#I WOULD READ A FULL TESS' CHARACTER STUDY TOO | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bytheangell · 3 years

Note

If you are still taking prompts, what would you think about writing something(s) based off of this, either/both, the Professor/TA, or the Writer/Editor?

Dedication (modern AU, Herongraystairs, check the link in the ask for full writer/editor prompt, a wonderful plot idea by @high-warlock-of-brooklyn!) (Read on AO3)

This is the first book Will and Tessa are collaborating on. They’ve written plenty of books individually and Jem’s worked with each of them in turn. But this is the first time they’ve co-authored, an experience that’s proving unique and challenging for all of them.

Being with Will and Tessa while they work on a new project is always a blessing and a curse. They’re two of the best writers of their generation and when they work on their own they’re brilliant, but when they work together - well, they’re also brilliant, but that brilliance is coupled with the occasional near-catastrophic clash of opinions and emotions.

Which is where Jem comes in.

Where Will and Tessa are so driven by passion and feelings, Jem finds it much easier to distance himself from their project (and from the writers themselves) enough to see the bigger picture and find solutions before the issues build up. Like many things about the three of them, it’s a perfect balance - they just work, better than anyone (including Will, Tessa, and Jem) ever imagined possible when they first got together.

It’d been a messy start, with Will and Jem already together but both developing serious feelings for Tessa after they met during a book event. The three of them quickly became very close. There were whispers of which of them would end up leaving, then confusion when the answer was none: instead of two of them growing closer and shutting the third out, they all seemed to adjust and adapt naturally around the three of them coexisting. They aren’t perfect, but they are perfect for each other, at least as far as Jem’s concerned.

Jem knows that what they have is special, which he reminds himself of over and over as Will and Tessa sit on opposite sides of the sofa, voices quickly elevating to nearly shouting over an issue with one of the characters Will is in charge of writing: one he’s chosen to give a pretty damning curse from a trickster faerie in this land of magic their current collaboration is set in.

“Tell him he needs to make the changes, Jem,” Tessa insists, the third time she’s repeated the demand now.

“Tell her that this plot adds depth, and without it, he’s boring,” Will counters. “Sometimes people - characters - need to be brutally honest about their own faults and issues. Sometimes people are disappointing.”

That’s how Jem can tell things are spiraling: when Will and Tessa - who have effectively communicated and collaborated on half a dozen bestsellers and who love each other more than Jem’s ever seen two people experience love - refuse to speak directly to one another. The moment they start talking around each other and at Jem instead is when he knows he has to step in and diffuse.

Usually, it’s a matter of taking a break, getting some fresh air, and coming back with clear minds. Jem normally isn’t one to pick sides, but this is different. He isn’t worried about the direction of the book… but after reading the latest draft from Will, which Will wrote while refusing to speak to either of them for a full week, he’s worried about Will. And he knows Tessa is, too.

“Perhaps a good starting point would be admitting this isn’t really about the character at all,” Jem says softly, gazing closely between Will and Tessa. Will looks a bit guilty and Tessa looks away entirely, which tells Jem that he’s right in guessing their concerns are also less plot-based.

“...what else would it be about?” Will asks defensively. But they can all sense how he’s been pushing them away lately, much like the cursed character undeserving of love he’s written in. It’s obvious that Tessa isn’t sure how to bring it up or else she would’ve already. Or maybe she already had and it hadn’t gone well.

“Tessa, would you mind making some tea?” Jem asks, waiting until she’s out of the room to turn back to Will.

“Will… you know this is about you. You barely talk to anyone for a week then come back with this character in such a self-deprecating mindset…”

“That’s ridiculous. He’s just a character,” Will says, but Jem can tell he’s entirely unconvinced of his own words.

“So if Tess came back having written Evangeline that way?” Jem counters, and there’s that look of subtle guilt, right back on Will’s face as he frowns and pieces together why Tessa’s so upset with him.

“I fucked up, didn’t I?” Will sighs.

“We’re not mad at you,” Jem’s quick to point out. “We’re just worried. It’s been a while since you tried to push us away like this, I just want to make sure you’re okay. We both do. Take it out in the writing if you want, but talk with us, too. Alright, my love?”

Jem’s tense as he waits. This has one of two options: Will relents and listens to him and they all have tea and talk this out, or Will storms out and they don’t see him again for another day or two.

Will stays. “I’m just letting the pressure get to me,” he admits. “I’m sure that’s all it is... But yeah. Okay. Tea.”

Tea, meaning ‘I’ll stay. I’ll talk. I’ll try.’ Jem leans over and places a barely-there kiss on Will’s lips before he relaxes back in his seat. Reaching out a hand that Will readily takes, Jem gives it a tight squeeze as they both wait for Tessa to return.

They talk.

In the end, the character arc stays. With a few redeeming modifications at Tessa and Jem’s entirely unbiased suggestion, of course.

---

A little over halfway through the first draft things seem to stall out. They have a progress deadline that week with the publisher and they’re cutting it close - mostly because Tessa keeps tossing everything she writes without giving Jem the chance to look it over. Recently she’s let her curiosity get the best of her, delving into research she should be allowing Jem to help with.

...and when he says ‘delving’, what he really means is stubbornly obsessing over, nitpicking bits of lore to streamline, and doing hours and hours of research for single-line references.

“When was the last time she slept? Like, an actual night of sleep?” Jem asks Will one day after a quick touch-base meeting that went… not terribly, but not particularly great, either.

“You need to get her out of here. No books. No wifi. I tried to kick her out but… well, you can imagine how well that went,” Will admits, and Jem winces in sympathy.

“The Time Out Cottage?” Jem asks, referring to a small cottage they own for unplugged getaways, where the wifi signal is nonexistent and a landline exists for emergency calls. “That means we’ll both be out of easy reach, and with that Friday deadline-”

“I can handle it,” Will cuts him off. “She’s been getting in her own way for days now, but she refuses to listen to me.”

A few minutes later Jem tentatively knocks on the door to the small study that does, in fact, look more like a makeshift research library. He nearly doesn’t see Tessa behind the small mountain of books on the floor, but he hears her pen tapping rapidly against the hardwood. No, not just rapidly - anxiously. He knows that action all too well.

“Tessa, what number is that?” he asks, the question needing no further explanation past his accusatory tone and pointed look at a coffee mug, which is next to a second coffee mug, which is next to a cup of black tea.

“Four? No, wait… what time is it?” she glances around and seems surprised by the height of the sun in the sky. “It’s afternoon already?”

Jem sighs. “It’s nearly four o’clock, Tessa, and your blood is probably about 90% caffeine. Come on, get your things, we’re taking a trip.”

Tessa looks immediately horrified. “No! I can’t, we can’t! The deadline, and I still have to streamline the fae lore between the two-”

“Will has it handled for 24 hours. That’s all we’re asking. 24 hours without research.” “Jem, you know-”

“-that you’ll be twice as productive once we’re back and you’re refreshed instead of running on fumes and fever dreams?” Jem cuts her off, his tone kind but insistent. He bends over and picks up a piece of paper. “Tessa, my love, this is nearly incoherent.”

Tessa reaches up to take the page from him and frowns. “I… okay, I can make out some of this, but I’m pretty sure that bit talks about aliens which isn’t any more reassuring. Will did say I was writing myself in circles, but I thought he was just, well, being Will, so... Yeah. Okay. Maybe I need to step back for a bit.” Tessa sighs. “The Time Out Cottage?”

“I already packed you a bag,” Jem confirms with a soft smile, leaning down to kiss the middle of her forehead before reaching out a hand to help her up off the floor.

When they return exactly 24 hours later, Tessa gets back to work and the lore practically falls into place between the two of them.

They meet the Friday deadline without a problem.

---

Jem spends his free time playing violin while Will and Tessa go through the first draft and begin to brainstorm fixes for plotholes, new minor characters to add to scenes that feel a bit lacking, and other small improvements to really round out the story and the world they’re weaving. They both claim to think clearer with his music in the background so he stays, even if he doesn’t feel particularly useful for this stage of the process until they have a single, coherent draft to hand over to him.

These are the moments Jem’s own insecurities and flaws float to the surface. The moments he watches Will and Tessa, so alike, so perfect for each other, connect on a level he isn’t privy to. He knows it’s a silly thought, that he and Will have their own things, as do he and Tessa. But sometimes he wonders if they truly need him around, or if he’s simply just become too much a part of the routine to actively get rid of.

He watches them sit next to each other with shoulders touching, hunched over a small screen, whispering back and forth. There’s a small smile on his face, one that’s wistful and tinged with hints of longing that, much to his dismay, they pick up on.

“I know that look,” Tessa says, catching Jem’s gaze and drawing Will’s attention before Jem can wipe the expression from his face. “Get over here. I think we’ve done enough work for today.”

Will is the first to move over, making room for Jem in the middle of them. After placing his violin back in its case Jem heads over to join them on the sofa, embracing the way Will and Tessa immediately crowd into his space once he’s settled, both placing a comforting kiss to his temples simultaneously before resting their heads on each of his shoulders and a placing a hand in each of his own.

They talk a bit, not about the book, but about anything and everything else, and fall asleep there, still entwined together.

---

It’s rare for any part of one of their books to be a surprise to Jem upon publication. He sees all the drafts, talks them through the acknowledgments and dedications, double-checks the reference pages against the chaotic piles of books and notes around their home.

So he’s immediately (and rightfully) suspicious the moment they hand him the first advanced copy and tell him to open it, watching his every move with eager expressions. Excited, but anxious.

‘A dedication to the one most dedicated to us:

This book would not be what it is without the kind heart, encouraging words, and infinite patience of James Carstairs. Neither would we. Jem, you are a light in our darkest hours, and we don’t know where we’d be without you.

We hope we’ll never have to find out.

Jem, our love, will you marry us?’

Jem reads, then re-reads the dedication. He closes the book, then opens it again, reading it a third time for good measure.

“Well?” Will asks impatiently, earning himself a nudge in the ribs from Tessa. Will huffs.

“I see you’re as dramatic as always,” Jem says quietly, instead of answering the question posed in the book. He knows his answer. He’s known for a while now what his answer would be, should the topic ever present itself, but he gets a bit of joy from making Will wait in anticipation just a short while longer.

“He wanted to be even more dramatic and show you at the event tomorrow,” Tessa admits. “But we decided against it. We thought you deserved the chance to say no without two hundred sets of eyes on you.”

Jem raises an eyebrow. “You think I’ll say no?”

“You haven’t said ‘yes’ yet,” Will points out, but he doesn’t sound nervous about it. Nor should he be.

“Yes,” Jem says, smiling brightly. “Of course it’s yes.”

#herongraystairs #will herondale #tessa gray #jem carstairs #tsc #thanks to Jay for letting me play around with that prompt!#SORRY THIS TOOK A MILLION YEARS #making prompt progress between weekly codas and bingo fills slowly but surely #i hope you like it my anon friend!#elle writes a few deadbeat lines #anon glamour activated #ask rune #long post #elle talks too much

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arch-venus25 · 3 years

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The Head and the Heart, Part 2

Hello everyone,

I am submitting this for @just-the-hiddles‘s The Damnit Jim, I’m A Vampire, Not A Landlord Fic Frenzy. I chose prompt “1....You can pay your rent in money or in blood.” I was inspired by all the prompts and will probably use them throughout the series. Basically I use the prompts as guide-lines.

This is the first time I have written and shared a fic online-- or ever really! It’s also the first time I’ve written anything modern so please let me know what you think! I hope I’m posting this correctly--I created the title art--LOL I’ve never done this before. I’m aiming to update the series each Tuesday. So here we go...

Series Masterlist: The Head and The Heart

Summary: The twins are taking a night off from their graduate studies-- or at least Tessa is; her twin sister, Antha, is just trying to keep her out of trouble. What starts as a night of good old-fashioned fun and flirting quickly changes as they find themselves at the doorstep of the Hollow House Bed and Breakfast.

Characters: OFCs Antha and Tessa King, original characters/vampires

WARNINGS: 18+ for suggestive themes and violence, cursing, implied drug use, implied rape, stressful/scary situations, vampires, and characters with incredible hair-- you’ve been warned. Read at your own discretion.

Word Count: 2228

Part Two: Long into the Night

The bass swelled and the drums cracked imitating well-known pop-rock songs that sent the patrons into a lather. Antha wasn’t the only one that finally felt it: the night was officially popping-off as it were and when she followed Tessa’s lead people stared.

As if caught in a fever-dream, the mirrored image of them simply blew one young man’s mind. Way past his limit, he asked one of the twins “Are you real?” Zoey stepped in, pulling her friends around them acting as a barrier. With the added security in numbers, Antha started to relax, even have a little fun; also, knowing that Doug was on his way helped. The song led into another fan favorite and then another; they rolled with the rhythm, working up a sweat that no air conditioner could soothe.

Something caught Antha’s eye. It was Franco, watching them, flipping the top of his lighter. A chill ran up her spine. She figured now was the best time to break the news to Tessa.

“Hey, we’re going home after this,” she yelled into her twin’s ear, “one more round and then home.”

“What did I tell you? We’re going to have fun!” Tessa proclaimed like it was the only stance she had ever believed in.

“I just have this feeling Tess, I don’t want to go to that bonfire.”

“You don’t have to! You’re not my third wheel, just get on home then—I’m going out to get lucky!” Tessa shimmied to her Daft Punk reference as the band began to play Get Lucky. She hummed when she followed Antha’s eyes across the floor toward the booth, where Franco lounged. “How can you resist that tall glass of water?”

“We’re not going. You can have him over for brunch tomorrow,” Antha turned into the spitting image of her mother on the spot, as if compromising with a child. Every so often she checked the door, wishing Doug would just appear to help wrangle her girlfriends. She was truly outnumbered.

Tessa laughed incredulously, “Franco doesn’t do brunch.”

“And he’s not doing this either.” Antha waved her hand between the two of them as if a package deal. Tessa stopped dancing, her brow cocked and arms crossed. Zoey piped in that she would go, as did one of her cronies. Tessa shifted her weight and tossed her hair with her unequivocal “I do what I want” look, then she led the girls off the floor toward the bathroom. Antha trailed behind them, hot on their heels.

She stood outside her sister’s stall trying to be as reasonable as the cocktail coursing through her veins would allow. Tessa and the others finally came out with the flush of toilets reverberating into one long sustained note, suggesting a migraine to Antha. “Oh, you’re still here? I thought you went home.” Tessa began, her attitude getting away from her as she preened in the mirror. Zoey tried to mediate but fell silent when the twin stated her case.

“Look, if José asked, if Treyvon, if Brian asked—I would go! We could have fun—I just don’t like Franco. He’s got that weird, slow drawl—he disappears then reappears—where does he go? Where? To bonfires on Slaughter Beach? This sounds like the plot of every slasher horror flick ever made!” Antha explained, exasperated.

“This is just like ‘the Treyvon incident’ years ago, when he touched your hair—it’s like an endless tug of war with you Ant. You never let anything go!” She rolled her eyes to the ceiling, tired of her sister.

“Tessa. He didn’t touch my hair—he snuck up behind me, fisted my dreads and whispered some nonsense about reigns or riding—or some shit! You know damn well he’s never ridden a horse so I can only imagine what he meant!” Antha grew annoyed recapping history when all it did was make Tessa laugh as if that was one of those old fond memories. Zoey blushed and covered her mouth, feeling a bit mortified for them both.

“Maybe, I’ll explain it to you when you’re older.” Tessa shot back as she dabbed her neck with a damp towel. She began mumbling her usual rhetoric of Antha should ‘grow up and relax’, but a moment later she slouched against the counter.

“If this is going to be a thing let’s just stay local—we can hit up the diner, you know like old times—summer is just starting, class is about to let out, we can head down to the beach another night.” Zoey rationalized.

“Whoa…” Tessa sighed as if she wasn’t part of the conversation and held fast to the sink. She seemed woozy and held her head.

“Who bought you drinks other than me?” Antha immediately took her sister up by the face and stared into her rapidly dilating pupils.

“No, no, its not like that—he’s just got some good shit I haven’t had in a while.” She explained, completely detached.

“Did you know about this?” Antha barked over her shoulder at Zoey and her friends; the girls hemmed and hawed like they were lined up for her firing squad. Of course, Franco had good shit, she thought. In the light of the bathroom Antha could tell she was the only mostly sober woman in the group. “We’re going home now.” She pulled Tessa and the rest from the bathroom, her head pounding from the music and cheap whiskey.

When they got outside Franco was leaning on the back of his truck bed as if he were waiting to round up a herd of sheep. One of his friends, beer in hand, offered to help the girls up. Two climbed in, but Zoey hesitated, debating if she was more afraid of missing out or Antha. Antha put Tessa in her car and told her not to move; before she could hunt Franco down she found him lumbering toward her.

“What is wrong with you? She’s as high as a kite!” She confronted him, attempting to keep her voice low.

“Really?” He replied with mild surprise. “Well I got yer friends here—y’all still welcome to come down if you want.” He handed her the messenger bag and continued casually, his hands in his pockets as if he couldn’t fathom why she was upset. She threw her bag in the back and slammed the door—praying that Doug’s Buick would be squealing into the parking lot right about now.

“You’re trouble, you know that? My sister doesn’t need a redneck like you hanging around—so do us a favor and disappear like you always do.” She threatened him as he dryly pulled a cigarette from his other ear and lit it. What else you got behind those ears?

“Well, I see.” He bent to look in on Tessa who was fighting the urge to laugh or cry, she wasn’t sure in her current state. “I guess I’ll be hitting the road then.” He ironically saluted and turned to his truck. Antha watched as he threw up his tailgate and fired up the engine. His friend and the girls clucking like teenagers in the back.

Antha sighed and swung herself into the driver’s seat of her sister’s car, realizing she didn’t have the keys in her pocket. When she turned to Tessa to get them, she found an empty seat. To her horror she looked up ahead to see the familiar white hot-pants climbing into the passenger side of Franco’s monster-sized truck. She jumped from the car, prepared to block the way and be crushed rather than watch him drive away with her.

Before she could take one step closer her ears filled with the shrieking of brakes slamming behind her. She hadn’t had time to turn before flashes of color and angry feet whizzed by her body. Someone shouldered her out of the way, knocking her to the ground. The air filled with the unmistakable sound of shattering glass. The girls were suddenly screaming and jumping from the truck bed as Antha held herself, recoiled on the ground and terrified.

