#And she's so steadfast on her opinion of the military and then it just changes for no apparent reason

[the-audacity-of-this-btch-13]

if I had a nickel for every time I watched a Nicholas galitzine movie where they bring up an important issue in society and then just swiftly brush it under the rug I'd have two nickels, which isn't alot but it's weird that it happened twice

[the-girl-from-another-time]

A List of My Absolute Favorite Fictional Men

Seriously. I want to marry each and every one of them (not that I’m advocating polygamy, of course). Now, in no particular order...

(Warning: Spoilers)

1. Inspector Rycroft Philostrate (Carnival Row)

This man. THIS MAN. I love him with my whole heart. He’s a bit rough around the edges, but he’s incredibly kind, compassionate, empathetic, and just, not to mention selfless to the point of stupidity. I have a thing for self-sacrificing heroes; you will notice a pattern. Philo takes responsibility for his own actions, from the huge, life-changing ones down to the little, trivial ones, and that is HOT. He’s a tortured, haunted soul, and yet all he seeks to do is save others from pain, despite his own hardship.

Favorite Moment: In episode two when he hears that Vignette’s employers want her arrested for breach of contract and he goes to the Spurnroses to buy her contract, thus freeing her. He never tells her what he did, never expecting any reward. He does it simply because he loves her—and because it’s right.

2. Commodore James Norrington (Pirates of the Caribbean)

James is literally a Jane Austen hero in a Disney movie. Enough said. He is one of the most underrated characters in the entire series. He’s a man of duty, of honor, of justice, but that never stops him from being a good (and very sassy!) human being. He loves Elizabeth Swann with all his heart and goes well out of his way, even risking his life, for her. When she chooses another man, he accepts it with grace and wishes them well, but he never stops protecting her even while expecting nothing in return. This man respects women and their decisions. Need I say more?

Favorite Moment: The deleted scene from TCotBP where he takes Elizabeth aside and tells her that she doesn’t have to marry him just to save Will, and that if she marries him, he wants it to be because she truly wants to. It establishes that he doesn’t want to force her into anything and that her opinions and feelings matter a great deal to him. The fact that this was deleted is a crime.

3. Obi-Wan Kenobi (Star Wars)

Ah, my middle school obsession. Those were the days. Sense of duty? Check. Honorable? Check. Responsible? Check. Compassionate? Check. Selfless? Check. Sassy? Check. Cinnamon roll with a tortured soul? Check. Beginning to notice what traits I value yet? Obi-Wan is such a genuinely good man who endures so much undeserved pain but never lets it steal his kindness. It triggers my Mama Bear instincts. Precious baby. Get him some tea and some therapy. He also never wavers from what is noble and good, even when faced with great pain and temptation. He’s quite possibly the greatest Jedi of all time.

Favorite Moment: Literally any time he’s being snarky. It’s glorious.

4. Aragorn (Lord of the Rings)

In truth, I could list almost every single male character in LOTR, but I shall refrain. If you don’t think Aragorn is perfect, you have questionable taste. Honestly. He’s kind, compassionate, humble, courageous, determined, responsible, loyal, and completely willing to sacrifice himself for the greater good. He’s the ideal leaders should seek to uphold. He always does what’s right, always resisting temptation, always doing what he believes to be best for others.

Favorite Moment: In the ROTK book when his true identity as Heir of Isildur is revealed to the people of Minas Tirith in the Houses of Healing because “the hands of the king are the hands of a healer.” That’s right—he’s an amazing warrior and brilliant military commander, but what’s most important, most definitive, is not warfare, but healing. That is absolutely beautiful.

5. Will Turner (Pirates of the Caribbean)

How can you NOT love this beautiful cinnamon roll? Look at him! Look at those puppy eyes! Will’s character development is both brilliant and heartbreaking—he goes from a shy, eager young man who can’t keep his heart out of his big brown eyes to a reserved and haunted man who’s lost almost everything he’s ever loved. Love—that’s Will’s defining trait. He can be a clueless idiot sometimes (the most lovable of clueless idiots), but all he does, he does for those he loves. Every choice he makes and action he takes is for those he loves and what he believes to be their best interests. Did I mention that he’s also kind, gentle, fearless, clever, and selfless? Much like James Norrington, even when he believes Elizabeth loves another man, his #1 priority is her happiness—even if it’s not with him. Again, respecting women’s choices is sexy!

Favorite Moment: If I HAD to narrow it down, I’d be a complete liar if I didn’t say the end of TCotBP when he finally confesses his love to Elizabeth, stands up for what he believes is right, and then they share a kiss as the sun sets behind them. PEAK ROMANCE TM.

6. Professor Remus Lupin (Harry Potter)

Remus doesn’t do much for me in the movies, but I am head-over-heels in love with him in the books. He’s such a genuinely kind person who’s always patient, gentle, caring, and understanding toward others, specifically students. More than that, he’s very level-headed, always the mediator in tense or difficult situations and always the one to comfort others. (Also, his solution to everything is chocolate, and that works for me). The fact that he sees himself as such a monster that he believes himself unfit to be a husband and father just breaks my heart. He’s such a wonderful human being and his death BROKE ME.

Favorite Moment: In the HBP book when Tonks confesses her feelings for him, insisting that she doesn’t care that he’s a werewolf, and he argues that he’s “too old for her, too poor ... too dangerous...” No trope gets me like the “older man thinks he’s too broken to be loved but younger woman breaks through his defenses and shows him he can be loved” trope. Self-sacrificing hero, much?

7. Colonel Brandon (Sense and Sensibility)

Honestly, I could list every single Jane Austen hero on here, but Colonel Brandon is my favorite. His quiet adoration of Marianne and steadfast devotion to her get me every time. The most wonderful thing is that he never presses her, never imposes his feelings upon her or asks her to do something she doesn’t want to do. She prefers Willoughby, and he accepts that but continues to help her when he can, never requiring anything in return. He does it all because he loves her, because her merest smile is reward enough. He never pushes her, but he also never gives up on her; when she ends up heartbroken, he supports her and helps her heal. Hmmm, have I mentioned that respecting women’s choices is pretty dang hot yet?

Favorite Moment: When Marianne goes out walking in the rain after Willoughby breaks her heart, and Brandon carries her unconscious, fevered body back to the house, subsequently dashing across the country to bring her mother to her.

8. Samwise Gamgee (Lord of the Rings)

So, I know I said I wouldn’t include any more LOTR characters, but as it is, I lied. How can I NOT include Sam? Wonderful, darling Sam! A lowly, humble gardener who ends up on a quest to save the world and is in fact (arguably) the true hero. His friendship, loyalty, and determination never waver, despite all the immense hardships he endures along the way. He is called Samwise the Brave, but Steadfast would serve just as well. He’s the kindest, sweetest, most courageous and unlikely of heroes. He rarely has a bad word about anyone (unless it’s 100% true) and he never gives up, even when all seems lost. He understands that love is the most important thing of all.

Favorite Moment: In ROTK when they’re almost to Mount Doom and Frodo has no more strength to continue, so Sam declares, “I can’t carry it for you, but I can carry you!” and he hoists Frodo onto his shoulders, even though he himself has little strength left, and carries him to the mountain. My heart! Makes me cry every time.

[teaveetamer]

Looking at Edelgards wiki page, and aside from all the spelling mistakes, grammar mistakes and horrible sentence structure, dear LORD is it filled with such vague, unspecific language to make her look better. Saying in "some endings" she passes on the role of Emperor to someone else while in others she "rules for an unspecified time" to support she steps down after the war, completely ignoring Lysitheas ending where she rules for the rest of her life and not clarifying the specific (1/3)

numbers of endings where she retires (I counted, its two, and even then only in her later years). Crimson Flower apparently ends "much faster" than the other routes instead of directly stating its three months faster. Saying she only spoke so harshly to Dimitri before executing him to allow him to "hate her" until the end (how compassionate of her /s, also I cannot find any proof of this in the script so either I'm missing something or the editor is just posting headcanons). (2/3)

All in all, Edelgards entire personality wiki section is a complete joke. The person that wrote it should have their editing priviledges removed. (3/3)

I mean we know who is making all of those edits. It’s our resident contrarian that people were sending a dozen asks about yesterday. It just comes off as another of many poorly thought out arguments, since they keep pointing to specific supports or text in the game when that’s... Not really necessary. We all played the game, you only do that shit when you’re trying to win an argument.

Honestly if I were in control of the page it’d look more like this:

Edelgard holds herself with a dignified air, but full of melancholy and solemn wistfulness. which can make her appear outwardly cold. As heir of the Adrestian Empire, she is an exemplary student and a natural leader. She keeps a modest stoic front. rarely cutting loose and maintains formality. She rarely cuts loose and maintains formality at all times. Her colleagues classmates (who the fuck calls the people they went to school with “colleagues”?) express great surprise whenever she does relax. While She is generally a private person, she does recognize the importance of her duties and expresses confidence and faith in the abilities of her allies. and she is rarely shown opening up to other people.(the previous line did not make sense, her recognizing the importance of duty has no relationship to being a private person).

She is a capable dancer, having taught Dimitri at a young age and has a talent for drawing portraits, though she is embarrassed to show them to others. (These really belong in a separate “skills” section but whatever the wiki doesn’t appear to have that category for this game). She has a personal nickname, El, of whom which she only allows very close individuals, namely her family, to call her.

Though she tries to keep it a secret, Edelgard is deathly afraid of rats, as they remind her of a past she is uncomfortable with. Edelgard is deathly afraid of rats since they remind her of a past she is uncomfortable with, though she tries to keep this fact a secret. She is also fears afraid of the ocean since because she cannot swim.

Edelgard is far more complex than she initially appears, as she had been scheming to dismantle the corrupt systems of Fódlan, namely the influence of the Church of Seiros, the oppression of the Crest systems, and the hidden machinations of the Agarthans. Driven by her desire to remove these influences, she is willing to sacrifice both her life and reputation as she believes that the only means of achieving her goals is through war and sometimes underhanded tactics. (Such unnecessary fluff). Edelgard will use whatever it takes to achieve her goals, using all three of the aforementioned systems begrudgingly as they are the current means for her to amass any sort of power and influence in order to instigate meaningful change in them. Edelgard is extremely driven, and she is willing to use whatever it takes to achieve her goals. This is evidenced by her willingness to work with Those Who Slither in the Dark, as she believes they are the only ones who can help her amass enough power to achieve her ends.

