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artemiseamoon · 2 years

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The Longest Ride 4

Devyn x Jax Teller | Devyn x Vince

Fic info || Ch 1 || ch 2 || ch 3 || Next

Words: 3,751

⚠️warnings: it’s an angsty fic as you know

An: I cannot write accents. You can imagine the person's accent :) We meet Devyns best friend Sabine and spend some time with them in this chapter. I have a moodboard at the end, if you want to see what she looks like and the vibe of the shop. I’ll be completing this fic within a week, there are three more updates to come.

The Next Day

Locking the door behind her, Devyn heads to her car in the driveway. Glancing up at the sky, she watched the storm clouds roll in. It was drizzling on and off since she woke up, but the downpour would start any second now. By the look of the sky, it would be a nasty one.

Quickly getting into the car, she starts it up and turns the Bluetooth on for some music. With her hands on the steering wheel, she takes a moment to prepare for the day. She had two clients this afternoon and didn’t want to bring her own shit into the sessions.

Devyn was running out of space between Jax and Vincent. His words stuck with her like glue since the moment he said them,

If you were my girl, I would never treat you like that. I’d put you on the pedestal you deserve! You would be my first priority, not my second, not my third, not the bottom of my fucking list

But Jax met you first. Guess I got to charming a little late

It isn’t easy but after a few breaths, she finds enough calm to get moving. Devyn backs out of the driveway, en route to Luxe Luna.

Luxe Luna was the brainchild of her childhood best friend Sabine Underwood. Devyn had one blood sister who lived out East, but Sabine was like the little sister she never had but always wanted.

Alyse was older than Devyn by 4 years and followed her call for travel pretty early on. She was never home, always visiting somewhere or someone. Though they were sort of close, Devyn felt like an only child until she met Sabine. The two have been attached at the hip ever since.

Like a few other kids who needed a break from Charming, Devyn went out of state for college. During that time, Sabine stayed local, so did Jax, who ended up marrying a girl named Wendy for a brief amount of time.

After college, Devyn found herself visiting more, and extending her stay. There wasn’t anything practically magical about Charming, in fact living there came with some serious cons. But it was nice having some family around, Sabine, and reuniting with Jax.

Over the first year after graduation, she flirted with the idea of moving back. When Sabine asked Devyn if she could help when in town, Devyn said yes.

Soon enough, the move back to Charming was official and she eventually became partners with Sabine. The shop was Devyn's favorite place on Main Street. It felt like being transported into an old school magic shop full of books, candles, incense. Attached to the back was a series of rooms, one of them became Devyn's massage studio.

Over the last four years, one of Devyn's hobbies became a small business. She enjoyed making small-batch natural candles. Now she sold them online and had a few lines created exclusively for Luxe Luna.

On a regular week, between shop things and clients, Devyn was here about 3-4 times a week. It used to be more, but Sabine was pretty hands-on, and her partner was often working at the shop these days.

…

The short drive talks a little longer in the heavy rain, but the trip down memory lane was welcomed company. She spent so much time lately thinking about all this shit with Jax, it was easy to forget the other things that drew her back here.

Exiting and locking the car, Devyn opens her umbrella and heads up the street, occasionally glancing down to avoid stepping in any puddles.

Reaching the middle of the block, the beautiful brownstone is a welcomed sight. Devyn catches a glimpse of Sabine in the left window as she restocks a self.

Many people commented on how good the place smelled, the aroma often hitting their nose before they stepped fully into the threshold. Upon entering, Devyn knew exactly which candle Sabine was burning; she made it special for her birthday.

“I love that you love this one so much!” Devyn closes the door behind her, the little bell stops jiggling.

“I mean it is perfect, so of course.”

Sabine puts the last book in her arms on the shelf and walks over to her friend. The candle was called Autumn Rose, and Sabine appeared like a beautiful manifestation of it. Her rose-colored lipstick, dark brown top, and long flowy dark orange skirt embodied the vibe perfectly.

“How are you feeling today?” She asks compassionately.

“I’m okay,” they hold hands. Sabine studied Devyn's face, “I’m okay. I just needed yesterday to … I don’t even know. But, since Lia is a regular, I figured she would understand better than a new client would.”

“Oh, she was cool about it. Stopped by anyway to get some things for friends. Sure you’re up for working today?”

“Yeah, I think so. I need to get back into it.”

“Well, you should have an easy time. Both are a little older, and asked for gentle work.” Sabine goes over to the small bar and turns the kettle on, “Want to talk about any of it?” She raises her brows, “Jax issues?”

“No,” Devyn waves away the question, “this is my peaceful place. No Jax talk here today. I’m going to get the room ready and then I’ll join you.”

“Sure, I made a new incense, put some in there. See what you think,” Sabine’s eyes are focused on the shelf of jars behind her as she picks a tea for them. “I think you’ll like it.”

“You know me better than anyone, so of course, I will.”

Though her first client of the day wasn’t for another 2 hours, it was nice to sit in this room and connect with it again. No matter what was going on in her life, Devyn took her work and obligations seriously. She tried her best to not let things interfere with her time here. But it was becoming harder and harder over the years.

No, she wasn’t an MC member, but being involved with a member-turned-president was enough to suffer the effects. Depending on what was going on, they ranged from mild to severe.

At the worst time, Sabine asked Devyn to just take care of business and not worry about the place. It was understandable, who would want MC shit dragged into their business.

After setting up and enjoying the room for a moment, Devyn hears a knock at the door. She knows from the rhythm it’s Sabine.

“I was just on my way over to you.”

“I know,” Sabine pauses, “you have a visitor.”

From the way she says it, Devyn knows it’s club-related. Overall, the guys only came by to say hi if nearby or book a massage. The other masseuse was a sweet woman named Deena who came in on weekends and when Devyn couldn’t.

“Sorry, I didn’t know anyone was coming.” Devyn apologizes and heads into the hall. Sabine knew the guys, so it was okay, but she didn't love them being in the shop. They were aware of this and tried to respect her wishes.

Sometimes it felt like having your punk friends come over, and your parents tolerate them but would prefer if they didn't come over at all.

Reaching the front room, Devyn spots Chibs sitting on the bench. The sight of him creates an instant sinking feeling in her gut.

“I went by the house, figured you were here.”

Chibs had this stern wiseness about him, like a guardian Owl. The Scotsman had a soft spot for her and treated Devyn like a daughter. So seeing him was usually a nice sight, but after yesterday and still being in the dark about what they called Vince back for, she felt more worry than pleasure.

“Hey Chibs,” she smiles and hopes her voice sounds cheerful.

“Can I talk to you, it’ll just take a moment,” he stands up. She sees his gaze shift to behind her, where Sabine must be standing.

“I have a client soon, but sure-” she starts thinking of a place they could meet. The rain continues to pound loudly against the pavement.

Sabine catches her eye and points to the second floor. Aside from a second larger office, there was a smaller room they used as an apartment. It came in handy a lot during the early days when pulling all-nighters and becoming too tired to make it home.

It was a small clean room with the basics, but it did its job. The friends share a nod and Devyn leads Chibs upstairs. Once inside the room, he sits in one chair, his eyes following her as she sits across from him on the corner of the bed.

“You know why I’m here?” He asks.

“No. Not really.”

Chibs raises his brows, “ I like you kid. I care about you. But what you’re playing with right now, it’s not smart.”

There it is.

That sinking feeling again. Devyn presses her palms into her thighs and breaks eye contact.

So much for a drama-free day.

“Devvy, what were you thinking?”

“Nothing happened. We’re friends.”

“Friends,” Chibs huffs, “that's what you kids are calling it now.”

“Chibs.” she gets up kneels beside him, looking him in the eyes, “you know me. Am I lying? Nothing has happened.”

He’s quiet as he studies her face. Finally, after a long moment, he says, “nothing yet.”

When she lowers her head again, he gently touches her cheek, “that boy is in - -crazy about you and just as explosive as Jax when set off. He’s a good kid, solid. But this is a disaster waiting to happen.”

“And Jax, do we honestly think he’s making the best decisions. You tell me, you’re at the clubhouse with him. What’s he up to?” She asks with a little more sting than intended.

Chib's dark brown eyes stay steady, he gives away nothing. Feeling annoyed, Devyn stands and returns to her spot on the bed, this time crossing her arms across her body.

“You and Jacky boy, that's what matters. Give him time.”

“I’ve given him nothing but time, Chibs. You know that. And no, please don’t tell me how much he loves me or any of that. I love you guys, but it's like the default script ya’ll give me and I just can’t hear it right now.”

Chibs stands with a sigh and walks over to her. He touches the top of her head and plants a kiss there, “ I didn't come to upset you, just talk some sense into you. Now,” he smoothes his hair out of his face, “Vincent.”

Devyn looks up at him, her eyes growing wider at the sound of his name. Chibs shakes his head, like a parent who hit a wall. He places a hand on her shoulder and squeezes, “he’s fine.”

Devyn watches as Chibs heads for the door. He stops then turns back, “I’m looking out for you Devy. We know Jax. Jax would kill him.”

Emotion wells up in her chest as she lowers her gaze, unable to look at the warning in Chib's eyes any longer. She only raises her gaze when the door closes, then the anger comes.

Sure, she didn’t have proof yet, but Jax was likely out there doing whatever the fuck he wanted, and deciding to put a mountain between them whenever it was convenient for him.

But she makes one connection while trying her damn hardest to resist temptation, and she is the one who gets warned. It was fucked up. It felt like some kind of cruel joke. For all the ways she appreciated and respected Chibs, at this moment she felt only anger and annoyance.

When she returned back to her room, she briefly glanced at her phone to see a text from Vince. Sliding the screen open, she reads it,

Sorry I went MIA. Club shit last night. Chibs has me running around all over the damn place. You okay?

She can’t help the small smile dancing on her lips, even with Chibs' voice in the back of her mind. She writes back and presses send before turning the lights off. She needed to decompress and come down from the conversation with Chibs before she could help anyone relax.

At work, but I’m okay. Glad you are too.

...

After closing the shop down, with the rain outside finally starting to settle down, Devyn and Sabine hang out on the couch eating chocolate and continuing their conversation.

“The east coast shop is going really well. We’re checking out a Southwest location too.”

“I’m so happy for you, that’s exciting.”

“If you ever end up in the East again, you know you could take the reins there. It would be nice to take a little off my plate.”

“Thank you for the offer Sabine, I’ll keep that in the back of my mind. I don’t know if I’ll go back out that way though…so much is in the air.”

“You know what we haven’t done in a while, just for us?” Sabine asks as she gets up. She vanishes behind the desk and reappears with a card deck, “come, reading room! Grab wine.”

“Oh god, the last thing I need to see is my cards. Trust me, I am very aware of my mistakes and….risks.”

Sabine is already down the hall. Devyn grabs a bottle of wine, the one they started the other day and two glasses.

By the time she enters, Sabine is already sitting at the table, cards spread over the red velvet cloth, a lit candle to the left, and an incense cone burning to the right. Devyn sits.

“Go ahead, shuffle them.” She hands Devyn the cards.

After a moment of hesitation, Devyn takes them. She already got reprimanded by Chibs today, Jax kept texting her even though she didn’t read them, and now, the cherry on top, it was the card's turn to yell at her. Plus, she never got a text back from Vince, who always wrote her back. It was safe to assume Chibs got in his head too.

Slowly releasing a breath, Devyn stops shuffling and gives the cards to Sabine. With her free hand, she takes a sip of wine from the glass Devyn placed beside her then starts laying cards out on the table.

Devyn wasn’t as good with these as Sabine, but over the years she gained a better understanding and could already see where this was going. Chugging some wine, she sinks deeper into the chair.

“I have to ask love,” Sabine looks at the cards then at her friend, “are you holding on because you want it to work? Or are you holding on because the alternative is scary, unfamiliar?”

When Devyn doesn’t respond, Sabine keeps going, still pulling cards, “I know you love him, and he loves you. If he wasn't so occupied with the Tara girl in high school, I know for sure you two would have been a thing even earlier. But…you might have to let go, as much as that sucks to hear... “ she taps a card, “ even with all the love here Hunny, I don’t see the cycle breaking anytime soon.”

Sabine frowns.

“Not all past life ties are good or meant to last. Maybe you and Jax, you served your purpose,” Sabine speaks as softly as possible, fully aware of how tender this topic is for her best friend.

Devyn speaks up, “He’s a good guy, with a good heart…that guy is still in there, I think."

“And Vincent? What is he?”

The two friends stare at each other, communicating with their eyes. For a while, Devyn kept Vincent to herself. She only opened up to Sabine when the girl pretty much confronted her about it, knowing Devyn was keeping a secret.

Devyn shrugs and knocks back the rest of her wine. She thinks about how the talk with Chibs could have gone. Chibs was gentle with her because he adored her. And though he liked Vincent too, she was sure that interaction may have been more ….aggressive.

“Don’t do that, the wall coming up, I feel it -” Sabine shakes her head and pulls more cards. She stops to review them, “look at this. The left is Jax, the right is Vince.”

Devyn sits up straight and puts her hand on the edge of the table. She scans the Jax side, then the Vincent side.

“I know you know enough tarot to get that.”

Sabine sits back, bringing the wine to her lips.

…

Meet me at the clubhouse

Devyn reads the text again as the cab pulls up to the entrance. This was the last place she wanted to be, and the thought of seeing Chibs disapproving stare and whatever state he left Vince in only made her feel more anxious. But Jax kept asking, and after two more glasses of wine with Sabine, she left her car there and came here.

Jax even paid for the cab in advance. Devyn tries to play it cool as she nears the clubhouse entrance. She can hear classic rock playing and lively conversion. Maybe that was a good sign, better than silence or the place is a no man's land.

Before reaching the door, the first person she sees is Chucky, he’s carrying a case of beer. His face lights up at the sight of her as he says hello in French. It must be his new hobby.

“Bonsoir Chucky, here let me help.” She opens the door, holding it for him as he enters.

“Merci. Mademoiselle.”

This little interaction with Chucky takes the edge off. Causing her to enter with a smile instead of anxiously biting the inside of her cheek. Tig, Bobby, and Juice are at the bar with some girls, Chibs behind it.

As she walks over to greet them, she realizes she doesn't see Vince anywhere. Did Chibs have him on some other random mission to make sure they didn’t cross paths?

“Look who it is! We missed you around here!” Tig beams, pulling her into a hug.

“Yeah, I missed you guys too.”

She makes her rounds, eventually leaving Chibs for last. He greets her as normal, with a warm ‘hey Devy’ and a kiss on the cheek. She turns back around and chats with Juice a little.

He was like an excited puppy and genuinely interested in the stuff in the shop. He would ask about all of it, how things like tarot and crystals worked. It was kind of adorable. He was like a little kid.

Bobby rests a hand on her shoulder, “Jax should be back any minute. He was waiting for you before the errand.”

“Yeah, I was finishing stuff up at the shop.” She replies. She did take her sweet time getting here. Tig passes her a drink, she takes it, and sits on one of the stools.

It was a mix of memories at the Clubhouse; good ones, and bad ones. Overall, the place did feel like a piece of home, and it was nice, at this moment, to be back.

But that feeling is short-lived when the door swings open, it’s Jax followed by Vince, both carrying big boxes.

Jax winks at her and places the box down. Devyn quickly catches the look of surprise on Vince's face before he sets his eye on something else, anything else but her.

How quickly he looked away leaves a hollow feeling in her chest. Though her back is turned to him now, she just knows Chibs is watching too.

Vince heads off to the right, busying himself with the boxes. Jax cups her face and kisses her lips.

“Thank you for coming," He says sweetly, “can we talk?”

She knocks the rest of the drink back and stands, “ sure.”

Wearing a smile, Jax wraps his arm around her shoulders and leads her toward the back. They enter the apartment and Jax sits on the bed. She perches on the edge of the desk.

“I am not sitting on that. Who knows what has been happening on those sheets."

It was true, Devyn never sat on that thing unless the sheets were changed. In her mind, all these guys and one bedroom; it was safer to stand.

Jax chuckles, “I changed them this morning. Besides, “ he studies her face, “it's just been me in here.”

She nods, her eyes traveling around the room. She almost forgot, on his own, Jax lived like a high school kid or college freshman. The room was a mess.

“I know you’re pissed at me Devyn. I’ve given you plenty of reason to be. I want to come home, our house, our bed.”

A strange feeling moved through her body in response to his words. Was she happy about this? Sad? Devyn fidgeted with the hem of her shirt as his eyes burned into hers, waiting for a response.

“I never kicked you out, Jax. You left on your own. That was your call.”

“I know,” he stands and walks over to her. Bringing his warm hands back to her face, he stares deeply into her eyes, “the club shit, the stress, life after Opie...it's been killing me. I was taking that shit out on you, pushing you away. I’m sorry.”

Devyn nibbled her bottom lip. On one hand, she was processing his words; on the other, she was wondering about Vince and what exactly Chibs said to him. He wouldn't even look at her, not really, and that hurt.

“Devyn,” Jax caresses her face, “let me make it up to you. Let’s go home.”

Jax holds her close to his chest and wraps his arms around her. Not knowing what else to do, or how to respond, Devyn lets herself rest against him. She can feel tears in the corner of her eyes, but they never fall.

And when Jax leads the way out of the clubhouse, and to his bike, she lets him. On the way out, she can see Vince at the pool table with Juice and makes sure to exchange a glance with Chibs before leaving.

She had questions, and he knew exactly what she would ask him about.

@drabbles-mc @andacrylikebreakingglass

#Jax teller #sons of anarchy fic #soa au #jax teller x ofc #omc x ofc #fc: jon bernthal #fic: the longest ride #chibs telford

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bookstantrash · 3 years

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A/N: Next week uni exams start and I won’t be able to write for a while, so I did my best to finish this chapter on time before I go MIA for some time.

You can check here Pemberley’s Lake, Hooked on You and Smells like petrichor and paper, part one, two and three of my Nessian Pride and Prejudice AU.

The sound of music

Cassian could not sleep. His mind kept coming back to the greenhouse.

To Nesta and her lavender and vanilla scent and how lovely she looked amidst the flowers.

He would not lie to himself and say he did not let his lips linger a little bit longer than necessary on her temple.

Or that he had not felt some resemblance of male pride on seeing her wearing his jacket.

That he had not imagined her wearing it after they had come back home from a ball or one of Gywn’s operas.

That he had not imagined Nesta tucked close to his side, his arms around her and a smile on his face as he heard her talk about her day.

His imagination, it seemed, was his worst enemy.

“You are delusional Cassian” he mumbled to himself “Delusional”

Sighing, he touched the pressed daisy chain again. He had taken it out of his drawer and left it in front of him as he worked on some papers regarding his properties, thinking the numbers, reports of complaints or requests would help tire him out enough to make sleep come.

Cassian had no such luck. He worked until the entire pile had been properly looked through, and even three glasses of his strongest brandy could not make his thoughts of Nesta go away.

Nesta, who was currently sleeping in one of Pemberley’s guest rooms after much freeting from Mrs.Potts and her friends about catching a cold. Cassian had made sure to have her room properly warmed and a glass of hot chocolate delivered to her first thing after they arrived from the greenhouse.