“What the fuck?” Franco bellowed as José took a baseball bat to his side mirror and his crew slashed the back tires. “Who is this guy?” He yelled, completely blindsided, not truly wanting the answer. The invading men knocked out the taillights as José threw open the door and yanked Franco from his seat.

“Tessa!” Antha held herself, her shoulder throbbing. The men circled as Franco attempted to defend his case.

“Dude, I don’t know you—are you her boyfriend? Look, I don’t know what the—” He tried to set a standard for the situation before it escalated further. When José’s fist met Franco’s mouth Antha turned from the riot, too afraid to look. The sound of knuckles crashing against teeth was enough visual for her.

“Tessa!” She called again as she pulled herself up to get her sister. Tessa was called by the men too as if insisting she bear witness to their fury.

The passenger door groaned open and all that could be seen was a blur of white as Tessa hopped out and bolted from the parking lot and into the corn fields. With a surge of adrenaline Antha found her feet rushing as fast as they could after her sister. The shoddy bar and its watered-down drinks fell away from her like dead weight as the fear set in that her sister was running into the great unknown without her full faculties.

The broken corn stalks and uneven ground was all she could follow—the only evidence to lead her to her fleeing sibling. The men brawling sounded distant like a dream from another time; everything, the whole night, was forgotten as Antha called for her lost other-half. She took a sharp left, listening, unable to trust her eyes as everything seemed to be moving. The corn stalks swatted back viciously in their disturbance. The further in she ran the more they grew, reaching to the sky, disorienting her and stinging her arms and face—but not like the terror in her chest, her lungs burned with her efforts. She didn’t know how long she had been running.

Then there was silence.

Antha stopped for a moment, unsure where to go, the stalks holding fast like bodyguards, reminding her she didn’t belong there. You’re lost, she swore someone whispered to her. She turned to find no one. “TESSA?” She called. Complete silence. All of her hackles raised as the realization set in that she might end up on the six o’clock news and not be around to watch it. The breeze could barely pass through the crop. “Tessa?” She cried as she desperately looked for those white cut-offs that encased her precious sister.

She slowly moved forward as the thought occurred to her that they might not be alone. Momma, please I’ll never do anything wrong again! Please help me find her—I swear I didn’t mean to lose her—I swear to you and to God I’ll donate more to the church, I’ll never say the f-word again! I swear— Antha’s internal prayer was cut off as the ground suddenly left her, or rather she left it. After spewing the words she swore she’d never say again, she found herself in a rut. She looked above her head to see the corn stalks leering down at her, as she pulled herself from knotted roots and mud.

The ground had cut away and she could barely see in the dark the massive crater-sized drop. She looked about with nothing but a freckling of stars and clouded moonlight to her aid. She searched for a way up, but could find none. “Tess—” She began but her voice died in her throat as something moved a few feet off from where she stood. She approached carefully—it could be Tessa, it could be a rabbit, or the Boogey Man—perhaps all of the above. Even the Boogey Man wouldn’t be out in this Delaware heat, she thought to herself, her internal monologue attempting to keep her panic at bay.

She continued further and swore she saw light through the foliage and dank terrain. Antha followed the specks of light, frightened of what she might find, but too scared to stay in place. She prepared her fists but lost her gumption as a whimper sounded. She thought it was herself at first, but then realized the brush was shuddering and crying. Cautiously she pulled back a branch and found the iconic hot-pants, dirtied and shivering. “Tessa!” She excitedly whispered and threw her arms around her sister.

“Ant, is that you? I’m so lost—where are we?” She sniffed, dazed and confused.

“I’m here! I’m here!” She kept whispering and pushing her braids back, inspecting her face and limbs. Tessa’s expression was alien; whatever she had taken was in full affect now. She vomited in the shrubbery next to her. When she was done emptying her stomach, Tessa turned to her sister petrified and pointed. Before Antha could turn she heard a smooth voice cut through the dark.

“You seem to be lost.” The metal click of a shot gun being cocked and readied trumped all of the twin’s senses—that was until the cool tip of the barrel met the base of Antha’s skull.

Twinning Taglist: If you want to be added or removed just let me know; please share with anyone that might be interested. I would love any and all feedback so I can learn and become a better writer. Thank you! I tagged some people that I thought would be interested in this. @myoxisbroken @just-the-hiddles @vodka-and-some-sass @nildespirandum @yespolkadotkitty @latent-thoughts @emeraldrosequartz @villainousshakespeare @hopelessromanticspoonie @caffiend-queen @poetic-fiasco @lokimostly @dianamolloy @marvelgirlonamarvelworld @brightsunanddarkmidnight2-0 @cateyes315 @mooncat163 @nuggsmum @myraiswack @wolfpawn @plastic-heart

Bottom image Credit: https://images.app.goo.gl/Tq153Yhn2DsyBq296

#landlord vampire fic frenzy #twinning vs vamps #arch-venus25 writes

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purplebass · 4 years

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For The Love of a Daughter

Couple/Characters: Wessa, Will Herondale and Tessa Gray Rating: T TW: mentions of blood Tagging: @lucieblckthorn @cordeliacarstairs1989 @churchthecatismyspiritanimal 💜 (who wants to be tagged when I write fanfic can send me a message) This one shot is set during TLH time and it takes place in CoI (ideally) and it’s also part of an idea/theory I have.

“Theresa.”

No one had called her with her full name in a while, except Will when he liked to tease her. She didn’t recognize the voice, but she could feel the coldness in it, and the detachment. And it wasn’t a chilly day. On the other hand, she had decided to take a walk close to the Institute because the weather was splendid.

She raised her head to see who had talked, only to be awestruck. It was a man she had never seen, a particularly young one. Had she not caught the color of his eyes; she wouldn’t have made the connection. “You are him.”

The man smirked. “I’m pleased to meet you, Theresa Gray. Or should I say Herondale? Which one you prefer the most?”

Tessa rolled her eyes. “I’d prefer you’d leave me alone.”

“And lose the chance of meeting you? I’m offended,” he tried to provoke her, but she tried not to let him get to her.

It was the first time in over forty years that Tessa was sharing the same space as her father, who also happened to be a prince of hell. If this was another person, perhaps she would be giddy to be an actual princess. But the prospect of being remotely related to this handsome man disgusted her.

“You can’t choose your family but you can choose your friends,” Belial commented, glancing at the child in the navy colored pram in front of her. “Interesting.”

She tightened her old on the pram and glared at him. “If you need to tell me something, you better do it now before I – “

“I just wanted to greet you, Theresa, that is all. No need to be aggressive. And I wanted to congratulate you on the baby. What’s her name? No, don’t tell me. I already know.”

She raised an eyebrow questioningly. She didn’t like speaking to this person. She didn’t need to know her father to find out that he wasn’t someone to trust. “I’d say it was my pleasure, but I’d be lying. I’d rather not meeting you again.”

“You’d be lying to yourself if you think this is the last you’ll see of me,” Belial said with hushed tones, and then he was gone.

***

She rushed back to Institute, as fast as the pram permitted her to. She didn’t want to startle her baby girl. She was still an infant, born a mere three months before, with jet black hair and grey eyes. She had been a surprise. Never did she expect to get pregnant again, not after James and Lucie. Her kids, who truly weren’t kids anymore. She and Will had agreed on having two children who were only one year apart, but of course they were ecstatic when Jem told Tessa she was pregnant. Will had been on cloud nine to become a father again, even if Tessa had seen the apprehension in his eyes. He was already distressed after the recent events; she’d hate to worry him for another person. But he had insisted that this was what life was made of. It was made of a lot of unexpected miracles. And he told her that he would love and protect this baby with his life, if it came to it.

Oh, Will.

Whenever Tessa returned to the Institute, the first thing she did was greet her husband.

She watched him silently as he sat behind his desk, his head bent on a book and his hand scribbling some notes on the margins with a pencil. He had this habit: he liked to write notes next to a passage he liked or wanted to remember. That was something that amused her although she didn’t like to smear the pages with graphite like him. She usually read a book before he did, and she never got to see what he noted, although she was curious. What could he possibly write? She didn’t like to write comments on the pages of books. She preferred to discuss what she liked or disliked with him, face to face. He still hadn’t realized she was there on the threshold, but when he did, his whole face changed.

“If it isn’t two of my favorite people in the whole universe,” said Will, raising from the velvet chair behind the mahogany desk of his study. He crossed the room over to Tessa and the baby and gave her a quick kiss on the lips. “How are my girls today?”

“Tired,” Tessa replied as Will smiled at the baby. “And Estella didn’t sleep at all, she kept fussing on the way back here.”

“You’re restless like your namesake, aren’t you, Ella?” he asked the baby, then he grabbed her from the pram to hold her in his arms. He kissed the top of the baby’s head. “You should sleep, though, or your mama and I won’t be able to function tomorrow.”

Tessa grinned as she watched him bond with Estella. It was James who had decided that name, along with Lucie. He had probably suggested it because of “Great Expectations”, not realizing at first that it may remind his father of his dead sister. They discussed the topic of the name while they were in the drawing room. Tessa had just revealed her children that they would have a brother or a sister in the spring. Jamie had shot the name without thinking, and both his mother and his sister had stilled. Not that Will didn’t like to talk about Ella. To some extent, he still felt guilty for her death, but he had come to terms with it. Things couldn’t be changed, and he couldn’t take it back. Once James realized the name he had just proposed, he tried to apologize, but Will didn’t let him. “It’s perfect, Jamie. Thanks for the suggestion,” he had said, and everyone had smiled.

That night, however, Tessa wasn’t able to sleep. She tossed and turned in the bed and every once in a while, she woke up to check on baby Ella, but she saw that Will was already up trying to calm the crying baby. She teared up every time she witnessed these moments. She hadn’t asked him anything, he had always taken the initiative even with Lucie and James. She decided to get off the bed to take Ella, but when she did, she felt her legs giving in. She gripped the bed for support.

“I’m taking care of her, go back to sleep,” Will said, noticing her by the bed.

“No, I’m okay, I’m -“ she tried to stand up, but to no avail.

“Maybe you should sit down, Tess.” He suggested, then he placed the baby back in her small crib.

She nodded and tried to get back on the bed by using Will’s hand as leverage. When she tried to get her legs on the mattress, though, she had a spasm. She gripped her hold on his hand when she felt the impulse to throw up, but she didn’t.

“Are you okay? You don’t seem well,” Will asked, then he touched her forehead with his free hand. “You’re burning up. And you’re sweating. Let me help you change. I’ll grab a wet cloth.”

Tessa couldn’t do anything but nod, and then she fell into the arms of Morpheus.

She woke up at some point, because she heard a faint cry. It was probably baby Ella. She felt something cold on her head, at least she realized that. She could also tell how her nightgown smelled of fresh soap and not sweat. Somebody had probably changed her into clean night clothes. Maybe it had been Will – she recalled at least that he told her something like that before she lost consciousness. Maybe. Or maybe Lucie, or Bridget… she didn’t know.

She glanced in the direction of the crib and saw that somebody had picked the baby up.

“Will.”

He turned his head and winced. He had turned his head too abruptly, which made Tessa smile. He was worried. And most likely tired. She could see the dark circles under his eyes and his disheveled hair. His shirt was also partially open and she could see part of his upper chest.

“What time is it?” she asked, feeling her throat sore. How much time had passed since she had fallen asleep?

Will still cradled the baby when he reached her side of the bed and sat down. He checked her forehead and wrist but he didn’t reply yet. “It’s six in the morning, Tess. I was just giving Ella her milk.”

“You? But how, when…” she wanted to sit down so she could feed the baby herself.

“We gave her a raw milk formula for the moment,” he explained. “Since you are too exhausted and you have a fever. Jem suggested you don’t give your milk to Ella until you’ve recovered.”

“Ah,” she commented. Not that she was unhappy about that, after all, if Jem had said it was better to give her baby cow’s milk mixed with other things… “How much time have I been out?”

Will’s expression hardened when she asked that, but knowing him, he was aware that she would want to know. He took her hand in his while he adjusted Ella’s head on his shoulder, since it was almost time for her to burp. Tessa grinned at the gesture. Not that he hadn’t done it before, but it still warmed her heart so see him with their children.

“Two days and half,” he admitted, pulling Tessa from her reverie.

“Two?”

“Yes. You fainted the other night. I didn’t think it was serious because you were half asleep. I thought the mixture of fever and exhaustion made you lose consciousness, but then you wouldn’t wake the next morning, so I –“

“You called Jem.”

“Yes,” he revealed, making a slight grin. “I know how much you all hate that I call him all the time, since he could be in trouble for coming here when no one is sick, but you were… motionless. I checked your pulse and your chest and your heartbeat was weak. It wasn’t a simple cold, Tess.”

She could hear the way this whole thing had affected him from the sound of his voice. He was concerned and… scared?

“Then what was it?”

He sighed before answering her. “Jem think you were possessed. Because you threw up a lot of black blood. By vomiting blood you rejected the possession.” Saying those words seemed to pain him.

“What? And who could have possessed me?”

“You talked in your sleep,” Will revealed, gazing at baby Ella who had just digested her milk. “You mentioned a name.”

“Who?” Tessa asked, even if she already knew the answer to that. She didn’t know if she was more shocked by the fact that her father had tried to possess her or that she had vomited black blood.

“Belial.”

Tessa massaged her temples. The cool cloth fell on the side of her head, but to hell with that. She felt better at least. “I met him the other day.”

“You did?” he didn’t sound angry, but she could hear the hurt in his voice. “I mean, you didn’t have to tell me, Tessa, but I thought –“

She clutched his hand in her hands. “I didn’t tell you because I didn’t think much of it. He just appeared out of nowhere while I was with Ella. And he introduced himself and congratulated me for the baby.”

“Just like the fairy in Sleeping Beauty.”

Tessa thought about it for a second. “Do you think he placed an enchantment on me?”

Will raised an eyebrow. “I wouldn’t put past him. Isn’t he powerful? And you’re his daughter, he could try to do something like this to you just because he’s bored,” he raged.

“What could he possibly do to me? We’ve never meet in over forty years, Will. He doesn’t care about me like I don’t care about him. I’m just one of his spawns.”

“You’re not a spawn. You’re not an animal, Tessa.”

“I’m not in the mood for semantics, Will,” she sighed.

Will’s voice softened and he caressed her hand with his thumb. “I’m sorry. I don’t want to make you angry, but I also don’t want to tell you lies. During these two days and half you’ve been out, I felt like a mad man because I didn’t know who could have done this to you. Now that we probably know the culprit, I just want to…” he gritted his teeth.

“No.” Tessa’s voice was sharp and authoritative. “Today was the first time in years I’ve ever seen what the person who gave me life looks like. I do not wish to see him ever again, and I’d rather you not go after him. Not you, not Jem, nor anyone.”

“Are you really sure, Tess? Because I…”

“Will. Please. Listen to me. Leave him alone. I can’t guarantee that he won’t try to do something again,” she told him, “but it’s better not to provoke him. He’s a prince of hell, and he’s a –“

“Son of a –“ Will started, then glanced at baby Ella and shut up. “You understand what I meant, Tess.”

Tessa grinned. As usual, he managed to make her laugh even in the critical moments. “Yes. And now I would love to hold my baby, thank you.”

“You are not burning up anymore,” he affirmed after he checked her forehead again. “And whose baby are you talking about?” he asked her just to tease her.

Tessa frowned with a smirk, then extended her arms to get baby Ella. The baby was sleeping soundly and for a moment it made her believe that everything was fine. That no, her father hadn’t tried to possess her because he wanted to use her body for some seedy intentions. That he hadn’t put a spell on her and made her sick. She wanted to pretend everything was okay and that everyone was also doing great, even though she knew that something was surely coming down the pike. And soon, she was sure, she would have to face a harsher reality.

Footnote: With this story I didn’t just mean to show a possible first encounter between Belial and Tessa, but I also wanted to show you how different are Belial and Will (in this case) as fathers. While Belial doesn’t give a damn about Tessa if not for his own gain, Will takes care of his daughter without being asked to when Tessa is not doing ok. I just love to write dad!Will so much, lol. Also, I chose the name Estella because it reminded me of stars.

#tessa grey #will herondale #wessa #will and tessa #tsc fanfiction #tlh fanfic #tlh #chain of gold #chain of iron #chain of thorns #tsc #the shadowhunter chronicles #belial #my edits 2 #the last hours #the infernal devices #tid #tweety writes

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angsty-nerd · 4 years

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RNM 2X13 - Echo Download

I've been having a hard time trying to put my feelings about the Season 2 finale into words, so I've been sitting on it for a few days, reading everyone's metas, and trying to organize and separate my actual thinky thoughts from the angst and heartache. That… is not something I am particularly good at. But I'm trying.

I LOVE this show. The writing is a mess. There's plot holes all over the place. The pacing issues alone make me want to tear my hair out. And dear God do I want them to give these characters and relationships (including friendships) the time and space for the big moments to land properly. I don't know if we'll ever get any of that though. And in the meantime, I love these characters and the story, messes and all.

Everyone knows my biggest love is Echo, so I'm gonna start there.

"I don't know what you thought love was gonna be like when we were 17, but it's not all sunsets and horseback rides."

Back in the OG days, there was one consistent criticism I had with the way they wrote Max and Liz's story: the breakups always felt like bullshit. Max breaks up with Liz because she was afraid of some weird alien shit. Liz breaks up with Max because he's "supposed to be with Tess" and meanwhile he's like, "um… no?" We had "it's too dangerous" when it was dangerous regardless. "We're just different" but not in ways that actually mattered.

Echo's breakup mattered. There were issues and they were not dealing with them. Both of them were sneaking around behind the other's back. Neither was being fully honest with the other.

The unwavering honesty was something that stood out to me in S1. Yes, Max was hiding the truth about Rosa's death. But when it came to the present they were almost laughably open with each other. Liz didn't lie about it when Max asked if she told Kyle the truth. When Max asked what she was doing in the lab, she told him the truth. Once Liz knew the truth about Rosa, she knew everything. It seemed like with that truth out there was nothing left to hide. And once they got together they were a team. Immediately. There's a reason that we had a joking headcanon in the Echo world that they had their first kiss and then they were a married couple.

I really think Max's death not only put that to a screeching halt...it also put them on this path to the breakup. Liz has abandonment issues, and Max made a choice, without her, that resulted in him leaving her alone. It wasn't openly discussed in the depth that it should have been this season, but I really do think it was issue #1. Liz loves Max and she was very happy being with him...but after he came back from the dead she didn't trust him to not leave her again. It was an issue simmering under the surface from Episode 7 until the finale. Liz channeled it all into worrying about his heart, but the underlying theme was a resounding "I can't go through that again". Which is deeper than just the worry over a physical health problem. And it pushed Max away from her.