Edelgard strongly believes that the ends will justify the means if she were to win the war, as she despises the structure of Fódlan society and believes it has to be replaced by a more just system under which humanity can flourish. In the Azure Moon route she states she went to war after weighing all options and determined that it would be much faster with far fewer casualties than to continue on in the continent's current state. This is reflected through the Crimson Flower route that ends much sooner than the other two, albeit a later war is impending against the remaining Agarthians, where she manages to wipe them all out, compared to the other routes where the Agarthans survive to return at a later time. As a result, she does realize the gravity of her orders but chooses to remain steadfast in her belief in improving society for everyone. She also does not desire to remain Emperor for too long as according to a tea time conversation with her, Edelgard states she has no intention of handing the throne to any children she might have, instead planning to pass it on to someone brilliant and kind, which a few endings do, while others she rules for an unspecified time. (Literally this entire paragraph is unnecessary fluff.)

Dimitri has had a significant impact on her life as the two are step-siblings when her mother Anselma married King Lambert under the name "Patricia." In their childhood, neither were aware of their relationship to each other, but they were close nonetheless, with Dimitri affectionately calling her "El" which only those particularly close to her are allowed to call her. Dimitri gifted her a dagger which she held well into the present, which was symbolically meant to tell her to carve out her own ideals and face the numerous hardships she had to endure up until the present. If met at the Goddess Tower during the Academy Phase, she admits that her first love was a Faerghus noble who she cannot recall, implied to be Dimitri. Despite her past feelings towards him, it is heavily implied for most of the game that Edelgard no longer remembers Dimitri nor that he gifted her the dagger, possibly as a result of her trauma from the experiments. In the Azure Moon route, she accepts Dimitri's invitation to parley on a whim. Despite failing to come to an understanding with one another to end the war peacefully, she is nonetheless able to express her gratitude to him for the dagger and the strength it provided her when he reminds her that it was a parting gift from him. (Everything in this paragraph would really be more at home in a separate “relationships” subcategory, which this wiki also does not feature.)

Edelgard's personality and ambitions are a result of tragedies that painted her view of the world. The traumatic imprisonment of her siblings and herself due to the experiments of Those Who Slither in the Dark created her hatred of Crests.  Edelgard’s personality and ambitions are a direct result of the suffering she faced at the hands of TWSITD. Her imprisonment and the subsequent experimentation on herself and her family were a key factor in her disillusionment with Fódlan and the Church of Seiros. (Don’t ask me how she got to that conclusion. Also take a shot for every time this dude uses the word “tragic”.) She also despises most nobility, especially the Adrestian Nobles, as they are partially responsible for the circumstances leading to said experiments, but also due to the fact that Crests are used as societal leverage by most nobles as a sign of their prestige. She even shows sympathy and pity to Miklan, whom she praises for becoming a leader despite being disowned and leading a group of bandits, calling his death "a waste". One of her main goals is to dismantle the current nobility system and having the people earn their position by merit rather than birthright, which she achieves in her ending in the Crimson Flower path. (More fluff.)

Edelgard has a complex view of the current Church of Seiros as her tragic history with the Insurrection of the Seven along with the knowledge given by her father regarding the truth of the War of Heroes paints her radical opinion. She bears a large distrust of Rhea due to her withholding of knowledge and context behind the history of the church, even pointing out some of the Church's hypocrisy of remaining neutral across Fódlan, yet allowing the Crest system to flourish that Edelgard despises. She does not fully dismiss the concept of faith however, even allowing it to continue to exist in her rule, though heavily monitored by the Empire. (Oh hey Edelstan is acknowledging her state run religion at least) She even tries to learn more about it from Manuela but does not plan on ever becoming a devout follower by any means. When as an enemy, however, she will cause those who are faithful to be afraid for their lives and flee the Empire. However, during Crimson Flower, several Knights of Seiros that have become unnerved by Rhea flee to the Empire, while those involved with the Church in the Empire flee for the Eastern, but then flee to Faerghus due to lack of a military. (Fluff.)

Despite this, Edelgard expresses fear and anxiety over the consequences of her actions her chosen path should Byleth side with her in Crimson Flower, as she understands that she would be her actions make her responsible for the deaths loss of countless lives. (lmao “the deaths of countless lives”) This is proven further when Randolph and Ladislava die defending Garreg Mach from the Church, and how she laments that another life is lost in the war because of her choices. She mourned Dimitri's death, letting herself be hated by Dimitri to the end by speaking harshly to him to let his perception of her remain, lamenting how she could not save him from Thales's manipulation. (wut) Dimitri's death struck her to the point that Byleth questioned if Edelgard was crying, which she denied, claiming that the Edelgard who cried had perished years ago.

Edelgard's relationship with Byleth greatly affects her personality and fate in the war. Edelgard admits in her support that she feared expresses fear that she would have become "a harsh ruler with a heart of ice" if she had to walk her path alone. In the other routes where she is not taught by them or where Byleth sides with the church against her, this becomes a reality and ultimately leads to her early demise. This is likely expressed in the conversation with Dimitri, where, in the Japanese version, she retorts Dimitri's statement over the lessons he learned with his friends and Byleth with her stating that he can understand that because he has what she lacks, referencing how Edelgard felt Byleth was the only one she could consider an equal that is not bound by status but simply as Edelgard. As her enemy, Edelgard will express regret that the two did not walk the same path and even find some semblance of closure falling to Byleth's sword in the Silver Snow and Verdant Wind paths. Should they choose to support her, she has a far easier time expressing kindness and regret over her actions over the course of the game herself. She will opt to force her enemies to surrender instead of wiping them out, where she even offered to spare Rhea and the Church followers if they surrendered, while the former was willing to sacrifice the city the final battle takes place in. (This doesn’t even make sense, she never forced Rhea to surrender she just half heartedly gave her the option of surrender). She also has several fleeting moments of peace and happiness, such as when she takes to drawing portraits of Byleth, which she is self conscious about due to their lack of quality in her eyes.

That attachment towards Byleth is even perhaps stronger than that of the other house leaders. When they teach the Black Eagles, she makes several attempts to get Byleth to understand her world view, even though Hubert advised her it would not be wise and personally invited Byleth to her coronation. In the Crimson Flower route, Dorothea notes that among the Black Eagles, Edelgard was the most emotionally affected by Byleth's disappearance. Edelgard's fondness for Byleth goes so far as to encourage Byleth to call her El and even let Byleth give her orders on the battlefield despite her dislike of not being in control. Despite her earlier statement that she does not cry, she openly cries at the end of the Crimson Flower route when Byleth supposedly dies after slaying Rhea, but is overjoyed when they are revived. Edelgard's bond with Byleth can ultimately result in the marriage of the two, regardless of their gender. It is in her proposal to them at this level where she asks that they stay close to her and that she will need them for the rest of her life. Regardless of her relationship status with Byleth, in the Crimson Flower route, it is through their influence that she ultimately achieves her goals and is remembered far more kindly than in the other routes where she perishes. (Again, would be more at home in a separate relationships section since it says almost nothing about Edelgard as an individual. You could maybe keep the bit about her disliking not being in control, but I’d combine it with an earlier paragraph since it doesn’t make much sense as its own thing.)

[vitvliyv]

                 - ̗̀   HSHQTASK036: RUSSIAN NOBILITY   ̖́-

RUSSIA is divided into 84 duchies. all 84 duchies are inside 9 grand duchies all of which are governed by a duke or a duchess that is appointed by the tsar. the title of a grand duke or grand duchess cannot be inherited. the grand duke or duchess is chosen from “regular” dukes and duchesses. all members of the imperial family carry the title of grand duke or grand duchess despite not governing a grand duchy. all members of the imperial family have their own duchies though. map under the cut & the blurbs !

                               - ̗̀   THE GRAND DUCHIES    ̖́-

TURQUOISE: the grand duchy of northwestern russia. YELLOW: the grand duchy of central russia. PINK: the grand duchy of southern russia. LILAC: the grand duchy of north caucasian russia. GREEN: the grand duchy of volga. BEIGE: the grand duchy of ural. BLUE: the grand duchy of siberia. ORANGE: the grand duchy of far eastern russia. not pictured: the grand duchy of finland, north west of the grand duchy of northwestern russia.

( don’t talk to me about the quality of these photos idk how to use ps okay 😭😭😭 )

OKSANA FILATOVA, the 42 year old duchess of ARKHANGELSK and the grand duchess of NORTHWESTERN RUSSIA who resembles JESSICA CHASTAIN

the filatova family is the latest addition into russian nobility. oksana was given her title by alexei when the former duke of akhangelsk died and his only son was in prison. this was three years ago, before then oksana had been part of alexei’s staff and a close friend. oksana received the title of a grand duchess last year when the former duke of komi passed away. oksana is definitely loyal to the imperial family, no doubt about that. she is, however, detested by all of her neighbours including vitaliya and the new duke of komi --- both of them expected to receive the title of a grand duchess/duke. 

NIKITA KURAKIN, the 54 year old duke of KHABAROVSK and the grand duke of FAR EASTERN RUSSIA who resembles KEANU REEVES 

nikita kurakin is first and foremost a general. he is steadfast and reliable. the romanovs trust him. far eastern russia is his kingdom and anyone who challenges his leadership gets a slap on the wrist. he isn’t necessarily liked but he isn’t feared. he is very fair and doesn’t misuse his power. kurakin’s one of the most important figures when it comes to east asian politics. usually when kurakin is on a diplomatic mission, it’s a successful one.

GRIGORI KOLOBKOV, the 68 year old duke of KRASNODAR and the grand duke of SOUTHERN RUSSIA who resembles ED HARRIS

kolobkov is one of the few ussr generals to survive the revolution --- and by that we mean that he was the only general to survive the change in leadership. kolobkov sided with the royal family at a very crucial time and managed to avoid an execution. kolobkov’s expertise landed him a duchy during tsar mikhail’s reign. currently he is pretty much leading the attack on ukraine. 

RENATA SHIRINOVA, the 37 year old duchess of STAVROPOL and the grand duchess of NORTH CAUCASIAN RUSSIA who resembles NATALIA VODIANOVA

shirinova grew up in france --- her family only returned to russia when her father’s family’s title was returned to him. the shirinovas weren’t the loudest supporters of the romanovs when they were fighting for the country. this is the reason why the shirinovas have been rubbing elbows with the romanovs ever since their return to russia. renata is no different from her parents. the problem is that their behaviour just irritates the romanovs. but at least they are loyal !

LIZAVETA ORLOVA, the 34 year old duchess of MORDOVIA and the grand duchess of VOLGA who resembles NATASHA POLY

lizaveta inherited her title from her father but it is her mother who is important. lizaveta belongs to one of the richest families in russia --- while she could use her title to make changes happen, to make sure certain kind of laws happen... it’s her mother’s name and mother’s money that gives her real power. people are afraid of her because she makes problems ( people ) disappear with a snap of her fingers. she was named the grand duchess of volga 100% because of her mother and not because of her father.

