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[webeside101]

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[cherryheairt]

Hidden Truths

Cregan x Wife!reader

pt. 1

named reader (aye-leese) no description, from house Glover.

summary - Cregan comes home from war with a scandalous surprise, much to the horror of his wife. Though, it is not all that she expected when she heard of her husband's infidelity.

Inspired by Ned and Catelyn Stark (obviously lol)

It had been four moons since Cregan Stark returned from King's Landing, ending the war and placing Aegon iii on the Iron Throne. Four moons since he presented his bastard for all to see, declaring to his wife that they would raise the boy as a legitimized Stark.

Aelys Glover, now Stark, had never thought her husband would betray her in such a brutal way. To bed another woman down in the South, in a time of war, to father a bastard. To give the bastard his Stark name.

She hadn't even had her first babe yet, due to the young couple deciding to spend their first few years of marriage having each other all to themselves. Had it all been a lie from Cregan? A masterful deceit to make his mistress' son his heir? Perhaps he had regretted their marriage and chosen to disregard any of her future children, thinking her genetics undesirable. Whatever dull excuse he had, it would never be enough to balm her heart.

People whispered about which mother's son might be Cregan's heir apparent.

It was not yet decided, and would not be until years ahead when Aelys showed if she could bear him more sons or not. Until she did, Brandon Stark would be Cregan's unofficially heir as his eldest son.

Aelys had refused to share a bed with Cregan since the night he returned. She would not perform her marital duties anymore, not until she was either dead or he forced her, which she knew he at least had the honor to not. Aelys would give him no children of her own, spitefully intending to leave the Stark line to a bastard who would forever be known to the world as such.

She would make it clear that her husband's stupidity would end the Stark's honorable history streak. The babe would be legit, yes, but never trueborn. It was said that bastards were born nasty and cruel, and Aelys had not believed such rumors until she met the babe herself. Her spite grew in spite of her previous kind and understanding nature, driven to hate the babe without knowing him.

Even with the same House name as his father, the boy was nothing like him. He seemed to carry his mother's traits, instead, whoever she was. Dark black hair and even darker eyes to match, though the Northern pale skin Cregan carried had stayed through the genetic battle.

At least Cregan did not bring her home, too. If he had, Aelys would have thrown herself from The Wall in shame and disgrace. She would not be the other woman in her own marriage.

His words when he returned burned at her heart, even now the dust had not settled nor had the fire quelled.

"It was a one-time tryst, I swear this to you. A night of vulnerability, when it got rough in King's Landing." He said, voice strained and undereyes dark with the heavy weight of guilt and responsibility. She'd never felt such an intense urge to hit a man before.

His bastard sister, Sara Snow, a woman whom Aelys had grown to see as her own sister and close confidante, returned from King's Landing a month after her brother.

She looked even worse than her elder brother, who still could barely hold Aelys' eyes when she wordlessly passed him in the halls. She looked gaunt and exhausted, though she claimed that the journey back was tiring. Sighing, Aelys could only welcome her back into the Great Keep to catch up over all that she had missed. Apparently, Sara had stayed in the Riverlands for most of the moons Cregan had hosted in the Crownlands. She was housed by the Blackwoods, becoming fast friends with Alysanne Blackwood and Davos Blackwood, the fierce aunt and nephew who fought together against the Greens.

No useful information about the whore that Cregan had bedded that night, Aelys bitterly thought for a moment. Then, a wave of guilt and regret hit her. It was not Sara's fault for her brother's mistakes. She was truly glad to have the conpany back, seeing as Winterfell had felt cold and emptier now that Cregan was back than it ever had before. She had been avoiding his for these four moons, leaving only a few rooms accessible for her privacy and peace of mind.

She never entered the nursery room's entire hallway. Even when needing something past it, she chose to go the longest possible route to avoid it. She didn't wish to think about the boy more than she already did. She saw him during dinners, being presented to Cregan by his wet nurse before being put down to sleep for the night. Those mere glimpses were plenty to feed her anxious mind.

Today, the adjacent hall towards the Keep's hotsprings was closed. "A few cobblestone in the wall have cracked, m'Lady. You mustn't enter for one might accidentally fall on you." A young servant boy had informed her, thoroughly apologetic as she sighed and headed him. The nursery's hall was the only one that also held the door outside, lest she chose to go all the way around the outside of the keep in this blizzard.