He grew irritable with her. He started hiding things from her and lying to her. The season just ended and I have no idea if he ever told her anything about his memory flashes! He was obsessively trying to learn about his past and never once discussed it with Liz!?? Because he didn't want her to stop him from using the serum? This is a HUGELY personal thing to Max and you can see how much it means to him. He had tears in his eyes while telling Isobel about it. I mean, that puppy dog excitement, and yet, he hides it all whenever Liz is around.

I think it was around episode 8 that we started talking about how badly they needed to have a big fight. Us -- the Echo shippers -- the ones who WANT them to be together -- were BEGGING them to fight. I hate conflict!! But the lack of honestly and the aversions were just building and building and I just wanted it all out on the table.

They finally STARTED having that fight in episode 11, but then Rosa and Isobel interrupted. In retrospect, sweet alien!Jesus, I wish they could have finished then. Maybe they would have gotten the air clear between them. Maybe it would have put them on a path to healing their relationship before the finale. But they didn't, so the breakup happened. And the thing is… that ending. It just kind of haunts me. Liz waiting and hoping for a grand gesture that never comes. I mean, did Max even know WHEN she was leaving!?! He sure didn't seem to have it on his mind when they flashed to him in that scene. And their fight...was all about what Liz was doing and Max not taking care of his heart. They never once touched on what he was trying to learn about his past. I'm pretty certain that Liz left without knowing any of that.

And the thing is… I'm sort of skirting around the meat of the issue here. Because the biggest problem of all of this was Liz violating Max by studying his biology without consent.

I really hate saying that in writing, because, to me, it's kind of the most horrible part of all of this.

Max Evans has been referred to in jest in this fandom as the King of Consent. He was so careful with Liz, tiptoeing around her looking for explicit consent in Season 1 until her desire for him was made abundantly clear. He only ignored the need for consent twice: both times in the S1 finale. Healing Michael's hand and healing Rosa. But those things both happened after he killed Noah. After he was high on his own power. They were very clearly set up as out of character for him.

Liz didn't give him the same respect. Consent does not just apply to sexual situations and healing. It applies to studying too. It applies to Liz USING Max's biology without his permission. It also applies to administering the cure to Steph without her consent. Liz was very, very wrong here.

And the thing is… it sure didn't seem like the writers saw it that way. It also didn't seem like JEANINE saw it that way. There's been a little bit more balanced quotes from them in interviews this week since the finale ended as far as saying that both Max and Liz were wrong, but they sure focused on Liz being incredible and strong before the finale aired.

The part that confuses me though...like, a LOT, is that the narrative was pretty clear that what Liz was doing was Bad and Wrong. She looked guilty. She was lying and hiding things from Max. And the MORAL COMPASS OF THE SHOW, Mr. Kyle Valenti, repeatedly told her she was wrong. Kyle called her out on her ethical violations even as he was thanking her for saving Steph.

Genoryx was set up as being bad. Liz herself refused to go work for them in the flashbacks because they were morally sketchy. Although, maybe that's the draw now that she is all full of ethical violations. Sigh.

I'm gonna leave this topic now, but I'll encourage you to go read @latessitrice's meta on the subject here:

Okay...so to sum this up? The breakup was coming. We knew it was coming. But it still hurt my heart so much. I haven't seen anyone gif Jeanine's performance of the "I am in love with you. And I hate that right now." But the delivery of that line broke me.

That being said...do I see it being over? Let's give that a resounding FUCK, NO. I mean, sure, they fought. And it hurt. And Liz ran away. Without saying goodbye. And all of that SHATTERED ME.

But...they still love each other even if they both have a lot to work on individually. That’s part of what MADE it so hard.

I am actually stoked for season 3. Two Maxes? All of the delicious angst once Liz gets home. Liz not knowing there's two Maxes and meeting Jones first and not knowing who he is and being vulnerable to his mindfuckery? Or just his fuckery in general. Whatever. I am here for it.

I am here for Liz discovering that something about Genoryx is Not Right. I'm here for her living a normal life and getting drawn back into the madness. I'm here for Max getting more powerful and more alieny under Jones's guidance. And I am here for what I am certain will be an epic reunion once they are back together again.

As a last more positive comment...I’m stoked that we get to have both Max and Liz alive and facing interesting potential storylines this hiatus. All I wanted from this finale, in truth, was to leave the characters in a place that inspired me to want to write for them for the next year plus or however long this COVID-extended hiatus ends up being. And I am so excited for that.

And I have talked enough now that I will go ahead and post this and leave this post as my Echo Takeaways from the finale. I'll be back again with some more gen/bigger picture thoughts later.

#roswell new mexico #rnm season 2 #rnm echo #max&liz #max evans #liz ortecho #ogroswell #feeling the feels #ouch my heart #rnm echo meta #my meta

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plantfeed · 4 years

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ok turns out i am 100% that dumbass bitch who still aint posted my intro on main....... so for reference..... hello! im nora ( she / her ). im a 24 year old creative writing graduate currently residing in sheffield, south yorkshire. when i’m not hunched over a keyboard writing, i enjoy independent cinema, chinese food, and big nights out that i’ll remember only in fleeting snapshots. i currently work as a barmaid and a tutor for a filmmaking project.

without further ado, here is my interpretation on the skeleton ‘ophelia’, a development of a character who’s been brewing at the back of my mind for absolutely AGES now so thank u for giving me the push to actually flesh her out.

ive included a full biography, but please feel free 2 skip to bullet points if TLDR because it is LOOONG..... and im so happy 2 be here.... new home.... chefs kiss.... yes lov u all

IN CHARACTER.

skeleton: ophelia name: theresa rigby. (goes by diminutives tess, tessa, tea or thea. the only time she’s theresa is when she’s in trouble.) age: 21, born july 10 (cancer) faceclaim: diana silvers. gender: cis-female. pronouns: she/her degree: comparative literature & ancient history (joint honours)

INTRO.

trigger warnings.

loss of a parent. missing person / disappearance. drugs and alcohol reliance. death.

BIOGRAPHY.

i. narragansett, rhode island.

1999, an Austrian sunrise, it is the year of the Water Monkey. A water baby, first screams under the surface, the catch of it gargled in your throat. A birth mark the size and shape of a door handle pressed into your pelvis like a lover’s badge. Born like a clenched fist. Annie always wished you’d be more like an open palm. You still carry that tension with you, an unreadable kind of silence when you slink around the edge of a room or perch on an arm rest like a bird about to startle and fly off. Nobody knows a thing about you and you like it that way. Conceived in the winter, some of that coldness still lingers in you.

The only perfect girl is a dead girl. That’s what you learned, last-born runt of the litter growing up in the bedroom of a girl who would be forever cold, young and pretty. In the beginning, they thought you were a blessing — Bet’s soul reincarnate, the same pale face they’d seen as they’d signed her into the pick ‘n’ mix family. You were given her clothes, her room, even her middle name, stripped and rebranded like a toy doll bought after the last one’s head was chewed off by the dog. Four boys, a dead sister, and you who — with your birdlike features and unrelenting eyes — was merely a walking ghost. Tennis skirts, nail varnish, a shag rug, a rotten corsage; these were the staple reminders that you were living in a shrine, the room never quite your own lest you disturb the lingering presence of Bet. Soon, you began to see it as not a room but rather a prison cell caging you in the imprint of a sister you never met.

Your mothers met at an undergraduate socialist meeting when the fall semester fell into winter, Kath in a mustard coloured beret, Annie in a blood-orange duffle coat, a philosophy major and an art historian respectively. Your childhood was a montage of potato printing eels onto the walls of a Rhode Island boarding house next to the sea. Five children — some adopted, some surrogate — a permanent rotation of rooms and always a handful of lodgers to foot the bill. Travelling salesmen, students on gap years and tinkers in search of odd-jobs became a flipbook of faces etched into your memories like fleeting figures in the wings of a theatre; you sketch them into the body of your work. They become the characters to haunt the pages of your notebooks, stashed beneath floorboards lest they fall into too-hungry flour-caked fingers, scones baking in the oven two floors below. A house that seemed to physically inhale every time a new body entered it, tall and thin, too small to house all that weight. The gaps beneath the floorboards are the only spaces that feel like your own, untouched by a girl who’s shadow you were born in. In your diary, you scribble her name until it tears through the pages thinking that if you wish hard enough, you’ll make yourself her. It’s never enough.

At twelve, you lose Annie to a boating accident. You lose a piece of yourself with her and stop wearing yellow. Grief makes a better writer out of you though it sounds selfish to admit it. Kath remarries the following spring, a man named Peter. He is ordinary in all the ways Annie was magical and when he sits in your mother’s chair you feel yourself slip out of your skin and into the body of a raven cawing in the woods, scratching at the dustmites. You try to teach yourself how to be a girl, though you’ve always felt more like a wild thing crouched in the attic window of the lighthouse, screaming at the crash of the waves. You wanted to love the sea as closely as it owned you. In the sea you were rewritten into a tide, into a shell, into the swell of a rockpool around the body of a crab. You wanted to be like the ocean —a tangible, changeling thing —making paper boats and setting them out to sea, wishing you could shrink yourself into one, sail away. For a while, you toy with the idea of starving yourself into something the size and shape of an eel; of growing gills in the night and darting into the ebbing current. They’d think you crazy if you told them.

ii. concord, massachusetts.

You butt heads with Kath on a daily basis. She tells you you resent her for moving on with her life when you seem unable to move on with yours. That maybe a clean break would be best for all the family. A fresh start. A change of scene. You lock yourself in the bathroom and cry for an hour until your mouth feels raw, like running a cheesegrater down the inside of your throat. The following September, they send you to boarding school, two suitcases and an armful of Annie’s jumpers. Kath has decided they don’t compliment her skin tone, and she’s not twenty-five or studying philosophy any more. New England becomes the best decision for you that your family have ever made. You thrive on the independence of living in a dormitory on a corridor of Alison’s and Margaret’s and Ruth’s. From the names on their doors, you paint them into people in your head, red-haired Ruth who collects birth stones and can count to twenty in Mandarin. They turn out to be nothing like the versions of them you’ve spun. You love them anyway, their rough-softness, the scuffed knee thrill of growing up half-wild. There’s a brightness in their girlhood that you try to capture in your words.

Though you never quite find yourself settling into a group, Dr. Franklin becomes the anchor to which you tether yourself to, a little girl leeching onto her Literature professor for a sense of stability in a tempestuous world. The others might think it sad, but she sees something in you — an inner restlessness, a need to analyse and observe and contain everything within poetry and prose — that reminds her of herself at your age. You begin one-to-one sessions after the school day has closed, whisper about Proust and O’Hara over frothed lattes in a campus-run coffee shop, ink blots on the pages of dog-eared copies she’s gifted to you on an indefinite loan. Sometimes, you think you love her. You run your fingers over the buttons of her typewriter, close your eyes, and imagine yourself pulling on her skin like a new coat.

The woods become your saviour. In Narragansett you never knew woods, only harboursides, seafood restaurants, the smell of the ocean breeze and a lighthouse calling you home. You learn to love the smell of the earth after rain. The feeling of soil between your toes. The sense of belonging you feel trailing through the woods in stark white nightgown, twigs catching on the mud-stained hem. Massachusetts becomes a place of revision. You remake yourself as a fawn, elegance in your limbs and hunger in your heart. You learn how to write yourself into being. There’s a violence in your grace — simultaneously glass and the hammer that shatters it — and despite the ethereal way you move it’s the leonine stature of a tigress, claws bared, teeth sharpened into fangs, but a smile like butter wouldn’t melt. Lady Macbeth was always your favourite of Shakespeare’s heroines. There’s something dark in her that resonates with you, the way when a pimple appears you have to squeeze it until it bleeds. You tell yourself that everybody has a morbid fascination.

Each night you take a torch, a book and a bottle of Merlot, and you wile away the hours reading in the woods. At home, sleep never came easy to you. You’d pace the floorboards counting sheep and wake having barely slept a blink. This, on the other hand, seems useful, though when you’re never asleep, you’re never quite awake, floating through the school day like a ghost, part removed, the dark circles pulling your eyes to a close. It’s a tiredness you carry in every aspect of your life, limbs heavier than usual, pen slower when it grazes the page. Soon you start taking tablets each night. Two white ones, no bigger than a baby’s fingernail. For the first time, you begin to dream.

When February rolls around you take your exams. Pass with the grace of a swan in everything except AP Calculus. You say you’ll try again next semester, but you don’t. You apply for Yale, Cambridge, Harvard, Columbia, Ashcroft. You wait. And wait. And wait until it feels like your skin has shed itself since the letters left your hands, before an envelope comes marked Theresa. No one ever calls you that name. Right from the start it’s been Tea, Tess, Thea, common names in your house as fickle as the tide that swallows it. Billy’s never been a William, and Sebastian sounds all wrong. You can scarcely remember what Brodie’s short for. Rejection after rejection until Ashcroft answers the call, a cawing in the dark of a wasteland you’ve not yet walked. You’ll read literature, follow in the footsteps of Ginsberg who you clumsily try to quote as you bid the girls goodbye, a bonfire and the smell of cinnamon whiskey.

iii. ashcroft university, edinburgh.

You’d read of a boy who went missing there. It happened in the woods. Seventy years and all they’d found was an emptied bottle of wine and one shoe. Newspapers claimed involvement in an elite society, perhaps a hazing gone wrong, and you imagine them burrowed in underground tunnels wearing wellington boots and tweed. This is what draws you to Ashcroft ; to Imperium. It’s not so much the mystery of it —you’ve never seen yourself as a Nancy Drew — but more the idea of living in a place where people can disappear. That’s always been an idle fantasy of yours. One day, you wonder if you’ll write yourself out of the world and into the pages of a book, nestled between a title and contents page.

From Concord to Boston, then a ten-hour flight ; for the first time in months, you sleep through the night. A line break cancels your train and you have to take a replacement bus service instead. By the time you reach the school, the open day is almost over. You feel it at the gates, like a tingle on the back of your neck, something crawling down your spine. It only grows as you close in on it. It feels like it knows your own heartbeat. You’ve never known a building to have so much soul. You imagine yourself walking the cobblestones on the quad each day, climbing the steps to a dormitory, sprawled on a library table, scribbling frantically, willing the clock hands backwards. It’s a life you want to lead.

In a matter of months, Ashcroft has become not only your home but your life. You are utterly consumed by it. You meet Lysander at a poetry reading. You recite Shelley. He recites Keats. He compliments you on the steadiness of your voice, clear as a bell. A voice for the stage. You tell him your father had a powerful voice. It’s a lie. You’ve never had a father, but it’s fun to imagine one slouched on the couch, wire-rimmed glasses on the end of his nose. He invites you to dinner the following week. Grilled sea bass and risotto. You don’t have the heart to tell him you’ve become a vegetarian, swallow each mouthful with your pride. You try out for the orchestra, though your hands shake a little too much and you hear more from the inside of your own head than the keys. You leave without waiting on an answer. It’s too contained for you, anyway. You need something more chaotic, like jazz. You wish for chaos, so Imperium opens it jaws and swallows you whole. They like you because of your voice, a voice that speaks scarcely more than a low whisper in life, but when written wins you a Bysshe-Shelley Prize. In poetry, you give that voice to the voiceless ; bring dead girls buried in the woods out of the ground and into being, like soil in your hands. A voice like that is a powerful thing to have in your ranks. It becomes every page in your diary, every catch of your skirt on a tree branch, every rap of your fingertips against the desktop, imperium, imperium, imperium.

You’ve never been able to do things by halves — you always let them consume you. One glass becomes a bottle. One paragraph becomes scrawling until sunrise. Obsession takes its form in Hamlet, strong in all the ways you appear weak. You like the smell of his breath when he tells you to stub out your cigarette. That’ll kill you one day, he says. I know, you reply, and your pretty lips curl upwards. One drunken night, you fall into his bed and imagine stitching yourself into his sheets so you can sleep with him every night. Tongues on your thighs like a voice in your throat. Touch me, touch me, touch me. Never been held like this before. Like you’re not glass, but something material and robust. You like the way his hands feel under your skin. Perhaps you’ll keep him there like a splinter. Tall for your age but thin as a rail, he makes you feel like more than an eel of a girl. You like the way he catches on your spindly elbows where others have snagged leaving trails of cotton. At first, it’s only physical, but you get greedy and want more. You’re not sure when a love of beauty became something more than skin deep. You’re not sure if you even loved him until he’d stopped loving you. In October, you find the body. The day all the clocks stop ticking. The day something inside of you snaps like the branch of an elm.

You become a cocoon, velvet ribbons in your hair and rope around your throat. Or maybe it’s lace, and you’re only imagining it that way. You drink wine, stumble blind-drunk through the woods, lose textbooks to nature and curse when you can’t find them the following morning. Most nights, you appear like a ghost in the wood, a linen nightdress with mud clinging to it’s hem and feet laden in soil. You’re not sure if it’s conscious at this point, or mindless sleepwalking. Everything you do feels like sleepwalking these days. Shadows move in the corners of your eyes at night and you turn to the tarot cards for answers. They tell you only of that which you already know. Death. The Hanged Man. High Priestess. You think of Octavia, of Lysander, and of you pulled like a ragdoll between them, with the intuition that comes from living by the sea but without the evidence to execute it. The pills have stopped working. You wake in sweats, guilt swelling in the pit of your stomach. In a therapist’s waiting room, you watch as a girl scratches the skin off her own arm.

Soon news of your occultist proclivities becomes gossip on everyone’s tongue. Witch becomes a synonym for your name, and one you’ll happily wear like a noose until you’ve stolen Lysander from the drop. Finding the truth becomes the only thing keeping you sane, runes scrawled on the walls of a dormitory where pages of novels are tacked up like wallpaper. And still, you can’t shake the fact that she hasn’t come to you when the others who scarcely believe in such phantomed are rattled by her ghost on a nightly basis. Competing and girlhood go hand in hand, but the longer it gets, the more it feels like she knows your desperation to absolve Lysander isn’t entirely selfless. Perhaps she saw you lingering in doorways, waiting in the wings for him to change his mind and tell you it was you all along. Or maybe the sight of her corpse is making you search for answers in places they don’t exist. You’re hanging on my a single thread, one glimpse away from fleeing to the woods to plant yourself into the earth.