Her friends had been delighted to spend the night, and he had almost asked them to forego the inn completely and just stay at Pemberley for the rest of the month. But he did not want to mess their schedule and ruin their trip. He knew that Gwyn was on a short vacation, as were Emerie and Balthazar, and Nesta could not stay away from her younger sister, Elain, for too long, given that they had no male relative to look after their household and wellbeing in the meantime.

Maybe a trip to the kitchens would help him. A midnight snack was bound to make his sleep come soon, and he was sure he had heard one the maids saying that Chef Ramsay had baked chocolate cookies.

Safely putting the bookmark back in his drawer, Cassian only bothered to throw a robe on before quietly making his way down the hallways. He was not worried about being shirtless, given that most of the house was for certain sleeping.

Deciding to take the long way to the kitchen in hopes of tiring himself, he was surprised to pass by the library and see light coming from underneath the doors. Thinking that maybe someone had forgotten to check the place in their rounds, Cassian opened the oak doors to find the candle light. He could not risk a fire happening in the library out of all places.

He followed the faint glow until he found himself with a most surprising — but very welcome — sight.

Nesta was currently curled up on his favourite chair reading a book in nothing but a thin nightgown and he momentarily forgot to be annoyed at her for not covering herself after being caught in the rain if only because by the way she was seated he had a privileged view of her bare legs.

Cassian knew he should announce his presence, his conscience yelling at him how improper and scandalous it was to see her in such a private moment. But he let himself stare at her for another minute, commiting to mind every single detail, from the way the ribbons in her nightgown accentuated her waist — he recalled how small it had seemed when they had danced at Feyre’s ball, his hand spanning nearly halfway across — to how the white colour made her eyes look more grey than blue in the candlelight.

“Fancy seeing you here” Cassian said in greeting, clearing his throat.

Nesta nearly jumped out of her skin when she heard him, quickly scrambling to straighten herself up when she realised she was not alone.

“I am sorry, you had said I could come whenever I wanted and I—”

"Could not sleep?” he asked, and Nesta only nodded.

Oh dear Mother, she wanted to crawl into a hole on the ground and disappear. Why was it that she was always finding herself in embarrassing situations when it came to Cassian?

It was true she could not sleep, her mind replaying her evening with Cassian, from the moment she stepped on the library to when he kissed her temple in the greenhouse.

She had tossed and turned in her bed for hours, her creative mind conjuring images of a future with him.

Of long strolls in the garden and picnics by the lake.

Of hours spent reading quietly side by side in the library.

Of running her hands in his silky hair, coming up with new ways to style it.

Of Cassian’s coat around her shoulders and her head on his as they came back from a late evening of dancing or parties with their friends.

Why could she not stop thinking about him? Why had he not left her mind since they had first met each other and why did her heart skip a beat whenever he was nearby?

She looked at him, flushing all over when she noticed that he would have been completely naked from the waist up were it not for a robe, which had loosened up a bit, revealing a bit of his naked chest.

For Cauldron’ sake, did he not own a shirt?

“What are you reading?” he inquired, and she quickly averted her gaze from his chest.

Little did she know he was also trying very hard to not stare at her bare shoulders or her chest, cursing once again whoever had gifted her such nightgown.

He could bet his fortune it had been Emerie, recognizing the modice’s preference of off shoulders designs.

“Oh, it’s a romance” Nesta felt her ears getting even hotter “By Sellyn Drake. You have a rather large collection here. Some are even first editions”

“She was a dear friend of Pemberley’s previous Lady” Cassian said, motioning for her to take a seat as he told her the story “The Lord sponsored her, both because he saw how her writing brought joy to his wife and also Lady Drake’s talent.”

“She soon became extremely famous and still kept sending the previous Lord her books even after his wife passed away” Cassian smiled faintly “He sold Pemberley and moved, but I kept the library as it was, just adding my own books here. Lady Drake comes once a while to visit and get inspiration for new novels, although she says she is to retire soon.”

“Y-you know her?” Nesta’s voice had gotten an uncharacteristic high pitch “You know Sellyn Drake personally?!”

“She is a very annoying old lady” Cassian said rolling his eyes “Always asking me if I will not take a wife so she will have someone more interesting to discuss her books with whenever she visits.”

“I cannot believe you are friends with one of my favourite authors” Nesta said in disbelief.

“But I would not have pegged you for a romance reader” she added, arching an eyebrow.

“I could not very well leave those books here to gather dust, could I?” he answered, squirming on his seat.

“Tell me, did the scary General Commander of the British Armies shed a tear in any of them?” her voice had a teasing tone and Cassian was almost left speechless by that fact alone.

Nesta inclined her body in his direction, apparently having forgotten she was not wearing modest attire at all and that Cassian was desperately trying to keep his eyes on her face instead of her chest.

“I promise not to tell anyone if you did”

And then Nesta Archeron gave a little sideway smile that made Cassian lose his breath.

He did not know what he had done that made her take such liberties with him, but he for sure was not going to complain.

“I did not cry” he finally managed to answer, angling his body in her direction and smirking when he saw a faint blush adorning her cheeks “But I will not be heartless and say it did not move me a little.”

They were close once again. So close Nesta could see that his eyes had little green speckles on them and that the brown looked like molten chocolate.

They were eyes one could drown and all she wanted to do was to indeed drown on them.

“Next time Lady Drake plans on coming to Pemberley I will make sure to invite you too” Cassian said softly, straightening himself “It is quite late. I will accompany you to your room.”

As if on cue, Nesta yawned, quickly covering her mouth with her hand.

“I only have one chapter left” she tried to argue, suppressing another yawn.

“Such a headstrong lady you are” he smiled and took the candlelight “The book will still be here tomorrow.”

Nesta followed him begrudgingly, twisting her nose in annoyance even though she was yet again holding back another yawn. Cassian thought she looked like a tiny angry kitten, laughing internally.

They walked back to her room in a comfortable silence, and sooner than he would have liked they had arrived.

“Well, then, here we are. Delivered safe and sound”

“Thank you, your grace” Nesta opened the door but did not get inside, as if she too did not want to part with him.

“Have a goodnight of sleep, my lady” he said, dropping a kiss on her hand before he could dwell too long on it.

“Goodnight, your grace” she breathlessly answered, finally getting inside and leaving Cassian standing outside her door.

Needless to say, both fell asleep quickly after that.

~•~

“For Cauldron’ sake are you incapable of sending prior notice of your arrival? And it is way too early to be drinking wine Morrigan, even for you”

Cassian had arrived to have breakfast and found Rhysand’s cousin casually seated at table, twirling her glass of wine at nine in the morning.

“I came here straight from Vivian’s. It was a long journey and I needed the wine. Besides, I am family! I knew you were going to like my surprise visit” Mor blinked at him.

“Always a pleasure to see you” Cassian answered, sitting beside her and promptly dumping a large portion of bacon and eggs on his plate “I take you introduced yourself to my other guests?”

“Of course” she snorted, making Georgiana laugh “Except for Miss Carynthian and Sir Oristian, that is. It seems they went into town early to see something in relation to their business.”

As if on cue, the dining room doors were open and Balthazar and Emerie walked in.

Emerie had opted to wear trousers today — Cassian thought it was to not be belittled by some stupid mercants and show with just who they were dealing with — and a white shirt with long sleeves with a forest green vest. Her curly brown hair was down and she had a gleam in her eyes that told him her business transaction had been a success.

She really was a sight to behold but it still startled him when Mor spat out her wine.

Mor never wasted wine.

“Sorry for our late arrival, Balthazar was being a weakling” Emerie said, sitting in front of a very much flustered Morrigan.

“I was not. You are the one who never lets the other have the upper hand” Balthazar pointed out.

“Please, you know that piece of silk was not worth that much!” she spread jam in a piece of toast, waving the knife in a rather aggressive manner.

“Maybe, but if you keep that up you will gather more enemies than business partners”

“Good thing I have you as my bodyguard” she batted her eyelashes innocently, making Balthazar roll his eyes.

“You are Miss Carynthian. The Miss Carynthian?” Mor asked in awe, her coughing fit finally over.

“The one and only. I take you know my shop?” Emerie asked with a smile.

“I absolutely adore your designs!” Mor gushed, and they fell in a very excited talk about gowns and fashion trends.

“Did you have a goodnight of sleep?” Cassian whispered to Nesta, who was seated beside him.

“I did, thank you for your concern, your grace” she answered, grabbing a chocolate cookie “I hope you also had a pleasant sleep?”

“The best sleep I had in years” he winked at her, that sideway smile of hers appearing again.

“Lady Nesta, my brother has told me how brilliantly your dancing is” Georgiana butted in, and Cassian resisted the urge to throttle her.

His younger sister was lucky there were other people present or he would do just that.

“He is too kind, my dancing is not that memorable” Nesta said, a bit embarrassed.

“But my brother never lies!” Georgiana exclaimed, receiving a glare from Cassian “He told me how the whole ballroom stopped to watch you as you danced.”

“Oh, thank you for the compliment your grace”

“It was nothing but the truth” Cassian assured her, sending daggers at Georgiana, who was sweetly seated by his other side as if she had not just told Nesta how infatuated with her he was.

“I wish I had your talent” Georgie sighed “I am really shy at balls and never really want to dance even if I am asked to. I usually throw my dancing card in the trash in fear someone will write their name there.”

“But I love to watch my brothers running from the scary mammas” she added with a devilish grin, failing in a brotherly bickering with Cassian.

Nesta felt her heart break over Georgiana’s fear of dancing. Apart from reading, dancing was one of the few things that brought Nesta joy. It made her feel alive, the music allowing her to get lost on the moment and forget the pressures high society placed upon her.

Dancing made Nesta feel empowered, in control of her own destiny.

Georgiana deserved to feel like that too.

And that is why when Emerie, Gwyn and Mor went shopping together while the gentlemen went horse riding, Nesta proposed that she teach Georgiana how to dance.

“Are you sure of it?” Georgiana asked nervously, glancing around the music room as if someone was going to appear out of nowhere and laugh at her poor performance.

“Rest assured. You will be dancing flawlessly at the end of the day” Nesta gave her a reassuring smile “I am going to take the male role, so please place your hand on my shoulder.”

Georgiana did as instructed, and soon they were dancing.

“You just need to have fun and relax” Nesta said, making Georgiana twirl “Even if you do not know the steps but act like you do nobody will blink. Dancing is not something that is supposed to be suffocating, but to free you.”

“You mean like this?” the young girl asked, and did a step completely opposite of what was expected in a waltz that made Nesta laugh and follow her.

In no time they were not dancing the waltz but just messing around, their laughs and delighted screams filling the room. They were having so much fun that they were oblivious to Cassian watching them from the door.

The gentlemen had returned to Pemberley and decided to move to the game room, their initial amiable horse riding outing transformed into a racing competition whose draw made Balthazar and Azriel — who revealed themselves to be extremely competitive — propose a rematch in a billiard game.

Cassian soon grew tired of watching them betting who would win, deciding to fetch a book to help distract himself. He was called to the music room by the sound of loud laughs, his heart threatening to burst when he saw Nesta and his sister having so much fun.

“When are we to expect a proposal, my lord?” Mrs. Potts said to him, having stopped to welcome him back when she noticed just who he was watching.

“I have no idea what you are talking about” he answered, a soft smile on his face as Nesta dipped Georgiana, making her laugh even louder.

“It is clear as day to all of us how much that lovely lady means to you” the old headmaid replied “I have never seen you happier since she arrived here.”

“I assure you, there is nothing going on between us.”

“Do not let your fears stop you from being happy” Mrs.Potts motherly said, noticing his bitter tone “You more than anyone deserve to be happy and feel loved. And I noticed how she looks at you, I do not know why you cannot see it.”

“Such busybody staff that I have” was all he said, Mrs.Potts smiling and leaving him alone to continue his watch.

But it appeared their talking had warned them of his presence.

“Brother! Were you spying on us?”

“Far from it Georgie. I thought nobody was home but your laughs made me want to investigate” he stepped inside, closing the door behind him “Balthazar and Az are so competitive they were giving me a headache”

“Nesta was teaching me how to dance” Georgiana said, a bright smile on her face.

“I saw it. She is a great teacher” Cassian said, and Nesta had to look away lest he saw how much happy his words had made her.

“I have a great idea!! Why don’t I play music in the pianoforte and you two dance? That way it would be much easier to see how to dance properly”

Nesta panicked at Georgiana’s words. Last time she had danced with Cassian it had been out of spite for his comment. She would not deny that she had found him a pleasant partner or that she had had fun dancing with him, but Nesta doubted he would want to dance with her again.

However, little did she know Cassian could not have been happier than the moment his sister suggested such a thing.

“That is a wonderful idea Georgie” he said to his sister, all the while planning to write to Rhysand concerning an increase in Georgiana’s dowry.

He had already forgiven her words earlier at breakfast.

Didn’t she say she wanted a new horse? He could arrange for one to be delivered first thing in the morning tomorrow.

Georgiana clapped her hands in excitement, leaving them standing in front of each other as she sat by the piano.

“You are not dancing!” she called out, her fingers moving expertly on the piano keys.

Cassian cleared his throat, offering his hand.

“May I have this dance?”

Nesta accepted his hand, placing her other on his shoulder.

“You may”

They fell in that pleasant and calming atmosphere as Georgiana played, Cassian leading her effortlessly, but she felt he was cautious, even a little stiff.

“I do not bite, your grace” Nesta said, daring to tease him “You do not have to be afraid.”

“I would not mind if you did” he said back without thinking, his eyes widening as he realised he had said that out loud.

“I beg your pardon. I did not mean—” Cassian made to release her hand and step away but Nesta gripped his shoulder harder, stopping him.

“Do not tell me the great General Commander is left without a strategy when it comes to some defenceless lady” Nesta appeared to be nonchalant on the outside, but inside she was apprehensive.

What if she had gone too far? What if he did not see her as a friend? What if he was bothered by her teasing?

But to her relief he gave her that smirk of his that made her blood boil, stepping closer to her, their chests touching.

“For you, I have no strategies.”

And they really began to dance.

The music was still there. Georgiana played beautifully and on another occasion Nesta would have wanted nothing more than to just sit and listen all day to her playing.

But the music was no longer the most beautiful thing in existence.

Nesta got lost on him as they danced, the music a faraway background sound.

She got lost on his bright smile and noticed he had dimples.

She got lost on the way he moved with her, a body made for brutality which now moved with grace, keeping up with her.

She got so lost on his warm eyes — more green than brown at the moment — that she felt herself moving even closer, her breath mingling with his.

“Cassian—” his name left her lips without her consent, and she almost froze when she noticed she had not used his title.

Cassian did not care, his smile only getting brighter.

“You may call me informally. We are friends, are we not Nesta?” he said quietly.

“Yes, we are.” she answered, her body tingling all over at the way he said her name, as if it was a prayer to the Mother.

Georgiana — having taken notice of the rather romantic mood — started a new song as soon as the other finished, neither of the pair paying her no mind.

Next morning, Cassian gave her a new horse, the fastest and most sought out in the market. No one had the barest ideia how he managed to get hold of it so fast, or why he was gifting it to Georgiana.

Neither explained the reason, just shaking on it as if it was a business transaction.

•

Tags: @sayosdreams @thewayshedreamed @sjm-things @perseusannabeth @arinbelle @caotica-e-quieta @vidalinav @swankii-art-teacher @ireallyshouldsleeprn @duskandstarlight @d0riansgray @thegoddessaltenia @dayanna-hatter @verypaleninja @awesomelena555 @courtofjurdan @valkyriewarriors @moe8 @illyrianwitchling13 @silvernesta @bri-loves-sunflowers @queenestarcheron @imwritingthesewords @vasudharaghavan @rainbowcheetah512 @darkshadowqueensrule @letstakethedawn @starlightorstarfire @city-of-fae @thalia-2-rose @nestaarcher0n @rowaelinismyotp @julemmaes @dontgetsalmonella @alinaleksanders @lysandra-tiara @inardour @hikari274 @fatimafares123 @angelina-figjam @castielspelvis @lanyjoy-13 @firebirdofscythia @illyrianundercover

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#nessian #cassian x nesta #nesta archeron #cassian #pride and prejudice AU #sarah j maas #sjmaas #sjm books #sjm fanfic

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robininthelabyrinth · 4 years

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How about a canon divergence where wen qing doesn't bump into wwx but instead bumps into nhs and nmj. Would it be a tragedy or a fixit? Would nhs temper nmj's hatred for wens? Would nmj act honorably at seeing the old men and women and children doing hard labor or would he only see the clan he hates?

It was Nie Huaisang’s fault, probably. Someone tripped over someone else’s feet, and then he apologized and she apologized and then they both apologized, and then there was the whole “you go first, no you go first” dance and anyway eventually Nie Mingjue stormed over to yell at his younger brother for wasting time. He took one look at the ash-faced girl, caught her by the shoulder and said, “Aren’t you that Wen Qing? I used to see you at discussion conferences – what are you doing here?”

The whites of her eyes showed in her terror, and he scowled fiercely. “I don’t slay unarmed women or children outside of combat,” he said. “The question was literal – what are you doing here? The Jin sect said they resettled the remnants of the sects somewhere they wouldn’t make trouble.”

Wen Qing pressed her lips together, then couldn’t help herself and snarled, “If you call hard labor camps where everyone dies ‘resettled’ – they took away my baby brother! They took me to another city, I didn’t want to leave him, but I didn’t have a choice and when I returned…my brother’s as soft as yours – they’re going to kill him!”

Nie Mingjue’s scowl deepened, and his eyes flickered over to Nie Huaisang, the words ‘hard labor’ clearly ringing through his mind and struggling with his deep and abiding hatred for the Wen sect, the memories of Nie Huaisang being snatched away from him and sent to an indoctrination camp to be used as live bait. The very reminder of it made his face black in anger.

Nie Huaisang looked between the two of them and covered his face with a fan. “Dage,” he said, and his voice helped break through the haze of anger. “Maybe we should – check?”

It’s not like we trust the Jins, given the way they want to be the next Wens, he meant, and maybe there’s a little bit of Isn’t our sect’s guiding principle to stamp out evil wherever it’s encountered, human or not?

“Sect Leader Nie, I demand an explanation!” Jin Guangshan shouted. “You cannot barge into my territory, threaten my sect’s disciples, take away the prisoners won at war –”

“I’m not so blind as to tell the difference between captivity and torture unto death,” Nie Mingjue snarled in return, not even slightly moved. “Not only did I take the prisoners from Qiongqi Path, I demand you turn over every other one you have, no matter where –”

“Those were legitimately captured prisoners of war! We took them instead of spoils –”

“If the allocation of every penny matters so much to you, you may have the spoils seized by my Nie sect in exchange,” Nie Mingjue said, flicking his sleeve disdainfully. It couldn’t be more obvious what his implication was: that the Jin sect, despite all its riches, cared more for money than for honor.

Jin Guangshan’s eyes narrowed. “It’s most unlike you to get up in arms defending Wens, Sect Leader Nie; wasn’t it just yesterday that you called them all Wen-dogs and sought their utter destruction?”