ZINAIDA DASHKOVA, the 37 year old duchess of KRASNOYARSK and the grand duchess of SIBERIA who resembles LOTTE VERBEEK

dashkova will stab you in the back if you upset her. she is as power hungry as they come. her resourcefulness has no competition. alexei bought her ‘loyalty’ by giving her the title of grand duchess of siberia. dashkova always hears the imperial family out and usually makes decisions that are in the romanovs’ favour but there are times when dashkova’s own ambitions are more important than being liked by the romanovs. she only respects the hierarchy when it benefits her --- she’s the type who forgets to use honorifics unless she wants something from you.

ALEXANDER CHERNYSHEV, the 36 year old duke of SVERDLOVSK and the grand duke of URAL who resembles RICHARD MADDEN

alexander chernyshev is blue eyed. you can tell him just about anything and he’ll believe you. he’s an army captain even though no one understands how he is equipped to lead anyone. alexander was given the title of a grand duke by tsar mikhail almost a decade ago. the reason ? alexander listens. you don’t need to be afraid of the man double crossing you or causing a scene. 

ANNA ROMANOVA, the 41 year old duchess of MOSCOW and grand duchess of CENTRAL RUSSIA who resembles ANTJE TRAUE

the moscow duchy is economically and culturally an important duchy in russia and having a romanov govern it was important to the family. it was trusted to anya who had always showed competence to rule. anya is the only royal to have her own grand duchy. czar mikhail tried to avoid nepotism whenever he had to choose the next grand duke or duchess. when the previous grand duke of central russia passed away, anya was the only duchess in central russia the romanovs could trust thus she was given the powerful title.

YAKOV GOLOVKIN, the 49 year old duke of SAKHA who resembles JON HAMM

golovkin is a wild card. he is always looking out for himself and takes just about any deal that benefits him. he rarely visits his duchy as it is quite far away from st petersburg. he has never lived in his duchy --- but he really appreciates the money he gets through his title. the romanovs dislikes him, vitaliya likes that he can be bought.

IVAN KAPUSTIN, the 53 year old duke of KOMI who resembles DANIEL CRAIG

kapustin inherited his title from his father a year ago. he’s an army colonel. kapustin may not have held his title for a very long time but he’s been doing his father’s work for a very long time. his military career is also a respectable one. people were expecting him or vitaliya to become the ruler of the grand duchy. he and vitaliya pretty much terrorize oksana --- partly out of pettiness and partly because there’s a chance that oksana might give the title up.

NIKOLAI VON ESSEN, the 35 year old duke of KALININGRAD who resembles ARMIE HAMMER

nikolai’s duchy is barely russian. he has a lot of freedom when it comes to governing. the von essen family has been important members of the russian navy for centuries --- it is why the family received the duchy of kaliningrad when the duchies were reinstated.

LANA YELCHIN, the 46 year old duchess of BASHKORTOSTAN who resembles THANDIE NEWTON

lana yelchin started out as a politician. she had a pretty successful career considering her age --- and then she married the duke of bashkortostan. people liked lana more than they liked her husband so when the man died and it was up to the romanovs to decide whether the man’s cousin would get the duchy or lana... the romanovs chose lana. lana’s heart is in the right place and her experience in ‘people’s politics’ gives her an ability to see issues from a different point of view. she is a person people ask for advice when they are unsure about the effects of new legislation, etc. 

MARINA GLUKHOVA, the 38 year old duchess of BURYATIA who resembles DICHEN LACHMAN

glukhova hasn’t been a duchess for a very long time. she hasn’t even been part of the court for a long time. marina is a illegitimate daughter of the former duke of buryatia. she only came to know about her birthright when, on his deathbed, her father contacted her. marina wasn’t going to accept the title when it was offered to her but eventually caved. it’s been a bit of a rollercoaster for her, she has learnt quickly but her down-to-earth kind of attitude has not disappeared. marina has no patience for mind games and she tends to keep to herself. marina’s passion is foreign affairs though and she’s been very proactive in her role of an honorary ambassador. 

NATALYA ANTOPOVA, the 53 year old duchess of PERM who resembles HELENA BONHAM CARTER

natalya is the first one from her family to have a title. natalya was young, reckless and passionate when the white army recruited her to fight for the imperial family. she had no political opinions but the royalists gave her life a reason, something the soviet union had failed to do. natalya was smart and tended to think outside of the box, which made her stand out. her loyalty was rewarded later on and she was given a duchy. natalya is still a bit reckless and it shows in her style of governing. plans are made quickly, budgets are approved haphazardly... 

VITALIYA VORONTSOVA, the 58 year old duchess of KARELIA who resembles MICHELLE PFEIFFER

u know my bitch. definitely bitter about the title of a grand duchess.

KONSTANTIN ROMANOV, the 34 year old duke of ALEKSANDR OBLAST who resembles CASEY DEIDRICK

aleksandr oblast is the new name of leningrad ( the duchy that borders st. petersburg ) because the romanovs wanted to erase everything that referred to stalin or lenin. aleksandr is the name of the romanovs’ grand father.

[thedistantstorm]

Project Compass 24

Read along on AO3 Here

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This time: Ar’alani makes some changes.

Next Time: Thrawn tries to seek out Eli. Grysk poison claims lives aboard the Steadfast.

-/

The lighting in the room was set far more dim than it would be normally, even for a Chiss who could see relatively well in low light. It, compared to the far brighter lights out in the corridor was indicative of a patient meant to be resting or in slumber. Thrawn blinked once, then twice at the ceiling as he took stock. He wasn’t in acute pain, but he certainly felt addled as though he’d been hit one too many times by his old assassin droids.

There was also a heavy weight on his right forearm. He tilted his head just enough to see. “Navigator Un’hee?”

The girl lifted her head, shocked, then turned her youthful gaze upon him. Hopeful, she asked, “Commander Mitth’raw’nuruodo?”

His eyes caught movement toward the door. Carefully, he extracted his arm from Un’hee’s grip and stared at the woman watching him with a cool balance of respect and disregard for his personal opinions on being watched in this arguably compromised state.

“You’re not hallucinating,” Karyn Faro said, eyebrows raised. It could have been a statement, or perhaps a rhetorical question she didn’t expect him to answer. She nodded toward him. “You going to stay awake this time?” She drawled, as though she wasn’t expecting much of anything.

“This time?” His question was clipped. Displeased.

Un’hee exhaled. “You’ve been in and out of consciousness for the last week,” She murmured softly. There was sadness in her voice. At the return of Thrawn’s attention it shifted sharply into worry. “Are you in pain?”

“No, Navigator,” He answered honestly, taking a breath to center his thoughts. The action sent his most recent coherent thoughts to the forefront of his mind, though they were supposedly a week old at this point. Reoriented to the details, he pressed his hands to his chest. Nothing. His tone was low, but sharp with concern for the Navigator at his side. “Are you alright, Un’hee?”

“Yes, I’m fine.” She said meekly. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”

“I am,” He confirmed before glancing back toward the door. “That still does not explain why I’m looking at you, Karyn Faro. Nor why you are in uniform.”

“Well, the Jedi needs to sleep sometime, and the Admiral called me back.” She shrugged. “I might have been playing a little loose with my words last time we talked.”

“You are not a free agent, as you led me to believe.”

“Not so much,” Faro shrugged. “I’m not much of a freelancer, if I’m being honest.”

“I see.”

Both Faro and the Navigator left the room once the medical team realized him awake. Hours later, following cognitive, neural, and laboratory testing, he’d been declared healed and free to go. He expected to find them, or Bridger waiting for him after he’d been discharged from the med-team’s care.

Instead, it was Admiral Ar’alani herself. “I will show you to your quarters,” She said, instead of any real greeting, any inquiry to his health. He saw the side of her face. Her eyes were bright, but not bright enough to hide the dark shadows beneath them. “You will have an hour, and then I will need to question you about everything you can remember.”

“We can do it now, if you’d prefer,” Thrawn said, never one to put off such events.

“An hour,” She said. “I had your things moved from the Compass.”

“We are not returning, Admiral?”

“No.” Ar’alani’s tone was cool, not giving any leeway. “I will explain it all when you report to my office.” They stepped into a larger lift down one of the main hallways. Once inside, she fixed him with a stern look. “You are alright?”

“I feel perfectly normal.”

“And your wounds?” Her eyes dragged downward, landing squarely on his chest.

Thrawn hadn’t seen or felt any evidence of them, and the medics had been plenty thorough about examining him. “What wounds?”

Ar’alani smirked. Her eyebrows twitched upward, almost impressed. “Good,” She said to herself. “Very good.” She turned her gaze back to the door. “I didn’t want them releasing you until you were back to your usual self.”

Smoothly, Thrawn said, “I can assure you I am, Admiral.”

“I can see that,” She quipped. They exited the lift and took a left, then a right. These were the officers quarters, a block of dormitories that surrounded the Navigators’ section. “I hope you will find your accommodations a bit more appropriate than your quarters aboard the Compass,” She said casually, gesturing to a door that appeared to be directly across from her own, considering the nameplate and ornamentation on the door.

“I suspect your decision is more for my safety and monitoring than for merit.”

She tutted. “The officer’s suite was for merit. The convenience of the suite for your safety and monitoring was coincidence. You would refuse my hospitality?”

“Not at all, Admiral Ar'alani," He said, gravely. "But I am hardly a commanding officer aboard your ship at present."

“Fishing, as always, I see," She grumbled. "Perhaps in an hour, you will feel differently,” She said vaguely, then gestured to the door that led to his new, roomier, and private quarters.

-/

Thrawn's countenance started dark and grew darker as Admiral Ar'alani questioned him about what had happened leading up to his week-long stay in the Steadfast's medical ward. Between himself and the Admiral, two identical tea mugs remained untouched between them, the red-leaf tea long gone cold.

Eventually, she toggled a panel on her desk, opening a drawer and withdrawing a vial of crystal blue powder within a tiny, blastproof canister.

"Do you know what this is?"

He reached for the canister and she allowed it. Cautiously, Thrawn tilted it this way and that, investigating it. "A spice variant?"

"No," Ar'alani said gravely. "The Grysks call it Blue Death."

"The Grysks?" Thrawn's eyes narrowed. "Admiral are you saying-'

"Yes." She confirmed. She did not need to explain the level of corruption to him. He’d already made the connection. Instead, she continued, "You do not remember anything after the poison began to compromise your lungs."

He nodded. The wispy fragments of his memory during that period were hardly reliable, therefore Thrawn discredited them entirely.