The snow is crisp on the November ground when you learn to love melancholy like a dance you were taught as a child. You think it adds depth to being a writer. How can a person write about pain if they live in a state of blissful oblivion? You tell yourself that all of the best writers were depressed; Plath, Fitzgerald, Dickinson, Rice. If you say their names each morning, followed by your own, perhaps you’ll become one of them.

BULLET POINT SUMMARY.

here is a bullet point summary of theresa, as i understand my writing can get a little dense.

Mother always said that people who grow up near water are different to other people. That there’s something more primal in their bones. A kind of knowing.

In Theresa, the knowing is a kind of silence. She’s always struggled with verbal communication, and it’s rare that she can ever let herself go in a conversation. She’s the one on the outskirts of the group, only speaking up to deliver a poignant metaphor, before fading off again. On a good day she’ll ramble, perhaps, on morbid longings and fascinations, but it’s like she’s always skipping around words she can’t quite pinpoint.

Writing’s different. When she’s writing, she feels like all the dead souls of Emily Bronte and Virginia Woolf and Sylvia Plath are all rising up from their graves to possess her. It is, perhaps, a rather egotistical thought -- but it makes her feel less alone. Like writing isn’t so much a solitary pursuit as it is a reigniting of what’s been lost, a way of listening to the dead. She’s militant in the way she writes, has been for as long as she can remember -- every night when the clock strikes twelve. Even if she’s rolling on mandy in an abandoned warehouse or dropping acid in a shipyard with her toes in the sand, she’ll start scribbling at twilight, for as long as she can. Back home, there weren’t too many bars that allowed underage kids, and the ones that did would nail your phone to the wall like you’re living in the eighties, so they made their own fun getting high in places long since infested with rats on baggies bought cheap in the back of the dry-cleaners shop.

Theresa’s always felt more able to relate to dead people than to living ones. That might sound depressing, but she doesn’t think so. Death has never been far from her. She grew up in the room of a foster sister who had died the previous winter. She lost her mother to a boating accident at twelve years old. She lost Octavia last year, found her body in the woods, and was thankful that she -- and not someone else -- had seen her crumpled like a fawn. Because even though it clings to her and burrows under her skin, she knows how to drown it out now. In words. In wine. In pills crushed against the veneer of a sink and snorted through a twenty-dollar bill. She’s getting good at losing herself completely. Theresa herself feels like a girl half-dead, like something ghostly, trapped between two planes. Which is why it hurts so much that she still hasn’t seen Octavia’s ghost. She’s supposed to be the special one. The one who’s vision isn’t clouded by idle dogmatism. The one who believes in all that fate, juju, third eye stuff that the others seem to scoff at. It feels like a personal attack. Like somehow, in keeping hidden, she’s blaming Theresa for her death.

Theresa is the month of November. There’s something mysterious about it, something cold. It’s on the cusp of the end of the year, but it doesn’t quite reach it. I feel like that’s what Theresa’s like. Always reaching for the apples that are just out of her grasp, or perhaps, reaching for apples which aren’t even there.

She knows grief like an old friend, but somehow, she still doesn’t trust it. When she was twelve years old she lost one of her mothers. Annie was always the brighter of her parents, and Tessa never really believed that someone so full of life could just disappear. Her soul had to be somewhere. When Kath remarried, Theresa never forgave her. Between grief and anger, their relationship became fractious, and Kath decided to send her to boarding school. She went to a New England college where she learned art, history, literature, english, athletics, the sciences and the classics. Boarding school was probably the best decision for Theresa that Kath had ever made. She became fascinated with the girls around her, so feral and wild in their girlhood. She fell in love with another girl more than once. She fell in love with the freedom of New England, of being in the woods, of a gaggle of girls with bottles of wine sat around a campfire, scared half to death that the matron would find them.

But death’s never far from her. She’s been searching for Annie in the linebreaks between poems, in the chaos of clutter under her bed, under lace and linen in her underwear drawer, but somehow she can never quite find her and never give up. Finding Annie was perhaps the reason she came to Ashcroft at all. She intended to go to Columbia, read Literature, and clumsily follow in the footsteps of Ginsberg. But Annie had spoken of Edinburgh with such a childlike awe.

Lysander was the first of the society she met, at a poetry reading in the autumn of her first semester. He brought her into the club because he saw something in her, an otherworldliness, a still but powerful voice. Her eyes saw more than they let on, always glinting at something more. She thinks her closeness with Lysander is the reason she still hasn’t seen Octavia’s ghost, and now Hamlet’s out of the picture she’s starting to think she might love Lysander. Or maybe she just needs to be loved by someone, and absolving him of blame is the key.

She was never really sure how she felt about Octavia. One moment they were friends, the next they were rivals. It was something like love and hate combined, but perhaps that’s just the curse of being a woman. A fierce sense of competition in everything you do, even if it’s just competing for air.

She likes old French music, European cinema, art that doesn’t come in her mother tongue. She’s always thought English pointless. The French say things so much better.

Her favourite TV show is Twin Peaks. She likes the absurdist truth in it, the style, the colour, the oddness. She likes the mystery of it all. She loved the woods in New England and it reminds her of that. A kind of home away from home. Tea brings a pocked dictaphone out with her, for she’s so often absent-minded that she misses half the day. That way, she can replay conversations, the sound of a bird in flight, the particular inflection in the voice of someone she loves. She’s obsessive when it comes to lovers. She doesn’t want to be loved -- she wants to be respected, understood, devoured. She thinks love is a kind of mutual lying.

She finds truth in the unusual. In tarot cards and horoscopes, in the position of the planets through a thrifted telescope. She’s a night owl, never in bed before 3 or 4 in the morning. She visits the woods each night to write until her fingers ache. Sometimes with wine, sometimes with mushrooms, sometimes with a tab against the flat of her tongue, imagining herself to be Alice in Wonderland. She feels like she’s getting close to the truth, but maybe she’s just closer to losing her mind.

LETTER TO OCTAVIA.

My dearest O,

I wish I could find an adequate way to write you an epitaph. You saw a poet where everyone else saw a foolish dreamer and yet you’re the only one I can’t put into words. But in truth, there is no word large enough to contain you. You were the ellipsis I was always looking to conclude, and it’s so like you to steal even that from me. Some days, I think I could love you.

Please know that death cannot touch girls like us. That you’re more than just skin, teeth and bone. Death itself has you only on a short-term loan. As Thomas puts so eloquently, Do not go gentle into that good night. Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Thank you for filling me with life. I’ll see you in the next one.

Tea.

anything else?

mock blog.

wanted plots.

someone who theresa knows purely from seeing them at the library. recently, she hasn’t been visiting as often. she’s less in the world and more in her head. her schoolwork is suffering. someone who feels this absence like a missing tooth.

unlikely bc ashcroft is in scotland but if they’re from rhode island maybe distant relatives.... ophelia / theresa is adopted so could work regardless of heritage. her family lived in narragansett, but she went to boarding school in vermont. could have met if ur character is new england based??? maybe

give me fellow wanky pretentious art-lovers and poets and historians who will go to museums and galleries with her and listen to the velvet underground on vinyl

people she gets mortally fucked off her tits with at parties bcos this baby is not alright. she drinks at least one glass of wine every night. sometimes a bottle. she’s always a little bit high or a little bit weary with a comedown. she can’t seem to keep her feet on the ground.

theresa was pretty numb after finding the body, as you would be. she stayed in her room listening to enya for three days straight and just eating cereal straight out the box. then thalia broke up with her and that fuckin shook her too, and now she just thinks she’s unlovable. she’s always been pretty bad at sleeping but now she just wanders about in her white nightdress looking for a door with light spilling beneath it so that maybe she can find someone who’ll hold her for the night and make her feel like she’s still alive

she’s currently hooking up with a lot of people. a lot of very detached sex, so if she has any sort of close connection with your character this might not work. could be good for angst or awkwardness though, or she cld get like.... super attached after a one night stand and complicate the shit out of everything. theresa’s kind of obsessive when it comes to her affections, she loves with her whole heart or not at all

people she used to date or unrequitedly likes, but to them it’s just a physical thing, give me all the thirsty angst plots, and maybe some softness too, i need some religion in this girls life jesus

honestly everything just give me all the plots

#stands on the rooftop and screams like a banshee as i fling this into the woods #spectreintro #very late and personally i think that's incredibly sexy of me x

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rebeccaheyman · 4 years

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reading + listening 9.29.20

It was another week of soaring highs and middling mediocrity, but fortunately no DNFs. Notably, I’ve been dragging my heels on PIRANESI by Susanna Clarke, which has been sitting on my desk in gorgeous hard cover since release day. You ever want to love a book so much that you’re afraid to actually read it? No, no, me neither. Here’s hoping I get brave this week. In the meantime...

It’s Been a Pleasure, Noni Blake (Claire Christian), eBook ARC (US pub date February 2021). I loved this book so much that I’m already looking forward to owning the aBook once it’s available, just so I can relive the magic in a new way. Here’s my five-star NetGalley review:

I have discovered the antidote to the unmitigated disaster that is the year 2020, and it is IT'S BEEN A PLEASURE, NONI BLAKE. I inhaled this book in under 24 hours and feel soul-satisfied in a way I forgot existed. NONI BLAKE is a rom-com that's so much more than a rom-com; it's as much a character study as LESS and as much a travelogue as WILD, with the sweetness of Mhairi MacFarlane, the delicious heat of Sally Thorne, and the humor of every best friend you've ever gotten drunk with. It is, in a word, perfect.

When I say this book has it all, I am not kidding. In it, you will find: - an average-bodied woman finding sexual empowerment and body positivity - a Scottish book boyfriend for whom you do not need to travel through time - healthy adult friendships - A+ Bechdel Test score - adventurous, consensual sex that is at times hilarious and at other times really, really hot - situational comedy that will legitimately make you laugh out loud - adults who talk openly about their feelings in an authentic, mature way - portrayals of grief that range in severity from mourning the loss of an unborn child to coming to terms with years of self-criticism and negativity - rich, descriptive prose that does not drag down pacing - excellent plotting, perfectly balanced with the protagonist's complex internal journey

...the list goes on. This book is joy exemplified. I can't wait to give it to every woman I know. My only complaint is that the world needs this book immediately to inoculate us against the tidal wave of awfulness bombarding the globe, and yet it won't be released until 2021.

Notably, Australian readers have access to NONI BLAKE as of... today (!), so if you happen to be reading this in Australia, please do yourself a favor and buy this book immediately. And if there’s someone you especially like elsewhere in the world, maybe box up a copy and spread the love.

Act Your Age, Eve Brown (Talia Hibbert), eBook ARC (pub date March 2021). I know, I know -- how many contemporary romcoms with the exact same title structure can I read in a single week? Real answer: 2. But based on how fabulous both these titles were, I’m open to more. Here’s my four-star NetGalley review:

I've decided it's entirely impossible to read the Brown Sisters series without feeling amazing. Hibbert's writing is so smart, funny, and full of A+ banter -- not to mention scorching-hot heat -- that it almost feels like we don't deserve her books' nuances, diverse representations, and patriarchy-shaking feminism.

But we do deserve it, actually, and it's all there in ACT YOUR AGE, EVE BROWN.

If at first Eve seems flighty and difficult to connect with, don't discount the intentionality of her characterization. In a tidy narrative trick, Hibbert gives us the very experience that defines many of Eve's friendships: while the youngest Brown sister may have made a great first impression in Chloe and Dani's books, her flightiness feels off-putting once she takes center stage. But sticking with Eve -- instead of pushing her to the margins of our two-person social circle -- has a massive pay-off, as she soon reveals herself to be intensely focused on helping others, spreading joy, and baking delicious cake. It's a side of Eve too many of her "friends" never get to see -- but Reader, we do. And it turns out, Eve is a wonder.

Many of Eve's quirks align with behaviors on the autism spectrum; while Jacob's autistic presentation is perhaps more conventional, Eve's traits are equally validated by Hibbert's sensitive, nuanced treatment of the disorder. Romance + autism usually means antisocial behaviors, rigidity, and/or Asperger's-like presentation (The Kiss Quotient/Bride Test, The Girl He Used to Know, The Rosie Project... the list goes on). But ACT YOUR AGE explores the all important "spectrum" side of "autism spectrum disorder," and urges us to resist believing we understand what these labels mean just because we understand one small aspect of a very large picture.

All of this happens while a truly compelling, heart-melting romance unfolds. Eve and Jacob are incredibly fun to watch, and Hibbert keeps things moving at a lovely clip. I especially appreciated her resistance to the "h/h have to spend totally unnecessary time apart after an argument/misunderstanding" trope in Act III, which is a convention I would happily see go the way of the dinosaur.

Fair warning to your TBR pile: If you don't reread Chloe and Dani's books prior to picking up ACT YOUR AGE, EVE BROWN, you're going to want to afterward. There's simply no other way to maintain the rosy glow of post-Hibbert reading.

Finally, I'm predicting here and now that Mont, Alex and Tess are the next sibling trio to get the Hibbert treatment. (Please? Like...PLEASE please?)

Set My Heart to Five (Simon Stephenson), aBook (narr. Christopher Ragland, Rachael Louise Miller, Lance C. Fuller). If you combined the signature humor/love combo of David Nicholls, the deeply felt nostalgia of Ready Player One, and the bots-with-feelings hypothesis of Spielburg’s AI, you might come close to understanding what makes SET MY HEART TO FIVE so good. In the year 2054, the world has taken some unexpected turns: humans have accidentally locked themselves out of the internet, Elon Musk blew up the moon (also accidentally), and humanoid bots have been integrated into society as second-class pseudo-citizens. We meet Jared -- bot, dentist, cat-owner -- who has begun to experience curious malfunctions. With a friend’s help, and a heaping dose of old movies, Jared realizes he can feel real emotions. He resolves to journey west to Hollywood, where he’ll write a movie that changes the way humans view bots and paves the way for his bot brothers and sisters to enjoy the full range of human experience.

Jared’s explanations of human behavior provide a satirical commentary on our curious, often contradictory behaviors (”Humans. I cannot!”). Since films from the pre-bot age figure so prominently in Jared’s emotional awakening, that same satirical analysis is applied to movie synopses, which are rendered with necessary frequency but occasionally feel like overkill. The book relies heavily on a lovely trick of narrative reciprocity; Jared is on an archetypal hero’s journey, even as he strives to write a formulaic screenplay according to the “golden rules” of the fictitious script expert, R.P. McWilliams. But SET MY HEART TO FIVE never feels hackneyed, and in more than one way proves the rule that great stories are all in the telling.

With the innocence and clarity that can only come from being something of a stranger in a strange land, Jared embraces his existence with infectious enthusiasm and charm. It’s virtually impossible not to cheer for his success, even as we’re warned again and again that a great story will “eff us in the heart” at its conclusion. Audio is brilliantly narrated by Christopher Ragland, who manages to imbue the bot cadence we expect with believable nuance and big style.

Well Played (Jen DeLuca), aBook (narr. Brittany Pressley). I’ve got bad news for fans of WELL MET: If you wondered whether your enjoyment of Deluca’s ren-faire romcom debut of 2019 was due in large part to the book’s setting -- and more specifically, the way h/h’s interactions at the faire advanced the storyline -- the answer is yes. And why is that bad news, you ask? Well, because WELL PLAYED has none of the crackling Emily/Simon tension that carried the first book through its narrative stumbles. In book 2, the glacially slow Act I relies heavily on Stacy’s recitation of what makes her life humdrum, and a long series of email exchanges we *know* are coming from the conspicuously introduced Daniel -- even though Stacy, apparently suffering a traumatic brain injury, convinces herself it’s idiot playboy (and Daniel’s cousin) Dex. Sorry not sorry for the “spoiler,” which is impossible not to see coming from many miles away. Once this pseudo-conflict is resolved, the book boils down to situational fluff: a wedding, a squeaky mattress, the literal number of pumpkin spice lattes Stacy drinks over the course of a month. If it sounds like this is not a plot, that’s because it isn’t. The romance is low-stakes, the “uncrossable divide” that eventually separates h/h is the width and depth of a puddle, and the last third of the book is pretty much solely devoted to setting up a Mitch/April romance in book 3.

Notably, I found references to Stacy’s body-consciousness extremely strange. If we want to normalize average-sized women in romance, maybe we do that by not including, apropos of literally nothing, how “unflattering” woman-on-top sexual positions are?! Stacy is not characterized by self-consciousness, so the moments when her interiority veers toward self-criticism don’t feel necessary. I’m not saying these aren’t authentic thoughts and feelings plenty of women have, but an editor should have pushed DeLuca to answer the question to what end? Why include body hyperawareness in the precise moments when it appears? Like too much of the prose in WELL PLAYED, these inclusions felt like word-count boosting instead of dynamic character development or plot production. Sad as I am to say it, this book was a missed opportunity that shows the danger of rushing book 2 to market.

The Lady’s Guide to Celestial Mechanics (Olivia Waite), aBook (narr. Morag Sims). This book has been on my radar since its publication last summer. Gorgeous cover aside, I’m always here for diverse historical romance. Sadly, for me, the external stakes here were simply too low, and relied overmuch on the baffling revelation that men -- especially in this historical moment -- underestimate and undermine women. I never felt discernible chemistry between Lucy and Catherine. This could be due, in part, to Morag Sims’ narration, which pitches Catherine’s voice in a low, husky range that accentuated the women’s age difference. From the outset, we learn that Catherine is the widow of one of Lucy’s father’s colleagues; while Lucy is the more sexually forward woman in this partnership, there’s something a little An Education about the whole arrangement.

On my radar this week:

Piranesi (Susanna Clarke)

A Deadly Education aBook (Naomi Novik)

We Can Only Save Ourselves ARC (Alison Wisdom)

Angel in a Devil’s Arms (Julie Anne Long)

The Project ARC (Courtney Summers)

The Love Square ARC (Laura Jane Williams)

#book review #ebooks #audiobooks #amreading #the lady's guide to celestial mechanics #well played #act your age eve brown #it's been a pleasure noni blake #set my heart to five

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artsy-alice · 7 years

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TREMONTAINE Season 3, Episode 1 Reaction + Review

‘Ambition’ is a strong opening that leaves much to look forward to in a season that’s already shaping up to give us a significant shift in character action, dynamics and motivations. All exciting things!