Nie Mingjue sneered at him, but he continued, oily smile spreading on his face like a stain, “It couldn’t be that Sect Leader Nie has changed his implacable mind so quickly – perhaps it is the pressure of war on a man so young…you should take care for your health, make sure you’re not being unduly confused. People in your family die so very young, after all.”

“Enough nonsense,” Nie Mingjue said, eyes very nearly red in anger. “If my mind is so unclear, why did you choose to follow me during battle? When Wen Ruohan threatened, you dithered and delayed, and when there was no other choice but war, my blade was strong enough for you to hide behind, but when we have peace you rush to the front to claim a position that shouldn’t even exist – no one should be Chief Cultivator, Sect Leader Jin, no sect placing themselves and their own interests above another’s! But if the alternative is you, perhaps I should strive for it after all!”

“Is your brother actually going to try to be Chief Cultivator?” Wen Ning asked Nie Huaisang shyly; he was the only Wen currently inside the Unclean Realm, on account of needing heal his injuries. The remainder were all living in a small valley not far away where Nie sect cultivators kept a close watch.

Nie Mingjue hated injustice above all else, even Wens, but only by the smallest margin; in their new homes they were given food and water and medicine, but not freedom. Too many cultivators, male or female, had hidden themselves among the helpless to launch sneak attacks and assassinations; even children could carry a knife and swear to avenge their fallen parents.

Those like Wen Qing were watched most of all – she led one of the Supervision Offices that everyone had so hated, and she did nothing to stop them; she was indifferent to evil, and to Nie Mingjue that was very nearly the same as evil. It was only that the war had been officially ended that held back his hand; if they had still been at war, he would have executed her without so much as blinking an eye.

Still, Wen Qing had told Wen Ning that she was pleased with their current situation. A true prisoner of war camp, however strict, meant that they would be kept safe from all those who sought personal revenge, and Wen Ning couldn’t help but agree that the trade was worthwhile. The Jin had all but sold opportunities to those who wanted to get in a kick at their fallen bodies, just to say they’d been involved in the Sunshot Campaign; the Nie sect had those types of people, too, glaring and hateful, but the Sect Leader’s military discipline made them too afraid to do anything more than raise angry voices – and what were angry voices, compared to angry hands?

After all, if they’d come even a few shichen later – if Nie Mingjue hadn’t already known where the Wens were being kept, due to his position as sect leader, and been able to fly there on his sword at full speed – it would have been too late for him. Wen Ning didn’t even recall exactly what had happened, but two of them had been beating him and the chief inspector hadn’t stopped them, only told them to be sure to throw his body over the cliff when they were done with him…

“No, of course not,” Nie Huaisang said, pretending to be busy by his side. He had no skill at medicine, but it was a way to spend his time that his brother approved of and wouldn’t interrupt, so he came as often as he could. “He hates the idea, thinks it’s rotten to the core – like we’re all a bunch of sheep, needing a shepherd. No, he’s just saying it to annoy and distract Jin Guangshan. Besides, imagine if they made the position inheritable; that would make me the next one, and wouldn’t that be terrible for everyone?”

“The children young enough not to remember may join the Nie sect as guest disciples, if they wish,” Nie Mingjue said, his tone brooking no argument. “The adults will remain as they are.”

Wen Qing crossed her arms. “There aren’t many cultivators left among us, and it’s fine for all of those - they’d be happy to take up a life farming,” she said. “But those of us who are already on the path of cultivation should not be stymied –”

“You mean your brother, Wen Ning.” Nie Mingjue had some natural sympathy for her position, due to having his own weak-willed younger brother, but not very much. “No. In the end, he’s a Wen; we will not raise snakes to bite us later.”

“What wrong can you put on my brother’s shoulders beyond his surname?” she challenged. “What evil does he have?”

“Indifference to evil –”

“He was hardly indifferent!” she snapped, pushed beyond her limits. “I told him to do nothing, me, and yet he wouldn’t listen, time and time again. He kept Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng hidden after the destruction of the Lotus Pier, smuggled the latter out, even carried him out on his own back, and if that wasn’t enough, he collected what he could of the Jiang masters’ ashes for them – later, when Wei Wuxian asked me for help, he even –!”

She suddenly seemed to realize she’d said too much and shut her mouth.

Nie Mingjue looked at her thoughtfully. “You’ve already said this much,” he said. “There’s no point in stopping now. What did Wei Wuxian ask you to do?”

“Shh, don’t tell anyone I’m here,” Nie Huaisang said, gesturing for Wen Ning to join him in the closet where he was hiding.

Wen Ning, still a little uncomfortable in his new Nie robes, confusedly obeyed, even though he was still sweating from saber practice – he’d had to start over, alongside the children, but to his surprise he’d found that the straightforward brutality of the saber suited some secret resentful part hidden inside of him that wanted nothing more than to chop up everything he saw. “W-what’s going on? Why are we h-hiding? We’re in the Unclean Realm. What can harm us here?”

“Feelings,” Nie Huaisang said. “They’re the worst. My poor brother has to sit out there and listen to it directly, too – the burdens of being Sect Leader. I’m glad it’s not me.”

Wen Ning blinked. “Oh,” he said. “Are Wei-gongzi and Jiang-gongzi still fighting?”

“No, they’ve moved on to crying.”

“They were crying while they were fighting.”

“Yes, well, now they’ve moved to the just crying stage. There’s been lots of hugging, too; they stop for half a breath and then set each other off again, it’s awful. Can’t they be all manly and stoic like we Nie?”

Wen Ning gave Nie Huaisang a doubtful look.

“Well, me excluded, of course,” Nie Huaisang said with a laugh and a wave of his hand. “And anyway, even I only like crying when it’s going to get me something. Or out of something!”

Wen Ning suddenly felt as if he understood much more about his new Sect Leader’s endless frustrations with his younger brother. “But why are you hiding?” he asked.

“I have a reputation of avoiding work to maintain,” Nie Huaisang said, totally puzzlingly, but a few moments later there was a knock at the closet door.

“Huaisang, I know you’re in there. Get out of there and have an emergency,” Sect Leader Nie said. “Anything, as long as it requires my personal attention, and have it happen as soon as their sister, the young madam Jin, arrives – that’ll just set them all off again, especially as she’s pregnant.” A pause. “Do you think I can order Wen Qing to handle this as part of the terms of her parole?”

#mdzs #nie mingjue #nie huaisang #wen qing #wen ning #my fic #my fics #Anonymous

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arctic-comet · 3 years

Text

Osblaineweek2021, Day 2: Prose

I love book quotes. Looking at quotes is one of my favorite ways to to inspire myself to write more fic.

Here’s a small collection of book quotes (and recs!) of where I’ve “found” June and Nick.

This post contains spoilers for the following books/series:

- Lover Mine by JR Ward

- The Wrath and The Dawn duology by Renée Ahdieh

- A Court of Thorns and Roses series by Sarah J. Maas

Lover Mine by J.R. Ward

Summary:

John Matthew has come a long way since he was found living among humans, his vampire nature unknown to himself and to those around him. After he was taken in by the Brotherhood, no one could guess what his true history was- or his true identity. Indeed, the fallen Brother Darius has returned, but with a different face and a very different destiny. As a vicious personal vendetta takes John into the heart of the war, he will need to call up on both who he is now and who he once was in order to face off against evil incarnate. Xhex, a symphath assassin, has long steeled herself against the attraction between her and John Matthew. Having already lost one lover to madness, she will not allow the male of worth to fall prey to the darkness of her twisted life. When fate intervenes, however, the two discover that love, like destiny, is inevitable between soul mates.

It's basically a paranormal love story between two warriors. He's really young (although he's actually a reincarnation of a very old vampire warrior, but he doesn't know that), and she's like 300 years older than him. In this book, she's been raped and abused by a guy who also used to bully him. She escapes, but he saves her life. She's hungry for revenge and wants to die after achieving that goal, but of course eventually changes her mind. In the end he actually serves her rapist to her on a silver platter so that she can kill him (sound like anyone we know?). He literally holds the guy down while she kills him.

They're my ultimate favorite ship in this series, and IMO their relationship eventually develops into one of the strongest ones. This series is a bit of a hit-or-miss for most people, because the language and the writing style are pretty ridiculous in all seriousness. If you decide to read this, I recommend starting the series from the beginning because John and Xhex meet for the first time several books before this one, LOL.

Here are some of the quotes that make me think of Nick and June:

“Besides, the story of the two of them was written in the language of collision; they were ever crashing into each other and ricocheting away—only to find themselves pulled back into another impact.” ― J.R. Ward, Lover Mine

“As his ears rang and his heart broke for her, he stayed strong against the gale force she let loose. After all, there was a reason why here and hear were seperated by so little and sounded one like the other. Bearing witness to her, he heard her and was there for her because that was all you could do during a fall apart. But God, it pained him to see how she suffered.” ― J.R. Ward, Lover Mine

“...the only thing that had tethered her to the earth had been him and it was strange, but she felt welded to him on some core level now. He had seen her at her absolute worst, at her weakest and most insane, and he hadn't looked away. He hadn't judged and he hadn't been burned. It was as if in the heat of her meltdown they had melted together. This was more than emotion. It was a matter of soul.” ― J.R. Ward, Lover Mine

The Wrath and the Dawn duology by Renée Ahdieh

Summary:

One Life to One Dawn. In a land ruled by a murderous boy-king, each dawn brings heartache to a new family. Khalid, the eighteen-year-old Caliph of Khorasan, is a monster. Each night he takes a new bride only to have a silk cord wrapped around her throat come morning. When sixteen-year-old Shahrzad's dearest friend falls victim to Khalid, Shahrzad vows vengeance and volunteers to be his next bride. Shahrzad is determined not only to stay alive, but to end the caliph's reign of terror once and for all. Night after night, Shahrzad beguiles Khalid, weaving stories that enchant, ensuring her survival, though she knows each dawn could be her last. But something she never expected begins to happen: Khalid is nothing like what she'd imagined him to be. This monster is a boy with a tormented heart. Incredibly, Shahrzad finds herself falling in love. How is this possible? It's an unforgivable betrayal. Still, Shahrzad has come to understand all is not as it seems in this palace of marble and stone. She resolves to uncover whatever secrets lurk and, despite her love, be ready to take Khalid's life as retribution for the many lives he's stolen. Can their love survive this world of stories and secrets?

This is a young adult fantasy romance, and basically, Khalid is a lot like Nick. He’s made mistakes that he needs to own, but at the same time he’s forced to commit atrocities he doesn’t want to do. He hates himself and doesn’t believe himself to be worthy of love, and yet he falls in love with Shazi. He's viewed as the villain of the story by everyone aside from Shazi and a few other characters until almost the end of the 2nd book.

“I love you, a thousand times over. And I will never apologize for it.”

―Renee Ahdieh, The Wrath and the Dawn

“It’s a fitting punishment for a monster. to want something so much—to hold it in your arms — and know beyond a doubt you will never deserve it.”

― Renee Ahdieh, The Wrath and the Dawn

“When I was a boy, my mother would tell me that one of the best things in life is the knowledge that our story isn't over yet. Our story may have come to a close, but your story is still yet to be told.

Make it a story worthy of you”

― Renee Ahdieh, The Wrath and the Dawn

“In that moment of perfect balance, she understood. This peace? These worries silenced without effort? It was because they were two parts of a whole. He did not belong to her. And she did not belong to him. It was never about belonging to someone. It was about belonging together.”

― Renee Ahdieh, The Rose & the Dagger

“A boy who'd thrived in the shadows.

Now he had to live in the light.

To live . . . fiercely.

To fight for every breath.”

― Renee Ahdieh, The Rose & the Dagger

A Court of Thorns and Roses by Sarah J. Maas

Summaries:

Book 1

Feyre's survival rests upon her ability to hunt and kill – the forest where she lives is a cold, bleak place in the long winter months. So when she spots a deer in the forest being pursued by a wolf, she cannot resist fighting it for the flesh. But to do so, she must kill the predator and killing something so precious comes at a price ... Dragged to a magical kingdom for the murder of a faerie, Feyre discovers that her captor, his face obscured by a jewelled mask, is hiding far more than his piercing green eyes would suggest. Feyre's presence at the court is closely guarded, and as she begins to learn why, her feelings for him turn from hostility to passion and the faerie lands become an even more dangerous place. Feyre must fight to break an ancient curse, or she will lose him forever.

Book 2

Feyre survived Amarantha's clutches to return to the Spring Court—but at a steep cost. Though she now has the powers of the High Fae, her heart remains human, and it can't forget the terrible deeds she performed to save Tamlin's people. Nor has Feyre forgotten her bargain with Rhysand, High Lord of the feared Night Court. As Feyre navigates its dark web of politics, passion, and dazzling power, a greater evil looms—and she might be key to stopping it. But only if she can harness her harrowing gifts, heal her fractured soul, and decide how she wishes to shape her future—and the future of a world cleaved in two. With more than a million copies sold of her beloved Throne of Glass series, Sarah J. Maas's masterful storytelling brings this second book in her seductive and action-packed series to new heights.

Fantasy romance with explicit sex scenes, and book 2 is a lot better than book 1. Our main character Feyre falls for a really boring fae guy, but also meets the hottest guy she’s ever known. The first guy of course isn't the real love interest (this is a twist this author loves to do). They all end up as prisoners, and the 2nd guy saves her life when the 1st one is totally useless. He also makes her hate him as he does it because he has to. After getting out, she tries to make her old relationship work, but it doesn’t, and guess who swoops in?

I do see some Nick in Rhysand (in addition to his role in the love triangle). They’re both traumatized and prefer to keep a lot of their feelings to themselves. I also see some of the same selflessness in both of them. Rhysand wants Feyre to choose him because she loves him, but he’s willing to accept that she may not, and doesn’t tell her that they’re pretty much destined to be together (it’s a supernatural thing, and he will suffer a lot if she decides she doesn’t want him).

“Everything I love has always had a tendency to be taken from me.”

―Sarah J. Maas, A Court of Thorns and Roses

“It took me a long while to realize that Rhysand, whether he knew it or not, had effectively kept me from shattering completely.”

― Sarah J. Maas, A Court of Thorns and Roses

“Regardless of his motives or his methods, Rhysand was keeping me alive. And had done so even before I set foot Under the Mountain.”

― Sarah J. Maas, A Court of Thorns and Roses

“Because," he went on, his eyes locked with mine, "I didn't want you to fight alone. Or die alone."

― Sarah J. Maas, A Court of Thorns and Roses

“He thinks he'll be remembered as the villain in the story. But I forgot to tell him that the villain is usually the person who locks up the maiden and throws away the key. He was the one who let me out.”

― Sarah J. Maas, A Court of Mist and Fury

“And I wondered if love was too weak a word for what he felt, what he’d done for me. For what I felt for him.”

― Sarah J. Maas, A Court of Mist and Fury

“I was his and he was mine, and we were the beginning and middle and end. We were a song that had been sung from the very first ember of light in the world.”

― Sarah J. Maas, A Court of Mist and Fury

#osblaineweek2021 #osblaine #the handmaid’s tale #nick x june

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bansheeoftheforest · 3 years

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Uh, is there still an angst break? Ignore this ask until your ready if so 👉😎👉

What was the au where Jekylls pushed down the stairs and experiences a skull crackening again? Oh well but I've been thinking of a branch of that where Jekyll doesn't know hes dead like all day. I also cant remember if that was already discussed or not

The lodgers patch him up, he complains of a headache, and goes on his merry way! He's confused why all the lodgers are so nervous and being nice to him all of the sudden, why creature is looking at him with a stange mix of empathy and pity. He was told he fell down the stairs, fell unconscious, and obtained a bit of an injury. He cant fathom why Frankenstein is "The only doctor who can treat him" why he has to constantly go to her for checkups. Why Maijabi is suddenly following him practically everywhere.

Hyde squeezes back control for a moment and tries the potion but it doesn't work. Maybe a bit of pain but certainly no transformation. Jekyll assumes his injury or whatever medication they're giving him to treat it somehow negated the effects

Jekyll complains about "suddenly blacking out" the lodgers know its because his soul is slippery. They tell him it must just be a side effect of the injury and not to worry

How long can they keep it secret from him? When does he find out? Does he? Does it get to be years only for him to realize that he hasn't aged? That he still needs checkups from Frankenstein? Does he learn sooner? Does a lodger crack and say it? Does he rot? Does he notice how so very cold he is. How animals act around him? It's all very interesting,,

I actually did think a bit of Jekyll's kidnappers for the amnesia kidnapping au! When drawing that lil sketch of Henry and O'Leary meeting Robert I had considered making it so O'Leary was suspicious of Lanyon like "Oh theres no news anywhere of someone matching Thomas' description who's missing. But some random people walk up claiming to know him? Begging to take him back with them?" And he'd think they were the kidnappers. But ultimately I decided against it as I felt Lanyon and Rachel were pretty clearly, genuinely concerned for "Thomas" :p

I tried playing assassins creed once, the first(?) one. But the controls were confusing and everything was sorta thrown all at me at once, and I got bored of it quickly

But! I went to the store the other day and just so happened to notice Syndicate was being sold for 15 dollars 👀 So I bought it because funky Victorian assassins and your influence! It's a bit less confusing then the first ac game I tried but why is going down or dropping so hard bdksnks. I'm having quite a bit of fun! If you dont count my rage and annoyance-, the B button refuses to cooperate with me unless I'm looting corpses >:(

The b button being the bane of my existence aside, I AM having fun! I like the funky outfits and I want to play as the girl twin (evie?) forever because her clothes are good and shes better at attacking than jacob(?) For some reason. Probably the stun her weapon has? Oh well! I have not unlocked any new outfits yet, nonetheless I wish there were more.

