her, with his perfectly tailored black dress robes. Of course, she knew he was well-connected - he had to have been to receive an invite to Slug Club, but his robes made the other revellers milling around the Entrance Hall look scruffy in comparison.

Cormac’s curly hair, usually messed up from running his hands through it or playing Quidditch, was elegantly textured. There was a single curl over his forehead that could have been a paid actor. She finally understood what Cormac meant when he said he ‘wanted to make a mess of her’. Una wanted to twist her fingers through those curls and make fun of him for trying so hard, to push that stupid curl out of his face while he was on his knees with his mouth between her legs.

Una snapped out of it when Hermione slinked her arm through Cormac’s and he broke his eye contact. Hermione’s usually frizzy hair was also slicked back, except hers was twisted into an elegant bun. She supposed Cormac and Hermione were well-suited. And as things weren’t working out well between Una and Cormac, maybe he and Hermione would have a flock of wild-haired children one day. She watched as they followed Katie and Graham in the direction of the party.

“You know, you look beautiful,” murmured Blaise as the group of Slytherins followed suit, Una and Blaise lagging behind the others. “Speaking platonically, of course. McLaggen is an idiot.”

“Thanks, Blaise,” she smiled.

She almost felt guilty about confiding her woes with Cormac McLaggen to him. Especially when even though he didn’t know it, Blaise’s blossoming relationship with Ginny Weasley would be playing right into her plans to get back at the people who had hurt her brother.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Try as he might, Cormac McLaggen was having a difficult time getting rid of Hermione Granger. He should have expected this, of course. He knew how he looked when he made an effort and the effect it could have on girls. It just wasn’t having the desired effect on the right girl. And it really wasn’t fair to poor Hermione to lead her on like this.

What was worse was that he thought he might be able to get to the bar by himself. Be seen there alone - then maybe Una would come over and they could discuss tactics. Arrange to meet later, or better yet, sneak away before either Hermione or Blaise noticed they were gone. But Hermione just wanted to accompany him to the bar. Wherever he went she followed. It was like she wanted to be seen with him in every corner of the room.

“And then, I suppose, my eighteenth best save was when I was playing for the Wimbourne Wasps under-14s,” he said and he was actually starting to bore himself now. “Their seeker was Cassius Burke. Or maybe it was Gideon Blackwood. No, wait - it was Cassius Burke. And it was a kick away from the left hoop.”

“You know, this is really fascinating, Cormac,” said Hermione loudly as a few other Gryffindors passed by.

“It - it is?” he asked. Una would have told him to shut his fat mouth and stop talking about himself long ago. Then he’d have wiped the beautiful sneer from her face by letting her know his preferred way of being shut up.

The thought made him miss her.

He looked over to where she was still standing with Blaise, Sabine and her date. Blaise rested a hand on the exposed skin of Una’s backless emerald green dress just below where her straight, shiny hair danced across her spine and he said something that made her throw her head back and laugh. Una’s other friend, the red-headed one, Meredith, was some way away looking uncomfortable as her drunk date pressed his mouth to her ear, half kissing her, half whispering something and accidentally spilling some of his drink down the front of her dress.

It inspired Cormac to try a different tack. He remembered how Hermione recoiled at Slughorn’s dinner party back in October when he’d suggestively sucked on his fingers while looking at her from across the table.

“What do you say we get out of here?” he asked, leaning down to whisper to Hermione and purposefully slurring his words. It was perfect, seeing as he couldn’t think of a tactful way to ask her to leave him alone without offending her.

“I - excuse me?”

“Come on, you just said I was fascinating. Let me show you something really impressive,” he said, putting a hand on her waist.

“I don’t think so, Cormac,” she blustered. “Excuse me, I need to go to the ladies.”

Cormac watched as she turned on her heels and ran off. In the opposite direction of the bathroom and towards the tent-like furnishings where Harry Potter was standing with Luna Lovegood from the D.A. in her spangled silver dress robes.

Well, that was easy, thought Cormac before spotting Katie Bell and Graham Montague over at a secluded table. He didn’t want to be a third-wheel on their date but he didn’t really know anyone else here except Una.

“Remember the time Potter practically swallowed the snitch?” laughed Katie as Graham almost choked on his drink.

“Mind if I join you?” asked Cormac and Katie nodded enthusiastically to the chair opposite them.