Tremontaine S3 E1 is out on Oct. 11 in the Serial Box website! Pilot episode is available online for free!

Quick note: THIS IS LATE. But whatever. Anyways - this is a thing now. As I mentioned in my start-of-October PSA, I’ll be doing weekly episode reviews of the Serial Box series Tremontaine, my contribution as part of its official street team. Both weekly reviews and challenges will be posted here in my art blog throughout the season and will be using the tag #tremonteam.

So! Rest of the review under the cut. Contains spoilers, duh.

So the short version of my reaction to this episode, as I posted a few days ago is this:

i finally read Tremontaine S3 episode 1 and I am screaming

Saw what the next episode will be about and I screamed louder

That’s it, really. The screaming? Yup. Because our characters are back with a vengeance (some more literal than others) and they got up to... things. Shenanigans. I will rant senselessly all day so I’ll try to give some sort of structure in this review by going by character.

DIANE, Duchess Tremontaine.

Ah, Diane is on Full Duchess Mode from her first scene here to her last. We saw her ascend to her own title last season and this time, from her internal musings to her spoken dialogue she’s proving herself a force of nature. It’s always a welcome sight to see the Duchess in her balcony and looking over her city, and I always love the way Tremontaine gives us a look on how the gears turn and work things out in her head. I MISSED DIANE’S PLOTTING, OKAY.

I specially love this line: ‘She was Duchess Tremontaine in her own right, now, and she must have the best of everything, if she wanted to keep her position and advance.’

Of course, some things don’t go according to plan. Diane may be Diane, but she is still a noble of the Hill and they all know the strength of security and protection is only as strong as their swordsman. Diane just lost her swordsman, and worse, she heard it from a third party in a formal dinner. It was a really fascinating scene to watch unfold. (RIP my bro Vincent, sometimes I can still hear your voice- Stop telling everyone he’s dead- Wait, he wants me to tell everyone he’s dead anyway, right?) If I was that servant girl watching Diane have a breakdown, I would also be terrified. In love, but terrified.

Diane’s interactions with other characters are satisfying, too. I love her scenes with Micah (more on that later), and with Lionel. Lionel is growing on me, oh my. Stop it, Lionel. I can only have one annoying trash son and that position has been taken by Rafe.

And Kaab! I’d like to think Diane’s sympathy over Ixsaabim’s death is genuine, and not for the sake of Duchess Plots - she did admit to adoring the other woman. (RIP Saabim, you will be missed, for real.) Diane advising Kaab and enjoying the chocolate with Grandma Balam’s spices left me shipping and wanting for more interactions please!!! I DIEEE. In speaking of-

KAAB, my favorite hopeless lesbian spy swordswoman.

MY GIRL. She’s thrust into this position she wasn’t entirely ready for, right after losing both Vincent and Tess. It huuuurts. But also she’s taking responsibility. Loved the insights and background info on Kinwiniik culture as always. I always liked the matriarchal tradition of their family and it’s really interesting to see her taking advice from other women in the family.

There’s much to look forward to now that Kaab’s new position has given her more visibility in the City’s merchant society. She can’t exactly go rogue on Riverside to go spying and gathering intel under the radar anymore - but she steps up and takes advantage of this visibility by using it to appeal to the merchant council, formally, not as a follower but a leader. GO GET ‘EM, KAAB. BUT DON’T GET ‘EM TOO MUCH OH MY GOD THINK OF TESS.

MICAH, genius farm girl mathematician, also my actual daughter.

The first scene with Micah and Diane talking about what happened to Diane? PRECIOUS. Taking a walk together? PRECIOUS. And this-

“I don’t usually like it when people touch me, but if I say you can it’s all right, and holding hands in the dark means I will protect you.”

“From scary bushes?”

I SQUEALED. Fine, I’m weak for the Diane-Micah stuff, okay? Catch me making a doodle of this scene as part of my Inktober in a few days.

Anyways, the real stuff though, is the school. Rafe has roped Micah in to be one of his school’s teachers. Dr. Goodell, bless his heart, has legit concerns. But Micah wants to teach, she wants people to love Math too. (I hate Math but I’ll study with Micah if she asked me to.) I’ll just... believe in Micah and pray that she succeeds in life. That’s my ship. Micah x Math x Success. Finally-

RAFE, a dude.

Kidding, I love Rafe - he’s a disaster. I know not many people are fond of him but I am, okay, I’ll fight for this trainwreck, let him rest and BUILD HIS SCHOOL.

Will’s been shipped off and Rafe can now focus on... trying to keep his father happy as he saves up and builds his school. Sounds neat, he already has a Math teacher in Micah, let’s go- Oops. Here comes Florian! Because Rafe is not Rafe without getting in trouble because of the guy he’s sleeping with. Classic Rafe. It will be very interesting to see - both the school building and the... Florian shenanigans.

Also then there’s this very blatant fact: ‘Shade was on a rampage.’

Rafe. My boy. RUN.

I’m really excited to see what happens next - specially with that Episode 2 teaser, oh myyy. TESS AND REZA? A combination I never knew I needed until now. As I said earlier - I screamed. Louder.

So I didn’t mean for this to turn out this long, but I really missed this series and I’m so glad it’s back - and even gladder that I’m in the TremonTEAM! I’m skipping for this week’s challenge - about a dinner menu and food, which I enjoy but I also suck at.

#tremontaine #tremontaines3 #tremonteam #teamduchess #riverside #ellen kushner #artsyalice: reviews #this is me just fangirling #pay it no mind #but also please LIKE this post i might get extra points??? maybe??? i think???#i just... i love tremontaine ok

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zoeygreensimblr · 5 years

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Wonderland (Episode 17)

"Zoey?"

"Hmm?"

"Zo, I'm going for a run and then to work"

"But it's dark and cold" I can feel myself leaving sleep behind and becoming more aware of where I am and who is talking to me.

"It won't be cold once I get going and I'm going to watch the sun rise" Angus informs me, "Do you want to come?" He asks in all seriousness, I open my eyes and can just make out the shape of him crouched down beside the bed. I pause for a moment, taking in what he's asking of me, Zoey Green, up until a month ago, was not one to run but since joining the gym I can now keep a steady pace.

"Are you going to go fast" I'm concerned I won't keep up or I'll slow him down.

"I'll go at a Zoey pace" He promises, I can hear the satisfaction in his voice that he has won me over. I throw back the blankets and climb out of bed, still somewhat groggy from waking up so early.

"What time is it anyway?" I ask hm out of curiosity, more so that I can tell Tess, for once, I was awake before she was.

"5:20" He laughs and I sluggishly change into my work out clothes

"I'd only do this for you Theodore and only because I'll miss you while you're at work" I tell him

"I appreciate it baby, I'll owe you" He kisses my forehead and we leave the apartment and head out into the cold, dark morning in San Myshuno.

We ran at a moderate pace from outside the apartment all the way up to Myshuno Meadows where we stopped to watch to sun starting to rise over the ocean, it was a beautiful, breath taking sight and I'm so grateful that Angus woke me up to witness it. He wraps his giant arms around me to keep me warm and whispers in my ear, "Thank you Zoey".

"For what?" I ask him confused

"For sharing this with me today, stepping into my world, I know I stole your sleep in and you can go back to sleep once we get back to the apartment or you could come hang out with at work today?" He knows he'll miss me too

"Are you going to make me work out all day with you?" Ugh, I couldn't imagine anything worse.

"No baby, I only have one session this afternoon and that's with You, Tess and the others, I'm just there today to do paperwork, boring stuff but with you there it won't be boring"He tells me and gives me a wink and that cheeky smile.

"Do you coach many classes there?" I ask, only just realising that I've never paid attention to how much he actually does at the gym

"I run the boxersise class on Monday and Tuesday afternoons, Wednesday morning I have body burn class which is basically a lot of working with weights, squats and floor work and then I do a bit of personal training occasionally but try to avoid it now. My plate is full though with running the place, dealing with staff and payroll but I love being my own boss" He explains and I look at him confused

"So why did you take on Tess and I then if you don't like doing it?" I ask him

"To be close to you Zoey" He answers, smile spread across his face, "I could of let Claudia or Justin take you on but I wanted you all to myself, even if that meant I took on your sister who never stops talking too" He laughs

"You like Tess, don't act like you don't, I see how you both like to stir each other" I remind him

"I do like Tess now, I didn't when I first met you both though I must admit" He confesses

"Why?" I ask, Ive never known anyone who doesn't like Tess, even when she's in a bad mood she's still fun to be around.

"I thought she was being mean to you, making fun of your social awkwardness and I didn't like it but when I spoke to her later that night I saw how she really is, she only wants the best for you and she pushes you out of your comfort zone not to laugh at you but to broaden your horizons. It was only that first time I met her that I didn't like her but I got her all wrong, now I find her to be hilarious and I enjoy making fun of her because she gives me the same shit back. I really looking forward to her coming in for work experience too, I've just gotta find something that will keep her busy for a week coz I know she gets bored easily" He explains

"She's really great at painting, she takes Graphic Art as an elective, if you need her to paint you a mural or even to paint your bland office" I laugh at the thought of Tess getting to paint those bland walls, she would love that.

"That's not a bad idea actually" He says taking it on board.

We walked all the way back to the apartment, taking our time, I showered and changed into casual clothes, Angus said to leave my gym clothes for Joanna to wash and just come back that afternoon for them.

"Can I borrow a book to read today?" I ask him, I had been browsing his collection of novels for a while now

"Of course you can Zoey, you don't have to ask" He tells me and I run off to pick one to take with me today, I choose 'Seduction by the Sea' and we set out for the gym.

"How are you going to explain to your staff that I'm there today" I ask Angus, considering it was him that wanted to keep it under cover at work so it didn't cause trouble.

"I'm going to be honest with them, I know I set the rule of no fraternising with clients and I should be setting a good example but I don't want to hide you Zoey" He explains and I take his hand as we enter the gym together, Annabelle is seated at the reception desk.

"Morning Gus, I have 3 messages for you" She greets him, "Hey Zoey, please tell me he's not forcing you to spend the day here?" She laughs

"He's not forcing me Annabelle" I assure her as Angus reads through the messages she's handed him.

"Zoey, do you wanna stay with Annabelle while I just quickly return a phone call?" He asks me

"Sure" I reply and I take a seat next to Annabelle as Angus walks off to his office.

"Annabelle can I ask something and we just keep it between us" I can hear the quiver in my voice and I'm hoping I can trust Annabelle if I open up

"Of course Zoey, what's up?" She assures me

"Was one of the messages from Steph?" I ask, nervous as hell, she takes a long pause before answering.

"What makes you ask that Zoey" There panic in her voice, like she's holding onto information but if she shares it then she's afraid Angus will get angry

"She called him yesterday when we were having breakfast and I know it's not the first time either. Angus doesn't know that I know and I'm not going to bring it up unless I have a reason to worry" I explain, I can see Annabelle relax a bit, like she knows I won't betray her if she tells me the truth.

"She called here this morning, she said he wasn't answering his phone, I'm guessing because he was with you." She confirms, "I don't know why she's calling though, she won't tell me but I know they have been talking a bit lately"

"Should I be worried?" I ask her, panic in my voice

"I know Angus, he's good guy who is there for everyone but he wouldn't stray. I'm sure it's nothing to worry about Zo, he loves you" She assures me

"Worry about what?" Angus asks as he comes walking up behind us, Annabelle and I exchange looks

"Umm worried about having never flown before, I told Annabelle that I'm a little scared to fly and she was reassuring me that we will be fine" I lie to him and I don't feel good about it but I also don't feel good that he's having secret phone calls with Steph either. I am afraid to fly so it's not a full lie.

"You didn't tell me you were afraid to fly baby" He hugs me tightly

"I didn't want you to think I didn't want to go" I tell him

"Annabelle is right, you have nothing to worry about, I've flown heaps, I love it and I'll be there the whole time" Angus comforts me

"See Zoey, I don't think you have anything to worry about" Annabelle says and we both know she's referring to Angus with Steph, I just hope she's right.

"Annabelle I'm going to work up in the cafe today, apparently my office is too bland for Miss Green" He laughs

"Ok, I'll forward calls to your mobile then" Annabelle says in her professional tone but drops it when she talks to me "Come visit me again today Zoey, you make work fun" She smiles at me and I follow Angus upstairs.

"Do you want pancakes Zoey?" Angus asks, studying the menu as we sit side by side in a booth at the cafe.

"Only if you share them with me and we can have strawberries too, I loved those strawberries, they were so juicy" I reply and he places an order, I open my book and begin reading, he opens his laptop and begins working, I rest my head on his shoulder and he places a hand on my knee.

"Do you like the book so far?" He asks me when I'm a few chapters in.

"It's still setting up but it's very lusty but I love romantic novels" I tell him

"I loved it, I've read that book many times, it's got strong characters and a great twist" I can hear the excitement in his voice, like he's sharing something treasured with me.

"Shh, no-one likes spoilers, go back to your reports" I say playfully

"I'm actually putting together next month's timetable, I'm thinking of taking on an extra class too" He corrects me

"What class?"I ask, intrigued

"Spin class, I'm thinking on a Wednesday afternoon, would you do it if I ran the class?"He asks me

"Would you push me to fast" I don't think I could go at his pace

"You can go at whatever speed you want with me baby, you know that" He promises.

His phone vibrates and he answers it, "Hey Justin, I'm upstairs, come up, I've got someone I want you to meet", he gives me a smile and hangs up. A few minutes later we are approached by a tall, buff looking guy, looks to be in his late 30's, I do recall seeing him around before though.

"Justin, this is my girlfriend, Zoey" Angus introduces me and Justin laughs

"I was wondering when we were going to officially meet, hey Zoey." Justin greets us

"You knew?" Angus exclaims

"Everyone knows, we just didn't say anything but it was pretty obvious, leaving together and how you look at the girl" Justin explains and I just look at Angus and laugh.

"Alright, well we are going away next week, Wednesday, coming back Saturday so I'm just doing some shifting around of my schedule, can you take my group on Friday, it's just Zoey's sister, Tess and her boyfriend?" Angus asks Justin

"No troubles" Justin confirms

"Also Imogen is back next week too, on Thursday" Angus says with a smile and I see Justin's face light up, "Justin has been into Imogen since they were in Year 8 together but she's always had a boyfriend" Angus explains to me

"Including Don" I remind Angus, "Does she know that you like her?" I ask Justin

"Not at all, we've just been friends for so long so I doubt she'd see me as anything else" He tells me before adding "That woman is luscious"

"Dude, thats my sister, keep your pervy thoughts to yourself" Angus laughs at him

"She not my sister" Justin replies, winking at me and I smile

"So you two met around 2 years ago but Justin, you've known Imogen all this time?" I ask them both

"Yep, Imogen travels a lot with work so we've been distant friends, keeping in touch through texts and emails but about 2 years ago we caught up for a drink and she brought her foul mouthed, chubby brother along because he had just been dumped by some chick and we hit it off and I told the chubby bastard that he needed to come running with me every morning with the promise of a beautiful sunrise as a reward" Justin explains and I poke Angus in the ribs as he tries to hide his smile behind his hands.

"This is all sounding very familiar Angus" I exclaim

"You're not chubby, you're beautiful, I just wanted company on my run" He kisses my cheek

"I began training him, this kid had a bad attitude but no confidence and I had to break down so many aggressive walls he had up" Justin continues.

"In my defence I had a shit girlfriend who had cheated on me with my best friend for months and this guy yelling at me to get off my fat arse and get motivated" Angus tells me, hanging his head, I take his hand and give it a little squeeze and he looks at me and winks.

"You were never fat, just chubby" Justin reassures him

"So when did you take over the gym?" I ask Angus

"About a year ago, Justin was looking to sell but wanted to stay on as a trainer and I wanted something to keep me busy. Justin taught me everything I know and I'm grateful for it" Angus replies

"He's still got a foul mouth though" Justin laughs

"Zoey loves it, adds to my bad boy charm" Angus tells him

"Bad boy? You? You're a marshmallow, soft and sweet" I inform him.

My phone starts buzzing, I see it's Tess calling

"Heya" I greet her in a perky tone that could easily challenge her own.

"You're awake? At 8am? I'm surprised" She sounds shocked

"Angus made me go for a run" I tell her and I watch him laugh

"He's making you do sneaky exercise, I love it." She replies, "Whats the plan for tonight anyway?" She asks

"We'll shower after training, can you, I want to talk to you privately though before we go to the Stargazer" I'm nervous but it's a conversation I need to have

"Is everything OK Zoey?" She asks concerned

"Everything is great, I just want some sister time, away from boyfriends" I promise her

"Love you Z"

"Love you too T"

"Tess and I will meet you at The Stargazer, we're just going to have coffee together first" I tell Angus and Declan after our training, Angus pulls me in close and whispers in my ear

"If she gets angry at you then you tell me and I'll sort it", I nod and walk to the showers with Tess.

"I brought you some clothes from home" Tess tells me, I love that she knew I needed an outfit for tonight without even asking, she pulls out my favourite red mini skirt and plain black long sleeved t-shirt, she even squeezed my knee high white boots into her backpack. We shower and get dressed then work on make up and hair.

"Black or blue eyeliner?" I ask her

"Black and line your lower lid too" She orders me as she curls my hair.

When we are leaving we dump the backpack with our work out clothes behind the reception desk and make our way to a coffee place across the road, order two mochas, extra foam, we find a seat near the window that overlooks the city, the sun is setting, casting a beautiful red glow between the apartments.

"What's going on Zoey?" Tess asks me suspiciously

"You know I don't like keeping things from you but I'm also somewhat afraid of you when you get angry at me so I'm hoping you'll keep that in mind" My voice is trembling, I love Tess but she can be scary at times. She stares at me for what seems like forever, her face relaxes like she's just figured out how to solve a puzzle.

"When?" She asks me, taking my hand

"A few weeks ago, it was my idea, not his, he didn't push me into it" I tell her

"Are you being careful?" She questions me

"Always" I promise her

"Did you think I'd be angry with you?" She asks me

"Yes, I thought you'd lecture me about how I should have waited or you'd make me feel ashamed" I explain

"Zoey, I love you, if you're happy then I'm happy for you and you can tell me anything. I'm not angry" She assures me, "Now, give me details"

"You're really not angry?" I ask, shocked

"You love Angus, He loves you, you're being careful, we're almost 19, do you need anymore reasons why I'm not angry?" She exclaims, so I give her all the details she desires, how sweet he was the first time, how it hurt, how many times we've done it and how he took me to doctor to go on the pill. Tess is impressed. We talked for another hour about what we'd been up to during the week, she told me how Declan was taking her out for dinner tomorrow night, how she'd completed 2 assignments but has another 2 to go and how Sam told Declan he was thinking of asking Cassie to formal but wasn't sure if she was interested, we both laughed about how blind Sam was to Cassie's hints. I love having time alone with Tess, all my worries have just melted away.