Also! I was thimking, and my current quests are taking place at 1868? Did I get that right? And Jekyll is like 35 in 1885. So in game he'd be 18! An au like I believe you mentioned sounds very interesting 👀 but I must play more to know what's going on and daydream about it

That would be the resurrection au <3

But god, I really like that branch! Especially combined with the hc that he can't feel pain bc the HJ7 and the transformations made him immune. Frankenstein patched him up and made fleshweaver to heal the crack in his skull but it still has to be bandaged, he surely broke a few bones, yet all he has to do is to be careful because it doesn't even hurt. He doesn't even realize how severe the injuries are because it doesn't hurt, it very well might just have been that he accidentally slipped at the bottom of the staircase and accidentally hit his head on the railing during his fall, rather than getting physically pushed and flying down the stairs, shattering his skull upon impact with the marble floor. Y'know what would be extra fun? If he only starts getting a bit suspicious about how severe the injury was once he realizes his lungs stop breathing for minutes at a time when he gets distracted, or his heartbeat stops dead in his chest. I know that that's not how biology or even creature works but lets say the HJ7 is funky, Zombie Jekyll my beloved. Perhaps he would only fully grasp what had happened once he blacked out too much and 'passed out', but his soul slipped out enough to leave his body unconscious on the floor while his soul/ghost was just... Watching. And it's not until Maijabi (who, as you said, follows him everywhere) immediately calls for more Lodgers saying that Henry's soul is getting unstable and Frankenstein's lousy job is starting to shine through that he fully understands that it was not a mere hit to the head. Or maybe it is when days, weeks, maybe months has passed and the headache never goes away, he only feels how his body starts feeling so much more... Fragile and delicate, that the guilt has eaten Helsby up alive and he corners him and spills everything, knowing he is going directly against what the group agreed to but not being able to keep it a secret much longer-- or maybe Creature would tell him immediately, once Henry is, for once, alone perhaps days after the initial accident. He cannot see Henry struggle to understand what is going on when he already knows what's happening to Henry, his mind, and his body. He doesn't listen to the plan that Frankenstein and the Lodgers has set up and immediately tells Henry the first moment they are alone. That would certainly be horrifying, I can only imagine how the Lodgers would find Henry after that, once he actually knows and manages to process everything. He would be so mad, not only to have been killed in the first place, but also because he was robbed of an afterlife because the Lodgers were selfish and could not accept the consequences of their actions. He would be mad, he would be so pissed and I have no doubt he might actually be mad at Maijabi too for even agreeing to help Frankenstein and the rest of the Lodgers. That anger would not stay long, though. That anger would soon turn into misery and sadness and paranoia so even as Henry has tried to push Maijabi away, Henry still ends up on his doorstep begging him to help him make sure he is not rotting, because no matter what anyone says, he is sure he can see rotten spots and patches on his skin and he is just so scared and jdhfjsdfdsfsfs... <3

Ooooooohhh, I was actually daydreaming about this just this morning! Granted, I woke up at 5 and began to daydream to fall asleep quicker but I still like the thought of O'Leary being suspicious of Robert/Rachel/Jasper/the Lodgers bc he is protective of 'Thomas' and doesn't want anything bad to happen to him and especially with the idea that Henry still has hallucinations and they both think he was abandoned by his family, left to rot at a mental asylum. O'Leary might very well think that it might be Henry's friends and family that dumped him that Henry had 'escaped' the hospital and that's why they knew he was missing since the Asylum itself obviously wouldn't have posted the news... I really liked Jeks idea, okay? Like a lot, I absolutely love it <3

Oh, the oldest AC game I played was Unity bc it was free after the Notre Dame fire, and I can confirm, I played 15 min and could not get through it even if i would have wanted to, it absolutely sucks so i have no doubt the older games are just as frustrating <3

BUT!!!! I'M SO GLAD MY CORRUPTION IS SPREADING AND YOU BOUGHT AND PLAYED IT AND ARE ENJOYING IT SO FAR!!! Trust me, Syndicate truly is an absolutely amazing game and is definitely one of my top 3 games of all time. I sometimes play it w my friend watching me play and trust me, I know that rage of trying to do smt but the character does smt else... or you try to do smt but the game doesn't react and you miss your chance... Oh well, still a wonderful game <3

My friend loves to play as Evie as well but I'm definitely playing Jacob every chance I get and I honestly get a lil pissy when I have to play as Evie bc I always prefer to play male characters, plus, I just like Jacob better bc he is a sweetheart. He is also canonically bisexual as hell!!! Have you met Abberline yet? The police officer? Him and Jacob together is one of my fave ships for the game. I also bought the ultimate/golden/whatever name it was edition so I had a bunch of extra outfits, I love the sherlock holmes outfit for Jacob but my friend keeps bullying me for it </3

Honestly? The time difference is the bane of my entire idea for the au bc if it's during their time Henry hasn't even graduated yet, and definitely not well-known enough for them to actively meet for whatever reason, and if you use the timeline for the jack the ripper dlc (in 1888) a lot of... Less than pleasant things happen so it wouldn't really make a lot of sense for a crossover to happen at that point but maybe it's just bc im a pussy and refuse to play the dlc. Rn, while imagining the au, I just imagine the 1868 timeline to be the same as the TGS timeline. I like to imagine the Frye Twins hearing about Henry and the Society and promptly breaking into his office to ask him to make poison and stuff for them. I also have a feeling that Jacob would flirt wildly with Henry and that Henry would be less-than-amused. It would also be a very fun thing with the fact that there would be two Henrys, with TGS Henry Jekyll and AC Syndicate Henry Green, soo... XD

#Man I really want to hear your journey through syndicate!!!#Oh man I cant wait until you meet Maxwell #and Crawford for that matter #he was the guy I based the crawford in the fic off of bc i had no idea what else to do <3 #OHH there would also be a lot of mixup with Lucy Thorne and TGS Queen Lucy #oh i can imagine them being rivals #that would be fun <3 #ask #darling-dolly-darlene #banshees au #resurrection au #amnesia kidnapping au

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winter-fox-queen · 3 years

Text

We all Deserve a Fairy Tale Chp. 2

(Photo not mine, I found it on Pinterest....maybe @softpedropascal‘s?)

Thank you all for being so awesome about my first chapter! I am not sure where this is going, I just wanted to write a fairy tale with our darling Frankie.

I pronoun, reader insert, not gender neutral - I make a smart remark and mention the gender, but it is only once if you can ignore it. No use of names or y/n. Pretty clean, not even any cursing! :P

Summary: In our last Chapter, our author (you) is bored to death while trying to do an author signing at a bookstore. Frankie comes in and gives you some badly needed sunshine, and leaves...and then...

Chapter Two: In which our Hero is gentle and awkward and our heroine tries not to outdo him.

It was about an hour and a half later. The door opened, I did my straighten up and look like I was successful and interesting routine, my smile warming when I realized Frankie maybe Franklin maybe Francisco had returned.

He pulled his…my…book out of the shopping bag and held it up. A piece of napkin showed that he was a good chunk of the way through. “This is really good, so I thought, hey, why not buy the sequel while the author is in town.”

“That’s lovely! I am always in town, though,” I drop in and try not to wince at how smooth that wasn’t.

He looked at me earnestly. He reminded me of a forest animal. I wondered if I poured some m&m’s into my hand and held it out if I could get him to step closer. No sudden moves, woman. You’ll scare him off.

He shoved his hands in his pockets and stared at me, and I realized I’d been wool gathering instead of actually, you know, trying to make a sale. “So, which one is the sequel…?”

I flushed and tapped a book. “The other one is related, but different people.”

“Huh. OK.” He picked one of each and placed them gently in front of me.

“Thank you,” I said, as I racked my brain for something to perfect to write. But everything sounder like I was a creeper, so I simply signed one, and the second, I wrote, Thank you for making my day.

He picked them up carefully.

“Here, wait…let me give you my business card, and some book marks…that way if you want to tell me what you thought. And if you want to you know, keep in touch. I mean, I have a newsletter. If you want to se what else I’ve got going on.” I capped my blathering with my brightest smile.

His smile had grown more and more as I talked, that perfect dimple reappearing, and he tapped the business card against the cover of his book. “Maybe I will. I mean, how many people can brag that they know an author and can email her and ask her questions about her book?”

“Pretty much everyone,” I say, because I cannot shut up.

He laughed.

I didn’t care if I never sold another book at that store again, that laugh was worth it. I felt a shaky happiness flutter against my ribs.

“Alright,” he said, looking at me. He was looking at me a little sideways, under his lashes, and I wondered if he knew how devasting that look was. “I better go.”

“You are keeping me from my legions of adoring fans,” I pointed out.

He chuckled at this. “Don’t be so hard on yourself. You’re amazing.”

“OK,” I said, because I am so very good with words.

He shuffled a little, and nodded goodbye at me as he went and bought the last of my books.

If he looks back you’ll see him again, if he looks back you’ll see him again if he looks back…

He put his hand on the door and pushed, and just as he stepped outside, he did it. He looked back, and he smiled at me.

“Score.” I said, out loud after the door shut and he was crossing the street to an old red truck.

The clerk sniggered at me.

And hour and a half more later, I was cleaning up. Packing my stuff…getting my money from the clerk, helping her fold the table, rolling my stuff out to the car.

“Time to eat my profits,” I say as I drive to the nearest diner.

I go inside. To the left, a man in a familiar worn cap is reading a book and slowly eating. Oh my God. He’s going to think I’m stalking him.

A waitress comes over. “Booth, or do you want to sit at the counter?”

I sneak a look. Frankie looks up. His eyes widen. He smiles. I smile back. “Booth,” I mutter.

“Follow me.” She says and heads right.

I am the one shuffling this time, uncertain of what direction to go. I take a breath, go left.

“I swear I’m not stalking you.” I say.

“What? No tracking chip in the book?” He opens it and shakes it. Gentle. Like he respects the book and does not want to damage it. Could he be any more perfect?

“Nope, only the big presses can afford that.” I deadpan.

“Miss, where are you sitting?” the waitress asks.

“Here.” Frankie answers for me, and then he blushes and says. “I mean, if you want, I’d love for you to join me.”

“That’d be awesome. I’ve already read all the books I brought with me.”

The waitress takes a paper placemat and wrapped utensils and places them a little harder than needed as I sit down.

“I don’t think she realizes that I’m a best selling author.” I lean forward and whisper.

“I don’t think she’d be impressed by anything. She could find a bomb under the counter and she’d just shrug it off. Have you seen her eyes? I was in the army and I ain’t never seen eyes that cold.”

“You were in the army?” He looked to…gentle. But I looked at him again, and I could see it. The chipping around the edges.

He nods. “I was a pilot.”

“Awesome. Then I know who I can ask for all sorts of details about being a pilot for my next book.”

He nods, his cheeks pinken, but I can tell he’s just so pleased at the idea. I feel like I’ve handed him the biggest compliment.

“So, you’re gonna have a pilot in your next book?” He puts the book aside finally, concentrates on me.

“I am now,” I say.

His smile grows, and the skin around his eyes crinkles so damned prettily. “Nice,” he says, his voice deep and soft and just a little promising.

Dear Diary, I think. Today I was smooth. Thank you God for helping me deliver that line.

“Tell me something that makes you happy,” I say as I grab a menu and try to decide what to get.

He’s carefully putting the book away. “Reading. Being outside. My friends. You?”

I blink. “Umm. Nice men reading my books? Um. The outdoors…yes. I’ve always wanted to go on a long road trip, just see everything?”

He fiddles with his fork, stares down at his plate. I realize if I want to know anything more, I’ll have to do most of the talking. I’m better throwing words down on paper, but I wanted, needed to know more.

“Do you still fly?”

He looked up, his tea-colored eyes clouding over. “No. I work at the airfield, though. I’m a mechanic.”

“So you fix broken birds?”

He seems to take this in. I think he likes the idea, he smiles a little. I imagine those large hands competently working on an engine, or smoothing across the side of a plane.

“Enough about me. I’m boring.” He says. “Tell me about you? Why do you write?”

We talk for a bit, exchange the normal facts – what do you like to read? What do you like to watch on TV? And he parries anything deeper. But I like him. I like his sunshine smile and crinkling eyes and expressive hands and gentle voice.

We talk long enough that I am convinced the waitress hates us and we leave a huge tip to make up for it.

Outside the diner, he walks me to my car. “That was nice,” he says.

“Yes. It really was. If you are ever bored, I’d be happy to do it again sometime.”

He smiles shyly, nods once, and says, softly. “Later.”

I get into my car, and try not to stare at him as he gets in his truck, pulls out. He rolls down his window and waves at me. I wave back, and I think, well. There goes my heart.

And then I laugh at myself for being a stupid romantic goofball. I write a bit of romance, I daydream it…it’s a comforting fairy tale. I knew it wasn’t real.

But as I watched him drive away in his beat up red pickup, I found myself really hoping it was.

#Frankie Morales #frankie morales x reader #pedro pascal #We all deserve a fairy tale

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stepboldlyjess · 3 years

Text

You may have seen an earlier post with the cover art and description for a new book called “When Will This Be Over?” and this is the first chapter! If you want me to, I will continue to post the chapters here, but the story is available on my wattpad. Let me know what you think of this. I am very excited to keep writing!

When Will This Be Over?

Chapter One

The sound of knocking coming from her bedroom door pulled Morrigan out of her book. She had been in a field, the sound of birdsong filling the air and clouds rolling peacefully through the sky.

As she closed the book she called, “Come in!” to whoever was on the other side of the door. When she heard it click open, she looked up to see bright yellow pants paired with a white dress shirt and turquoise shoes. She looked up at the ginger haired man with a large grin on her face before running over to him and wrapping her arms around his waist. “You’re home!”

Jupiter chuckled and squeezed her tightly.

“Oh, I missed you,” Morrigan said into his chest.

“Each time I’ve gone away from home over the past five years, your reaction has never changed. You’re sixteen now, Mog! Most sixteen-year-olds are begging for their fathers to leave them alone.”

Morrigan pulled back and looked up at his face. His eyes held a glint of mischief. “No one has a dad like mine.”

Jupiter smoothed the crinkles from his pants with a rather smug grin. “I am pretty cool, aren’t I?”

Morrigan lightly punched his arm, earning a look of mock shock from him. “Don’t get cocky, buddy.”

Jupiter laughed before walking over to her bed and sitting at the foot of it. “So, how’s school? Almost done your junior years!”

Morrigan moved to where Jupiter was and sat down next to him. “Yeah, school is great. Just a lot of work.” She rubbed her hands over her face as she remembered what classes still needed assignments to be handed in.

“I didn’t much like the workload either, but it’s all worth it in the end, is it not?” asked Jupiter.

“I guess so.” Was it worth it, though? Morrigan was constantly being harassed over her knack so she wasn’t even sure if completing her Wunsoc training as a Wundersmith was worth the effort. If she was going to graduate with nothing to do then what was the point? However she didn’t let Jupiter know she was feeling this way and plastered a fake smile across her lips.

“Exactly.”

Morrigan rested her head on her patron’s shoulder. “Hey, Jupiter?”

“Yes, Mog?”

Morrigan looked up at him with a small smile. “Did you bring me anything from wherever you were?”

“Of course I did! It’s in my study, but we have to wait for Jack to come home before you can open it.”

She rolled her eyes and groaned. “I’m always waiting for someone to come home before I can do anything! Whether it’s you or Jack, I wait and wait and wait!”

Jupiter stared at her for a moment before sighing. “Fine. Let’s go.”

Morrigan giggled and jumped up before walking out of her room and leaving Jupiter to follow her. The closer she got to the study, the faster she walked. Jupiter was constantly telling her to slow down, complaining his body was not what it used to be, but Morrigan wasn’t listening.

She was always excited to receive the presents that came from Jupiter’s trips. The bottom drawer of her dresser was filled with these gifts. Whether they be clothes, or books, or little souvenirs from gift shops, the drawer held them all.

The items always held some importance to the country Jupiter had travelled to. His suitcase once held a replica of the crown that belonged to the queen of the country. That one isn’t in Morrigan’s drawer. Alternatively, she placed it on the head of her skeleton coat rack.

When Morrigan made it to the study she waited for Jupiter to catch up to her and unlock the door. She tried to stay patient but it was impossible; she was too excited for the new present. Instead, she stood rocking back and forth on her heels.

“Quit that,” said Jupiter as he walked up to her. “That’s what I do. That’s my thing. Get your own thing.”

Morrigan playfully rolled her eyes. “Yeah, yeah, alright. Just hurry up!”

Jupiter grabbed keys from out of his pocket and stuck them into the door. He turned them towards the left and pushed the door open.

Morrigan slipped under his arm and sat at the couch she had claimed as hers. It was placed perfectly in front of the fire place. She would get enough warmth while staying perfectly comfortable. On multiple occasions she had fallen asleep in this couch after reading while Jupiter worked.

“You ready, Mog?” asked Jupiter.

Morrigan looked over her shoulder to find Jupiter with his back toward her. “Yup!”

“Okay. Close your eyes and put your hands out.”

She did just as she was told, and after she heard Jupiter’s footsteps coming nearer to her, she felt a weight in her hands. Morrigan kept her eyes closed and squeezed the gift. The wrapping paper crinkled under her fingers which gave her some idea as to what was inside.

“You can look now.”

When she opened her eyes she was met with a somewhat rectangular-shaped package wrapped in brown wrapping paper that featured some gold glitter accents. Morrigan wondered why on Earth people spent so much money on gift wrap if it was only going to end up in the bin.

She flipped the present over and saw a sticker that read “To: Mog. Lots of love, from: Jupiter.”

Morrigan found a taped edge and tore at it. She continued to rip the paper apart until a pile of fabric fell out. She picked it up and fumbled with it until she could spread it out and see it for what it was: a dress. It was black but shone with gold glitter in the light.

She placed it on the couch and ran up to Jupiter to hug him for a second time that day. “I love it. Thank you!”

Jupiter kissed the top of her head before replying. “I’m glad you like it. That dress is extremely special.”

Morrigan sat back down in the couch and waited to hear the story about this certain present. This was always her favourite bit of Jupiter’s return. It was a couple of minutes alone with him. Whether it be with him and Jack, or just himself, it was something she took pleasure in. She enjoyed learning about where the new item came from and the significance it held.

Jupiter took a seat in the couch next to Morrigan and got comfortable. He then began his story.

“Years and years and years ago, there was a Wundersmith.” He paused and watched as Morrigan’s smile grew wider and she sat up straighter. Presents that had something to do with Wundersmiths made Morrigan feel special, like Jupiter had personalised this gift for her.

“Go on...” urged Morrigan.

“No one knew her name, but everyone knew she had a talent for clothes making. She would use Wunder and work it in fascinating ways to make something new. Her most famous works were made for the young children who lived in poverty around her. She would make sweaters and cosy pants and beanies for the winter, as well as cooler clothing for the summer.”

Morrigan was in awe of this woman. Maybe finishing at Wunsoc would be worth it. Maybe once she left, she would be able to do great things like this lady had. Maybe she would be able to make people happy.

“Nobody knew the reason of her death. No one had heard from her for a while, and it was then announced that she had died. A couple of months later, news broke out that there was one more dress that had not been sold or given out. It was found inside her old home and placed in her country’s Wundrous Arts Museum—“

“Hold on. Wundrous Arts Museum?” Morrigan was shocked. Was there a museum in Nevermoor that was dedicated to Wundersmiths? How did she not know about this?

“Sorry, Mog. There isn’t one in Nevermoor,” said Jupiter solemnly. “There used to be but they took it down after the Courage Square Massacre. People thought if you stepped foot in there you would get attacked by a Wundersmith. I would’ve loved to take you there, but unfortunately I cannot. You can thank your friend Squall for that one.”

Once again, Squall had ruined something for Morrigan.

“Okay, so the dress was put into the Wundrous Arts Museum,” prompted Morrigan.

“Yes. Correct,” nodded Jupiter. “It has stayed there since it’s discovery. Well, until now,” he said gesturing to the dress Morrigan held in her hands.

“This is it?”

“Yes.”

“The dress?”

“The one and only.”

“It’s not a replica?”

“Nope.”

“How did you get it?”

“I know people.”

“Jupiter, thank you so much!”

Morrigan sprung up from her couch and jumped onto his, wrapping her arms around his neck.

Jupiter chuckled, “Mog, you’re gonna have to stop doing that. I’m getting old.”

“Right. Sorry.” Morrigan hastily moved off him and back to the dress. “How do you know it’ll fit?”

“That’s simple. It’s Wunder. You’re a Wundersmith. I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”

Morrigan chuckled before realising something else. “Is Jack’s present as good as mine?”