“Graham, this is Cormac McLaggen,” said Katie. “I’m not sure if Una has told you about him.”

Cormac stuck out his hand and Graham put down his drink to shake it before Cormac took his seat. “Er, no, she hasn’t,” said Graham with uncertainty. “Are you friends with her then?”

It wasn’t a surprise that Una hadn’t mentioned him to her brother, after all, they were keeping things between them a secret. Although he had sort of hoped that maybe she’d have confided in Graham, especially since he himself was here with a Gryffindor.

Cormac chose his next words carefully, mindful of Katie’s suspicious look. “Hardly. Well, I mean, we sit next to each other in Transfiguration,” he said casually. “But she talks about you.”

“All complaints, I assume?”

Cormac laughed. Una had told him all about how Graham was their parents' golden child. According to Una, the fact she was Head Girl paled in comparison to their darling, Quidditch Captain son.

“Well, she’s so sick of me meddling in her love life, I’m not surprised.”

Cormac covered his momentary pause by taking a sip of his drink. Maybe Graham knew more than he was letting on.

“I asked her not to come here tonight with Blaise because he’s my best mate,” explained Graham.

“Oh?” So that explained Una’s sudden change of heart.

“Yeah, well, she wasn’t having it so I’ve backed off now. Especially after the last time my parents tried to force her to go out with someone and she blew -” Graham stopped himself abruptly and shook his head. “I mean she wasn’t happy.” He laughed unconvincingly.

“What happened?” asked Cormac, his curiosity piqued by Graham’s sudden change in tone.

“Where is she anyway?” asked Graham, ignoring Cormac’s question and looking over his shoulder. “I haven’t seen her and that slimy git Blaise in a while.”

Cormac turned around in his chair. None of the Vipers or their dates were anywhere to be seen.

“Slimy git? I thought you said he was your best mate?” laughed Katie.

“Yeah, well, it’s different when he’s got his hands all over my sister,” Graham grumbled.

Cormac turned back around to see Katie observing him. He shook his head warningly. Katie had been suspicious of his relationship with Una for a few weeks now but the last thing he was going to do was confess his feelings in front of her brother. Katie just smirked as if his head shake had confirmed everything.

Graham turned the subject back to Quidditch and while Cormac had more questions than ever, he was relieved to not have to word his answers so carefully now they were no longer talking about Una.

“And remember when your mates got detention for dressing up as dementors during one of our games?” chuckled Katie.

“Oh god, yeah. That was Draco’s idea. He… hang on. Speak of the devil,” said Graham, his brows furrowed in confusion as he looked past Cormac into the middle of the room.

Cormac turned in his seat and watched the Hogwarts caretaker, Argus Filch, dragging in a pale boy with a pointed face into the middle of the room by his ear.

“Alright, I wasn’t invited!” Draco spat angrily. “I was trying to gatecrash. Happy?” And Cormac was surprised when he looked furiously over in the direction of the table that he was currently sitting at.

“That’s alright Argus, that’s alright,” boomed Slughorn. “It’s not a crime to want to come to a party. Just this once we’ll forget any punishment. You may stay, Draco.”

“Oh no,” groaned Graham.

“What’s wrong?” asked Katie. “I thought he was your friend too?”

“He was trying to convince me not to come tonight so I could help him with a job - I mean, a project. I think that’s why he was trying to sneak in.”

Cormac remained fixed on the commotion as Draco thanked Slughorn for his generosity and couldn’t help but notice that Draco looked a little ill.

“A project? The day before we go home for the holidays?” asked Katie. Cormac wondered if that was why Draco looked so worse for wear. Maybe he had a deadline he was going to miss?

“Well, I’ve not had much time to work on it. I’ve been preoccupied with something else,” said Graham and Cormac turned back around in his chair just in time to see him wiggling his eyebrows at Katie. “Doesn’t matter anyway - look, Snape’s not having it.”

Sure enough, Draco was being dragged back out of the room at the exact same moment Una was coming back in. Alone.

Cormac raised a hand in acknowledgement and Una halted on the spot, pursing her lips when she saw he was sitting with Graham and Katie.

“Una!” called Graham and her eyes darted everywhere except their table as if looking for an escape route before reluctantly continuing towards them, her high-heeled stilettos clicking on the dance floor ominously as she did.