When we walked into the Stargazer we found Angus and Declan sitting with Molly and Annabelle. Molly came running up to me when we approach the table, giving me a hug, I introduce her to Tess and they hit it off as I predicted they would, we get to talking about university and how we are coming to orientation tours first we back of school. We arrange to have lunch when we do our tour. I feel his arm slide around my waist and his lips kiss my neck

"I love this skirt, How is this the first time I've seen you wear it?" He whispers to me, I turn to face him, "Wow, I'm loving this full look" He says, kissing me

"Im loving your look too, very hot" I say, taking a look at the dark jacket, jeans and blue t-shirt, he's a great dresser.

"I got you both a drink" He says, pointing to the table, "How did the talk go?" He asks me

"Really good, she's not angry" I tell him

"I'm so glad" He says as Tess comes bouncing up beside us, she looks at Angus and smiles

"Thanks for the drink and for being good to my Zoey" She says, hugging us both

"You're welcome on both counts" He smiles at her, my two favourite people are friends and I couldn't be happier.

The band starts playing, Molly grabs my hand, I grab Tess' hand and we head out to the dance floor. I love their sound even though I know none of their songs. We dance through 3 songs before I need to go back to the table for a drink. Walking over I see Angus is texting, he looks up, sees me coming and puts his phone away.

"Hey pretty girl, I love watching you dance" He says, kissing me

"I thought you were too busy texting to see" I laugh and he looks at me with shame in his eyes

"I was watching baby" He promises

"Stop watching, come dance with me" I beg him and he obliges, I lead him onto the dance floor where Tess and Molly are. We dance as a group for the next 3 songs, until Tess announces that she needs a drink and Molly complains of sore feet, I use the opportunity to pull Angus in for a dance, just us two.

"I Love dancing with you" He tells me

"You love doing everything with me" I say, confidently and he nods his head in confirmation,

"Are you hungry?" He asks after we've danced together for a bit

"Kinda" I reply

"Only kinda?" He questions

"I am hungry but I don't want to stop dancing to eat but I also know if I don't eat soon I will run out of energy to keep dancing. It's a complicated catch 22" I laugh

"I'll get some grazing plates for the table, that way you can snack and dance" He says, taking my hand and leading me to the bar where we order food for the table and a round of drinks.

"Im getting tipsy" I giggle

"Are you having fun though?" He asks, concerned

"Yep, I love Caleb's band, they've got an awesome sound" I say, snuggling into him, he smells amazing, the scent of freshly washed and aftershave is intoxicating.

We walk back to the table where we find Tess and Declan discussing where we should go after we graduate. It's tradition that graduating year 12s take a holiday somewhere as a celebration for completing high school. So far we had nothing planned and as per usual Tess had volunteered to organise somewhere but she had a lot on her plate already

"I just haven't had time to look but if we don't book somewhere soon we will miss out" I hear her telling Declan

"Where were you thinking though?" He asks her

"Somewhere beachy where we can relax and drink cocktails" She tells him

"And sunbathe" I add, I'm pale and in desperate need of a tan

"How many people?" Angus asks Tess

"Just us, so that's Zoey, Declan, Cassie, Sam and Myself" She counts on her hand, "5 all up"

"I have a house in Sulani, 4 bedrooms, right on the beach, you can stay there if you want" Angus offers and Tess' eyes light up

"That would be perfect, Thank You Angus" She throws her arms around him in joy

"You should join us" I ask him, a week without Angus won't be fun

"I may not be able to do a full week but I could spare a few days" He promises. Our drinks and grazing plates arrives.

"Baby eat, drink and then we can dance" Angus urges me, I pick up a slice of cheese and some salami, drink half my drink and grab his hand to lead him back out to the dance floor, he comes willingly. I can feel myself going from tipsy to drunk very quickly.

"Zoey we're gonna get you some water ok?" Angus suggests and I groan, water means the end of drinking, he walks me to a quiet corner of The Stargazer and sits me down on couch, "I'll be back, don't move". He walks to the bar, gets a large glass of water, he walks back to where he placed me, crouches down and presents the water to me.

"I'm not drunk anymore" I slur my words

"Completely sober" He laughs putting the water in my hands, "Let's just drink the water anyway, just for fun", I take small sips just to appease him

"Can we go home?" I ask him, tiredness suddenly setting in and the room is spinning. He takes the half empty glass from my hand, sets it on a table near by, stands up and holds out his hands to help me up.

"I'll call Tess once we get home, just so she doesn't worry" He says, wrapping an arm around my waist to steady me.

Once back at the apartment he helps me up to the couch, pours another glass of water and makes me a bowl of popcorn.

"You barely ate and drank a lot, eat up, I'll call Tess" He tells me

"You love me" I say

'Is that a question or a statement?" He laughs

"Just me, you love just me though right?" I ramble on and he looks at me confused

"Of course just you Zoey" He crouches down in front of me, "Is everything ok Zoey?"

"No but I'm too tired to talk" I tell him as he slips my boots off and picks me up in his arms

"I'll take you to bed Princess" He carries me off to his room and I drift off in a drunken slumber

#sims4 #sims 4 discover university #simblr #sims 4 story #sims 4 city living #sims 4 san myshuno #sims 4 cats and dogs #sims 4 get to work #sims 4 get famous #taylor swift #wickedwhims

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comicteaparty · 5 years

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March 25th-March 31st, 2019 CTP Archive

The archive for the Comic Tea Party week long chat that occurred from March 25th, 2019 to March 31st, 2019. The chat focused on Tamberlane by Caytlin Vilbrandt.

Featured Comment:

Chat:

RebelVampire

COMIC TEA PARTY- WEEK LONG BOOK CLUB START!

Hello and welcome everyone to Comic Tea Party’s Week Long Book Club~! This week we’ll be focusing on Tamberlane by Caytlin Vilbrandt~! (https://www.tamberlanecomic.com/)

You are free to read and comment about the comic all week at your own pace, so stop on by whenever it suits your schedule! Remember, though, that while we allow constructive criticism, our focus is to have fun and appreciate the comic. Below you will find four questions to get you started on the discussion. However, a new question will be posted and pinned everyday (between 12:01AM and 6AM PDT), so keep checking back for more! You have until March 31st to tell us all your wonderful thoughts! With that established, let’s get going on the reading and the chatting!

QUESTION 1. What has been your favorite scene in the comic so far? What specifically did you like about it?

QUESTION 2. Where do you think Tamberlane is from? Is she from Abroad as some characters have suggested? What do you think Tamberlane’s past history is? Last, what do you think will happen when Tamberlane’s origins are uncovered?

Caytlin (Tamberlane)

Yay! Hi all! I can't wait to talk about Tamberlane with you!

I'll add my answers to the discussion when I'm more awake =w=

Delphina

I remember reading the first chapter of Tamberlane once upon a time; so happy to have the opportunity to catch up again and see where it's gone!

I love just about every scene with Oakewood or Piper because they're both hilarious, but this one probably wins for me. He's such a good reverse psychology grandpa. https://www.tamberlanecomic.com/tamberlane/page-94/

Close second is Piper's brilliant plan because I am also a saleswoman at heart: https://www.tamberlanecomic.com/tamberlane/page-110/

Delphina

All signs definitely point to the idea that Tamberlane is from Abroad, and I'm very curious about what's so scary about it. (My guess is that it's the world of Humans and animal-types get treated like animals there, which would explain their fears). From the conversation with Tagg and Danger, I suspect there's internal conflict in the land of Abroad (a plague? a war?), and Tamberlane was sent out baby-on-the-river-style by a well-meaning mom that wanted her to have a better life. Tamberlane seems to be good at making friends, though, so I think even if they confirm that she's from Abroad, the community will still accept and protect her. It very much feels like "it takes a village to raise a child" is a big central theme in this comic.

Caytlin (Tamberlane)

Oooh, that's an interesting theory!

I definitely wanted to explore It Takes a Village in this story for sure

I didn't grow up in any tight-knit neighborhoods and our distant family was either extra distant or just not close emotionally, so I don't really know what that kind of mentality is like on a personal level. I wanted to see what I could figure out with a story like that. :3

As for MY answers......:3c 1. My favorite scene in the comic so far is probably still this one dang page because it came out exactly like I wanted it to in my head.

2. Obviously I can't comment much on this due to spoilers, but I do think when her origins come to light, people are gonna flip their dang lids. :3

Delphina

I think you did a really good job of conveying a close, loving community! I can tell even between minor characters there's a lot of kindness and support in this setting and it's very refreshing to read!

Caytlin (Tamberlane)

Yaaaay :D

I know for a little bit early on in the writing, I was planning a more contentious environment around Belfry ("what a hassle") but then was like, who wants to read that? Not me. Screw that, lol

RebelVampire

QUESTION 3. At the moment, who is your favorite character? What about that character earns them this favor?

QUESTION 4. Why do you think Follybrook is held in such low disregard? Who exactly are the creatures who occupy Follybrook? Also, what do you make of the rumors that Follybrook residents are disappearing because of something happening Abroad?

Caytlin (Tamberlane)

Hmmm, my favorite character is hard to choose. I love them all. But right now, I'd say probably Belfry. She tries so hard, and she didn't get a lot of spotlight in Chapter 3, and I really want to do more interaction with her and Tamberlane in Chapter 4.

As for Follybrook... :3

varethane

I like Briar! Something about her combination of moodiness and compassion just gets me, haha

Delphina

Briar is an MVP for sure

varethane

Oakewood and Piper are second (I'm really enjoying watching Oakewood pretend he doesn't actually CARE about Tamberlane, he's just studying! It's not parenting, nope)

(Piper because she is a hilarious troll)

Caytlin (Tamberlane)

Briar has a special place in my heart for sure! She's me when I was 13, lmao. Though, a little more confrontational than I was XD

varethane

I dunno about Follybrook, though I get the impression it's closer to Abroad than Treehollow is? Which I guess might be why it's being affected first by whatever's happening out there.

Caytlin (Tamberlane)

You are correct! Follybrook is on the "border" of Abroad. Sort of the last gasp of civilization so to speak.

varethane

(yess)

Nanners

Oh damn, was not expecting lore when I popped into this channel

Caytlin (Tamberlane)

Mwahahaha

Delphina

Belfry is definitely a sweetie, but I feel like I need to see her not in crisis and/or mom mode to really connect with who she is and what she's about. I'm looking forward to more stuff with her in Chapter 4 and the scenes with her and Tamberlane are always very sweet, but I'd also like to see more of who she is as an individual when she's not being defined by her relationship to others.

Caytlin (Tamberlane)

That is a good thing to note!

varethane

same, re: Belfry

Caytlin (Tamberlane)

-scribbles notes- All I'd heard so far from folks was wanting more scenes with her and Tam, so that's a good thing for me to think about going forward!

Delphina

Oakewood is probably my favorite too because he's clearly got this "big fish in a small pond" sort of wisdom and crusty outside/softie inside personality that's just perfect. I'm looking forward to how Milo's introduction might accent or challenge that.

(Also does Milo have a pet moth because I want 40) https://www.tamberlanecomic.com/tamberlane/page-125/

Caytlin (Tamberlane)

He totally does

A big ol fluffy moth named Sophie

Delphina

Awwwwww, Sophie looks so soft!

Caytlin (Tamberlane)

Since he's a cameo, in the reference character that was provided, he actually had a pet spider!

But I decided I did not want to stare at reference photos up close of a spider

So Sophie became a moth XD

Delphina

Oooooh

varethane

oooo

RebelVampire

1) my favorite scene is probably the one where tamberlane tries to help the crow guy and the crow guy goes all prejudiced. and then oakewood swoops in and calls her his grandaughter and yells at the guy. i like seeing tamberlane still trying to be helpful, but i also like oakewood way more clearly defining their relationship cause that opens up a whole new can of worms and kind of adds some vulnerability to him. also, has a great ending where milo comments on this and oakewood tells him to shut up XD https://www.tamberlanecomic.com/tamberlane/page-140/ 2) i think Abroad has been mentioned way too much for Tamberlane to not be from aborad. This is not to mention a) they don't know what a human is and b) they seem relatively unfamiliar whats going on in Aborad land. So i mean, all the clues only point to one place. unlike @Delphina , im actually assuming a darker route. cause tamberlane seems kind of neglected so im not sure this is a situation of well meaning mom. more like mom who might of tried and gave up. im also less optimistic about ppl saying its fine tamberlane is from abroad. cause there seems to be a lot of built up prejudice there and man, idk. prejudice is hard to just flip at the turn of a hat.

Delphina

But yeah, if Follybrook is super-close to Abroad, then that sorta explains why the villagers treat them as social pariahs more than "those kids with their piercings and bad attitudes who are only let in once a year". The big drama in which Tess revealed that if Belfry went there for even a GOOD reason like trying to care for Tamberlane, she'd be full-out exiled was pretty shocking. Because yeah, if Abroad was simply dangerous and full of monsters, I can't imagine why it would be wrong or bad to come back; the big fear would be that you WOULDN'T come back. It seems like Abroad almost has a demonic/evil status in their minds and that they believe (rightly or wrongly) ANY contact would fundamentally change a person or attract something bad. I just struggle with the fact that if Abroad has so much mindshare in the fabric of their society, and if Tamberlane (and maybe all humans) are from there, absolutely nobody what a human looks like or have any stories that might help them identify Tamberlane as one? If there was something big and scary that I was to stay away from at all costs, I'd want to know what it looked like.

RebelVampire

3) my favorite character is definitely oakewood bar none. i am a sucker for grumpy guys. but i especially like oakewood cause hes not the stereotypical grumpy guy. cause usually old grump guys are the most prejudiced. but in this case oakewood is actually the more forward thinking of the bunch. when everyone else was telling belfry to just abandon tamberlane hes just like "nah come live with me." and then tolerates her clumsiness and all that jazz. its great contrast that plays on expectations and i love it. 4) I assume the creature occupying follybrook are just regular creatures. but ya know, prejudice and all that. which i think the comic does a good job of showing through example how prejudice works. all the characters weve known seem to have this fear and sort of "they're different think" about them. so as a reader you cant help but think "oh they must be different" even tho that might not necessarily be the case. As for the rumors, I assume theyre based on truth. Maybe some secret slave ring or something. Though not sure what it has to do with what might be going on in abroad.

yeah you make a good point @Delphina . for a place they seem to hate so much its just flat out exile, they dont seem to know much about it. or at least anything that theyre willing to talk about yet. which its strange even follybook folks who are closer are just kind of vague about what they know of abroad

Nanners

Hey @Caytlin (Tamberlane) , you mentioned that you spent a lot of time making the bartering system. Tell us about it!

Caytlin (Tamberlane)

I can say, at least, that a lot of these topics will be broached in Chapter 4! :3 I can't wait to see reactions, haha

AS FOR BARTER! Oh god the barter system. I read some novels, did some research on different kinds of monetary systems. The world of Tamberlane is sort of a socialist utopia where folks' basic needs are taken care of and the town bands together to care for each other. You do work for the town, the town does work for you. So there's not a lot of, like, "how much does this cost" so much as "what of my work can I trade you"

Which! Let me just say, I have a HELL of a time trying to write and get that across

If I did it over, they'd just have a dang money system lmao

Nanners

I dunno, it makes sense that a small town would work on a trade and favor system. I live in a tiny neighborhood in the country, and things tend to work like that

A side quest economy, essentially

TimmoWarner

This isn't story related (or only tangentally), but I love seeing the groups of pallette changes when you look at all the pages in a grid on the archive.

Caytlin (Tamberlane)

Oh yeah it totally makes sense! It's a good story decision! It's just difficult to get across narratively and causes more confusion than it helps when it comes to telling a story

Also :'D Thanks Timmo!! I really enjoy having different palettes for different scenes!

Folks are just more used to parsing "I bet you five bucks" rather than "I bet you six months of library research"

Nanners

I bet you 15 pounds of pickled beets

Caytlin (Tamberlane)

It's much easier when you have a good like that, yeah! Trying to figure out what Oakewood would offer was tough XD

Nanners

Does scowling count as a good or service?

Caytlin (Tamberlane)

It's like a kissing booth!

But it's a scowling booth

2 pence per scowl

TimmoWarner

Oakewood offers access to the "good" books in the back room.

Caytlin (Tamberlane)

"Y'like that, do ya? Yeah?" "Oakewood... this is a book about gardening" "THE BEST BOOK ABOUT GARDENING, THANK YOU"

TimmoWarner

Exactly.

Nanners

Is it cannon that Oakewood's a good DM?

Delphina

I would totally play DND with Oakewood

He would totally murder the party though

Nanners

What class would everyone be?

Milo as a wizard, obviously

Henry as a paladin

Belfry cleric?

Delphina

(Except she keeps rolling critical fails?)

Nanners

Constantly rolls low on cure wounds

Delphina

-7 Dexterity

Caytlin (Tamberlane)

Oh oh I was thinking about this recently lol!

Tess is a Barb for sure

Belfry might be a wild magic sorcerer lmao

I totally can see Oake as the DM though yeah LOL

Delphina

Oake would be constantly complaining about all the weird stuff the players do.

Caytlin (Tamberlane)

"Rrrrr, another five minute break, I DIDN'T PLAN FOR THIS."

TimmoWarner

So... the climax is the coyote character was right all along?

I thought... we'd fight a monster or something.

"Why would you want to fight a monster?!"

Caytlin (Tamberlane)

LOL

"The real monster was your stubborn refusal to accept the truth all along"

TimmoWarner

Haha

(Though I suspect Oakewood actually likes swashbuckling stories.)

Caytlin (Tamberlane)

He does; he also likes romance

He's a cranky old softy

TimmoWarner

I think I knew about the romance.

Caytlin (Tamberlane)

Yeah, that was one of the first character Q&A comics

Delphina

I can definitely see him taking a stance of fictional relationships being so much better than real ones because when you're done with them you can put them on the shelf.

Caytlin (Tamberlane)

Lol! Omg so true

darch

It's late, but I just found out about this, so some thoughts until I get to be around when other people get to be around.