“Oh goodness no,” laughed Jupiter. “I’m kind of glad you wanted to open them at separate times. I can’t imagine how he would have reacted if he saw the two gifts in comparison.”

“What did you get him?”

“A book.”

“A book?”

“Yeah.”

“Nothing special about it? Just a book?”

“Unfortunately it’s just a book.”

Morrigan’s lips curled at the edges but she tried to hide her smirk.

“What?” It seemed as though Jupiter saw her struggling.

“Nothing.”

“Come on, Mog. You’re doing your weird smile-smirk-face. What is it?”

“It’s just that I sense some favouritism, that’s all.”

Now it was Jupiter’s turn to roll his eyes. “There is no favouritism, Mog. It’s just that there was an opportunity to get you an amazing present, yet I was not able to live up to that standard for Jack. That’s all.”

Morrigan nodded sarcastically. “Sure, keep telling yourself that.”

“Well, it is the truth, so I will.” Jupiter stuck his nose in the air with what he must have thought was authority. “Now, go put that in your room and wash up for dinner. I’m hungry.”

“Yes, Jupiter,” said Morrigan playfully.

“And I don’t want to hear anymore about this favouritism nonsense.”

“Oh, no, definitely not.” Morrigan shook her head as though to prove a point but as she left the room, she called out “I’m your favourite!” before sprinting all the way to Room 85.

While she was running through the halls of the Deucalion, the dress in her hand, Morrigan let the smile take over her face. She was glad she had found happiness after all those years, but there was one question nagging at the back of her mind that she had tried to forget about for the past five years:

When will this be over?

#nevermoor #wundersmith #hollowpox #nevermoor fan fiction #morrigan crow #jupiter north #jupidad #when will this be over?

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hljournal · 4 years

Photo

Today’s author is suspendrs / @suspendrs ! Don’t forget to give the fics kudos and leave a comment!

to the cloud and the cold (2k)

Or, Louis is a Summer Fairy, Harry is an Autumn Fairy, and the autumn equinox is the best day of the year.

fearless (97k)

“You’re my best friend, Louis,” Harry says, barely above a whisper. Even if he was yelling, Louis wouldn’t be able to believe his ears. “And I know it’s been a while, but you’re still the person I consider my best friend,” Harry says.

Louis blinks, and then blinks again. “I honestly cannot say the same, Harry,” he says.

Or, Harry left home without a word after high school, and a lot can change in ten years.

just a little dance (1k)

“Keep your head up, love,” he says, pulling away and grabbing Harry’s hands. “Dance with me.”

“I don’t want to dance,” Harry pouts, but he lets Louis pull him into the center of the dark kitchen, anyway.

“Just a little dance,” Louis says, tugging Harry’s hands until he’s flush against his front.

Or, a tiny drabble based on the cutest lyric from perfect now

ferricadooza! (65k)

Harry can’t even fathom the idea of surrendering; he’d fight ‘til he died, if he had to, anything to keep from surrendering.

Or, the year is 1963, homosexuality is illegal in the UK, Louis owns a gay bar, and Harry’s an underground boxing champion with an unfortunate enemy.

at last, at last (41k)

“Come with us,” Tommo says, stopping at the other end of the gymnasium, near the doors. “Don’t let them make you suffer any longer. Come with us, and be human.”

Before Harry has even finished thinking it through, he’s on his feet, gaining the attention of every single person in the gymnasium. What has he got to lose, anyway?

Or, Harry is born into a cult in a post-apocalyptic world, and Louis is the leader of the rebel group tasked with the mission of shutting them down. Together, they make a rather effective team.

the act of making noise (32k)

“Oh,” Harry frowns, waving him off. “No, I could never. I respect myself too much to sing for a living.”

It feels like a slap across the face, but Louis does his best not to stiffen, blinking once and then frowning. “What?”

“Those people are always so miserable, you know?” Harry says, hopping down off his stool and straightening his sweater. “There’s so much pressure on them, and they have to work so hard to keep up appearances, I can’t even imagine how difficult that is. I can’t even stand to listen to pop music today, let alone watch TV or read the magazines. It makes me so sad, thinking that those people, you know, the ones who actually went into it with heart, they only ever just wanted to make music and instead they got turned into things on leashes being paraded around to make money for other people,” he says. “Anyway, you can have the stool.”

Or, Louis's famous, Harry has no idea who he is, and they get snowed in together at a ski lodge in Vermont.

walls (20k)

The thing about having been on the move so much for the past five years is that now, once they’re finally able to sit down and rest for a bit, they don’t really know what to do with themselves. Louis loved the pace of the band, for all he and the others complained about it; he isn’t very fond of sitting still, and he absolutely loathes boredom, and there was very little space in their lives for either of those things while they were so busy putting out an album every year and touring more often than not. Being in the same room as Harry while neither of them are under the pressure of keeping up appearances feels like being in a room with a total stranger, and the amount of trouble they’re having trying to get to know each other again is really rather alarming.

Or, a love one whole decade in the making, inspired by Louis's debut album.

fine line (22k)

There’s still a lot of things they don’t talk about, a lot of things they don’t bring home with them at the end of the day, and a lot of things that don’t even need to be said. The world is the world and it sucks sometimes, but it’s far away when Harry’s at home and Louis’s here with him and none of it needs to matter when it could just as easily be ignored. Harry tries to open up sometimes, tries to bring Louis into his world, but Louis’s got a world of his own to tend to, and it feels like more often than not they are on two separate planets and the universe just keeps expanding.

Or, a love three more years in the making, inspired by Harry’s sophomore album.

out for a duck (2k)

“Well, once I got control of Clifford, I took him right back to the house and changed my clothes and gave him one hell of a dressing down, let me tell you,” he scoffs. “And then I felt so bad I went back out to see if the duck had gone back to her eggs, and that Clifford hadn’t damaged them or hurt the duck at all. She wasn’t there when I got back, and I sat there for hours waiting for her, but she never showed her face! She just up and abandoned her babies, just left them there cold and alone, all because a dog barked at her,” he sighs, shaking his head.

“Still not sure why the eggs are now in my kitchen,” Louis frowns.

“I couldn’t just leave them there!” Harry says. “It was my fault they were abandoned! Well, Clifford’s fault, but whatever. I couldn’t live with myself if I just left them there to die. So I came back to the house and got a bowl and some gloves and scooped them up so I could bring them home and keep them warm until they hatch.”

Or, Harry accidentally adopts two duck eggs.

what’s inside your imagination (is as real as anything else) (3k)

“Hey!” Niall shouts suddenly, scaring Harry nearly out of his hat. “We like your costume!”

The ghost turns to glance at Niall, producing a hand from under the sheet and giving him a thumbs up. Harry can’t help but laugh a little more, the casual gesture adding to the entire vibe of the sunglasses-wearing ghost.

The ghost looks at them for a moment longer before turning and disappearing into the crowd again, and Harry sighs. “I love Halloween,” he says thoughtfully.

Or, Harry's a witch who likes to pretend he's a human pretending he's a witch, and Louis's the human in a not-so-clever costume that keeps catching his eye.

satellite (100k)

“It’s been three years since I’ve had a proper hot meal,” Louis says finally. “I have no idea where my family is, or if any of them are even still alive. The only reason I’ve been able to keep myself alive for as long as I have is because I keep to myself, stay guarded, stay hidden. It’s the only way I know how to live,” he says.

Harry wants to cry, but he tries to put on a brave face when Louis finally meets his eyes. “You’re safe here. You don’t have to be so guarded around me,” Harry says quietly, earnestly.

“That’s very sweet of you,” Louis says, putting his fork down. “But yes I do. Especially around you.”

Or, Harry finds out that someone's been living in his house without him knowing, but instead of kicking him out, he falls in love with him.

sugar in a plum (4k)

“I’m your dad,” Harry says softly, extending his hand to Plum for her to have a sniff. Plum considers for a moment, looks up at Louis, and then bites Harry’s finger.

“Ow!” Harry shrieks, pulling his hand away quickly. He’s not bleeding, but Plum’s teeth are incredibly sharp, he feels like he’s been stabbed with ten tiny needles. “Jesus, Lou, I thought we were getting a cat, not a demon.”

Or, Harry's new kitten is out to ruin his life.

there are no atheists in foxholes (64k)

“Do you think we’ll ever see it again?” Harry asks after a minute. “London?”

Louis blinks, looking down. They very well could spend the rest of their lives on this island, and they’re both very aware of that. Everyone probably already thinks they’re dead, anyway. Their flats are going to be sold, and their families are going to have funerals, and life is going to go on without them. Even if they do get rescued, it’s already been days. The news of the shipwreck has definitely reached London by now. They don’t know if there’s been any effort to look for survivors, but they also don’t know how far away from the wreck they are, or how far people are going to go to look for them, or if anyone even knows that this island is here and, like, it’s very possible that they’ve already looked and stopped looking for survivors, and no one knows they’re out here-

“I don’t know,” Louis says, before he can start spiraling. “I hope so, but I don’t know.”

Or, the sea takes everything from Louis, but it gives him back more than he ever could’ve asked for.

it ain’t right, but isn’t it amazing (7k)

It’s all Niall’s fault, as most things are. Niall’s the one that made the bloody Tinder account in the first place, and the one that added every decent looking photo of Louis he could find on his phone, and the one that swiped right on the first fifteen guys that popped up. Yeah, Louis might have done the rest of the work that landed him here, in the men’s toilets of a Japanese restaurant in west London with vomit dripping down his chin and down the very, very attractive chest of the very, very attractive man in front of him, but Niall started it.

Or, Harry takes Louis for sushi on the first date. It doesn't go well.

keep this love in a photograph (48k)

“I could never forget a damn thing about you, Harry Styles, not even if I wanted to,” Louis says. His hair falls into his face when he glances over at Harry, the moonlight reflecting off of it and making it glow golden, like maybe Louis himself is the sun.

Harry thinks of how dark and cold his life got once Louis went away, how Harry got a taste of the sweetest sunshine imaginable and then was plunged into the longest winter of his life. He feels like he’s been buried under mounds of snow for months, years, and he’s finally made it to spring, finally getting another taste of how wonderful life can be.

Or, it’s 1919, and Harry’s been falling in love with his best friend for his entire life.

thrills don’t come for free (4k)

The night before comes back to him slowly, puking in the toilet at the club and then falling asleep in his car in the parking lot. He closes his eyes again for a moment until he realizes that the car is on and moving, and someone is driving it that isn’t him.

He picks his head up and peers between the seats, catching sight of a perfect stranger sitting behind the wheel, singing quietly and driving Louis’s car.

Or, Louis has a bit too much to drink and falls asleep in the backseat of Harry's car.

not even the gods above (25k)

The thing is, though, this isn’t good enough for Harry. Sure, he has the rest of his life to be a notable king, but he wants to be notable now. He wants to bring the two kingdoms together and he wants to do it early on, wants to be the one to facilitate the merge until it seems like the two kingdoms were one all along. He doesn’t want to wait, but everyone he’s turned to thinks waiting is the right choice, so he supposes he has to trust them.

That is, of course, until a declaration of war from the Kingdom of Tomlinson shows up at his palace.

somewhere far away from here (12k)

“Harry,” Louis says, squeezing his arm. “Do you know her?”

“My sister,” Harry mutters, eyes glued to the screen.

“What’s she saying?” Louis asks, voice quiet. “What does she want?”

“Me,” Harry murmurs, hardly a breath. “She knows I’m here.”

Or, Harry's sister comes to Earth to bring him home, but Harry's got a few things keeping him here.

i’ll take your pain (2k)

It’s kind of romantic when Harry thinks about it, feeling all the pain of the person he’s supposed to love for the rest of his life. Sure, it’s rather inconvenient when he’s in class and his soulmate gets kicked in the balls, or when he’s sleeping and his soulmate knocks his head or his knee off something. It’d be nice if the function helped them to find each other, but Harry supposes he can live with knowing that they’re destined to run into each other someday.

Or, soulmates have the ability to feel each other's pain, and Harry finds his after getting his arse waxed. (Or, the soulmate au crack fic I can't believe I actually wrote.)

the pink album (31k)

They don’t really discuss how hard it is to be in this situation, or to be doing the things they have to do to continue being together. It’s just something they don’t talk about, and that’s alright. Or maybe it isn’t, but they’ll cross that bridge when they get to it.

Or, a love seven years in the making, inspired by Harry's debut album.

i’ll make this feel like home (41k)

It’s nerdy, much nerdier than anything Harry would have engaged in back home. Perrie and Ed are singing some song from West Side Story and Stan is just giggling along, and it’s almost weird how weird Harry doesn’t find it. Liam and Niall would be running as fast as they could from this interaction, but somehow, Harry finds himself giggling along as well.

Maybe it’s because no one in this group seems like they should belong in this group, but Harry feels like he fits right in. He feels more himself than he has in weeks when Louis plops down beside him for a couple moments and throws out another title to add to their movie marathon. Even though he can’t contribute to the conversation about musicals and he has no idea whether The King and I or Oklahoma is more important, he never feels like an outsider.

Or, Harry is new to Plymouth and has had a rough start, but Louis won't rest until he makes it start to feel like home.

dirty laudry looks good on you (19k)

“So um, Niall mentioned you haven’t lived here long. What brings you to London?”

“What is this, an interview?” Louis smirks, stealing Harry’s drink and taking a sip. “Wanted a change of scenery. Dunno.”

Harry hums and takes his drink back, narrowing his eyes playfully at Louis as he takes a long sip. “Can I buy you a drink, or would you rather keep sharing mine?”

“You most certainly can buy me a drink,” Louis grins, grabbing the bottle back out of Harry’s hand, “but I’m still going to be stealing yours.”

Or, Harry is jaded and sad and resigned to be forever alone, until Niall sets him up with a friend of his whose broken pieces may just fit pretty well with Harry's.

we’ve got to get away from here (23k)

“It is my understanding that you are the most comprehensive member of this agency in the field of extraterrestrial life, is that right?” the agent asks. He’s trying to sound calm, but Louis can tell he’s shaken as well.

“Um, I guess so,” Louis says, glancing over at the man in the blanket again.

Suddenly, Louis’s blood runs cold. There’s something off about the man, something in his gaze, something Louis can’t put his finger on. It’s terribly unsettling, but excitement bubbles in his gut.

Or, Louis is an FBI agent who likes to think himself a paranormal expert, and Harry is the alien that somehow ended up in his office.

in midnights, in cups of coffee (15k)

“Sorry about the sugar,” Louis says, backing toward his own flat. “Bundle up before you go out.”

Harry smiles so sweetly then that Louis can’t imagine he’ll even need the sugar, if the muffins aren’t sweet enough just because they were made by him. “Thanks,” he says, eyes lingering a little longer on Louis before he lets himself back into Gemma’s apartment, and then Louis is just standing in the hallway by himself.

Or, Louis is overworked and cold, Harry is stressed out, and they might be in love.

come away with me (80k)

Or, Louis has to pick up the pieces of his and his daughter's life after his wife dies, and Harry is a beautiful stranger that just wants to help.

in the night (19k)

Or, the self-indulgent reversed pov and slight continuation of come away with me.

my song has not been sung (2k)

Or, Harry is watching a protest from the sidelines until a boy with a rainbow flag and a pretty smile drags him right into the middle of it.

i’ll be home for christmas (12k)

Or, Louis and Harry can’t decide where to go on Christmas.

autumn leaves (27k)

Or, Harry is an American soldier in France during World War II, and Louis is a French waiter that doesn't mean to fall in love with him.

we’ve got unfinished business (7k)

Or, there’s a ghost in Harry and Louis’s apartment that seemingly just wants them to date.

falling in love with you again (4k)

Or, three times in which Louis fell in love with Harry all over again.

heading for a small disaster (20k)

Or, Harry drives an Uber and Louis’s life is falling apart.

don’t stop to worry (4k)

It was just supposed to be a trim today, to skim off the dead ends of his hair. He had no idea it’d end the way it did.

Or, Harry cuts his hair. It's kind of a big deal.

diamonds, they fade (1k)

The cold does nothing tonight but remind Louis of the boy he left inside, the boy that’s curled up under the blankets by himself right now, the boy that’s probably going to come looking for him soon when he wakes up and Louis isn’t there.

Or, Louis has insomnia.

maps can be poems when you’re on your own (19k)

Or, Harry falls in love with the guy his best friend is fooling around with.

we could be enough (4k)

Or, Harry runs an anonymous crush confession column in the school newspaper and Louis has quite the crush to write in about.

no place to call home (22k)

Or, Louis isn't Peter Pan and Harry isn't Wendy and Neverland is nothing like Harry thought it would be, but it's perfect anyway.

show a little mercy (3k)

Louis hates him so, so much. But then again, he’s never loved someone quite so fiercely.

Or, Louis and Harry try to break up. (Or, a drabble based on Love You Goodbye)

kiss me on the mouth and set me free (17k)

Or, Louis is a gamer and Harry is a beauty guru, and VidCon is a good place to fall in love.

sing me like a choir (17k)

Or, Harry is nervous to do actual makeup on his channel, until his boyfriend Louis helps him out.

please don’t bite (21k)

Or, Harry releases his own line of beauty products, and Louis feels abandoned when Harry’s newfound fame gets the best of him.

underneath the christmas tree (17k)

Louis sends Harry on a scavenger hunt on Christmas Eve.

to be loved and to be in love (50k)

Harry and Louis' first year as a couple, as captured by snippets of home movies.

hope your heart is strong enough (4k)

Prompt: Set in the US, Harry spends Thanksgiving with Louis' family, or vice versa. Chaos ensues.

to watch you fall (16k)

Or, Harry is lonely and Louis is engaged to be married.

give me your hand and i’ll hold it (18k)

Prompt: Harry (9) moves in next to Louis (11). They have little roofs under their bedroom windows and like to sit there and talk. Seven years later, Louis has to leave for college.

you make me strong (14k)

Louis comes home from war with a few more problems than he left with, but Harry can't find it in himself to let him go.

#faaw #fics

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fremedon · 3 years

Text

Brickclub 2.5.10, “How Javert Came to Find the Bird Had Flown”

Here we meet Javert at the beginning of his corruption.

I am now firmly sold on the idea that Javert broke his geas when he killed Fantine. In taking a life the law had no claim on, he has lost his ability to act as an empty vessel for the law.

He has none of the self-awareness about his corruption that he will have started, barely, to develop by the barricade. He doesn’t seem to realize or acknowledge any culpability in Fantine’s death:

The name of Fantine was well known to him. He remembered that Jean Valjean had made him burst out laughing by asking for three days’ grace to go fetch that creature’s child. He recalled that Jean Valjean had been arrested in Paris as he was getting into the coach for Montfermeil. Some indications even then had led to speculation that it was the second time he was taking that coach, and that he had already made a previous trip the day before to somewhere on the outskirts of that village, for he had not been seen in the village itself. Why was he going to that place, Montfermeil? No one could work it out. Javert now understood. Fantine’s daughter was there. Jean Valjean was going to fetch her.