The thought was tempting but childish. Steeling her courage up, Aelys had fixed herself to stride past the door. She could not help the subconscious glance inside, seeing the glimpse of curly black hair laying alone in his crib, but wide awake and almost flailing around in a fuss.

Looking around, Aelys was surprised to see not one attendant or wet nurse. From her experience with babes, they were rarely left alone unless they were sleeping. Even then, some mothers and nurses liked to hover to ensure its safety while unconscious. Aelys stepped into the dim room, finding that Brandon's attention immediately focused on her. He whined out, reaching out grabbing hands toward her. Grimacing, she reached into the crib to lift him up, holding him at a safe distance from her face.

Up close, she could reluctantly admit that the babe was cute. He was well-doted on in the Keep by all the maids and even visiting Lords. Though his parentage was questionable and whispered about, none actually had the courage to ask why the boy had been legitimized so quickly. Aelys guessed it had been the circumstances. Aegon, the new King, was young and suseptible to influence, so legitimizing a bastard like Brandon was done without question.

"What are you fussing on about, you spoiled thing?" She asked, though her tone was soft and gentle. Brandon smiled a gummy smile, face lifting as he reached out again for her. This time, she allowed him to rest on her shoulder as she supported him, gently rocking back and forth as she stood. The faster he was asleep, the faster she could leave without feeling like a monster.

She already had that feeling nagging at her mind too much. Hating a babe took a lot of energy. She knew it was wrongfully placed, but Brandon's very nature and sire had wronged her more. The physical reminder that his father had not loved her.

Soft snores filled the room as she hummed lowly, the vibrations and comforting sound putting the fussy tot to sleep quicker than she had anticipated. Gently placing him back in the cot, she hands gripped the wooden edges harshly, a sharp contrast to her previous touch. Was she betraying herself for not demanding that the babe be taken away? Warded with another great House until she finally had a son? No. Cregan would never allow it, even as Lady of the House she held no true power over the Warden.

Turning, Aelys was met with her husband in the doorway. Silent as a stalking wolf, he leaned against the doorway and looked upon his son and wife with pools of affection. There was a slight gloss to them as she looked closer that she opted to ignore. "Cregan." She greeted curtly, moving to slide past him and speak no more of her presence in the nursery.

"He has a way of melting one's heart, does he not?" He asked, tilting his chin to look down at her. A branch, left out and hanging by Cregan's strong arms. Too bad that she did not need it.

"He disgusts me." She said instead, shouldering past him and continuing back to her rooms. She changed her mind in the few minutes that she spent with the bastard Stark boy. She could stay here no longer, could not bear for her own husband to bring this embodied lie to live in the very home that she did. Wouldn't raise any children to be in their older brother's shadow.

Ignoring the hushed plea from Cregan, Aelys went straight to the Maester's tower. Maester Parek had been a helpful and understanding ear for Aelys to rant to when dealing with arisen problems, whether with her moon blood, achy bones from the cold, or questioning if any ravens had come from mysterious women. None had, as far as she had been told. That is, if Parek had been entirely truthful to his Lady.

Hurriedly knocking on the man's door, it was soon opened after a grunt of physical labor had been heard from the other side. The Maester had always complained about his bad knees and how they were made worse in the winters.

"Lady Stark?" He asked, shocked to see her at midday. It was a rarity, as she usually made her visits in the morning after she broke her fast.

"Maester." She greeted, shifting on her feet. "I need to send a letter, urgently."

"May I ask to whom?" He inquired, earning a solemn nod from the young Lady.

"I'm sorry, Parek. It is private."

"Of course, my Lady. The room is yours." He bowed and left the chambers to occupy himself while she busied herself as well. She immediately made for the small attached room in the tower, made into a raven nest hundreds of years ago. A few perched black birds squaked or raised her heads at the unfamiliar sight curiously, but they were well-trained and did not spook.

Bending over the crickity desk, she quickly drafted a messily-writen yet vague letter.

Father,

Some troubles have come up in Winterfell, and Cregan Stark has advised me to return to House Glover's protection while he deals with matters here. I will be returning swiftly, though the snow will hinder the horse a few days.