Cormac stood up and pulled out the seat next to him and she sat down wordlessly, dumping her clutch bag on the table. “Well, I’ve just had to rescue Meredith from Selwyn. Blaise and I had to put them to bed. Separately. And now I’ve got no idea where anyone else is.”

“You’ll just have to put up with our much worse company then,” said Cormac.

Una huffed a derisive laugh and looked directly at Cormac. “I’ll say.”

Her icy glare was full of annoyance and Cormac was sure he’d soon find out that he was somehow responsible for her mood. But even though she looked irritated at him, he couldn’t take his eyes off her.

She always looked beautiful. He still got a little flustered now that he was actually allowing himself to look at her in her school uniform but he was unprepared for seeing her dressed to the nines like this. He was glad of the commotion caused by Katie and Graham fawning over each other in the Entrance Hall earlier this evening - it meant that nobody noticed that he had stopped mid-sentence when Una had appeared, arm in arm with Blaise wearing that satin green dress that pooled on the floor like it was molten.

“Ouch, harsh, Una,” chuckled Graham. “Cormac was just telling us you’re in Transfiguration together.”

“And come to think of it, that’s just about as much time in Cormac McLaggen’s presence as I can stand sober. Excuse me.” Una tossed her hair over her shoulder before getting up and walking over to the bar.

Cormac hesitated as he looked from Una’s abandoned bag to her figure cutting through the crown, a backless silhouette of grace and indignation.

“Just go,” said Katie in exasperation.

Cormac didn’t bother explaining himself. He grabbed Una’s bag and followed her towards the bar.

“So much for hardly knowing each other,” said Graham, raising an eyebrow.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Una, what’s up?” asked Cormac, leaning on the edge of the bar at the back of Slughorn’s office as Una caught the barman’s eye with practised ease.

“What’ll it be?” asked the young barman absently, dressed in a white tailcoat and cleaning the bar with a towel. He had a pimply face - he couldn’t have been much older than Una or Cormac, she thought.

“A shot of firewhiskey please,” said Una.

“Make that two,” added Cormac.

“No can do,” said the barman. “Boss said no shots.”

“Oh.” Una pouted and twisted the end of her hair. “Not even just one tiny shot?” she asked, her voice dripping in saccharine sweetness that was anything but innocent.

The barman shook his head as if strengthening his own resolve by denying her request.

Una giggled. “I suppose that makes sense. Who knows what would happen if the students all lost our inhibitions.” She moved her shoulder discreetly so that her strap fell down her arm.

The barman blinked a few times as his cheeks turned pink. “Well… maybe one. Just don’t tell anyone, alright?”

He poured a shot and Una downed it before placing the glass back on the bar. “Gosh, that’s gone right to my head.” She batted her eyelashes at him. “Could I trouble you for a glass of champagne, please?”

“Two!” Cormac called after him, a hint of irritation in his voice after being plainly ignored by the barman. “And you can stop trying to make me jealous because it isn’t working,” he added to Una.

“I’m doing no such thing,” said Una. “And besides, you’re one to talk. The way you had your hands all over Granger.”

“I was just trying to get rid of her.”

Una snorted derisively. “By doing your best impression of the giant squid?”

“I didn’t think anyone noticed.”

“Cormac, it’s time you learned that I see everything and I hear everything,” hissed Una, her voice filled with venom. “So don’t expect me to be grateful when you tell Hermione to doll herself up for you so you can spend the evening getting handsy with her.”

“Fuck, Una. It wasn’t like that -”

“Oh yeah? That’s not what Moaning Myrtle overheard in the bathroom. She told me all about how you asked Hermione to wear something sexy tonight. I mean, what the fuck, Cormac? You think I wouldn’t find out? Oh - thank you.” Her expression softened momentarily as she thanked the barman for the drinks with a forced smile.

She tried to walk away from the bar but Cormac caught her wrist discreetly.

“Let go of me. You can’t just manhandle me any time an argument isn’t going your way,” she snapped.

“And you can’t just storm off every time you’re about to show the tiniest bit of vulnerability,” said Cormac sternly, his tight grip encircling her wrist bones and pulling her close.

“That’s not what this is, I -”

“I know what you’re like, Una, I can tell you’ve been stewing over this all day. And I’ll be damned if I let you leave for the Christmas holidays without us sorting this out.”