But he must be starting to realize that his instincts and his self-gaslighting are more openly at war with each other than they used to be. In Arras, months after recognizing Valjean and making a meticulous case against him, he immediately throws it all out when presented with an officially-identified Jean Valjean, makes a positive identification of Champmathieu, and is certain enough about it to recount the whole story to Valjean’s face.

But here, officialdom (and the newspaper) says that Valjean is dead; Javert’s instincts say Valjean is alive (and, given free rein, lead him straight to the Pont d’Austerlitz); and Javert...doubts. He hesitates, waits for verification he doesn’t need, wastes time going for backup.

But at the same time, Javert is also enjoying his job on a personal level. From being an empty vessel, Javert has become “an artist,” and in this context that is not a good thing.

And then there’s that pinch of snuff once he thinks he has Valjean cornered. I always think that this passage cannot possibly be as horny as I remember it being, and it is always even hornier:

Then he began to have fun. He experienced a moment of fiendish delight, letting his man go on ahead, knowing he had him in his grasp but wanting to delay to the utmost the moment of arrest, taking pleasure in being aware that the man was caught; and seeing him free, gloating over him with that relish the spider takes in the flitting of the fly and the cat takes in the scurrying of the mouse. Claws and talons enjoy a monstrous thrill: that is, the unseen movements of the creature imprisoned in their grip. How delicious is this snuffing-out! Javert was in ecstasy. His net was firmly staked. All he had to do now was tighten his grip. With the backup he had, the very idea of resistance was absurd, no matter how energetic, strong, and desperate Jean Valjean might be. Javert advanced slowly, delving into every nook on his way down the street, as into the pockets of a thief. When he reached the center of his web he found the fly was gone. You can imagine his fury.

We kind of don’t need to, Victor. You’ve spelled things out very clearly.

I remember mentioning when we met Javert that he was the only major character whose introduction did not immediately situate him with regard to Napoleon. And we do get a Napoleon reference at the end of this chapter: “Certainly, Napoleon made mistakes during the war in Russia,” at the start of the long litany of colossal mistakes made by great men. It is telling that Javert only gets the Great Man comparisons here, at the start of his corruption and in the moment of his failure.

But even though the Napoleon reference is to the Russian campaign and not to Waterloo, I think it is supposed to prime us to think about Waterloo, because the long dissection of Javert’s failures brings us to this:

Great strategists have their weaknesses.

The greatest follies, like the stoutest ropes, are often composed of a multitude of strands. Take the cable thread by thread, take separately each petty determining motive, and you can snap them one by one and say, ‘There’s no more to it than that!’ Braid them and twist them together, and what you have is momentous: Atilla wavering between Marican in the east and Valentinian in the west, Hannibal lingering at Capua, Danton going to sleep at Arcis-sur-Aube.

We’re back to watching fatalité at work in history--accident, carelessness, oversight, the accumulation of small debts, the guide who points the wrong direction. Javert is getting the Great Man treatment, Doylistically, because Valjean already has, and he needs to be well-matched as a threat. But we’ve already seen that great men can be--and should be, must be--brought down by small things. A single failure isn’t a judgement Javert’s skills or potential, or the new level of personhood he’s starting to develop--but we should be asking what those skills, and that potential, are in service of.

Other stray observations:

The old verger, “muttering prayers and spying through his prayerfulness,” does not inspire confidence in the convent as a refuge.

“In this world there are two beings that shudder to their core: the mother finding her child and the tiger finding his prey. Javert felt this profound thrill.” FUCK YOU JAVERT, that should have been Fantine’s feeling and you stole it from her.

Besides the by-this-point usual tiger images for Javert, Valjean is both a stag hunted by hounds, and a lion.

Javert has learned the streets of Paris extremely thoroughly in less than a year on the job.

#brickclub #lm 2.5.10

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40sbarnes · 4 years

Text

Medici: Spymasters of Florence

Chapter 6: Don’t Shoot the Messenger

part 6! its a little long i know but i hope you all enjoy it nontheless!

tw for this chapter: mention of blood and some gore towards the end, pls be careful <3

pairings; lorenzo x reader, (friends) francesco x reader

taglist; @brynthebulldozer @mythicalamphitrite @nano035 @valravnsraven

The fresh linen sheets of the Medici home were calling your name as you made your way down the high street, playing go-fish in unsuspecting Florentine's pockets. However, it wasn't those linen sheets and four poster bed you were retiring in, you were heading home. At least you'd be away from Lorenzo, no bed quality could counter that particular luxury. It has been mission after mission since you began working for Lorenzo, with Jacopo calling on you more and more also, you were exhausted, not to mention the stress of double crossing the Pazzis. You forced yourself not to imagine the consequences if your betrayal were to be found out. You weren't sure how much longer this could go on. You thought it best to wait for something big from Lorenzo to tell Jacopo, so you could go back to just being a Pazzi spy. The extra Medici money was nice, sure, but you'd gotten by before without it, and you weren't certain it was worth all this extra stress. Although something inside you enjoyed working against Pazzi, finally feeling like you were on the right side, your morals weren't going to pay for your meals at the end of the day. You were almost home now, your fingers rapidly losing their stickiness. You decided to think more on the future after some rest.

The sun was still high in the sky but you were in desperate need of sleep, and were in no mood to wait for nightfall. You skipped up the steps to your room, quickly locking the door behind you, sliding your trusty wooden chair under the door handle for extra security. Your eyes instantly landed on your bed, your fingers fumbled behind you to loosen the drawstrings of your dress before you collapsed into it.

"I don't think I pay you enough for this," standing up straight at the sudden voice you grabbed your dagger, aiming it towards the noise. At the last second your eyes registered Lorenzo perched on a chair in the corner of your room, a shadow cast across his figure. You moved your wrist just in time that as you threw the blade across the room it landed squarely in the wall beside his ear, rather than in him.

"That is no way to treat a guest in your home," Lorenzo glanced at the blade inches from his head, pulling it out of your wall to play with it instead. "Have I taught you nothing?" He continued his mockery.

"You are not a guest," you relaxed your posture, surveying the room, wondering the obvious, "that implies you are welcome here." How did he get in? Lorenzo was taken aback for a moment, it is evident he is still not quite accustomed to the way you treat him, in such contrast to the people he is usually surrounded with.

"Why are you here, Lorenzo?" You asked when he didn't have a snarky remark.

"You and I, we have a very poor line of communication," he began explaining, still examining the blade in his hands, "I have a mission for you, yet we have no scheduled meeting so what else was I to do?" The grandeur in which he spoke would lead weaker minded people to believe he was making an ounce of sense.

"Not break into my home?" You suggested, collapsing onto your bed, which felt undeserving of that title after your sleepover at the Medici's. Your eyes fluttered closed as your head hit your pillow regardless, the exhaustion fully washing over your body.

"Well this couldn't wait, I need you to do this tonight," he continued. You groaned into your pillow, you just wanted a break. "The Pazzi's are delivering something important t-"

You spun to lay on your back, staring at the ceiling, "The Pazzi's?"

"Yes. There's whisperings of a contract of some sort with the Orsini's. Some type of document anyways. It cannot be delivered."

"The Orsini's?" You asked, finally turning to face Lorenzo, looking at him sideways from where you laid.

"Yes we've established the two names," Lorenzo sighed, agitated.

"As in, Clarice Orsini?" You sat up, leaning on your hands.

"Precisely. That's why Jacopo can't reach her uncle before the marriage," he connected the dots for you.

"So you think she'll agree?"

"Mother seems to think so," Lorenzo took a breath, "truthfully we haven't heard from her since the balcony. I hadn't really thought of it since, my mind had been more occupied with fainting spies," his lips turned upwards for a moment, and you shared the tiny grin with him.

"Jacopo certainly doesn't want you to marry her," you informed.

"Hmm?" He hummed, waiting for you to continue.

"I spied on her today, to see if she'd go through with it."

"Are you sure that wasn't your personal vendetta?" He chuckled.

You brushed past his remark before you spent too long thinking about it, "Your cousin tried to convince her, but she didn't seem sold. No offence."

Lorenzo hung his head for a moment, focusing intently on your cracked flooring. "Well, all the more reason tonight is so important."

At that you laid back down, all you wanted to do tonight was sleep. "What is it you want me to do?" Your eyebrows furrowed as your eyes closed.

"Use your talents. Intercept the messenger before he reaches Orsini, it’s only a slip of parchment. Just don't get caught," he stood up from where he was seated. You opened your eyes to study him as he moved.

"And return it to you afterwards?" You glanced upwards as he walked closer to you.

"No. Not tonight. I'm... busy," his eyes didn't meet yours. The slight hesitation told you far more than it should've. You turned to look towards the wall.

"Poor Ardinghelli," you sighed, reaching into your dress for your poison. Lorenzo's hand grabbed yours, forcing you to look back at him. He didn't say a word as he took the poison from you, handing you back your dagger in its place. Lorenzo’s lack of comment about his visiting Lucrezia proved the insinuation to be true.

"Relax!" You rolled your eyes as you secured your knife back into its holster. "I wasn't even-"

"Meet tomorrow in my office at dusk," Lorenzo headed for the door. You just nodded, silenced by his sudden seriousness. He removed the chair from the door, going to open it. "Be careful," the foreign words were quiet as they fell from his lips, the sound of the door closing behind him threatening to hide them completely.

—-

A yawn escaped your lips, you hadn't gotten a chance to sleep. You knew if you had rested for the few hours of the mission you wouldn't have gotten back up in time. Instead, you changed into one of your darker coloured dresses, securing a simple belt around your waist to hold a thin sword on. You still had your dagger holstered onto your thigh, but this dress didn't have a leg slit, and the sword was much easier to spar with. You donned a dark cloak on top also, to conceal the sword and your face on the off chance you were spotted.

You had left just after sundown, headed straight for the docks. They were close enough that you could see if someone were to leave the Pazzi property, and you thought you may as well exchange some of the goods you'd collected with Carolina while you waited.

"You don't look so good," she commented.

"Don't get these types of comments from Ol'Bart," you joked, counting the coins she'd handed you, peering up at her from under your hood.

"I'm serious, y/n," she raised a cold finger to your face, trailing your cheekbone which was much more prominent on your face these days. "You're losing the red in your cheeks."

"That's because you don't pay me enough for a proper meal, Carolina," you continued teasing her, you didn't need her coddling you.

"Uh huh," she raised an eyebrow, dropping an extra gold coin into your palm.

"Thank you," you sang, before leaving her stall. The night was getting darker by the second, you imagined the messenger would be leaving soon. You made your way closer, maintaining a safe distance but gaining a clear line of sight. You glanced upwards as a small droplet fell onto your cloak. Watching the dark clouds above begin to spill. Any minute now...

...Any hour now. You had been waiting in the rain for hours. You had made your way up onto a roof of a nearby building after a while. The traffic of people on the streets had all but died down. All the stalls at the dock were closed, Carolina had long gone home. Lorenzo's information must have been off. All this time, you could've been sleeping. Another yawn slipped from your lips at the thought. The poison was definitely not fully out of your system, you still felt that strange weakness that came with it. You rested your chin on your hands, debating how much longer you should wait before heading home. You felt like you had probably already waited past that point.

Then you heard it, it was loud in the silence of the night. The Pazzi gate creaking open. A dark figure emerged, glancing down the streets before heading off, in the direction you already knew he'd be going. You held in a snort, should've looked up, buddy. You waited a moment before trailing him, dropping onto the next roof with barely any sound. He was quick, being able to walk on a stable path, but you were able to keep up easily for the most part. It was taking a lot of effort to control your breathing, but you were managing. That was, until he made a turn down an alley, and the building was much taller than the roof you were on, there was no way you'd reach it.

Your eyes locked onto him, he was barely taking in his surroundings, and he’d probably gotten used to these simple deliveries. You carefully lowered yourself off the roof, on the opposite side of the building from him, onto the street. You peered around the corner afterwards, he was still headed on in the same direction. You began following him, keeping to the shadows. This wasn't going to be as easy as you'd imagined. It was a lot harder to pick pocket when you were the only two people on a rainy street. But it wasn't impossible.

Catching up to him right as he made his way down the next alley, you scanned your surroundings. Just a few metres away a market stall was positioned against a building, the perfect climbing block to get back onto the roof. That would be your exit. You grabbed the sheets of paper from his satchel with minimal effort, spinning on your heels and running for the stall, remaining light on your feet. You hopped onto the stall, it wasn't quite as tall as you thought. You'd have to jump and pull yourself up, you slid the parchment into your belt and hopped, a hand grabbing your ankle as you did. You desperately tried to grab onto the ledge but it was too far, and you were thrown onto the ground behind you by your attacker.

You glanced up to see the man you'd been following, surprise surprise. "Who the hell are you?" He spoke through gritted teeth, as you attempted to get some air back in your lungs after that fall. He pushed his cape aside to draw his sword, but you drew yours quicker, slicing away his before he could even begin to threaten you with it. He simply watched as his blade fell across the street, allowing you to swing at his ankle. The man fell to his knees, as you stood up, and began running. He spun on his knees, grabbing your blade with his bare hands, attempting to pull you back with it, but you let it fall out your grasp before he could. You kept sprinting, diving down alleys in an attempt to create a distance, but you were tired. Far too tired. The rain made every step feel heavier. His ankle must have hindered him though, as you couldn't hear any footsteps behind you. You were coming up on the docks at the end of the alley, it would be easy to slip through all the smaller houses up here. You glanced behind you, he was nowhere in sight. You were proud of your quick thinking, and spun back around to keep your eye on the new target, when you saw your old one standing at the end of the alley. How had he gotten here? He must've known a shortcut you didn't. He was resting all his weight on his left leg. You had definitely wounded him, but he didn't seem to care. He still had your sword in his hand. You stopped your running at the sight of him, considering your options. He was a tall man, you were exhausted and weak from the poison, not to mention you only had your dagger left buried under your dress to use to sword fight. You spun around, deciding to run the way you had come from and try to escape a different way. He quickly followed, swinging your own weapon at you. He was gaining on you, his strides much longer than yours. You just had to outrun him until his ankle was too much for him to keep going, but you weren't sure that was going to happen any time soon.

One of his aimless swings caught your cloak, he was getting close. You had a last second idea, and untied your belt from your waist. You spun around, holding the belt taught in both hands, attempting to catch the sword, or at least knock it out of his hands. He swung for your head, and you just ducked in time, the blade coming into contact with the tip of your hood, knocking it back off your head.

While you were ducked you slid towards him and kicked out at his ankle, now standing behind him. He seethed and turned, swinging at you again, but you jumped backwards, before looping the belt around the end of the sword, and pulling it towards you and out of his grasp. It went flying down the alley, far out of your reach. You went running for it, but he went running for you, tackling you to the ground, his arms around your torso. You took the opportunity and wrapped your newly weaponised belt around his neck, tightening your grasp on it and pulling upwards, blocking his airflow. He struggled, his arms going from your waist to your wrists, trying to break your grasp. You flipped over, so you were on top of him, pinning one of his arms down with your knee. His free hand kept pulling at you, he wasn't giving up. You lifted his head up from the cobbled stone, before slamming it back down, desperately wanting him to stop trying. The hood fell underneath him, and you instantly recognised him. He was the man who had been talking to Francesco in the courtyard yesterday. He got his other arm free from under his knee while you weren't focused on it and used it to punch you directly across the face. The shock loosened your grasp enough for him to break free, and grab the belt for himself. You decided to cut your losses and run for your discarded sword. You reached it just as he caught up with you, but he just grabbed your wrist and twisted it, your hand falling open to drop the sword. He kicked it out of your reach. Your eyes switched from the shining metal of the blade up into the unknown man’s eyes.

"I know you!" He breathed out, not letting go of his hold on you.

You shook your head desperately. "You were speaking to Francesco yesterday, don't you work for the Pazzi's?" He seemed genuinely confused.

You ignored him, desperately trying to break his grasp, you learn down, biting at his fingers, finally releasing you. You continued running towards the sounds of the waves, this was bad. He knew you. He could tell Pazzi who stopped him. Your sprinting was suddenly halted as your belt was pulled around your neck from behind, forcing your backwards. He forcefully spun your around, pushing you to the ground. You began punching and kicking, but you pinned you down. You only had one free arm now, and your scratches and punches weren't doing anything from where you were.

"I wonder how Pazzi's gonna feel when we tell him about this," he smirked, knowing this would be a big payout. You spluttered as you struggled to get air into your body. Your throat was closing. You reached out onto the street but your sword was nowhere near. Your whole face was red and he tightened his grip even more, you were holding onto consciousness but you didn't know how much longer you could last. You suddenly remembered your dagger, and desperately kicked out, pulling up the skirt of your dress as quick as possible. Your fingers curled around the handle, pulling it out its holster, before you landed it into the stomach of the man on top of you, the only angle you could really reach. His grasp instantly loosened, the belt falling around your neck.

The man coughed out blood, directly onto you. He slowly looked down at where you'd impaled him. You moved to put both hands onto your dagger, and began twisting it. His weak hands fell on top of yours. "Please," he began begging, "Pazzi needn't know anything. I promise."

"No." You agreed, using all your energy to push the knife up his torso, through his chest, all the way up to his throat, "he needn't." Blood spluttered all over you, you were completely drenched. The man’s body became limp, and you pushed him to the side before it could collapse onto you. You stood up, taking large gulps of air, trying to regain your breath. You took the belt from beside his corpse, tying it back around your waist, before hobbling down the alley to retrieve your sword, sliding it back into its place. You returned to the dead messenger, pulling your blood soaked dagger out of the man’s neck, wiping it on his cloak. Your eyes got lost in his, how easily you could've been him. How in many ways, you were. He was just a Pazzi spy too. You took a deep breath, now was not a time for empathy, before lifting your hood up back over your blood permeated hair, moving on to the task of getting rid of the body. Luckily you were close to the docks.

#daniel sharman #daniel sharman x reader #lorenzo de medici #lorenzo de medici x reader #medici fic #medici: masters of florence #medici #medici: spymasters of florence #francesco pazzi x reader #francesco x reader

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mrsgreenworld · 4 years

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It's not easy to let go of the past

A/N: So I've had this very insistent idea for a while now. I decided to speculate way ahead. Let's imagine that it goes like this: Serkan breaks up with Eda without telling her the truth. Then Eda's grandmother comes into the picture. It's revealed that her and Efe have been working together to take the holding from the Bolats. Eda learns the truth about her parents' death from Efe or maybe her grandmother. She also finds out that Serkan knows about everything. Her grandmother's revenge plans are also revealed. However, Eda convinces Efe to help her stop her grandmother. All in all, the grandma capitulates, Efe sells back the shares. The Bolats don't lose the holding. Efe helps Eda move to Italy. She leaves and gets her degree.

That's just my imagination running wild 🤣

Let's imagine everything going down like this. This fic takes place 2 years after Eda leaves.

___________________________________________

Serkan opened his eyes way before his alarm clock was supposed to go off.

He went about his morning routine. He just moved on autopilot. Like all other mornings for the last 2 years.

2 years, 2 months, 3 weeks, 3 days, about 11 hours... without her.

Time without her seemed to drag on forever. 2 years felt like 2 lifetimes.

2 lifetimes that had brought him denial - first.