(1) My favorite page is definitely page 81. Because (a) the punch line is fantastic, (b) it lands right in the middle of a really emotional scene without undercutting the emotion even a bit, and (c) it is the most perfect summation of the Belfry Existential Dilemma, which is made up of two parts: (i) you can't mess this up and (ii) you are going to mess this up. Magnificent.

(2) Tamberlane is from the future. Obviously.

(3) With apologies to all of the well-realized and multi-faceted characters at play in this story, Sophie is and shall always be my one true love because SHE IS SO FLUFFY AND I LOVE HER. My opinion is extremely biased; Milo is my cameo (though not my Cameo cameo, that would be weird) and worth it just for the fluffbug sidekick.

darch

Milo was original a My Little Pony character of mine, and I continue to think that having a spider sidekick is great. For a look at Midnight Sun and Sophie before they were translated to the Tamberverse, have a look at [cw and spoiler because spider]

SPOILER

https://www.dropbox.com/s/ff7o7k5jda5pfgo/midnight-sun-the-adventurer.png?raw=1 (that art also by Caytlin).

RebelVampire

QUESTION 5. What has been your favorite illustration in the comic so far? What specifically about it do you like?

QUESTION 6. What do you believe happened to Belfry’s biological parents? How might Belfry’s abandonment issues regarding them play a role in how she raises Tamberlane (both positively and negatively)?

RebelVampire

5) okay. ill fully admit this is not the most epic illustration i could pick, but i really love this full body of tamberlane on this page https://www.tamberlanecomic.com/tamberlane/page-100/ tamberlane was always cute, but this is the one where my heart was stolen. like everything about her look is precious and makes you want to snuggle and protect her till the end of days. and i also like how contrasting it is to how she was before, so even without words you can tell time has passed and growth has occured and i really like. 6) Honestly, I think theyre imprisoned some how. But tbf i ironically want them to be alive and fine and showcase its the fact they were auto exiled thats the problem. And that they couldve been with belfry at any time but nope, rules and prejudice and such. but thats just my headcanon. I'm more interested in how itll affect how belfry raises tamberlane, and in a lot of senses i think its going to be a negative impact. like i feel belfry is kind of obsessed with making sure tamberlane feels loved and accepted. and while on the surface that sounds great, what happens if she has to punish tamberlane severely? is she going to panic tamberlane not feel loved and not do it? is it going to be lighter than it should? belfry already showed when she took in tamberlane that shes hyper conscious about her abandonment, and i dont think tamberlane alone is gonna make that hyperconsciousness about it go away. but on the otherhand, maybe by association others will confront belfry and make her talk about her feelings.

lonelytuatara

to reiterate what i said in the general webcomic chat: i only just started reading and the art is soo pretty!!

lonelytuatara

continuing to read: belfry pulling the pie out of the oven without mitts..... child.........

darch

She is a problem.

lonelytuatara

:O the "ghost"!!!!

lonelytuatara

"congratulations, it's a swamp monster" made me chuckle

lonelytuatara

got to page 100! tamberlane's lil pigtails are adorable

lonelytuatara

all the way caught up now! i really liked the comic and i'm excited to continue following it!

Caytlin (Tamberlane)

Aaaa yay :'D I'm glad you're enjoying it!!!

lonelytuatara

i'm gonna let it sink in for a bit before i go to answer the book club questions, but overall I found it a enjoyable mix of comforting and intriguing! im always glad to find stories where trans and nonbinary characters are treated as just a normal part of society

darch

There are many things to like about Tamberlane. The gorgeous art and casual representation are high on that list for me.

Caytlin (Tamberlane)

./)//w//(\

I will get around to answering the latest q's in a bit. I'm pretty wiped out today =w=;;; but! I am super happy people are enjoying the comic and convo :'D

Rebel, you made a great point about how Belfry obsesses over Tamberlane. I love it.

anonus

Tamberlane is a beautiful comic

Caytlin (Tamberlane)

Thank you! :D

kayotics

so, i just started, like... 10 minutes ago so I'm not very far, but the art is extremely cute and i love the expressions and colors. Really great shapes on all the characters. the main strokes of each character's personality is painted straight away in a really strong way, too

Caytlin (Tamberlane)

Oh my gosh, thank you >u<;;; I'm so glad

anonus

@Caytlin (Tamberlane) so, um, how did you come up with the idea for Tamberlane?

Caytlin (Tamberlane)

So! I had spent a couple of years trying to write a comic and was just writing myself in circles and running into walls. Finally I got really fed up with not having a project so I said, FINE, next story idea to come into my head, I'M JUST GONNA DO IT. And then during D&D the next week I was doodling creatures and I drew Belfry and Oakewood and was like Ooo I like them. Then I drew Tamberlane's previous form, a little dragon, and was like oh hey they're taking care of an unknown creature, that's fun! And then I was like, actually a little dragon is not weird enough to set her apart from a buncha animals ... Oh hey what about if she's human?? And within a month I had started the comic haha

I wanted to challenge myself to do a project where I allowed myself to make mistakes and not be perfect and not worldbuild myself into a pit

varethane

I think that's pretty important, is the willingness to be flexible and play around

with longform webcomics, when it takes so long to make something, and you're working on the same story for years..... people grow as creators, and as people, and develop different tastes and learn things..... and it'd be a shame to not be able to express that if you're stuck to the same script you wrote 5 years ago, lol

Caytlin (Tamberlane)

Exactly!! When you think about like every longform webcomic taking like at least 5 years ... there's not a lot of years where you can be creating compared to the number of stories in your head.

And I really just wanted to make something and get my hands dirty. So it's been a really interesting experience, half following a plan and half throwing it out the window lol!

varethane

for what it's worth, from a reader's perspective, it flows very nicely

Caytlin (Tamberlane)

Thank goodness, haha! I always worry. XD

anonus

yeah it definitely flows nicely

also I've never played D&D

Caytlin (Tamberlane)

D&D is a lot of fun with the right group! And endlessly frustrating with the wrong one. XD But if you end up having a group of friends online or off, it's totally worth trying it out!

anonus

I do have lots of online friends! Don't get out enough offline at the moment though

also what inspired you to become an artist

stubat

Hi, all! just spotted the invite. Busy bat. Love Tamberlane!

I'll try to catch up with you all tomorrow evening, if I get a chance. Midnite now, kinda slow and I've got work in the morning. Belfry forever!

RebelVampire

QUESTION 7. Which characters do you enjoy seeing interact the most? What about their dynamic interests you?

QUESTION 8. What has been your favorite moment in regards to how Tamberlane has been accepted or not accepted in Treehollow? What about it made the moment emotionally compelling and what should we take away from it in regards to discrimination and acceptance?

Caytlin (Tamberlane)

Heeeey Stubat! <3

5. My favorite illustrations seem to be a rotating toss up of Belfry & Tam in the sunrise, Oakewood walking along the docks with Piper/Anthony/Tamberlane at sunrise, and the full shot of the Library at night(edited)

6. :3c(edited)

7. I really enjoy writing Briar and Belfry interacting. Small factoid that I don't think will ever be revealed in the story: the bulky blue and white scarf she's been wearing this chapter is one Belfry knitted for her (poorly). It's knotty and has a lot of gaps, but it was a work of love, and Briar wore it because 1) she loves it and she loves Belfry no matter what, and 2) sort of as a good luck token for Tess and Bel to make up.

Oh super belatedly, another thing about Follybrook: I LOVED that a lot of readers jumped to the conclusion that they were Othered because they were punky/bad tempered/non-binary. And then I loved watching them come to the realization that there were a lot of characters in Treehollow that fit those descriptions so it had to be something else. I think someone specifically called it out as an allegory for trans people, and then a couple readers mentioned Marie and they were like ... oh huh, hm.

I like making people think lol!

8. Hmm, I think I like the interaction with Leon, the grumpy crow. It was a scene that was written late in the game (like, during the scene before lol!) and I put up an auction for Leon's cameo slot. I really enjoyed being able to pack in a lot of underlying meaning to the interaction, and remind readers that Tamberlane's transition to creature society is not as smooth or effortless as it's seemed.

Plus, yeah, deciding on a whim to have Oakewood call her his granddaughter and out himself and his feelings was fun :3

Delphina

There are SO MANY cute/loving character interactions, but I think when Briar is relaying her mom's message to Belfry really stood out to me because of how much she clearly cares and how torn she is in the middle of their conflict.

RebelVampire

QUESTION 9. What sorts of art or story details have you noticed in the way the comic is crafted that you think deserves attention?

QUESTION 10. Which of the parents did you connect with the most in regards to how they parent their child(ren)? What do you think we can learn about life in regards to the various parent/child dynamics work and growing up?

RebelVampire

7) Probably Piper and Tamberlane. Unlike all the other relationships where its either warm fuzzies or kind of understandable anger and drama, theirs is the relationship i think is built entirely upon misunderstandings and kids being kids. Cause at the end of the day, Piper is still a kid so i have some forgiveness in her initial treatment of tamberlane. because honestly she probably just doesnt fully grasp yet the consequences of her actions. but its interesting to see how their relationship has been one of tension where youre really not sure if the trauma can be overcome or not. so that makes it really interesting. 8) I liked that small moment when Walter kind of took Tamberlane away from the fighting. Cause holy crap was that a significant change going from "your mistake" to here let me protect this little one. it was such a small thing but it really demonstrated the time passage and also kind of reflected that sometimes non acceptance is less about hatred, more about unfamiliarity. not to say he might not think shes a mistake, but that still was a lot warmer of an interaction than i expected and showed he cared. https://www.tamberlanecomic.com/tamberlane/page-132/

9) I love a lot of the little visual details on Tess. Like the scars, the bit that's taken out of her ear. It really shows off her past. And its just one of those super good character details a lot of people dont utilize and adds so much character to the character. <3 10) I actually connected with Avery the most, but this is in large because i was raised by a single mother. And to me i think Avery really captured that balance of needing to work, trying to be there for your kid, while also not really able to be there all the time cause of the work issue. So while Piper may not be the best behaved of the children, it's totally understandable given the circumstances and i give props to avery seeming to make it work regardless. overall, though, i think what we can learn about the various parent and child dynamics is that 1) parents are winging it and 2) while parents are a big influence, theres a point you have to divorce yourself from them and make your own choices in life.

snuffysam

aaah i finally caught up and this comic is so good! it's kind of late where i am rn, so I'm just gonna cut right to the chase and say - oakewood is my favorite character, hands down. i couldn't tell you why, but I'm just a sucker for the gruff, older guy with a heart of gold

TimmoWarner

Everyone loves Oakewood.

He'd be the best character if not for Marie.

Caytlin (Tamberlane)

I definitely took a lot of inspiration for Oakewood from the cranky old guy in Wolf Children lol! That's his voice in my head too (the dub version)

RebelVampire

QUESTION 11. What do you think are this particular comic’s strengths? What do you think makes this comic unique? Please elaborate.

QUESTION 12. Which aspect of the comic’s world caught your attention the most? Alternatively, what world aspect are you hoping to see explored more? What culture detail do you think is the most significant when it comes to the story?

snuffysam

I think the strongest aspect of the comic is its theming. Just the overarching theme of parenthood, and how the best of intentions don't always work out the way you planned. You can see that theme everywhere in the story (from big things like Belfy & Tess's fight to smaller things like Belfy's clumsiness), and it all fits togeter SO well.

RebelVampire

QUESTION 13. What are you most looking forward to in the comic? Also, do you have any final thoughts to share overall?

QUESTION 14. Do you believe Belfry might have to go Abroad for Tamberlane as Tess ominously worries about? Why do you believe creatures who go Abroad get banned? How might what goes on in Abroad affect their lives regardless?

RebelVampire

11) I feel the comic's strength is showing relationships and having that be a major drive of the story. Like there's no shortage of parenting styles, friendships, or anything else. And everything is about how the characters work off one another. And no character is really all black and white either. they just all have different views and different ways of handling things. so i think that makes all the character interactions interesting since you never know quite what youre gonna get ever instance. 12) The aspect that caught my eye the most was the presence of another spoken language. I hope it's explored more where that comes from and such, cause its a really interesting facet given everyone else is otherwise speaking the same language. the other detail im really interested in seeing explore is how the world is set up. like we know there are sailors who go around and explore but avoid aborad, so im curious what their known world is like in its totality. 13) I'm looking forward to seeing Belfry grow more and come more into her own. Atm, I kind of feel shes still just a kid trying to figure stuff out, so itll be interesting to see how tamberlane changes and effects her maturity levels. 14) Yes. Aborad feels like it's brought up too many times for belfry to not have to go. But I feel going will be a good thing cause it will kind of force the world to maybe stop ignoring abroad and accept that its part of the world too, whether they want it to be part of it or not.

varethane

I wanna find out what Tamberlane's deal is!

And also what's going on in Abroad, there've been hints about it being a strange and dangerous place and I am excited to find out what it's actually like.

lonelytuatara

I wonder if Abroad is like..... a portal to the regular human world or something!

or if it's still in the same world but with more humans

varethane

That's kinda my theory

The fact that they're SO nervous about it makes me wonder if it is closer to the portal thing

Would make it feel more alien to them

lonelytuatara

yea!!

like it seems like even GOING close to it is seen as dangerous, not just entering the actual place

ohh also speaking of different locations: follybrook! my theory on it, based on the way that characters interacted w folks from follybrook, is that body modifications like piercing and docking (and maybe even gender-related body mods) are a cultural taboo in Silver Sage

so anyone from silver sage who Wants to do those things has to move to follybrook, and the creatures of follybrook have just as much disdain for the ol' fuddyduddies who refuse to let people do what they want with their bodies as the creatures of silver sage have for them

also it seems like metal is Important to silver sage's culture in some specific way, like it has spiritual significance

altho i could just have misread

RebelVampire

COMIC TEA PARTY- WEEK LONG BOOK CLUB END!

Thank you everyone so much for reading and chatting about Tamberlane this week! Please also give a special thank you to Caytlin Vilbrandt for volunteering the comic and creating it! If you liked Tamberlane, make sure to continue to support it via some of the links below!

Read and Comment: https://www.tamberlanecomic.com/

Caytlin Vilbrandt’s Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/tamberlane

Caytlin Vilbrandt’s Ko-Fi: https://www.ko-fi.com/pixelprism

Caytlin Vilbrandt’s Paypal.me: https://www.paypal.me/pixelprism

Caytlin Vilbrandt’s Shop: https://www.tamberlanecomic.com/shop/

Tamberlane’s Twitter: https://twitter.com/tamberlanecomic

#ctparchive #comics #webcomics #indie comics #comic chat #comic discussion #book club #bookclub #webcomic book club #webcomic bookclub #comic tea party #ctp #tamberlane #caytlin vilbrandt

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talizorahs · 7 years

Note

5, 19, 23!!!

thank you so much aq!

5. If you could make only one of your OCs popular/known, who would it be?

Rof. I always find myself comparing him to Kal’Reegar and I know very well the fandom’s love of him in the Mass Effect games. Sarcastic and quirky quarians who diassociate themselves from the Fleet seems to be up a similar ally, especially as it always comes with a very interesting reason as to why. He’s unique, is what I’m trying to say. And I love him.

19. Introduce an OC that means a lot to you (and explain why)

Kwon Shepard, the younger Shepard sibling in my AU Exit Wounds. He is the OC which has undergone the most development out of all of them, in canon and beyond. You can read about him on this page. I love him because he represents the first instance I actually sat down and planned out a character to their full extent, to reach their full potential, not simply sit underdeveloped in canon with the limited dialogue options we’re given. He’s currently my most populated pinterest board as well, and if I ever come to writing his story with Tess (his sister) it would be an immensely large fic.

To introduce him: he’s the younger brother of Commander Shepard, an Alliance war hero, who he loves, envies and fears for at the same time. He breaks off from his reluctant study when Tess is injured in the line of duty (Akuze) and turns to petty crime, to crime, to gang crime. Hannah manages to “save” him by getting him to enlist once he’s of age (the earthborn origin, in effect) and after a lot of string pulling, he is posted to the Normandy post Mass Effect 1. A lot of development happens from there, but basically, he lives in the shadow of his sister whom he loves dearly, and goes from hating the mandatory service to appreciating it, seeing her lifestyle out in space isn’t so bad.

23. Introduce OC that has changed from your first idea concerning what the character would be like?

Remember Avery? I actually developed her the first time I followed you Aq, she was pictured to be a model human noble who resented the Wardens but ultimately believed in the greater good and so saved the world. She turned into a lot different of a character - in fact, driven nearly mad by the death of her family and the pressure put on her by the entirety of Ferelden to save the country. She makes bad decisions purely for the attention of it, acts simply “evil”, with nobody liking her particularly bar Morrigan. She puts herself on the throne with Alistair, who is at very low approval with her, but then is plotted to be killed by her party in the final battle - by Alistair not sharing the details of striking the final blow.

A very different character to where I first envisioned her, definitely. But I like how she’s developed, and the initial version of her too.

thanks for asking I LOVE TO RAMBLE ABOUT ALL THESE NERDS GDFKUGF

#ocs #robinparties #answered

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davidastbury · 6 years

Text

Dec 2017 part 2

L'éducation Sentimentale

Leonardo’s Madonna touched him with icy fingers and he moved away. Once he visited Italy and stood perfectly still in front of Primavera, by Botticelli, as she tossed flowers and smiled at him, romping and randy. Others called to him - Renoir’s sizzling nudes, golden girls in the river, water up to their hips, splashing and laughing.

But he remained loyal to his Tess. She haunted him - and although he was never without a copy of the book, he could not bring himself to open it.

Tess - the love of his life.

Lorna and the Russians........1965

Lorna knew and loved all the classic Russian novels. Who introduced her to them, and why she so much enjoyed the teeming mass of brilliant, eccentric characters was a mystery – but then, who can explain anything? She loved them with a childlike enthusiasm, not at all like someone who studied to pass exams, and least of all like a scholar. She pronounced the names ‘Lermontov, Goncharov, Gogol, Turgenev’ as if they were poems, and liked nothing better than to relate extracts from her beloved Dostoyevsky. For most of us Dostoyevsky is like wading through treacle, but Lorna could navigate the acres of dense prose and relate, with hilarity, the saintly foolishness of the characters – the cringing wrong choices – the suicidal embarrassments!