See you soon,

your dearest Aelys.

As soon as she finished, she hastily melted the powder blue wax and sealed the direwolf sigil onto the rolled paper. Tying the scroll to a raven's foot, Aelys sent it off. The bird would reach House Glover's Maester quickly, and in the meantime she would ready herself for departure.

As she was shoving clothes and pelts into various bags, the very ones that carried her belongings to Winterfell over two years ago, Aelys could not stop the hot, angry tears that fell to her cheeks. Wiping away at her face with scruffy sleeve fur, gifted to her by Cregan himself, Aelys felt the frustration and loneliness sting at her soul. The loneliness was a choice on her part, most would say. That she was dramatic and most Lords sired bastards. She should be grateful he did not bring the mother back, too, and house her in his home next to his Lady Wife. All whispers she heard from her ladies-in-waiting, whom she immediately dismissed from service upon hearing such impudent things.

She would not be subjected to the humiliation. She wanted love, and she once had it. Oh, she had it. Cregan treated her like a goddess walking amongst humans for the moons they spent together before his leave to King's Landing. If she could not have Cregan's loyalty or love, she would at least find a man who she did not have high expectations for. An older Lord, perhaps, one who just wanted a young and pretty woman to give him final heirs during his last years of life. Aelys would know her role, then, and would live contently knowing she did not love foolishly while expecting faithfulness in return.

First, this marriage had to be annuled. In Lord Glover's home, she could easily ask for such a thing. The marriage had been commsumated, but there were no witnesses and no babes to confirm this to outsiders. Aelys would simply have to claim that she and Lord Stark never once bedded before he left to find another woman, and then she'd be an unmarried Lady once more. A Glover, not a Stark.

She realized she'd been quite fastidious in her packing. Unlike her carriage ride to Winterfell, her luggage could not be carried easily on one horse. She picked only one of her bags, with the thickest dresses and warmest pelts she had, rushing out of the room while clipping a cloak over her shoulders. Dark blue in color, Aelys almost cursed at the thought that almost all of her wardrobe and fine things had been gifts from Cregan. Her pelts, gloves, and even the horse that she would take home.

Cobalt, she had named the steed, noticing how his pure black coat almost gleamed blue in certain lights. Cregan had a wide and cherishing smile on his face as he walked the young stallion out of the stables a few days after their wedding. They often took walks on trails in the Wolfswood together on horseback, just their muffled conversations filling the still air. She remembered every moment with her husband fondly before he tarnished everything. Now, she knew all of it to be a facade, just like any other Lord in Westeros might have done. At least other men had the decency to be nasty plain to your face, unlike the Stark.

Aelys sneaked into the armory to pick up a few extra things, knowing no one would occupy the room when the whether was so unfortunate.

Striding towards the stables with squinted eyes, Aelys shivered at the temperature change. Luckily, the journey would be quick, with only a few days to walk on horseback. Cobalt was a resilient horse built for such harsh weather, and she was a Northern woman through and through.

She attached the bag and waterskin to Cobalt's saddle after she tacked him up. His long and unruly made quivered in the breeze as the light blizzard raged on as it had been for two days now. It did not deter her. She attached her bow and quiver to the other side to keep weight even, knowing she'd have to hunt for herself during the journey.

Steadying herself on the saddle, Aelys glanced once more at Winterfell's Great Keep, where Cregan was surely in his study or councilroom. She squeezed Colbalt's side lightly to urge the percheron onwards, giving herself no room for second guessing her choices.

At the wall's gate, the two snow-covered men regarded her with weary looks. "My Lady, there is a blizzard—" Ron Frasel told her, ginger brow upturned in question.

"I have eyes, Ron. I will return soon, I have buisness in Winter Town." She said tiredly, not wanting to be interrupted by the men at such an important time. It would not be long before a maid reported her missing.

Ernest, the guard's most frequent partner, inquired gently. "Will you require any assistance, Lady Stark? I'm sure Lord Stark would feel more at ease knowing you are escorted."

"He is fine with me going on my own, it is a short ride." She said curtly, anxious for Cregan to find out about her plan.

Ernest nodded and gestured for the iron gate to be lifted. "Safe travels, my Lady." Before bowing his head politely.

As Aelys walked through the opened gate, she urged Cobalt to a faster trot to create quick distance between her and Winterfell before she set up camp.