When he refused to accept that she was gone for good, that she had given up on them, on him. He called her. All his calls went into voicemail. Then her number was out of service. He tried going to her house only to find it empty. Ayfer Hanım and Melek moved house. The flower shop had been sold. He wasn't able to reach any of the girls either. They had simply blocked him.

That's when anger started.

He started taking it out on everyone in the office. Then one evening he crashed everything in his house. His parents and Seyfi came running because they had heard the noise. His mother and Seyfi barely managed to stop him from attacking his father. The next day Serkan moved out. He couldn't bring himself to go to the house he owned, where he and Eda had spent that one and only night together. He just found a completely new place instead.

Then it was time for bargaining.

He tried finding her. He found out that she wasn't at the university that she had initially applied to. Instead of taking advantage of his connections Serkan decided to go to Ceren. Out of all the girls she was the easiest to find. She was from a wealthy family of lawyers after all and worked in a prominent law firm. So Serkan just boldly waltzed into Ceren's office one day. She didn't throw him out. She didn't ask him to leave. She was patient and kind enough to actually talk to him. She asked him only one question:

"Do you love her, Serkan?"

"You know I do, Ceren. I love her more than anything and anyone in this world"

"I can tell you only one thing without betraying Eda's trust: things are going really well for her now. She looks maybe not quite happy yet but at peace. So if you truly love her the way you say you do, please, just let her go. Don't try to find her. Don't go to her. Don't try to bring her back. Don't ruin what she's managed to build for herself"

After that conversation with Ceren finally came depression. He just locked himself in his house. Stopped going to work and eventually left everything at Art Life to Pırıl and Engin. He didn't care much about the holding anymore. His father was still in charge and that made Serkan care even less.

But at least something good came from the period of depression: his mother was so worried about him that she went into therapy and after a while was able to leave the house. One day Aydan Hanım and Seyfi knocked on his door. When he didn't open it they just let themselves in using a spare key. They found him sitting on the floor in the living room, staring at the photo of him and Eda on his phone. He heard the steps and then - his mother's voice. That managed to pull him from his trance. He broke down then, a year after Eda's departure. He broke down in his mother's arms under the wave of happiness for her and under the weight of sorrow and acceptance. Acceptance of the fact that it was really over and Eda wasn't coming back. He had really lost her.

After that he pulled himself back together. He managed to create a resemblance of life in this state of numb resignation and acceptance. He travelled for two months around South America. When he returned, he got back to work at Art Life. His return was a true triumph. He had never been as productive, creative and successful as he was then. He even tried to reconsile with Selin but both of them very soon agreed that they were better off as friends.

And here he was 2 years, 2 months, 3 weeks, 3 days, about 11 hours later. Making breakfast for himself and his mother. Ever since Aydan Hanım started leaving the house, it had become their daily tradition - having breakfast together at Serkan's place, just the two of them. Sometimes it was Serkan making breakfast, sometimes he and his mother cooked together. Serkan treasured this everyday ritual.

A doorbell caught his attention and he went to let his mother in. He was greeted by her radiant smile and high-pitched: "Günaydın, canım!".

"Good morning, mom" Serkan said while returning his mother's enthusiastic hug.

They went into the kitchen and finished preparing breakfast. When everything was ready, they proceeded into a small patio. The day was calm and the weather - warm, so they decided that eating outside was a good idea.

"So, how are you, dear?" his mom asked after they were done eating and were just lazily drinking their coffee.

"You ask me this question every day, mom. Nothing's changed since yesterday morning"

"Well, today is not just any other day. Remember where you're supposed to be today?"

How could he forget. It was the first big event he had to attend since he was back. A big international business conference of architects and designers from all over the world.

He gave his mother a silent nod.

"And you know who's going to be hosting this event, right?" Aydan Hanım asked carefully.

"Of course I know, mom"

"So it's not going to be a problem?"

"Why should it be a problem?"

His mother just threw him a "Really?" look.

"It's fine, mom. I am fine. I haven't seen Efe Akman for over two years and it's not like we will have to work together. He's just hosting this conference. Despite our personal history with him, he's a recognised architect and he really is good at his work"

"Still don't like him after everything he did back then. And I don't think that seeing him is a good idea. Might trigger something... Maybe I should go too? Don't want to leave you alone"

"Don't be ridiculous, mom. I don't need a babysitter. Plus you're not ready for this yet. You haven't been anywhere except my house. Going to an event like this at a place that's completely new, where there will be hundreds of strangers... No, it will only overwhelm you. And I will have to worry about you among other things"

"Yes, of course you're right, dear. Then maybe take Seyfi with you?"

"For the love of god, mom! Stop it! I told you I don't need a babysitter" with a huff of annoyance Serkan rose from the table and started collecting the dishes.

"Ok, ok... Sorry. I will keep silent. You do what you want. You know what's best for you. But will you at least let me help you clean up?"

Serkan looked at his mother's pleading expression and the corner of his mouth twitched. He silently nodded and moved into the house.

"What was it? I think I saw an almost-smile" he heard his mother say at his retreating back.

He busied himself with washing the dishes. His mother joined him and started drying the plates. They worked without saying a word for a couple of minutes.

"You will one day, you know" his mother's quiet and cautious voice broke the silence.

Serkan looked at her and raised his eyebrows in question.

"You will smile and laugh again. I promise"

"You cannot promise something like this, mom. And I... I am not sure I know how to do this anymore"

"You will learn. You can learn. It's not impossible, my dear. I also thought I would never smile again after we lost your brother. But here I am. I even managed to leave the house. If I was able to do that, you will surely smile again one day. I know your smiles and your laughter will never be the way they were around her... But... Maybe it's not bad? It's just... different? And different can be good too. It can bring happiness"

"How do I become happy without her? If I love her this much but she's not here?"

"Oh, my dear boy! It's hard, I know. But you have to try. You have to be happy for you. No matter how much you love someone else, you have to love yourself first. And it doesn't make you selfish. It doesn't mean you don't love her anymore. But you said it yourself - she's not here. Don't you think that maybe the best way to honour this love is to let go of the past and allow yourself to be happy?"

A sob tore from his throat and he nodded frantically.

"You are right... I just... I am not ready yet"

"I know, I know... There's no rush, ok? I am not saying you have to do this now. It's not easy, it takes time. Just remember that when you feel ready, I will be there for you. Always"

"I know, mom. Thank you"

Aydan Hanım pulled her son into a tight hug.

Mother and son spent another 20 minutes together and after that Aydan Bolat left, leaving her son to prepare for the conference.

When Serkan was putting on and buttoning up his dress shirt he felt ready to face Efe Akman. However, there was a small tug in his chest, right under his heart. As if he needed to brace himself for something more than meeting with his former business partner-turned-rival.

"You're being paranoid" he huffed at himself.

Once he was ready, he grabbed his car keys and his phone. He looked dashing, collected and confident when he was climbing into his car. Nothing betrayed his typical Serkan Bolat facade. Nothing but a tiny gesture of him running his thumb over a band on his right hand.

#sen çal kapımı fanfiction #sen çal kapımı fic #sck fic #sck fanfiction #edser fanfiction #sen çal kapımı #sen cal kapimi #edser #eda yıldız #serkan bolat

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elaboratedbee · 4 years

Text

Bigby x Reader

Pairing: Bigby Wolf x Reader (i changed this to be gender neutral!)

Summary: bigby deals with his rapidly growing feelings for the new Fable that moved into the apartment above his, a nymph. (alternatively, you give bigby flowers)

Rating: E (hella fluff)

Word Count: 4208 (idk how it got long it just did i’m so sorry)

Note: hey guys, this is my second imagine! :) I just love this wolfman rn and I literally cannot wait until s2! i’m a new blog so pls feel free to interact, or request something, bc corona has given me hella free time ;)

You Belong Among The Flowers

You

As you set down the last box in your new apartment, you let a sense of accomplishment wash over you. It hadn’t been easy to save enough money to afford an apartment in the Woodlands, but you worked hard managing your business, growing flowers and owning a florist as well as growing fruit and vegetables which you sold to the grocery stores in Fabletown. When Snow had informed you of the two new apartments that had become available, you couldn’t help but fall in love with the idea. The place you were living before was a little sketchy (read: it was a total shithole, and you were definitely close to getting stabbed on several occasions).

This way, you would be closer to the allotments you had managed to buy right at the edge of Fabletown, closer to Snow who you had thoroughly enjoyed getting to know during the first couple of months of her deputy mayorship, and it was a hell of a lot safer. The Woodlands had the extra insurance of being the home of the big, bad wolf. Fabletown harboured some pretty stupid criminals, but there weren’t many people stupid enough to target the apartments across the hall from the Sheriff.

The place needed some life in it, as soon as was possible, however. The stark and empty room made you uncomfortable, and as soon as you set your first fern down on one of the shelves, you immediately felt better. The best part about the place, which really convinced you to part with most of your savings, was the balcony. You couldn’t wait to have it bright with life, a practical jungle on your doorstep. A flower nymph with no flowers was not a happy being, so that was the first thing you got to work on, planting your seeds and setting out your pots.

It was already falling dark by the time you were done, but you were more than content to spend the night on a mattress in the middle of the floor now that you were surrounded by, at least the beginnings of, a flower garden.

Bigby

By the time Bigby reached his cramped, little apartment in the evening, it was usually long after darkness had fallen over Fabletown. As he turned the key in the stiff lock, a sigh escaped his lips. He’d been tracking a car thief all day and had not been successful. The detective hated going home with a case hanging over him; there was no way he would be able to get any real sleep while all of his thoughts and theories were racing through his head.

Bigby opened the door, dim yellow light from the hallway seeping into the room. The lingering smell of smoke from his Huff and Puffs and the scent of whiskey hit his nose even harder once the door was opened, and even he grimaced slightly at the smell. He flicked on the light and took his phone off of the ringer, a habit that he’d developed long ago. It was nice to be enveloped in peace and quiet in the evening. It was the way he liked it, he told himself. Somewhere in the very back of his mind, he knew that he really made himself unavailable because that way he could pretend that being alone was a conscious decision that he made.

Making his way to the small window in his living space, he opened it in an attempt to allow some fresh (well, as fresh as it got for New York city) air into his apartment. Bigby froze as an unexpected scent was the first to hit him, and he inhaled deeply. It was a floral scent, different kinds of mingling together. Some overpowered the less aromatic ones, but Bigby’s sense of smell was heightened enough that he could pick out each individual smell and he traced it to somewhere above him. The pitch-black darkness outside made it a futile goal to find out where it was coming from, so he simply stood and basked in it, sure that it would be gone in the morning. He assumed that someone in a nearby apartment had received a bouquet of flowers and had left it on their windowsill. It was concerning that they had left their window open, he noted, even the Woodland building wasn’t particularly safe.

A bittersweet pang of homesickness ran through his body like a shiver, pooling in his chest and making his heartache. Mostly, he avoided thinking about the Homelands, as it always resulted in the sad longing that he was feeling now. But with the scent in his nose so reminiscent of the beautiful woodlands and sprawling idyllic spaces that they had once called home, there was no way he could avoid it now. Once the initial sadness passed, he allowed himself to relax into the sense of security and joy that were stronger than any negative feelings when he thought back to their home and all of its splendour. Although the person, or monster, that Bigby had been back then was a source of regret, he could not deny that he’d do almost anything to trade the dirty, concrete cityscape outside of his window for hills and mountains, forests and rivers.

For the first time that he could remember, he didn’t reach for a cigarette or a tumbler of whiskey when he sat down in his chair to rest at last. Instead, he inhaled deeply, and let the smell of flowers lull him to a restful sleep.

When he awoke, he was pleased to find that the pleasant smell persisted, which made him considerably more optimistic about the day ahead. There was one lead that he thought to chase up, but he figured that he ought to fill in Snow on the recent happenings before making his way out. She was much busier now, since the Crooked Man. Things weren’t perfect, he didn’t think they would ever be, but they were certainly better. Snow was making changes, just like she had promised to herself and everyone that she would. When Fables came through the door of the business office, their wishes weren’t always granted, but they were always heard.

Bigby thought that was a step in the right direction.

After showering and getting dressed, he stepped into the elevator and pressed the button for the correct floor. The line for the business office was already fairly long, despite the early hour of the morning and he resolved not to take up too much of Snow’s time. Ignoring the eye rolls and general disgruntlement from the Fables in the hallway as he bypassed the line, he made his way into the office. Snow was busying herself with a stack of papers, looking rather stressed at it all. He didn’t like to see her that way, but he did prefer it to the look of frustration and helplessness that he caught glimpses of when she was working as an assistant.

Opening his mouth to announce his presence, he promptly closed it as something took him by surprise. On Snow’s desk was a vase of flowers, a big and beautiful bouquet. Proud white roses were peppered with baby's breath, all sitting on a luscious green bed of eucalyptus and hydrangeas. It was perfect, it was if it were an incarnation of Snow herself. He looked at it and realised, at that moment, exactly why people gave each other flowers, he had never had a reason to consider it.

He must have been staring for a lot longer than it felt like because what finally broke him from his reverie was the sound of Snow’s laughter, soft and musical. Frowning at the sight of her mocking him, he flipped her off, which only made her laugh more. “Who’s the secret admirer?” He inquired, “I’ll need their address too, you know, just in case.”

Snow glared at him.

“I’m kidding.” Bigby placated her, raising his hands in mock surrender. The smell of this bouquet was different from the one coming through his window, telling him that it was a different set of flowers, but surely the giver of these was also the source of the others. It seemed like far too much of a coincidence, otherwise.

With a pointed look, Snow said, “you already know it. I told you last week that someone new was moving into the Woodlands! Since Crane is gone, we renovated his hideous penthouse into two new apartments.” Even the mention of his name raised Bigby’s hackles and got his blood boiling, so he could only imagine the disgust that his friend must feel whenever he’s brought up.

“Right,” Bigby agreed, hazily recalling the conversation that he had definitely not paid his full attention to. It was no wonder that Bigby had missed them moving in, considering that he usually leaves the Woodlands in the early hours of the morning and returns in . . . the early hours of the morning. Yikes.

“I told them about the apartment, so they sent me these as a way to say thanks,” Snow explained, gesturing toward the flowers.

He wondered what their connection was to the flowers, whether they just liked them or whether they were a part of their history, their story. Once again, Bigby opened his mouth only to be interrupted by an inpatient sounding knock on the door. Snow jerked her head towards it before throwing an apologetic smile towards the Sheriff. “I’m sorry, Bigby. I have a lot to do. I should probably get going with these meetings.”

That was his cue to leave, so the wolf nodded at her and made an exit from the office. He was busy, too, and things were never really peaceful in Fabletown, so it was probably for the best that he got going, but he couldn’t help but wish he had asked for a name.

He was soon to find out, however, only a couple of days later. Taking a long drag from his cigarette, Bigby used his free hand to open his mailbox. It was more of a tradition at this point, considering he couldn’t actually recall the last time he received a letter in the post that wasn’t a bill.

An out of tune ding announced the arrival of the elevator but Bigby didn’t turn around, not wanting to invite conversation. He had just placed the car thief into custody, and Snow was going to arrange a trial for tomorrow. The system was much fairer now, more democratic and he liked it that way. Being the final authority on the Crooked Man last time was some heavy stuff, and there was no way to make everyone happy. Now, there was a jury, a real trial, fair sentencing. Fabletown was slowly but surely dragging itself off the ground and trying to become a more just place, a more safe place. If Bigby could do anything to make sure of it, he would.

Finally looking up, he turned his head to see which of his neighbours had joined him at the letterbox. It was you.

He almost choked on the cigarette in his mouth as he regarded you, and when he took it out and crushed it underfoot, he could smell you, too. Without the overpowering scent of smoke under his nose, the floral scent that he had been succumbing to every night since the first overtook him and he felt a strange constriction in his chest.

You were beautiful, ethereal, but in a much different way than he could usually describe. It was the quirk of your mouth as you offered him a grin and the glint behind your eyes that suggested you were laughing at your own joke internally. “Sheriff.” You addressed him by his formal title and Bigby was torn. He wanted to hear you say it again, over and over. Sherriff. You said it with respect, with admiration even. It wasn’t an insult, a sarcasm, unlike when most of the Fables addressed him with his title. But he also wanted to hear you say his name. It was this desire that returned his ability to speak.

“Call me, Bigby.”

You closed your mailbox, holding your letters in your hand and smiled wider, introducing yourseld in return.

“I’ll see you around, Bigby.”

You were walking away, and Bigby, for the first time, was struck with the desire to stop you, make you stay, talk just a little longer.

“I, uh, I like the flowers.” He managed to growl out. You looked a little taken aback at his tone and he cursed himself, but you recovered and offered him yet another smile. He noted how you gave them out like it cost nothing.

“Oh, Snow’s?” You prompted him for more information.

“Yeah, and I can,” he made a vague gesture towards his face, “smell the ones you have in the windowsill. From my apartment.”

Your eyebrows raised a fraction in surprise, and he felt a weird sense of pride. What the fuck is wrong with you? He thought to himself.

“Really? I’ll keep them there,” you were so sincere, you made such a simple comment sound like a promise. He nodded, unable to think of yet another reason to delay you and altogether confused about why he was freaking out the way that he was. You stepped into the elevator and was gone.

You

You stepped off of the elevator and into your apartment, placing the letters down onto a table. The place wasn’t huge but you had made the best of it. The walls had a fresh coat of white paint, making the place seem more open and bright, the furniture was simple, mainly second hand, but it fits. Best of all, your beloved balcony. You guessed that’s what the Sheriff had confused for the flowers on your window-sill.

Great, leafy ferns and potted plants adorned your apartment all over, but the balcony was the centre of it all, and it was only just beginning. You had planted all manner of things, and you were only getting started. Due to your being a flower nymph, they grew faster, strong and healthy, and the seeds that you planted mere days ago were beginning to form buds, and even open up. The scent was sweeter. The plants were happier, but you couldn’t really explain that sort of thing to another Fable. They would laugh at the notion, but you could feel it.

Moving to the city had been hard for you, really hard. The nymphs were the caretakers of the homelands, the trees, rivers, lakes and plants. The animals, too, even if they didn’t always know it. To have it ripped away was more painful than anything else you could have experienced. It wasn’t just a home that had been taken from you, it was a part of yourself that had been left behind.

Your mind drifted to your recent interaction as you watered them with care, and you felt your heart rate pick up when you thought of the Sheriff. He was tired, you could tell, but he seemed kind enough. It was a common mistake that nymphs only took care of the plants in the forest, when really they guarded the animals, too. It gave you more of a read on the beastially inclined residents, and you could almost feel the weight on Bigby’s shoulders as you stood next to him.

I like the flowers.

The compliment played over in your mind. It had taken you by surprise, considering what all of the other residents had told you about the big, bad wolf. You trusted Snow’s word above the others when she told you about him, that he was a man that wanted to change, had changed. He wanted to make this place better, she had told you, just like her. But even Snow had grumbled to you a few times about how stubborn, how hot-headed and how harsh he could be.