Her boyfriend told me that they were having a party for her 21st birthday and I was invited. On the afternoon of the party I called at their flat and gave her my gift – an illustrated boxed set of Pushkin’s ‘Eugene Onegin’. She tore off the wrapping paper and with a shout, threw herself at me. The top of her head was in my face – the hot head full of wonderful Russians – and her dark hair tickled my nose.

On the Train

Mother and daughter. Daughter about five or six. People look across because the mother, who is thin and pale, has an unusual and persistent cough. Her cough is like a voice – it seems to ‘speak’ from inside her chest. Just the hum of the rails and the woman’s cough and we all shuffle our feet and wish the journey would end. I feel embarrassed for her and wish there could be some sort of diversion. Her head is turned away, towards the window but I don’t think she is aware of the view.

The daughter keeps glancing up at her mother and then back at us, as if challenging us.

Winter Sunshine

I catch my bleak reflection in the Hugo Boss shop window; my long black coat, gloves and scarf - shivering in the thin British sunshine. I look as if all my winters have come together to stress their supreme dominance, but I will have none of it – and turn away towards a young couple near me. She’s in ripped jeans and jumper; he’s in jeans and t-shirt – one thick tattooed arm around her waist. My multiple layers and fear of catching a chill must look odd to them – and they walk away, heads together, enjoying the pleasures of love in a cold climate.

On the Train …. 1964

Sitting facing me. She was reading – a fat paperback. My guess was around a thousand pages, and it been read before - although she was only a quarter of the way through (looking at it from the wrong side, of course) the book had that sagging limpness you find in thick paperbacks when read more than once. It was fiction too, but I couldn’t get the title because she held it down on her lap – legs crossed – concealing the cover and spine.

She was interesting. Old enough to be my mother, although there was little about her to prompt a nineteen–year-old male to think of his mother. Her diet starved thinness (I don’t think she was ill) made me think of Egon Schiele’s drawings – gaunt and aggressive. Dark hooded eyes, concave cheeks, sharp jaw, wide mouth - her coat, a houndstooth tweed looked fabulously expensive, the sort that Jaeger used to do – it was unfastened, and I could see her black jumper and skirt.

So the train rattled along and we sat with our knees almost touching. Occasionally she looked up and glanced at the other people in the carriage – just a glance, but you could see that her eyes were incapable of moderation – she looked at us with indifference, as you might expect – but you knew that her eyes had only one other mode, and that was a lethal possessiveness. There would be nothing in between – you would mean absolutely nothing to her, or you meant everything.

She was a bit of a sensation – the air was frazzling around her – she was exotic – at least for the male passengers on a provincial railway train in the north of England. Perhaps the male passengers had ideas of their own – no doubt ideas they wouldn’t have wished to share with anyone.

Me … I just wanted to know the title of her book.

City Snow

When you walk quickly people often stop you and ask the way – you look like someone who is busy, purposeful, knowing what you are doing. I was stopped yesterday on Mosley Street by a Pakistani girl; she had walked down from Piccadilly, probably from the railway station. She asked me if I knew how to get to ‘Albert Hall’ and I told her that there wasn’t an Albert Hall in Manchester, but there is an Albert Square – ‘Yes, yes, yes’ - she said - ‘Sorry, that’s what I meant, Albert Square.’ I gave her directions, which were fairly straightforward, but she looked doubtful and couldn’t identify where to turn right. I said that I was going that way and I would show her.

We set off together. She told me that the guidance on her mobile was useless – it kept telling her to go down Market Street. I said that Market Street was not a good idea. She said that it might be okay for cars and I replied that it was pedestrianised – she laughed. As we walked into St Peter’s Square it started to snow.

Pakistani girls are marvellously polite – I’ve noticed it before – reminding me of how the English used to be. They give up their seats on trains if they see you struggling; they step back in doorways to let you go first. Or maybe it’s just me; maybe they are just nice to white-haired men of a certain age. This girl couldn’t have been more than eighteen – she was bright and wide-eyed about all the Christmas lights as we came into Albert Square. She turned to me – to say thank you - snow landing on her baggy beanie hat, and she looked so sweet, so endearingly cute in her puffa jacket and skinny-leg jeans – jeans efficiently ripped and frayed and showing her brown knees.

As told to me….

‘I’ll tell you this – I was always brilliant at job interviews. I was at my best at interviews. If I got to the interview stage, the job was as good as mine. It was just a knack – whatever it was, I had buckets of it.

Once I went for an interview with a firm who set up exhibitions. They were based in swish offices in Chelsea, and it doesn’t get better than that. They also had a warehouse or whatever in Hertfordshire, although I wasn’t told what that was about. They had advertised for someone to expand their client base and help take on new areas of activity. Their basic work was subcontracting from the big London galleries but they wanted to go into trade exhibitions and the like. I went for an interview and - with absolutely no experience in that line of work - got the job.

I arrived on the Monday morning start date and was shown to my desk. Everyone was so nice and decent to me – they couldn’t do enough to make me feel at home. They showed me where to get coffee and snacks from, showed me how the holiday list was drawn up, showed me how to use the trade directories, how to work the internal messaging service, how to work the heater, how to claim expenses, which taxi firm they used, they showed me the conference room and the rooms for entertaining clients, they showed me where the toilets were.

The boss came to have a chat with me and he was so nice and friendly, he showed me his office and introduced me to senior staff, all of whom shook me warmly by the hand. The boss said that he liked to think there was more to working for the firm than just…well, working. They enjoyed being together outside business hours – they socialised – they had meals together and drank together – they made up a cricket team and played in the villages league in Hertfordshire.

Everything was perfect. I’d cracked the dream job. Great working environment, good salary, great workmates and – to put the final crowning glory on top of everything – I was introduced to Charlotte, who would ‘help me get settled in’. Beautiful Charlotte.

Most of the morning was spent learning about how exhibitions worked and it was fascinating. At twelve I was told it was lunchtime. I walked out onto the street and then into Fulham Road - and never went back.’

Stella ...... (for Mo Amv)

Our birthdays were in the same week, so there was a little celebration in the classroom for both of us together. We were seven years old.

Stella was different from the other (bossy) girls - she was quiet, withdrawn, shying away from any sort of attention - as if the only thing she hoped from life was to be left alone. If I search through files I’m sure I have a photograph of her – a class photo – and she’s at the front with her waxy hair and ugly National Health glasses – squinting in the sunshine. She lived in a very poor part of town, just a few streets from where I lived, but the houses had no bathrooms, no lavatories (there was a row of sheds in the yard which were emptied by council workers). She seemed to have no friends, and she had no dad.

It was summer and Stella had been away from school for a few days. I found out that she was ill after having dental treatment at the ‘school clinic’. This was a building of great terror to all of us. It was right next to the parish church and sometimes, in summer when the windows were open, you could hear the screams of children inside – having their teeth drilled without any form of anaesthetic.

And then I saw her in the street. I invited her to come to my house and she nodded. All the way she walked behind me and I had to keep turning to see if she was still there. As we got to the house I went to her and held her hand.

My mother, no doubt surprised, was very gracious to Stella - she made small talk but was okay at not getting any response and she brought some drinks and cakes into the front room for us. We watched TV, not speaking and not needing to.

Manchester Nights

They used to meet in a city centre bar – both going straight from their offices – this was during the week but never on a Friday evening – she had to explain to him. He would order a whisky sour and a vodka and they would sit in a banquette away from the door but facing the street. Just a young couple happy together; perhaps in love - nothing very unusual in all this – nothing at all.

Manchester was an austere city in the 1960s; not at all like the place it is today. You didn’t go to Manchester to have fun; it was a place of business; of dark warehouses and triumphal banks. No one lived in the centre, no trees, no greenery at all, no break from the heavy orthodoxy of commercialism.

But it was nice in the bar where nothing distracted them from each other – except her eyes kept flickering across to the street – to the building facing them in the street. She was mesmerised by the huge sign in the yellow street light:-

J. & E.W. Kegan (Imports) Ltd.

She read it as JEW.

‘Who is Sylvia? what is she,

That all our swains commend her?....’

(Two Gentlemen of Verona)

Well, I could tell him! Sylvia Hulme was twelve and she always had a swarm of younger children around her. I was the same age and was part of a gang and we spent the long summer holidays playing in fields and woods near the lake. Somehow, one sunny day, our two groupings met up, and sat on the ground and talked. One of Sylvia’s friends organised the younger ones and although I couldn’t see them, I could hear them laughing and shouting – and then they started to sing nursery songs. Sylvia was very much the boss but she was also gentle and understanding; she spoke to everyone and used their names – she had a forceful personality.

I don’t know how it happened – was there a pretext, had words been exchanged, had I given an audacious signal or had we mesmerised each other? Whatever it was, Sylvia and I got up and walked together into the half light of the trees - the mushroomy smell – the moss and dampness – the sky no longer above and earth no longer below - if you get my meaning.

The next time I heard of Sylvia was through a friend who told me that she was having private lessons in book-keeping from the superbly named Mr Byron. Mr Byron was an early-retired teacher – a tormented Romantic figure, fulfilling the promise of his name – from whose house came an endless parade of seventeen-year-old girls, all paying their four shillings an hour to get good ‘O’ level results.

I was eager to make contact with Sylvia so I waited across the road, facing the iron gates of maison Byron. She was very beautiful and was amused to see me waiting. Yes, she was having lessons in basic accountancy and no, she didn’t like it. She had other plans – she was joining the Navy, although her parents didn’t know that – yet.

And that was it. I never saw her again, or heard about her. I went home, thinking about what she had said – she was going to sea – going to sea, sea, sea. And then THAT afternoon came back – full force. With the wet grass and the smells and Sylvia taking hold of me like someone who knew what she was doing.

And beyond our own breathy noises, how we could hear the children singing a clapping song:-

‘A sailor went to sea, sea, sea

To see what he could see, see, see

But all that he could see, see, see

Was the bottom of the deep blue sea, sea, sea !!!’

Angela and Bob in Highgate…..(1966)

Nice couple, early/mid thirties, living in a lovely house in Cholmondeley Crescent, Highgate. He a scientist; researching into genetics; she teaching pharmacology at UCL; three young sons. They went out a lot – all sorts of invitations and hardly ever declined. Bob used to go parties with his students, and would come home late and Angela was fond of the London art scene and dragged her husband to first-nights. Bob made no secret of being ‘close’ to some of his female students. Angela insisted that she must never meet them. That was the way they lived.

Bob was an unlikely ladies man. He was dull looking and despite following the trends of the day – and holding on tightly to the idea that he was still young – he somehow always looked a bit old fashioned. I think he would have looked old fashioned at any point in history. It’s hard to actually put a finger on what was wrong, but he looked the type who belonged in a Pringle jumper and wore yellow driving gloves.

Angela, small, blonde and nervous, was quite different, she knew how to dress. All her clothes had a boutique look – expensive boutiques at that, and she had just the right throw-away attitude to complete the image. She carried an air of trashiness that made her very attractive.

Angela was more complicated than Bob. She loved the company of young, long-haired, bearded, troubled young men. She didn’t find many such in the faculty of pharmacy at the university, but she did find them in art schools. The ones she liked best were those in various stages of despair – who had no confidence in themselves – who had paint or plaster dust in their hair - who were poor and weren’t eating properly – who had emotional difficulties – who drank too much – who needed a good hot bath and a clean shirt - who smoked drugs – who didn’t believe they had anything to offer a girlfriend. Angela would throw herself into action. She, the genius at making things happen – and having the money to throw at it – she who had an encyclopaedic knowledge of restoring the undernourished body – she who had dabbled in psychiatry (Ronnie Laing was a friend of hers!) knew how to soothe the damaged psyche – she who lived with four males, knew how the masculine mind worked – she with her perfect head-girl accent and Rodeo Drive clothing and jangle of ethnic jewellery, could make mountains move – she took intense pleasure in sorting these young men out, putting them on their feet, so to speak.

I sometimes felt it was the sanitised perfection of her home life that drove Angela towards its opposite. The ideal husband, with his simple promiscuity, the creative children with their wooden toys, the lovely house with the stained glass upper windows, the bright kitchen, the balanced diets they all followed, the sheer cleanliness, the sheer success of their lives.

What became of them? Twenty years later Bob was no longer mentioned in medical directories, so we can presume that he had died. Much later, Angela, then in her eighties, and having lived for years in squats, became one of the campaigners in the ‘Occupy Wall Street’ incident – following which she took the demonstrations to St. Pauls and City Hall in London.

New Year’s Eve

It probably hasn’t occupied the minds of the others so why should I bother? No one has ever mentioned it to me – it is over and done with. Not many of us left now; our ranks thinned by this and that. But in my thoughts I can put it all together; I can recreate the time and the place. I can tease out the smiles and the occasional stabs of kindness. I can recreate the sharp shadows and the way we shouted above the noise. And the easy rides of our laughter and the unease at what would happen to us.

And the cold night outside when we huddled like survivors and looked up at the clock. How you opened your coat and it was like a warm room. How we all moved forward into our unexpected successes, tragedies – and betrayals.

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graceivers · 7 years

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Review #47 - Once Kissed

Once Kissed Author: Cecy Robson Genre: Bodyguards, Contemporary Romance, Law Enforcement, Lawyers, Pregnancy & Babies Rating: ★★★★ Recommendation: give it a shot; once was enough Summary: Curran O’Brien is battling demons of a job gone wrong as a police officer. Until he deals with those issues, he’s stuck playing bodyguard to one Tess Newart. Tess is desperate to impress while interning on a major case for the DA’s office. Her life is tightly controlled by her cruel father, but with the reentrance of Curran in her life, that blast from the past shakes things up and gives her something she’s never truly had.

Female Lead: Tess has all my sympathies. This girl has been controlled by her cruel and abusive father all her life. She’s had nothing because of him. Literally everything—money, housing, food, clothes, education—is controlled by him, and Jesus, the way he punishes and abuses her without necessarily physically hurting her is atrocious. Obviously this neglect and abuse took a deep toll on Tess and reduced her confidence and self-worth. That was heartbreaking to read. I loved that despite that, Tess didn’t give up. She saw her way out and worked so hard to reach that goal—to finish law school, to get a job on her own and make her own money, to live her own life without his influence or control. She was obviously extremely bright and motivated. Robson wrote her in a way that I had to root for her and support her because she Tess was a good person and deserved to be treated like an angel. Male Lead: Oh, Curran was a bit of the typical attractive, charming, former frat boy that had a little too much pride and male ego to realize he needed some deep help to keep his demons at bay. I honestly didn’t mind it. There were definitely moments he needed to work on his communication skills, especially when Tess told him about her father’s abuse and his reaction was, well, clearly not what Tess needed from him. But this dude came around. He made up for his mistakes; he learned from his mistakes. He was there for Tess in the end and gave her the love and support she so deserved. He did have PTSD from an incident on the job, which he seriously needed to see professional help for but didn’t. He did go to those group meetings, though, and I guessed they helped. Curran also deserved all good things because he was a good person at heart despite any mistakes he made and self-doubts he had. Plot & Writing: I enjoyed Once Kissed. There were a couple of excessively dramatic scenes and decisions, but overall, the relationship between Curran and Tess was front and center and done pretty well. I thought I wasn’t going to like Curran, but Robson had a way of writing his personality without making him too extreme one way or another. That was probably Robson’s greatest strength: knowing what to balance and how to balance it. Regardless if it was character, tone, or plot, Robson knew how to keep it moving so the book became a page turner instead of something that dragged on and took forever to read due to lack of investment. I was definitely invested in what Robson had to offer here.

I really liked the dynamic between Curran and Tess. Curran brought out the wilder, more carefree, and happier side of Tess, which was sorely needed since she was indeed wound so tight from school and work and handling her father. In return, Tess was the serious, genuine, and not crazy girl Curran needed in his life, especially when he needed that push to get some kind of help for his PTSD. They both needed each other for different reasons, and I was convinced enough that they wouldn’t have gotten to where they were at the end of the book had it been someone else that tried to help them out. Tess and Curran fit very nicely together.

However, a large reason I did not give this book five stars was the way Robson handled the mental health consequences in both Tess and Curran respectively. For Tess, she had been emotionally abused all her life. I loved that Tess won out and stood strong in the end. But surely, that kind of neglect and abuse from her father couldn’t have been miraculously solved by Curran’s love. As well, the fact that she had an eating disorder basically in attempt to exercise some sort of control over her life? That was… sad and a little messed up. Robson also briefly mentioned Tess previously having suicidal thoughts. Even if she said she didn’t have the courage to do it, suicide ideation should not be overlooked, and it was concerning that Robson threw that in there and did nothing about it. On Curran’s side, I thought his PTSD was handled okay. Again, he went to those group meetings, which seemed to eventually help. I liked that Tess all but forced him to address this issue, though her reasoning was a bit convoluted—making it almost about her and how she couldn’t have complications in her life over how it was for Curran’s health and benefit to seek help.

Briefly, though I didn’t necessarily dislike it, the shootout at the end was a little overdone. If that scene wasn’t included in the book, I still would’ve been perfectly happy with how things panned out. Likewise, I thought the ending was rather abrupt. I get that Robson was going for the full circle effect to tidy up the plot, but I mean… it was a little obvious and quick when things maybe could’ve closed out a little better. Sure, yeah, there was the epilogue for that, but authors should probably still write proper endings so they don’t have to always rely on an epilogue to illustrate a settled happy ending.

Also, I did not include college as one of the categorizes for this book. Yes, Tess was in law school during basically the whole thing, but other than referencing the fact that she was studying and took exams, college wasn’t an important setting that took place in the book and there was no stereotypical college behavior going on. Therefore, that category was not included. Favorite Part(s): Okay, I admit, Curran was pretty hot and a highlight of the book. I really loved his interactions with his family—even just from hearing stories—because it showed how close they were and how his family and childhood shaped him into the person he was as an adult. And… despite saying that the final showdown at the end was rather excessive, uh, Curran was hot in that scene when he gunned down those dudes without hesitation. I mean… yeah… Wow. Final Thoughts: Once Kissed was a good mixture between law enforcement and lawyers that neither forced a romantic suspense plot nor shrimped on the lifestyles of those working in those two careers. At the core, it was still about two characters that came together in a natural and honest way, which made both the relationship and the overall story believable enough for fiction. I enjoyed Once Kissed and would recommend.

#book: once kissed #author: cecy robson #genre: bodyguards #genre: contemporary romance #genre: law enforcement #genre: lawyers #genre: pregnancy & babies #rating: four stars

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