"Un'hee identified the poison."

"And Commander Wes'lash'andi?"

"His body was taken to the capital to be returned to his family." Uncaring of how cold her tea had become, she lifted the cup to her lips. "Naturally the Council was displeased."

"The council is already aware," Thrawn commented. "An unusual move for you. Usually you desire more information."

"A Chiss died at my human officer's hand." She blinked up from the depths of her mug. "On the bridge of the ship I gave him to command, no less."

Thrawn offered no comment. He stroked his chin, contemplative, until Ar'alani continued.

"Commander Wes'lash'andi made a critical error. If he wished to get away with his crime, he should have attempted to poison Un'hee and murder Ivant, who are aware of the poison but wouldn't have been able to speak against him." She looked toward her memory wall, then back down at her hands, displeased.

"Was the Commander's death more harm than help?"

"No," Ar'alani said resolutely. "His death preserved the enemy's supply lines and frightened the crew. They should be frightened. Our military is compromised, even now." The darkness beneath her eyes grew more pronounced when she looked down and away. "The Aristocra is hesitant to believe we have been infiltrated by the Grysks. Using their materials isn't enough for them."

"I doubt they are meeting them face to face."

"Surely not. They must be using a client species."

"Scratchings?"

"No," Ar'alani smiled tightly. "Our working theory is that Emperor Palpatine sent gifts to the Grysks." Darkly, she muttered, "That man does not value life outside of his own."

"Slaves," Thrawn clarified grimly. He didn't comment on his former ruler.

"Indeed," Ar'alani said. "A great many of them."

"Faro provided this knowledge?"

"No, but one of her contacts did. Your former weapons officer, if I remember correctly."

Thrawn hummed and touched the top of the protective canister. "They are making this?"

"With help. There was a direct point of contact. Any Chiss arrogant enough to work with our enemies would hardly deal with some hireling or client."

Thrawn offered an alternative, always willing to play devil's advocate. "Or perhaps, they could think themselves capable of winning over the Grysks' clients, thus giving them a perceived in."

"Do you really believe that?"

His expression was sinister. "I do not."

-/

Thrawn was hardly the type whose head spun over an overabundance of knowledge. However, the information he'd collected through his lengthy meeting with Admiral Ar'alani was enough to require solitude and additional contemplation. And, though he would hardly let something like this impede him, he was not completely recovered from his brush with death.

"I will work you like a dog," Ar'alani had said. "You, and your would-be Jedi."

In the span of that conversation, Thrawn had been removed from what was his probation in all but name and promoted to the rank of Captain. He highly doubted that to have anything to do with merit for his recent actions. It was hardly traditional for anyone holding less than the rank of Captain to be made the First Officer beneath a Fleet Admiral, after all.

Ezra, according to Ar'alani, would remain outside of the CDF's standard ranks as his aide and assistant to the Navigators, in deference to his status as an unorthodox, but obvious Jedi. It was a move cognizant of his abilities and their similarities to the Navigators, but also recognizing his military experience, both in his time among the Chiss, as well as his upbringing in the more grassroots Rebellion.

And it was Ezra who waited beside his door, casual, but with a tightness to his stance that indicated long-standing concern and worry.

"I, uh," He scratched the back of his head, sheepish. "You didn't get a datapad yet, or else I would have just-"

Thrawn looked him over, not quite as casually as anticipated, then exhaled silently as he made a decision, spun the overgrown child by his shoulders and ushered him into his new quarters. "Sit," He instructed. Officers quarters consisted of a combination office and sitting area with minor amenities, with a door that separated sleeping quarters and a ‘fresher. Ezra’s quarters, located just on the other side of the shared office wall were likely a smaller, mirror image of his own, indicative of his new, unspoken increase in rank.

Instead of coddling the young man, he took a seat across from him in a comfortable wingback chair and raised his eyebrows in silent approval to begin speaking, despite his tiredness. Such was the life of a commander. It had been a reprieve to be responsible only for this one. Now, he would have an entire warship to look after. He looked forward to it.

When a moment passed, and Ezra had done nothing more than gape at him, Thrawn had enough. “Speak, Ezra.”

“You’ve been awake for,” He waved a hand as if it were some measurement of time, “And-” He shrugged. “I dunno. Should’ve expected it, I guess. That was just quick.”

“Hardly. I was out of sorts for days, and we are in a precarious situation. It’s only sensible that Admiral Ar’alani would need all the information at her disposal immediately. I- and by extension, you-” He gave Ezra a meaningful look, “Will begin our duties first thing tomorrow. The Admiral did explain your new role, did she not?”

“Yes.” Ezra smirked. “Faro already hooked me up with every single piece of art we could find from the prominent families, as well as everything ever recovered from a Grysk Warship.”

“You are lucky to have her advice.”

“Oh, I figured out to do that on my own,” Ezra said. “Not that she didn’t try to give me a crash course in how to keep you happy.” He smirked, then said airily, “I figure I know what not to do by now.”

The deadpan look Thrawn graced him with said otherwise.

“Okay, look, I’m gonna be horrible at this, but if nothing else, I should at least be good at keeping the Navigators happy part of the assignment.”

“You will not be horrible at this. You already understand my expectations.” That much was true. Ezra had even lived in close quarters with Thrawn, had been tutored by him, and already relied on him for instruction. “Consider it a return to our original dynamic, but we are both better equipped to handle it.”

“I’m not worried about you,” Ezra said. He rolled his eyes. “You’re the last person I’m worried about working with. I’m more worried about the traitors we’re trying to weed out attempting a repeat performance.”

“The Admiral assured me she is already working on it. And, despite its… shortcomings,” He allowed, “The antidote administered does prevent lasting damage and loss of life.”

“Yeah,” Ezra agreed. “Can’t believe the day would come when I was happy you didn’t kick it,” He said ruefully. “But I am glad you’re alright-” He trailed off.

“As am I.” Thrawn studied Ezra. “What?”

“I was going to say that I’m glad you’re alright, even if the first thing you did when you woke up higher than a spacetrooper was to try and beat me to death with medical equipment.”

Red eyes flashed, narrowing. “I did not.”

“Oh, you did,” Ezra grinned. “And you broke my holorecorder before I could record any of it to share with you.”

After ascertaining the young man was serious, Thrawn finally stated, “That serves you right, since I know you, and your motives couldn’t have been scientific.”

Ezra gave him his best impression of an innocent. Thrawn wasn’t convinced. “Do, uh, you remember any of that?” The Jedi asked, something discerning in his blue gaze.

The Chiss considered. He remembered fragments of wakefulness during his time in the Steadfast’s medical quarter, but nothing coherent or concrete. “Nothing I could be certain was not a hallucination. I don’t suspect I’ll recover that time, and based on your retelling of events, I don’t believe I wish to.”

“Most of it, no. You certainly weren’t exciting or embarrassing after Faro hit you with a tranq.”

“She did what?”

“Anyway,” Ezra drawled, shrugging off Thrawn’s very restrained and yet totally obvious surprise, “There is something that happened I think you’ll care about. You can be mad at me for spying on you, but it needed to be done.”

“Spying,” Thrawn said flatly, sarcasm brought to bear. “And what, pray tell, did my hallucination-driven musings tell you?”

“Infuriatingly enough, that you’re pretty much always right.” Ezra took a deep breath, squared his shoulders, then looked Thrawn in the eye. “I don’t think you were wrong about Eli.”

[ruinsofxerxes]

why, in your opinion, did hawkeye follow mustang? how did she forgive/accept the way he was using her father's research when she saw him in ishval? how did she start believing in what he was doing and how did it turn into the steadfast, unbreaking loyalty we see later in the series?

Good question! I’m gonna ramble because Roy and Riza have a very interesting relationship, whether you view it as romantic or not. It’s very morally gray and I’ve always found it very interesting and I love how Arakawa wrote it.

I always thought Riza followed him mostly because she felt responsible, and because she felt repentant about both her and Roy’s roles in Ishval. I don’t think she particularly ever forgave Roy for how he used her father’s research, nor do I think she ever forgave herself for trusting Roy with it after seeing the amount of destruction and genocide it caused. I think she just had to accept that that was their reality and then do what she could to repair what they had destroyed. 

Riza decided to follow Roy to Ishval because it was her father’s research and it was her who gave Roy the research against her father’s wishes, so it was partially Riza’s doing that Roy became such a force to be reckoned with in Ishval. She felt incredibly guilty about that along with her own role as sniper, which she only did because she wanted to keep an eye on Roy after trusting him with her family’s huge secret. 

And while I’m sure Riza and Roy had a nice, or at least cordial, relationship before Ishval, I don’t think Riza decided to follow Roy just because they were friends or because she forgave him anything like that. I think the reason she did it is because he was the only hope she saw for some sort of absolution for her roles in Ishval. Roy only wants to get to the top because he wants to change the military, make reparations and get justice for Ishval. Riza followed him because she felt the same way, that Ishval needed to be restored and Ishvalans needed justice, especially because she and Roy were two of its biggest antagonists. She followed him because of her extreme guilt and that drove her to want change as fervently as Roy. If Roy wasn’t trying to get to the top in order to repent for Ishval, I don’t know what the guilt would have done to Riza, or Roy for that matter. 

But I think the only thing that kept them both going after the war was Roy’s future plan to change things, even if it was at the cost of themselves and their own lives, because they felt so guilty about their roles in the war, rightfully so. Riza knows they’re the bad guys in this narrative and even mentioned to Ed that she doesn’t have the right to feel bad for herself or feel as though this is a burden, she chose this path so it’s her duty to make things right, as much as she can. She can’t change what she did, she can only try to change things for the future, which is also what Roy is trying to do, so they depend on each other to hold each other to that promise. 

I think Riza feels a duty to stick with Roy since she was the one who introduced him to flame alchemy, now she needs to protect him so he can get to the top, change things, and do what they can for Ishval. Riza was the reason Roy’s destruction of Ishval, and I think after the war, she knew she had to see this to the end with Roy, no matter what that outcome was. They had been pretty much tied together by fate or circumstance or whatever ever since Roy became Bertholdt’s pupil. That’s why they both rely so heavily on each other and have formed such an extreme and protective bond. 

[shadows-twilight]

RWBY Volume 6 Chapter 7

My various thoughts and opinions on Chapter 7 of RWBY Volume 6, "The Grimm Reaper"

SPOILERS BELOW:

Did Barbara name this one?

Hmm, so despite Cinder's single-minded drive to kill Ruby, she hasn't forgotten that Salem wants her alive. So her plan is to have Neo kill Ruby instead as a bullshit technicality so that Cinder doesn't get in trouble with Salem. Right, good luck with that, Cinder. Let's see how well that goes for you.