Over the next couple of days, he was stuck on your mind. You paid far more attention to the coming and going of the wolf than before, realising for the first time that he was rarely home at all. Could this really be the same man that everyone complained about downtown? The one that Fables still questioned as to whether or not he really cared at all? Every time you passed him, you sensed his exhaustion, his frustration. His loneliness. But there was something else when you passed him, too. This little spark of joy and excitement. You knew it must be the scent of the flowers, what else could it be? He had already remarked on it.

Deciding enough was enough, you went about making him the perfect bouquet.

Throughout the week, you worked on your gift. You arranged it untraditionally in a long, thin wooden box which was overflowing with greenery. Succulents and hydrangeas were scattered amongst them like stars in the night sky. Wild berries shone like jewels, clinging to their stems. Most importantly, bright white lily of the valleys hung like bells. You picked them because of their sweet scent, hoping that the wolf would enjoy them. They were common in the homelands, and you wondered if it would remind him of the place.

Finally satisfied, you picked up the arrangement late one evening and stepped into the elevator. Am I being crazy? You thought to yourself as your grip on the box tightened. You just thought that all of the things the Sheriff did for Fabletown deserved a little recognition. It was the least you could do say thanks, right?

Arriving at the correct floor, you took a deep breath before knocking on Bigby’s door. It was a little late for a house call, you realised, but he wasn’t home at any other hour. The wolf opened the door, scowling until he saw you. Confusion replaced the general displeasure on his face until he noted what was in your hands. “Oh,” his voice was full of realisation, “I can hand those to Snow if you want, but if you just wait until tomorrow, she’ll be back in her office,” he explained to you.

What? You realised quickly that he thought the flowers were meant for Snow and you shook your head, a little saddened that he didn’t even think that they could be for him.

“Actually, Sheriff, they’re for you. For your windowsill.”

The man’s face went completely blank while he processed the information, which was kind of scary. The guy really didn’t give anything away.

“For me?” He repeated, sounding almost suspicious as he raised his hand to his mouth and removed his cigarette, seemingly wanting to inhale the flowers instead.

“Yep.” You assured him firmly, “you said you liked the scent of them so I thought you might like some of your own.” With your words, the energy of the wolf changed. The exhaustion and anger faded substantially and he finally seemed warm, almost as happy as your flowers. You seized the opportunity. “You mind if I come in? I can tell you about watering them and stuff.”

Bigby failed to hide his face a little more this time, a hand coming up to rub the back of his neck in embarrassment. “I don’t have anything to offer you, and the place is a real shithole.” He warned you.

“I didn’t come for anything, I just want to bring you these,” you answer and he relents, stepping backwards and opening the door to allow you in. You expected the smell of cigarettes to be worse, but he had an open window that seemed to be helping with that. You set the flowers down on the windowsill and turned to face him. He was closer than you had expected, and a blush broke out onto your cheeks at the proximity of the wolf to you. You are overwhelmed with the desire to step even closer, but you stay put. The man was already freaked out, he didn’t need your crush to make it any worse.

“Why?” He seemed reluctant to ask like he had been trying to answer the question himself but just couldn’t figure out the answer.

“To say thank you. You do a lot for us, especially those of us who live in The Woodlands. I think of how much safer this place is just because you live here. And you said you liked them.”

“I don’t exactly do anything other than be the Big, Bad Wolf.” He points out, and you catch a cutting undertone to his argument.

“Bullshit.” He seems surprised at your choice of words and raises an amused eyebrow at you. “You get up at the crack of dawn and you get home little before then, sometimes not at all. You single-handedly protect all of the Fables in this town. You deserve a hundred flowers.” You pointed this all out casually, shrugging your shoulders but Bigby looks deeply uncomfortable. You wondered why he was so tense as you pointed out all he does.

You wondered if anybody does.

Bigby

He thought that if you come any closer to him then he won’t be able to stop himself from kissing you. He also thought that he can’t move away.

The scent of the flowers, your scent, was making him feel almost dizzy. It was hard to believe that you were in his apartment, that you brought him flowers. You brought him flowers, you brought him flowers, you brought him flowers. Ever since they spoke, such a small, meaningless conversation, he hadn’t been able to get you off his mind. Sure that you had forgotten it by the next day, he felt like such an idiot replaying it in his mind before he could fall asleep at night.

But you hadn’t. You had remembered what he said and brought him flowers.

“Thank you.” He realised he hadn’t even said that yet, and he turned away to admire them, and so that he didn’t have to look at you anymore. Clenching his jaw, he implored himself not to ruin this already, to just control himself, like he had with Snow once upon a time. But this time, it seemed impossible.

Then, you touched his arm.

He was so acutely aware of your hand on his skin the whole time that it was there that he could barely hear what you were saying. All of the nice things you were saying about him, falling on deaf ears. God, he felt pathetic. Was that really all it took to turn him stupid? One compliment, one touch.

He hadn’t been touched in a while, though. Not like this. By someone who wasn’t trying to hurt him, or calm him down. Not by someone who just wanted to be close to him.

Fuck it, he thought, and stepped closer, leaning into your touch. There were inches between you now.

You

All of a sudden, he was in front of you. His skin was warm to your touch, and his eyes were simmering with something. You think back over the last couple of days. The way you had watched him, the way you’d thought of him. How you had spent hours finding the perfect flowers, arranging them just so. That wasn’t gratitude or friendly admiration and you knew it. You wondered if he knew it.

You looked up and met his eyes, they were almost gold now that you were close, more than brown. That’s the last thing you remember thinking before you weren’t thinking anything, but feeling the wolf’s mouth on yours. His hand comes up to cup your face, holding you close and the other hand moves to your waist. It’s needy, and almost desperate as the both of you simply give in to whatever desire you were pushing back.

His face was rough, and you delighted in the coarseness of his hands, a shiver running through your body. He invaded all of your senses, occupies all of you for the minutes, or hours that the two of you are interlocked. The sharpness of his teeth on your bottom lip, gone as quickly as it came prompted you to gasp ever so slightly, allowing his tongue passage into your mouth. When you finally pulled away, air a terrible, evil necessity to you now, you dared to open your eyes and reassure yourself that you weren’t dreaming. Bigby was still pressed up against you, his eyes a brighter gold than they had been before and his breathing urgent.

“I like the flowers,” he chokes out, “I really, really like the - “

You cut him off by grabbing him by the tie and pulling him down towards you once again, rolling your eyes slightly at how awkward he was. You’d figure it out. Kissing him breathless, you finally released him and met his eyes. “I like you too, Bigby.”

The wolf shared a genuine smile with you, one that reached all the way up to his eyes and flashed his sharp incisors. You wanted to see it again, a million times.

You were going to need more flowers.

#the wolf among us #bigby wolf #bigby wolf x reader #bigby x reader #twau #imagine #bigby wolf imagine #my underappreciated baby #someone give him a hug #the wolf among us fanfic #bigby wolf fanfiction #the wolf among us imagine

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bywordofaphrodite · 3 years

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Book Reviews 7&8: Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen & Anne of Green Gables by L.M Montgomery

This review’s theme is female-led romantic classics ! Audience age: roughly age 10+

This review is about two of my all-time favourite female-led classics! Pride and Prejudice is one of the only classics I can truthfully say I enjoy, sorry to lovers of classics I just cannot bring myself to love many of them. Elizabeth Bennet is a timeless heroine, and her story is an easy, comfortable read. Anne of Green Gables, likewise, echoes the same sentiments, albeit with considerably more hijinks added into the mix- and with the heroines’ age gaps and very different circumstances, this is to be expected!

Nostalgic review

Rating: ★★★★★

These novels are, if I didn’t already make clear, comfort stories in the best sense of the word. It’s been several years since I last read either of them in full, but there is a special ease about them at all times; even in the midst of disaster, you know there is hope just around the corner.

In the case of Pride and Prejudice, I’ll admit that as much as I love Lizzy, it is the entirety of the story that draws me in more than just her character. I love the general vibe of the novel, the drama and gossip in the town and all the fuss that comes about with each new ball the Bennet sisters must attend for social reasons. The surprising scandals are all very alluring, and really, Jane Austen’s stories walked so Gossip Girl could run!

On the flip side, Anne as a character- she is one of my absolute most favourite characters ever written. I’m no orphan and I��ve never had to struggle in the way she did, but I grew up the odd one out in a small town, with a hot temper and a huge imagination that always managed to get me into trouble. Everything about Anne is relatable to me- right down to the infamous scene where she attempts to dye the red hair she hates and it goes green instead (I tried to bleach mine and it went orange, so I didn’t fare much better).

While it has been a long time since I last read these books, I am expecting more positive surprises than negative ones, now that I’m older with a bit more perspective!

Pride and Prejudice Review

Post-read: ★★★★★

Synopsis: Elizabeth Bennet, the second daughter of a middle-class family desperate to marry off their five daughters, navigates her way through matters of marriage, estate, love and temperament in an attempt to make a match that ensures her own happiness in a time where love was not always a priority.

Set in Regency England, the middle-class family the Bennets begin to fear their ruin as Mr Bennet grows older. See, Mr Bennet’s estate and fortune detailed in his will can only go to a male heir upon his death, thus ruling out his five daughters without their marriages taking place. As luck would have it, two eligible rich men arrive in town, and Mrs Bennet becomes obsessed with setting up her daughters with them. Amidst numerous balls and trips to the rich families’ residence of Netherfield, Jane Bennet catches the eye of sweet Charles Bingley, while Elizabeth begins a cold war with Bingley’s best friend Fitzwilliam Darcy, after he slights her upon their first meeting, to Mrs Bennet’s fury.

Over time, Mr Darcy becomes increasingly attracted to intelligent and witty Elizabeth, but so do other, less appealing characters to the likes of Elizabeth’s pretentious and stupid cousin, the clergyman Mr Collins, and the handsome militia officer Wickham, who tells Elizabeth that he has lost his fortune because Darcy stole it from him. When Elizabeth’s fifteen year-old sister runs away with Wickham in the middle of the night, Elizabeth is forced to hear our Mr Darcy’s side of the story and put aside her prejudice toward him. He, in turn, overcomes his pride, and by the end of the novel the two are able to freely admit their love without pride or prejudice standing in the way.

For such an old book, it really does stand the test of time. The lessons Austen teaches in this story are forever applicable to relationships in any timeline, though we have to make do without the fancy dresses and balls (and the gender norms and sexism, so it’s still a win for us, I suppose). I enjoy her writing and love how humorous it is; Austen perfected the art of polite mockery. Elizabeth is a good role model, and her character development over the course of the novel is wonderful.

Characters who aged well: first and foremost, Elizabeth Bennet of course. She’s headstrong and real, and satisfyingly selfish when necessary (nobody should be selfless when presented with a proposal from Mr Collins, and I will not hear otherwise). Mr Darcy remains an eternal heartthrob- I do sometimes wonder how someone less determined to see the bad side in Darcy would have viewed him from the get-go (my guess that had Jane been the perspective offered, Darcy might have been cut a bit of slack earlier. But where would be the fun in that?). I won’t comment on all the characters, but I will mention that I appreciated Jane much more as an adult. As often happened with sweeter female characters, internalised misogyny used to get the best of me on occasion and I would resent them for being ‘boring’. Now I just think she’s lovely.

For a villain, Mr Wickham aged so well. I once saw a Tumblr post declaring him the 1800s equivalent of a modern-day fuckboy and it’s stuck in my mind ever since because yes, that’s exactly what he is.

Characters who aged badly: Everybody hates Mr Collins, but I don’t know if I’m entirely correct in listing him here, given he wasn’t well liked back in 1813 either. As an antagonist, he technically aged well, but I’m going to keep him here anyway because I felt like ranting about him. The same goes for nauseating Mrs Bennet and Mary… they aged as intended, but I will remain frustrated with them anyway.

Favourite scene/quote: ‘An unhappy alternative is before you, Elizabeth. From this day you must be a stranger to one of your parents. Your mother will never see you again if you do not marry Mr Collins… And I will never see you again if you do.’

This line never fails to make me laugh, whether on paper or onscreen. He does delight in vexing his over-excitable and irritating wife, and in this case it was all the more pleasing: he saw his wife trying to force his favourite daughter into marrying perhaps his least favourite person on the planet and supported Elizabeth’s decision to reject the man wholeheartedly, as well as reinforces the bond between father and daughter in a humorous way.

Scenes I particularly enjoyed are the ones surrounding Wickham’s secrets and shocking fake elopement with Lydia, partially because Lizzy and Darcy become close, but mostly because all the detective work unravelling the drama is so entertaining. It’s pleasing to see Darcy come out the undisputed hero after all Wickham’s deceit and attempts to ruin many girls’ reputations in attempts to get their fortunes.

Anne of Green Gables Review

Post-read: ★★★★★

Synopsis: red-headed orphan Anne Shirley is adopted by unmarried siblings Matthew and Marilla Cuthbert by accident. After a trial period, they agree to keep Anne, and the misunderstanding brings the greatest joy to their small farmhouse in the town of Avonlea.

This book! Everything about it!

As I anticipated, time did not change any of my love nor expectations for this book, but rather made me fall in love with it all over again.

Starting at the beginning, Anne’s introduction to the Cuthberts starts off with her first asking him to call her by a name she chose herself, and then settling with keeping her own name as long as they remember to spell it with an ‘e’. This alone is already something I relate strongly to- I can’t bear when people forget the second ‘e’ in my name… it looks so empty.

Moving on from the names!

Anne is enrolled in school, a place she is successful in due to her intelligence, yet many adults in the town, including her teacher, refuse to treat her very well. Anne’s temper gets her into trouble of numerous occasions with adults and classmates alike, the most memorable instance being when the handsome popular boy Gilbert Blythe calls her ‘carrots’ and tugs her plaits to get Anne to notice him- and she does, but likely not in the way he hoped: she smashes her writing slate over his head. Utterly iconic move.

The friendship between Anne and her neighbour Diana is a high point of the book, too. Anne is always on the lookout for ‘kindred spirits’ or ‘bosom friends’, terms she applies not only to Diana, but also to Matthew and her second teacher, the amazing Miss Stacy who represents that one literature teacher every writer child connects with.

Navigating dozens of scrapes and accidents, Anne manages to graduate school and attend an academy where- with Miss Stacy’s encouragement- she obtains her teaching license in one year instead of two, and ties first place with Gilbert Blythe, whom she has ignored to the best of her ability since the ‘carrots’ incident, though he has tried many times to obtain her forgiveness. Toward the end of the novel, Matthew has a heart attack that shatters both Anne and Marilla, and she gives up the scholarship she won in favour of teaching close to home in order to stop Green Gables from being sold. Gilbert Blythe passes on his teaching position at Avonlea school to Anne so she won’t have to struggle, and Anne finally accepts that she has lot more love for Gilbert than anything else.

Though they do not get together in this book, the following sequels end with their marriage, and their developing romance is a special part of this first novel too.

Characters who aged well: Anne Shirley, best girl! I think I’ve already listed enough examples to showcase what I think of her, but I also think she has aged very well as an interesting character and feminist role model, all the way back in 1908. Gilbert, too, is a wonderful example of how a man should be, and his character growth is every bit as good as Anne’s. The supporting characters are wonderful too.

Characters who aged badly: Mr Phillips, Anne’s first teacher who treated her terribly and tried to marry a student in the same classroom. Predator teachers exist now too, of course, but this man simply did not cop the jail time he deserved (yes, times were different then, I don’t care).

Favourite scene/quote: ‘I’m not a bit changed- not really. I’m only just pruned down and branched out. The real ME- back here—is just the same.’

This is the essence of Anne’s story, and I like to think for many people. Most people like to think they’ve changed while growing up, but the truth is that most people remain the same, they just grow into their ideas and find new dreams to follow; change doesn’t have to signify loss, just growth.

There are many great scenes in Anne of Green Gables, and narrowing down favourites is quite hard. As a romantic, I loved any scene with Gilbert, even though Anne herself was desperately trying to ignore him. All of Anne’s scrapes are hilarious, too, but if I had to choose, it’s when Matthew picks Anne up from the station the day they meet, and the quiet man- whose only interactions are with his sister- immediately takes a liking to the poor orphan girl no other adult has ever been kind to. Their ride home together signifies a beautiful change in both their lives, and their instant bond is heart-warming.

Overall verdict: I’ve read both of these novels more times than I care to count, so there was never really any strong doubt that I wouldn’t continue to love them a fair amount. It may seem a ridiculous thing to say that I still find them both to be well-written, but as someone who finds many ‘classics’ incredibly boring and too wordy to properly enjoy (looking at Charles Dickens, by the way), I’m making a note of my contentment with Austen and Montgomery’s writing styles. I do generally prefer female authors in the first place (and not just because most men can’t seem to write good female characters to save their lives) so I’m not entirely surprised by this, though I think it necessary to mention after my shock over the stunted sentences in Enid Blyton’s works and Nancy Drew and the Mystery at Lilac Inn.

While rereading these books I also felt compelled to re-watch the televised versions and show them to my younger sister too (she loves them!). I do have personal favourite versions, and this is due not only to the actors in the cast, but to which I deem the most accurate and faithful in comparison to the original written source material. For Pride and Prejudice, contrary to the popular version amongst most people who reference it, my favourite is not the Kiera Knightley movie. I greatly prefer the BBC show, finding the casting, setting and costuming far more accurately detailed. I don’t hate the movie, just to be clear! But if you want accuracy watch the television show, especially because the episodes had a chance to explore more of the script than the movie did, so there was no need to cut things out or rush certain developments.

As for Anne of Green Gables, there are a few different movies and series. My forever-favourite is the Megan Follows and Jonathon Crombie led film series, with the first movie released in 1985. The casting was perfect, I adored the settings and costuming, and Megan as Anne captured everything about the character in the most perfect way imaginable. As for the newer Netflix series Anne with an E, I have only seen a few episodes but I think that was really well done too; the casting of the leads was also very faithful to Montgomery’s novels. It’s a shame that Netflix chose to cancel a show that so many young people really enjoyed, but I hope maybe some of them will watch the movies or pick up the books!

The true importance of these books for me as a child was my connection to the characters, which hasn’t changed at all. Though I do identify in part with Elizabeth, it is Anne who is so much like me, and while I haven’t reviewed past the first book here, I can confirm that my personality has evolved in the same way hers does in the sequels. Something interesting I noticed when mentioning either of these series to people unfamiliar with them is that they are surprised I like these books. The reason? Owing to how old the novels are, people expect the characters to be boring and grounded in sexist tropes. While I cannot deny there are plenty of books out there that are full of these issues, the characters of Elizabeth and Anne are very much feminist in the best way possible. They fight against the expectations for their gender and forge their own paths. Their relationships with the male leads take a long time to develop- Anne and Gilbert do not get together until proper adulthood- because they want everything to be done on their terms, within their own certainty. Neither lead suffers from ‘not like other girls’ syndrome, both cherishing their friendships with the women around them, and Anne especially is a celebration of the best parts of femininity.

Ultimately I find both Pride and Prejudice and Anne of Green Gables to be comfort novels. There is conflict and angst, humour and love, and the reassuring knowledge that by the end of it everyone will get their happy ending.

#Pride and Prejudice #anne of green gables #anne with an e #feminism #feminist literature #university project #romance #classics #female leads #character development #book review #book rating

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