“It’s not for you to let me do anything.”

“It is when it involves me so shut up for a second and listen.”

Una’s nostrils flared as she stared up at him furiously. That stupid, pretty little curl on his head. It tempted her fingers with a desire to yank it out. “Go on then, try and talk your way out of it.”

“Not here,” said Cormac, increasingly aware of the fact that their whispered conversation was likely to be overheard. “Behind that curtain,” he suggested, nodding to the heavy tent-like draping covering the stone walls of Slughorn’s magically expanded office.

“Are you going to let go of me or should I expect an escort?”

Cormac loosened his grip and handed Una her purse. She snatched it from him and followed him to the secluded edge of the room. Cormac checked the coast was clear of onlookers and held open the hanging to let Una walk through.

“I did ask Hermione to dress up,” said Cormac, his voice tinged with embarrassment and regret. “But that was before I knew you and Blaise were going tonight as friends. I was jealous. And I was trying to make you jealous too.”

“Well, it worked. Are you happy?” Una’s words were sharp but her voice wavered - a tiny chink of vulnerability in her armour that she so wished she could hide.

“Obviously not, Unes. I told you before that I’m terrible at playing games. And this attempt has backfired. Spectacularly.”

Una paused, taken aback by his candour. She was adept at weaving intricate plans. It was like playing wizard’s chess to her, while Cormac... he was more like a player of exploding snap - unguarded and impulsive. And maybe, she thought, what he deserved was someone who wasn’t a game player. Someone honest. Someone who didn’t care about being strategic.

He might not have her cunning, but there was a simplicity, a sweetness in his earnestness. A typical Gryffindor, wearing his heart on his sleeve.

“Maybe you should find Hermione again -” started Una softly but Cormac interrupted her with an exasperated groan.

“Una, come on. We’ve just been over this -”

“No, I’m serious, Cormac. I’m not just saying it to start another argument. Aren’t relationships supposed to be fun? Easy? The two of you looked good together.”

Una was starting to think she should have just let her parents betroth her to someone as planned rather than putting up such a fight. It would have avoided this current mess with Cormac if she had. It would have meant that she’d never have made a mess back then either, a mess that strained her relationship with her parents beyond repair.

“I am having fun. And it could be easy if you just stopped caring about what the Vipers think.” Cormac cupped her face with both hands and she could feel her worries melting away, even if only for a moment.

She sighed heavily. “Cormac, please don’t make me choose between you and them.”

Cormac leaned in closer, his green eyes locking onto hers with a sincerity that made her heart flutter. “I’m not asking you to choose, Una. They are. But if you’re really thinking of ending this...” He leaned in, his warm breath fanning against her skin. “I can’t let you go without one last kiss.”

And then he kissed her. Kissed her as if she were the only thing in the world he ever wanted. And Una kissed him back, the sweet champagne on his lips tainted by the smoky, briny firewhiskey on hers.

This was all it took. A kiss was enough to turn her to putty in his hands.

She succumbed to her intrusive thoughts.

“Fuck what they think. I’ll have my parents buy me new friends if it means you’ll fuck me again,” panted Una in Cormac’s ear as he kissed her neck.

He groaned. “You’re so fucked up for that.”

“And you’re fucked up for wanting me.”

She grabbed the front of his dress robes and pulled him urgently so he pressed her between him and the stone wall. Fuck, she loved feeling his body between her legs. It seemed to block out all the external problems complicating things. It was just she and him.

Cormac’s hands pulled up her floor-length satin dress.

“Fuck, not here, Cormac,” she said as his hand cupped her lacy underwear. But her cunt was throbbing underneath his touch. She couldn’t deny that she wanted him to touch her.

“But you’re so wet for me,” he whispered, slipping his hand into her underwear and tracing two fingers along her slit. “I can’t let you back out there all worked up. What if that barman gets ideas?”

“You said that wasn’t working - flirting with the guy behind the bar to - to make you jealous,” she whimpered.

“I’m not jealous. I’m furious. And I’m about to teach you a lesson,” he told her with an arrogant sort of appraising look.

Suddenly, the curtains behind them rustled and Una and Cormac broke apart. Panic jolted through her as Una yanked down the front of her dress and hastily wrenched the fallen strap back up her shoulder.