I find it disappointing that, despite having several minutes of screentime so far, Neo's eyes have yet to change color in any way.

Wow. The Nevermore flying at a young Maria from out of the mist is probably one of the most cinematic shots we've seen so far in this show. I love it.

I must say, while current elderly Maria is in no way bad-looking, her younger form is...kinda hot. And by 'kinda' I mean incredibly.

The way Maria uses her scythes and the way they attract each other reminds me of the 'Viridian' trailer from the fanmade 'SLVR' series. It was awesome there, and it's awesome now.

So this obvious-Tick-Tock-the-Crocodile allusion, Tock, she mentions that her boss wants Maria dead. Is she one of Salem's goons from this time era? Did Maria know about Salem before meeting Jinn? I really would like to know just how in the know Maria is.

Props to Melissa Sternenberg. That scream of pain was spine tingling. Damn, Tock's death was brutal. I guess that's what you get for taking to taunt a wounded, cornered warrior, but still. Damn.

Question, if Qrow based his weapon on Maria's, why does is the resemblance more prominent in Crescent Rose?

It is now official. We are getting a "Maria trains Ruby in the Art of Silver Eyes" arc. Really can't wait for that.

Jaune! I'll admit, I was afraid that it would take a lot longer to get to Argus. Glad to see they're not dragging it out any.

Ruby has Jaune in her scroll as 'Vomit Boy'. Gawddamnit, Ruby. "Cute boy OZ!!!" I've said it once. I've said it many times. I will continue to say it many times more. Nora, please never change.

I don't see Lancaster shippers having fun with that reunion at all *insert sarcasm marker here*

Argus looks like San Francisco mixed with those novelty Christmas towns my Grandma puts on her mantle. I quite like it.

Hehe, the license plate on the trolly is the episode's air date. Nice.

Man, not even a year yet and they're already making a movie out of the Fall of Beacon. And I thought Hollywood was exploitative. That being said, I kind of want to see the Remnant-Hollywood interpretation of how that all went down.

Oh my gawd, is that...is that an Arc sister? Is that an honest to goodness Arc sister!? I've waited so long for this day!

Man, from Ruby's excited expression, Jaune's arm-flailing, and Weiss and Yang doting on Saphron's kid (as well as everything from him in general), they're really going all out on the silly and adorable animation. I am loving it!

Ooh, sibling group photo! Ok, so from left to right we seem to have a pair of obnoxious twins, a silly girl in orange, the mature and responsible eldest, Jaune in pigtails (hang in there, buddy), a cutie in pink, what I'm going to guess is the brainy one, and...David. In blonde, female form. Best reference since the Camp Camp theme song in Chibi.

Terra Cotta? Really? Come on guys, even for RWBY, that is just blatant. Also, more gay is always cool.

"Shut up there's FOOD!" I see Ruby is steadfast in being the voice of reason in these trying times Ok, when they talked about things not going well with the Atlas military base, I expected it cutting to everyone being arrested, rather than them simply shutting the door in their faces. Still, I suppose it was too much to hope for anything to go that easily.

Man, I had high hopes for this episode, and even then they managed to exceed them to an extreme level. This has been the volume that just keeps on giving, and I can not wait to see what happens next.

[princessvicky01]

Brother knows best

Part 6 of Happily Ever After- my self indulgent Annabel x Cullen epilogue, because they deserved one! 

This part is SFW with angst and lots of comfort feels as everyone adjusts to the big news revealed, also features cameo by @inner-muse oc Kelandris. You can read it all on AO3 here or on tumblr Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 - hope you enjoy!

-

Brother knows best

“You are allowed to touch my tummy you know,” Annabel cracks one eye open against the growing light to peer at her husband. “It’s not like you’re going to break the baby somehow,” spying the warm wonderment Cullen wears she blinks the remaining sleep away to instead try and focus on the liquid amber of his eyes which dart up from staring at her stomach.

“Yes, right, I know… but still, you’re sure?” Those honey glazed ambers peer up at her from under a mop of wheaten curls that’s fallen limply over his forehead, and she can’t help but feel like the luckiest woman alive. Silly, handsome, man.

“Yes, Cullen, I’m sure,” she nestles her cheek back into the pillow with a serene little smile. The room is filled with the pink hue of breaking dawn which tells her it’s far too early to rise, although it does make her wonder if he’s even slept at all since hearing the news.

The mattress shifts and tender fingers run over the small mound of her tummy, she hisses and jerks from him, and his hand withdraws like he’s touched hot coals.

“Maker’s breath! I- Annabel, are you-“

Her giggle breaks off the panic in his voice, and when she opens her bleary eyes, she finds him caught in some kind of mixed state of concern, confusion and chagrin.

“I’m joking!” she flashes the same beaming smile which has gotten her both into and out of countless mischiefs before. “In what way could you ever possibly hurt either of with a feather-light touch? Scratch that, in what way could you ever hurt us, period." Propping up on her elbow she gives a mildly exasperated shake of her head. 

"How about you save your worrying for the bigger things, ok?” She goes to reach out and brush the dusting of curls from his forehead but promptly discovers only a stump. She still expects it to be there, her hand, and can’t believe just how much she’d taken it for granted. The reminder that she’s now much less than she once was is able to fowl her mood like very few other things could. ”Like how I’m going to cope with one arm to start…” she grumbles with a passing glare at the end of the limb before flopping back down into the sheets.

“You’ll be brilliant,” Cullen’s tone is warm but rough, riddled with sleep and a whole host of loving emotions that she knows he’ll never likely be able to put into words. “You have the gem, and the false hands, you've been doing amazing," the bed dips slightly as he shifts closer, wrapping one leg over hers. "You'll find a way, you always do… Besides, I'm here, I always be here,” now his hand does rest on her stomach, and she sighs heavily.

Reassuring as his words are they don’t quite shake the feeling that she’s not ready, that she’ll never be ready. How was she supposed to change the babe when she couldn’t even do up her own buttons? The prosthetic hand was becoming easier to use, but it still would never match the natural dexterity or strength of the real thing.

“What if I can’t do it?” It’s a whisper, she makes with her eyes closed. Speaking aloud that tiny voice of doubt that has seeped in, that has soiled everything since she lost her limb, since she'd found out about the baby. “If I’m not ready… You know how emotional I get, how angry... What if I can't cope?” Another shift in the mattress and she feels his callous palm brush over her cheek, enticing her eyes open with the soft drag of his thumb.

“You can, I know you can,” Cullen nods, his eyes as earnest and devoted as she’s ever seen them. “I have many concerns; getting you home safely, the birth, making Skyhold infant proof. Then there’s the threat of kidnap, the cold in the mountains, the sicknesses that spread through barracks. And how I should pick it up when it cries? How do I know when it’s hungry? How am I to manage work and nappy changes? The list almost never ends. But one thing that never has, and never will worry me, is how you’ll cope. You’ll be a brilliant mother.”

Tears start to itch the back of her throat, and she nods, letting one spill over and down her cheek, only for him to place a kiss in the wake of its trail. Nuzzling against his jaws they share a kiss, tender and true, and the dark thoughts are chased away by his warm lips against hers, the slow slide of his tongue and the embracing hug of his arm as it hugs around her waist.

“And you’ll be a brilliant father…” she breathes against his lips, nose lifting to nudge against his before letting her eyes flutter closed once more. "Of that, I have no doubt."

“We should arrange to have you seen by the midwife, make sure you’re as well prepared as possible… I’ll look into sourcing a cot, a nanny, and all the things Maker only knows a baby must require…” Bryan is already scribbling out a list, his thoughts spilling too fast and furious to stay in his head. This is amazing news, incredible in fact, but also distinctly terrifying, and his mind has already worked out a dozen ways for things to turn disastrous. His aunt and his uncles had been quite significant in his life, trying to fill in the gaping holes his parents had left, and while he has no doubt that they'll make wonderful parents, he still wants to help any way he can.

“A nanny?” Cullen brows furrow across the table at him, his arms crossing, a tell-tale defensive sign which Bryan notes with a brief glance before continuing his list.

“Yes, a nanny, to help raise the child,” he’s already moved on to thinking about the crib and wondering where best to find the best advice on newborns. “I’ve heard-“

“No,” Cullen cuts across in the kind of stern tone all strong military commanders possess. “We shall not require a nanny, we shall raise the child, ourselves, besides there will be plenty of help at Skyhold.“

The quill in his hand stops what it’s doing, and Bryan takes a moment to gather himself, cracking his neck before he straightens. This child will be his niece or nephew, and Annabel is the closest family he has. To that extent, he knows her well, and while he knows she will be a warm, caring, fantastic mother, he is also not so naïve as to believe she won’t need some support. Support, which he fully intends to give, and he can hardly provide it with hundreds of miles between them.

He knows he can’t keep her here forever, she has moved on with her life, but he can at least help her through those first few days, weeks, or months even. Keep them both safe. Besides only a fool would take a pregnant first-time mother to be on such a long treacherous journey over the waking sea and miles of wild Fereldan countryside. “Yes, but what about when the babe first arrives here and is screaming through the night? What you do in Skyhold is up to you, but I shall not be kept awake all hours by a screaming-“

“Hang on,” Cullen’s palms come to rest firmly against the table with the hefty rustle of steel from his armour as his face twitches with a scowl. “What do you mean ‘when we get to Skyhold’? We are leaving, at once. The baby should be born at home.”

“And is no one going to ask for my opinion?” Annabel quips, one eyebrow and hand raised from her spot beside her husband.

Bryan barely registers her interruption, too focused on the stubborn man opposite and the challenge he represents. “The baby should be born here, Annabel should not have to endure months on the road. Besides this is the child’s ancestral home, countless Trevelyan’s have been born and raised under this roof, including-“

“This baby," snarks Cullen. "Our baby, is a Rutherford.”

Now its Bryans turn to scowl. To honestly think a commoner’s start to life is superior to the likes of what he has to offer here is absurd. “No offence,” he glowers. “But my niece or nephew should at least be born into the comforts of nobility, not on a Fereldan farm in the backend of nowhere.”

“No offence!” Cullen’s sharp tone and snarl slam through the air only to hit a wall of ice from the Lord which nothing, not even a lion’s roar could shake. Solid and steadfast Bryan rises to meet the heat of the commander’s glare with one of icy blue fire. He would not be intimidated and he certainly won’t allow a man he barely knows to make such life-changing decisions for his sister.

“Again, is no one going to ask me?” all playfulness to Annabel's tone is now evidently gone, apparently swallowed by the growing tension in the room which lifts even Kelandris to her feet beside him.

“The plan remains the same,” Annabel’s eyes narrow, her voice firm and authoritative. “As this baby is growing inside me, I’m the one who gets to decide. And I’ve decided our current plans are to remain the same. We’ll cross back to Fereldan, visit Cullen’s family in Honnleath then travel back to Skyhold, just all a bit earlier than we originally planned.”

“What!?” Both men twist to face her with expressions that scream as if she had just announced a most unholy blasphemy.

“I don’t see why things have to change just because I’m pregnant,” folding her arms, she also lifts her chin as any proper noble would. “I’ve been waiting two years to meet your family, my family. I’m not about to miss this chance. Once the baby arrives, we won’t be going aware for ages. So, no, I’m sorry, but that’s final.”

“Being pregnant changes everything, you should be resting,” Cullen steps towards her, hands outstretched in a silent plea.

“Yes, I agree with the commander,” Bryan nods. “You should be resting. Here, with all the comforts you require,” the quip receives an over the shoulder growl from Cullen but no rebuke.

“No,” she steps away from them both, genuine anger appearing to grow from the annoyance in the flicker of embers in her eyes. “It will only take a few weeks more travelling. I’ve spent years travelling, I’m quite accustomed to it. I do not need wrapping up in cotton wool or being waited on hand and foot. I’m the Inquisitor damn it!”

“Which is why you should be at Skyhold,“ Cullen implores with a softness to his tone which is overruled by a growl opposite.

“Which is precisely why she should remain here!” Bryan can’t keep his voice in check any longer, the debate is getting truly ridiculous. He senses Kelandris shift closer as he struggles to hold onto his control.

Had the damn Inquisition not done enough? Taking her from her home, her family, almost taking her life several times over, and not content with that taking a damn limb! All his life he’s protected her, kept her safe, be that from stupid childhood accidents or teenage courtly gossip quickly countered. As far as he can see this Inquisition had done nothing but put her in danger. “Let someone else deal with the title and the stress it entails, your priority will be with the child, not the Inquisition, and the further you are from it the better.”

“You’re unbelievable!” Annabel throws her arms up in open hostility,  but he doesn’t waver, standing rigid with absolute conviction. This is a battle he won't lose.

“If I might be the voice of reason?” A far calmer, but no less assertive voice finally makes itself heard as Kelandris steps to Bryan’s side. “How about we have this discussion with the physician and midwife, have them decide the best course of action? They are the experts after all.”

All three shift, tempers still clearly flared and hackles raised, but none seem to be able to find a reason to openly object.

“Fine,” Annabel huffs. “But I’ll not just wait around here-“

“No!” the slam of a fist thunders through the small room as Bryan’s eyes blaze and his lips curl back to reveal a flash of blunt fangs. He won’t see her come to any harm. He simply won’t.  “Damn it. For once in your life, Annabel, will you just listen to me!”

“What’s your problem!?” Her own iris’s flare with a kindred inferno as she snarls with equal ferocity, ignoring the attempting calming hand Cullen places on her shoulder. “You’ve not even seen me for years. I’ve been fighting giant demons, dragons, dark spawn magisters, and all a thousand miles away, how is this more dangerous? Huh!? How Bryan!?”

The outburst has left him panting lightly, unable to control the emotions the pulse through his veins with every pound of his heart in his chest. Lips curling, he snarls at the hostility, at the fear and hopelessness he can fill rising up from his stomach to clench every muscle in his body. He has to make her see.

“Because…” his voice is stern and he quickly trails off, reining back the ferocity with a shake of his head and an exasperated sigh, hands scrubbing at his hair. “Because I know you could fight those things and win. Even then, I still worried myself to death, first the conclave, then the reports about demons, dragons, the fade, bloody Orelsain royalty! Maker's breath it's as if you were trying to give me a heart attack. Then this with your hand… This Inquisition has put you through the void and back, and dragged me along with you, even though I knew you were capable… Knew you could thrive… I couldn't, can't help wanting to protect you, wanting you safe… And childbirth…” he trails off with a wave of his hand as his true fears finally become evident to him, the words choking in his throat. A heavy weight settles around his heart and drags his eyes down with it.

“… even a woman as strong as mother couldn’t survive that…” His voice is quiet now, speaking aloud words he’d rather have kept inside, words that only bring dark and vicious pain closer to the surface. “Perhaps you have forgotten,” he shakes his head and shuffles some papers uselessly in a vain attempt to distract from the crushing pressure in his chest. “But I have not, cannot,” as Kelandris arm rests on his shoulder and squeezes he gives up on the charade and puts the papers down. Emotions buried deep now ripple close to the surface, burning the back of his throat and clenching his chest like a fist curled around his heart. “How do you erase the sight of your mother’s blood-soaked sheets? Of mops smearing bloodied water across the flagstones by your mother’s bedside? Of her skin, so pale and cold to the touch. Of the way she screamed and clenched her teeth? The fear I saw in her eyes, heard in her voice… the weakness I felt as she tried to hold me, tried to tell me it would be ok… Made me promise, made me swear even, to always look after you, to keep you safe,” he shakes his head, dark hair flopping over his eyes as he does so. He hates this, opening up like this, it’s is so alien, and makes him terrifyingly vulnerable, but he hopes against hope it makes her see sense, see how serious this matter really is.

“Annabel… I can’t risk losing you... I especially can’t have that happen a thousand miles away, have you die without my knowing, without being there. To lose you to such pain in some hovel or on the side of the road in the middle of nowhere, to have that after we’ve been through so much… when you mean so much… I can’t…” His voice cracks as tears sting his eyes, but he refuses to cry, refuses even to lift his head and look at her, because he knows that’s all it'll take to open the floodgates.

“Oh, Bryan,” Kelandris’s tone and body are warm as they press against his side, both a small distinct comfort amidst the turmoil, not that he can even meet her gaze to tell her such. He can do nothing but keep his hold himself together with what little control that remained. He had looked after Annabel from the moment their mother died, had ensured she had food, a cosy fire, a shoulder to cry on, all while their father dismissed the staff in a drunken stupor. Everyone had just assumed the children would be taken care of. Two young nobles in a fancy castle… but at five and six with no adults, bar a few sparse guards, what were they to do? Even then he had been stubborn, unwilling to admit they needed help. Even at that age he understood the game and knew having everyone see their father, covered in his own vomit passed out amidst empty bottles would ruin him, ruin them.  So, he’d stepped up, and he doesn’t intend to step down now, nor ever.

The next thing he knows he’s tugged, shaking his head he recoils at the invasion, but it’s Annabel, and he knows resistance against her hugs is futile. A hot tear slips down his cheek as she holds him tight and he clenches his face against it, and hugs back. Soon his chin is being lifted, dragged up to find his sister staring at him, with eyes like his own, only far softer, far warmer.

He can’t believe he’s fallen apart like this. A man in his position could not afford such weaknesses, and yet, he can’t bring himself to detach from that ancient pain, that promise. It seems that the oldest scars ran the deepest, especially when etched in blood.

“You’re not going to lose me like that, ok?” Annabel’s soft but stern message reaches him, and he wishes he could believe her, but he’d learnt the world was a cruel place long ago, back when his mother screams had echoed in his chambers.

“You can’t know that, not for certain,” he murmurs with a shake of his head, blinking more tears away even though it stings his throat to hold them back.

“And you can’t know I’ll have the same complications as mother. Bryan, the team we have at Skyhold, the healers, the mages, are some of the best in Thedas… and you’ve met my personal lion. Cullen will make sure I’m ok. I’m not a little girl you need to rush into defend anymore, remember?”

He can’t deny the man she’d wed seemed capable, protective, loving, all the things he’d wanted for her, but still, he can’t fully hand responsibly over, it’s too much of a momentous task.  Finally, though he nods, wanting the discussion over more than anything else. “I know, but that doesn’t stop me being your big brother or worrying... No matter what happens, whatever decision you make, no matter how stupid, you know I’ll support you. Always have.”

“I know,” she smiles warmly. “I’ll be fine Bryan, and so will the little one,” tears shimmer in her eyes although none have slipped over. “Now don’t get too soppy or I might start crying, and you know how quickly that gets ugly.”

Scoffing a little chuckle as she lets go and pushes her gently from his grasp. “Finally, something we can agree on.” For that, he receives a tap against his arm. Somethings never change.

Cullen isn’t quite sure what to make of it, what to make of this Lord who one moment had been shouting insults in blind fury and the next broken and crumpled the way he’s seen few men do. The way he knows he has in the past when weighed down with burden, pain and regret. It isn’t a pretty sight, and he’d done his best to look away, to afford them some privacy, but the bond between them is so strong he could even feel it hum in the air.

He recalls the night of Haven’s attack when Annabel had stumbled out of the snow, racked by fever she had talked all night, had sought comfort in her delirious state from a ‘Bryan’ and it's now clear they are far closer than he’d realised. It seems that sharing such trauma so young had forged a sibling bond of steel. One he's loathed to come between, but he truly believes Skyhold, being home, is whats best for her.

“I can see your concern, Lord Bryan,” he remarks to fill the silence as Annabel slips back to his side. “But I promise by the Holy Andraste and Maker above; I will devote myself to her, and the child’s care. I will not falter in this task, that I swear.” His tone is serious, solemn, and he hopes to convey the gravity of what he says, of how much he means it, of how nothing has ever mattered more than this. Blinking he straightens a little as Bryan slowly steps around the table towards him, only to be blindsided as the man holds out his hand.

“I know you will,” Bryan nods. “And I’m sorry, for being so harsh, so brash, but she is dear to me, as I can see she is to you. Look after them for me,” with that they share a solid, heartfelt, handshake the kind Cullen had been hoping for all along.

-

Thank you for reading. Likes, reblogs and comments all make my day <3 

[loveiscosmicsin]

cicatrix

Stretching back to First Oracle Stellaluna the Visionary, as ordained by the Draconian, it’s in their blood, their mother’s blood, their family’s blood and future generations would bear the curse. House of Nox Fleuret were born into this, it was their destiny to be dealt with the cards given to them.

Stella, the big sister, determinator and resistor of fate; by no means a selfless protector and willing to participate in destruction to achieve her goals.

And Luna, the little sister, loyal to a fault and steadfast martyr disposed to demise; conscientious of her own concealed half-truths and half-lies.  

They knew how this would end. Free will’s an illusion.

-✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨-

Warning: there are themes of abuse, trauma, and mutilation. Could contain FFXV spoilers, but alterations to the canon narrative and objects. Features Stella and Lunafreya Nox Fleuret as sisters, Stella is 19 years old and Luna at 16. Ao3 Link: http://archiveofourown.org/works/10072811

I can’t believe this saved me from writer’s block and I get easily inspired. Based off @owlteria’s High Commander Stella Nox Fleuret artwork, canon divergence/character replacement of Ravus with key differences and headcanons http://owlteria.tumblr.com/post/157546099172/stella-nox-fleuret-based-on-this-interesting Thank you for privately sending me a close up of Stella’s prominent battle scar and letting me write fics to this, Owl. I might do more of these. I do miss Stella and the many interpretations I did have of her.

-

“You may be as different as the sun and the moon, but the same blood flows through both your hearts. You need her, as she needs you…” - George R.R. Martin, A Game of Thrones (A Song of Ice and Fire, #1)

-

Scars glowed in the moonlight, faded by time, almost nonexistent and silver in contrast to the young woman’s sun-kissed skin and the coarse white garment around her shoulders.

She had lost count of each wound inflicted onto her, but they never went forgotten in the stories they carried. As much as the owner would wish to forget, an exercise in remembrance was conducted before closing her eyes.

The scars danced just as they were vivid and striking to the eyes, restless under the shadows and animated when the heat of battle was upon her. As they were suffocating, she embraced them for they shaped her into the survivor and veteran she was today. The moment the dethroned princess assumed the role as a empire’s glaive, it was also the moment her old life had ended. She forfeited luxurious gowns and silverware no heavier than her pinky finger for a body that begets scars and a rapier that cleaved through many.

But it was her choice and she held no regrets. 

Lieutenant Stella Nox Fleuret wasn’t a savior, conqueror, heroine, or villain, not even a superhero or a creature of myth. She was no man either and that presented a glaring degree of antagonism in her precarious situation.

The jagged crimson gash on her right breast served as testament of this. It took the form of a mocking sneer, the very expression her attackers bore when they did this.

Stella examined the damage: a clump of flesh was barely hanging on at the peak of her breast.

Molten iron had went through her in an instant. Immense pain buffeted her before Stella’s brain made the connection that she had been stabbed. She was only given a moment before ordered to continue training in this condition, time enough to apply a gauze patch. Blood had seeped through the bandage and uniform by the time she returned.

The steel letter opener gleamed in the light as she made quick work of ridding the belittled flesh. Before she could contemplate against the notion, the young woman seized a potion and doused the liquid over the wound. A blue hue surfaced before it broke into a mass of white foam that hissed and stung. Blood and curative intertwined and spilled over her stomach and the waistband of her trousers. It would take more than potions to restore her, another scar accounted for.

An attack on her sex.

The lieutenant’s rapid ascension in the ranks was a farce. Though skilled in the blade and the oath sworn, her origins as a Tenebraen noblewoman couldn’t be denied. It caused tension among comrades and led them to question her leadership. Aside from several verbal confrontations, never before had they harmed her.

And it won’t be the last. But she will endure.

Enlisting in the military was the better alternative than allowing Niflheim to give her away in marriage to whoever they choose. She refused to be anyone’s property and have her autonomy stripped away. It was an unfathomable concept of having no right to refuse a husband’s advances and worse outcomes on top of that. She loathed the notion of turning to a man like that to save her sister, not when she was more accustomed to doing anything in her power for family by her own hands.  

The curative ceased bubbling, the bleeding at a minimal, but sorrow welled behind Stella’s eyes; she squeezed them shut. It was painful playing this role, it was as though she hadn’t been herself for years, a branded traitor to her people, of her femininity, and hound at the Empire’s beck and call. There was no doubt in her mind that there would be more roles she would adopt later on.

Three knocks politely prompted the woman out of her thoughts.

“Lady Stellafreyr, Lady Lunafreya seeks an audience with you.”

Ah, of course. Stella had returned to the manor of her childhood. Whatever did possess her to do that? Perhaps it was to regain some normalcy of the life thought long-lost or to maybe hear the attached name she had derived from her late-father. Stella was essentially the “lord” of House Fleuret still, when and should she be present within its halls. She had asked the chamberlain and servants to leave her be, but Lunafreya had caught wind of the lieutenant’s uneventful homecoming.

“A moment!” Stella requested as she took off her bloody garment, draped it around the instruments used and sent them a hurried kick to the side. She found a clean shirt waiting on the bed and put it on. “Come in, Lunafreya.”

The youngest Oracle in history and the younger Fleuret sibling walked past the parted doors that closed behind her immediately. “Stella!” She cried out before dashing toward the elder sibling and immersed her into a tight embrace.

Stella gasped, recoiling from the overzealous display of affection. The teenager released her.

“What’s wrong? Are you hurt?”

“No,” Stella steeled herself through clenched teeth. It took everything in her willpower not to scream and tears pricked at her eyes at the effort. Surely, the bleeding had returned. She forced a smile as she gripped the Oracle at the elbows, “It is so good to see you…”

Luna wasn’t impressed. “It’s been three months since we last saw each other. I cannot turn a blind eye when you can barely stand before me…”

It was in every sister’s instinct to veil the cruelest realities from her sibling, placate them in a fantasy world and assure them that everything would be all right. Stella wouldn’t dare hide anything of that nature from Luna. Luna tended to instigate and inquire even when it wasn’t the best time or place to do so.

“Who did this to you?” Luna held a hand against her lips, mortified.

This world they lived in was merciless and savage, it would not be a mercy to shield Luna from it. It would condemn her if Stella did. It wouldn’t be love if transparency wasn’t the basis of their relationship. Luna was free to formulate her own opinions, right and wrong, as Stella offered nothing but the truth.

“That is irrelevant.” Stella answered honestly and it was the truth. As of now, Luna wasn’t at risk to receive the same treatment. The Oracle’s beauty was far more prized than a soldier’s.

“Irrelevant?” Luna echoed. “I do not understand…” Her short blonde locks hid her troubled features as she shook her head. Her gaze fell to the discarded rolled-up garment on the floor.

Stella moved to button her shirt.

“Let me heal you,” Luna placed her hands over Stella’s, her wet eyes pleading. “Gentiana has been teaching—”

“No.”

Luna refused to relent. “Why?”

Because you shouldn’t waste your gift on a pitiful wretch like me.

There was irony that her life was inconsequential compared to the Oracle’s yet, in vain, Stella breathed meanings into the ever-changing world, constantly differentiating ideals from reality.

It’s a bloodline that Stella and Luna descended from. Stretching back to First Oracle Stellaluna the Visionary, as ordained by the Draconian, it’s in their blood, their mother’s blood, their family’s blood and future generations would bear the curse. House of Nox Fleuret were born into this, it was their destiny to be dealt with the cards given to them.

Stella lived for Luna’s sake, to protect her, from others and especially from herself. Luna was chosen by the divine to heal mankind of the plague and guide the King of Light to ascension. Stella was gifted by their ancestors as well, but all too familiar with aberrant lifespans associated with Oracles. The elder Fleuret would undoubtedly outlive her younger sister.  

“What has been done is done. It will heal on its own.” Stella consoled, patting the younger Fleuret’s hands. Wounds heal just as Stella similarly suffered Commander Ulldor’s lash when she leapt to protect Luna. Those wounds healed but there was no justice served for the trauma, merely a decreed suspension.

“If you won’t let me use my power,” Luna began, “may I treat it with what you have?”

Luna was always a tenacious soul, that trait must be in their blood. Once she set her mind on something, there was no other alternative.

Stella lowered her hands. “Very well…”

The moon shined bright at the darkest hour, leaving very few truths hidden in its awakening, but the shadows cast were places many dared not tread. Stella was the constellations that surrounded Luna’s moon, together they were untamed celestial bodies. Even when the moon went through cycles of concealment, at least the stars remained the jewels of the sky. What was the night without the moon and stars?

Luna rifled through all the drawers in the room and brought out a candle stick, a pack of matches, a potion, and a sewing kit. She coaxed the elder Fleuret to take a seat and began. The Oracle watched the imperial lieutenant’s expression as thread and needle punctured and slid through flesh but Stella stared out the window.

“How goes your training under the Messenger?” Stella asked, recalling Luna’s letters of how privileged she felt to be under the tutelage of a benevolent ally and attendant, her partner in divine.

“Gentiana has been a wonderful mentor, but I’m afraid I’m burdening her with my pace. She assigned me to a plant, not native to Tenebrae, and I could barely manage in sustaining it.”

Stella knew what plant the Oracle spoke of. Gentiana, utterly devoted to Luna since the day she was born, had visited Stella on a few occasions to discuss the Oracle’s growth. The dark-haired woman presented the lieutenant an illustrious flower with tiny azure petals in bloom from a delicate stem. It bore no name as the Messenger informed the christening would be in Luna’s honor to give. If the flower was properly cultivated, each and every one of them could bloom exclusively in Tenebrae, from hill to vale.

“Has she raised her voice to you?”

“No, quite the opposite and it worries me. She saw what I’ve been able to do with the trident close by yet advised that I must draw power from within than outward. How could I be so far in my training but not one bit close to completing it? I fail to understand how gardening ties in with my duties.”

Luna may not understand it now, but Stella had a picture retained in her head after the meeting with the Messenger. The Oracle’s office was the symbol of the peace and the flora reverently tended by her hands would be synonymous to the love she indiscriminately held for all life. Hope flourished so long as the Oracle’s promise to protect the world rung true.

“It is difficult now, but it will become second nature. Remember that mother had endured the same trials and shared the same thoughts as you have. Patience yields focus.”

Luna glanced up from her work, bowing her head. “Thank you, sister.”

“I trust that you’ve been living well here?” Stella wondered aloud. As the woman advanced in the ranks, she saw to exploiting the privileges attained so that Luna could live a normal life.

“Yes, you needn’t worry. The guards haven’t laid a hand on me.”

There was a lull in their conversation before Stella brought up a proposal, “I’m relocating to you to Alfheim tomorrow.”

“Does that mean that we’ll be living together?” Luna’s eyes gleamed happily and it warmed Stella’s heart to see that fondness after some time apart.

Fenestala Manor was Luna’s current residence and home of the royal family. Alfheim Manor was Stella’s personal manor, constructed shortly before Tenebrae’s fall, intended as a gift to the heir apparent when she came of age. As the owner would describe it, the manor was a gracious realm of light and beauty, lush gardens suitable for the dogs to run about, libraries with thick tomes for Luna to lose herself to, it was paradise.

“My apologies…” Stella regrettably stated, “I have taken residence in the barracks as of late. Maria, Lady Gentiana, Umbra, and Pryna will be permitted to live there with you. You have my word that you can live there comfortably. All that you desire will be catered to you.”

“All save for one…” Luna replied, crestfallen.