“Mister McLaggen,” said a low voice from behind them.

Shit. Cormac spun around and when Una laid eyes on the person who’d interrupted them, they widened in horror.

“Miss… Montague?” Professor Snape’s voice had a tone of surprise as eyes darted between them.

Fuck. Una’s stomach dropped as her Head of House eyed them suspiciously.

“I trust, Miss Montague, that you are of sound mind and have not been confunded?”

“Yea, sir,” said Una sheepishly. “I mean, I haven’t been confunded.” Although for a split second, she briefly considered lying and saying she was confunded. Let Cormac take the fall.

“Detention. Both of you. After the holidays.”

“Sir, please, I can’t be seen in detention,” said Una. It was a risk arguing with Snape, even though he was her favourite teacher and Head of House. But she had to at least plead her case. She knew it would look bad for him too if the student he’d put forward for Head Girl was in detention.

Snape paused, looking at their dishevelled, embarrassed appearances, his expression unreadable.

“I’ll do both detentions,” said Cormac. “It was my fault -”

“Your chivalry is very touching, Mister McLaggen, however…” said Snape, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “I am the one who will decide a suitable punishment.” Una held her breath waiting for the verdict. “You will both receive detention. Separately. Miss Montague, you are permitted to use the excuse that you are doing remedial Defence Against the Dark Arts.”

“Remedial Defence…” whispered Una, horror-struck. She felt like the wind had been knocked out of her lungs. She couldn’t think of anything more mortifying. That is until Snape held open the curtain.

“Now, I expect you to return to your dormitories. Immediately.”

Una was temporarily rendered speechless. If she and Cormac were to emerge from behind a curtain and frogmarched through the party by Snape… “Sir, I can’t -”

“Miss Montague, I have been exceptionally lenient with you - do not test my patience.”

Resigned, Una muttered a quiet “Yes, sir,” and reluctantly followed Snape and Cormac. The party was thinning out, which only made their conspicuous exit feel like a spotlight. She fought the urge to hide her face, instead lifting her chin with feigned confidence.

“Nice one, McLaggen,” congratulated Marcus Belby, sticking out his fist as they passed. Cormac at least had the decency to ignore him. Or perhaps he knew reciprocating would land him another few weeks of detention.

Una saw Ginny Weasley and Hermione Granger huddled together near the doorway as she continued to follow Snape and Cormac.

“I told you he was vile,” said Hermione quietly.

“Yeah, well I didn’t think he’d sink that low,” said Ginny.

Una slowed her pace, just enough to let Snape and Cormac exit the room ahead of her. This was her chance. Her chance to set off her plan for revenge and provoke Ginny Weasley into attacking her.

“Sorry about your boyfriend…” Una lowered her voice to a barely audible whisper so that only Ginny and Hermione could hear. Then she said a word that she’d never said before. “...Mudblood.”

Hermione’s jaw dropped in shock but Ginny’s eyes narrowed furiously.

“How dare you!” exclaimed Ginny, drawing her wand. A jet of purple light flew towards Una - she made to duck but twisted her ankle in her high stilettos and fell as the bat bogey hex flew over her head and hit Marcus Belby directly in the face, causing pandemonium as everyone dodged the effects of the spell.

“Goodness gracious” exclaimed Slughorn, flapping his arms in panic.

Snape whirled back into the room, quickly followed by Cormac to find Una on the floor, Ginny standing over her with her wand raised and Hermione tugging on Ginny’s arm trying to pull her back. With a lazy flick of his wand, Snape disarmed Ginny and caught her wand in the air with his other hand.

“Sir, I tried to warn you,” said Una, tears welling in her eyes as Cormac helped her to her feet. “She’s jealous, Cormac, and she got her friend to attack me.”

“That is not what happened!” protested Ginny. “She called Hermione a -”

“Oh, spare me the thrilling details of your personal lives,” said Snape, rolling his eyes and handing Ginny her wand back. “Weasley, detention. Granger, ten points from Gryffindor. You two - follow me.”

“Yes, sir,” sniffed Una as she looked down and rubbed her elbow where she had fallen and grazed it. As Cormac and Snape left the room she turned back and looked at Ginny and Hermione, giving them the tiniest smirk as she left.

This was all working out perfectly.

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