“This arrangement will allow me to come see you with ease. But given my increasingly demanding duties, I cannot promise how often I’ll be able to do so. Pack what you require tonight and I’ll send an escort by morning.”

“No,” Luna objected, “I’ll remain here in the manor.”

“Why?”

“It is our family’s home. I cannot abandon it. Many eyes watch me now that it doesn’t matter where I go. I am still in imperial custody.”

Those crystal eyes may one day be clouded by resentment for Stella’s actions but the commander will always be sincere about her motives. Luna would hold her accountable for a villain or a fool hell-bent on revenge. She submitted herself to the will of the sovereign, but she was no slave to the past or the temptation of power. Stella would be the wielder of her emotions, an impregnable aegis, rather than to be blinded by them.

But Stella had one weakness, one that proved that her walls were all but infallible, when the world had truly failed and hope lingered in a name: Luna.

Luna was Stella’s weakness, a lighthouse for lost travelers at sea, the first rain after an agonizing drought, a haven for foolhardy adventurers. On the day fires ravaged Tenebrae, Luna stayed behind and despite all that transpired afterwards, she bore no ill-will towards King Regis and Prince Noctis, uttered little of the duties expected of her. The blind faith and eminent compassion she held made her a perfect sacrifice to the Astrals than Stella ever would. Defiance was frowned down upon, direct descendant or not.

It was baffling to believe the Luna before her now was the same Luna who Stella mounted a wild spiracorn for when the younger sibling wailed endlessly on a renegade chocobo. Luna held firmly to the reins of her fate, Stella wasn’t ready to release those reins just yet.

Laughter bubbled out of the elder Fleuret’s lips.

Luna’s eyes widened. “Why are you—” She frowned, flustered. “This is no laughing matter!”

Stella wrapped her arms around her sibling’s neck and stroked her hair, the mirth absent as brief as it came. She cannot remember the last time she had laughed freely, it must’ve been a startling sight. “No, it’s not and that’s all right.” She muttered somberly as she watched the short strands escape her fingers. “I still have you, Lunafreya, and you’re all I need. I beg you, don’t grow up too fast.”

[unfair--verona]

HEAR ME OUT ON THIS

cause I just had a long discussion about it and I’ve come to many conclusions

HAMILTON CHARACTER HOGWARTS HOUSES

if your opinions differ hmu i’m looking for healthy discourse

This began as a buzzfeed quiz in which one could sort the Hamilton characters into Hogwarts houses and I was BAFFLED at some of the choices that the internet had collectively made for these people. Here I present to you my official dissertation on the true houses of these historical figures. 

It should be noted that no person or character is two dimensional and thus each possesses traits from each house. There are a plethora of factors to take into consideration before making a sorting decision.

Hercules Mulligan: Gryffindor

we’ll start off with someone rather non-contentious. Our pal Herc has mad nerve (”when you knock me down I get the fuck back up again”) and is without a doubt daring and brave. The dude was a spy in the british army???? Amazing

Marquis de Lafayette: Hufflepuff

Alrighty please consider the defining traits of a hufflepuff in regards to our favourite fighting frenchman:

You might belong in Hufflepuff Where they are just and loyal, Those patient Hufflepuffs are true, And unafraid of toil;

Laf literally packed up one day and bid farewell to his wife in France to go fight in another country’s war because he cared about it. His loyalty is very steadfast despite being to two distinct nations. Though some might argue this negates the argument of his loyalty because his attentions are so divided, I think his unwavering support of both just doubles his capacity for loyalty. He participated in what he felt was right because he felt it was right. Whatever the cost he chose to take part in both conflicts. YES he’s also brave, (the buzzfeed poll indicates that 37% of you think he’s a gryffindor which is FAIR) but I think that though he exhibits the traits of a gryffindor, his hufflepuff characteristics are stronger. (Also, apparently, 36% of you think he’s a ravenclaw??? sources pls i don’t see it) Lafayette is defined by justice, loyalty, and yes bravery- he is unquestionably “unafraid of toil.” HUFFLEPUFF

John Laurens: Gryffindor

 K I have a lot of problems with the poll on Laurens. 50% of those polled think that Laurens is a hufflepuff and I think that this goes along with the stereotyping of hufflepuffs as delicate cinnamon rolls. We all love John, we know he’s a lil cutie pie, but I think that he is defined by his nerve and chivalry. He deeply cares about equality and fighting for those who are unable to do so for themselves. His recurring passion in the show is the fight to end slavery. He dueled Charles Lee on Hamilton’s behalf when Alex wasn’t able to do so himself. Laurens went out of his way to put himself in the line of fire for people/causes he cared about regardless of the consequences.

George Washington: Ravenclaw

I think that GWash is often characterized as a gryffindor because of the image him of the military general and all around hero, but more prominent than his bravery is his calculating intelligence. Early in the revolutionary war he retreated his men for miles and miles without letting up the fight so as to not wring them dry before the war was up. He fought a losing battle for a long time but managed to lose strategically so as to still have soldiers to fight when they were able to push back. He stepped down from the presidency when he could have continued so as to ensure that the transition would be smooth and America would be able to self-sustain without him. Each of his actions were carried out with thorough thought and consideration. 

definitely though, the case could be argued for him being a gryffindor. I think he’s a very near split. 

King George III: Gryffindor

Like, sure? He’s in this weird boat of I don’t think he has enough clear characteristics to fit into another house. He’s more of a process of elimination. He’s not a slytherin, ravenclaw, or hufflepuff, soooo 

I think he tries to embody gryffindor traits enough that he manages to sooooort of do it?

Actually if you have thoughts on this please tell me I want more insight. 

Maria Reynolds: Slytherin

First and foremost Maria is not a slytherin because of her vaguely antagonistic qualities in the show. She serves as a vessel to convey part of Alex’s character and winds up being a very significant series of plot points. We love to hate her because she was Alex’s big mistake, but that’s not what makes her a slytherin. She went to Hamilton’s home with a goal in mind. Girl knew what she wanted and she got it. She was driven, sly, goal-oriented. “just give him what he wants and you can have me” to her lover, a married man, about her husband 

Or perhaps in Slytherin, You'll make your real friends, Those cunning folk use any means, To achieve their ends.

Thomas Jefferson: Ravenclaw

To vaguely quote Daveed, Jefferson wrote amazing words but he sucks. He wrote long and eloquent passages with inspirational messages and all that jazz, but he also just sort of got handed success and didn’t have to do a lot of fighting. This rules out the potential for him being a slytherin: he didn’t have to be cunning and ambitious to get anywhere, he just got there. He was fabulously clever and used it well, and to his advantage, but not with enough intent to be classified as a slytherin. 

James Madison: Ravenclaw

prolly? help me on this one

he’s not a hufflepuff though which is what buzzfeed indicated

Angelica Schuyler: Ravenclaw

Lin has literally said himself that Angelica is the most intelligent character in the show. She raps because she matches Hamilton’s intellect. The first time we meet her she talks Thomas Paine and feminist constitutional reform. I think she also exhibits a great deal of loyalty to her sisters, particularly when she acknowledges that Eliza would hand Alex to her if she asked but chooses not to to preserve Eliza’s happiness. Intelligence, though, is the characteristic most emphasized in the show. 

Eliza Schuyler: Gryffindor

Eliza begins the show looking a lot like a hufflepuff (”you’ll never find anyone as trusting or as kind” LOL) but winds up taking the reins in the show and shaping her own legacy as well as building and maintaining Alex’s. Her spectacular perseverance, drive, and daring nature make her a true gryffindor by the end. Forgiving Alex for his misdeeds also takes a great deal of courage. 

Peggy Schuyler: Gryffindor

Why does everyone think my girl Peggy’s a hufflepuff?? I think she’s a victim of “we don’t really know her, guess she’s a hufflepuff” syndrome which is rarely accurate and sheds a weird light on hufflepuffs as a whole lol

Please consider this fantastic story taken from her wikipedia article:

On August 7, 1781, a group of Tories and Native Americans forced their way into the Schuyler Mansion in Albany, searching for Philip Schuyler, whom they intended to make a prisoner of war. Eliza and Angelica, who were both pregnant, ran upstairs to hide, but soon realized they had their newsborn baby sister Catharine downstairs. Peggy went downstairs to get the baby, but was threatened by one of the Native Americans who asked where Philip Schuyler was. Thinking quickly, Peggy replied that Schuyler had “gone to alarm the town.” Fearing capture, the raiders fled, but one threw a tomahawk at Peggy, who was running upstairs with the child. The tomahawk left a cut mark in the banister, which the Schuyler family supposedly left in place as a memento.

fight me she’s a gryffindor

Philip Hamilton: Gryffindor

Philip “you said something bad about my dad we’re gonna duel” is brave as HELL

“I’m a little nervous but I can’t show it”

 he literally had to ask his dad how to duel beforehand because he didn’t know what he was doing but felt strongly that it had to be done. Not for glory or legacy or any of that, just to defend his father’s name

You might belong in Gryffindor, Where dwell the brave at heart, Their daring, nerve and chivalry, Set Gryffindors apart;

literally try to tell me he’s not a gryffindor i dare you

Aaron Burr: Slytherin

k  now we’re getting to the challenging ones. When it comes to Burr I try to bear in mind that his actions could be attributed to pretty much any house but his intent and motivations are what make me inclined to sort him as slytherin. He literally had so little policy that he was endorsed for president by two political parties. He also CHANGED political parties just to try to get further. His few beliefs were so malleable he could stretch them in any direction if it looked like he could succeed more that way. He was after success. He wanted to make a name for himself. He was hunting for a legacy and it didn’t really matter what that legacy was until it became “the guy who shot his longtime rival”

Alexander Hamilton: Ravenclaw 

A. Ham, I believe, is a perfect blend of ravenclaw and slytherin. He’s ambitious, clever, sly, witty. He fought hard for family and legacy, which is a distinctly slytherin trait, but his honesty is what convinces me. If his ambitions were purely glory, legacy, etc he never would have published the reynolds pamphlet. In protecting his image as a public servant he knowingly ruined the rest of his persona as well as many aspects of his personal life. A slytherin focused on success would never have made such a mistake, even if slytherin!Ham had had the affair he would have thrown tjeffs and madison off his case some other way. He also literally wrote himself off Nevis and to the mainland and wrote his way to nearly every other success he had. He was super witty, pulling receipts on Jefferson and Burr at every opportunity, and used his intellect to his advantage (which, yes, is a lil slytherin-esque.) The final straw, though, to me, is that the sorting hat takes preference into account. Hamilton is a perfect balance of slytherin and ravenclaw, but when it comes down to it I believe he would rather be categorized as a ravenclaw- and with a balance this precarious that’s all it takes.