Ron shared an uneasy look with Ernest as the woman passed. "Lord Stark has never allowed her out without a guard before." He whispered.

His friend nodded, eyes glancing between her fading figure in the snow and the Keep. "Perhaps we should go see Lord Stark himself, just to be safe."

Ron shivered. "If he finds out we let his wife go into the blizzard without him knowin', who knows what'd happen to us."

"Quickly, then." They were both skidding off towards the Keep with no time to waste.

[controld3vil]

chaotic duo

pairing(s): dune cast x actor!reader (platonic), oscar isaac x actor!reader

synopsis: requested by this ask!

⤷ alt: even your on-screen son can't deny how delightful his on-screen parents were.

notes: absolutely no shade to rebecca ferguson i adore her too much. reader is considered to have fem pronouns. ALSO ive been feeling iffy about trying to write for dune characters?? personally, although i love writing these actor!reader stories, writing for the actual characters i feel would be more challenging. dune's still pretty new to me but i kinda wanna give it a shot if i can make a good storyline T-T

It all started with the Dune Cast Q&A brought together by Nerdist. Timothee Chalamet and Denis Villeneuve had just finished chatting with the host, Stephen Colbert about their perspectives on Paul's character. Much emphasis had gone on the young actor's performance. And Denis's decision to cast such a well-experienced one.

After finishing up their last question together, Stephen decides to introduce two additional members. "Timothee let's bring out the man and the woman who play your parents, Duke Leto Atreides and Lady Jessica." A transition between screens to display your camera view and Oscar's. He introduces both your names.

"Hi!" You grin at the camera, comfortably leaning against one of the arms of your chair. Similar to everyone else's backdrop, yours was pitch gray, covering all but your silhouette and chair.

"Hey Stephen," Oscar greets at ease, as you proceed to wave to each of the people seen onscreen.

It cuts immediately to the host gesturing in continuation for a question. "Tell me and the audience about Duke Leto Atreides. What do we need to know?"

"He's the father and human. I think that's the biggest thing and uh under incredible pressure to save his family. Save his house but to adapt to this new existential threat situation which is moving to this strange planet," Your fellow costar puts into short. Short and concise was what was expected.

Content with his answer, Stephen moves the attention to you. He calls out your name, eagerly. "Rereading the books uh- right now, I am struck by how much of the story- uh the backstory and the action story is driven by the decisions Lady Jessica makes." A smile grows on your face, knowing how much fun was a character to play for you.

Along his last few words, you find yourself nodding in agreement. "I'm impressed with that you, Stephen actually read the books again!" An instant grin comes from the said man. "But it's all applause to Denny- he highlighted this from the book. In the film, her decisions basically create, fractures and disrupts everything."

"Best parents ever," In a low whisper, Timothee murmurs and the five of you burst into short chuckles and snickers.

"The best you could ever have!" You clapped your hands together, shaking them above your head in victory. And when the screen expands to show everyone's reactions, the audience can noticeably pinpoint Oscar's playful eye-rolling.

Another fun interview you had the pleasure of sharing was with Grazia UK. It was in a more comfortable setting. With you and Oscar in a lounge room, with the Zoom camera on. While the female interviewer complimenting a kind smile.

"Can I ask you something," Not within a second of the conversation, you rose up with a peculiar question. "Do you remember his beard?" Your costar beside you, looks away in disappointment. Even raising his hand to emphasize his discouraged state.

"A bit yes..."

"Yeah,"

"Yes!"

"Why? It was an impressive beard," Sort of clueless really, the interviewer says, of why you wanted to the topic up.

"Yeah, it was impressive!" Oscar looks back and forth between you and the camera, directing towards the woman on the other side. While you shriveled in embarrassment, leaning your head behind his shoulder, with a few snorts of laughter. "She doesn't even remember if I had a beard or not in the movie! She just saw it."

"Quite a prominent beard!"

"Yes yes, well I can remember so much," You chaste, leaning closer, locking eyes with your costar. Threatening really in a playful way.

"We shot together for a few months! How could you not remember?!" He exclaims, raising both his hands in the air in exasperation. You puff, adorning a pouty-like look.

"I work with what's in front of me," you turn to address the interviewer, pointing at Oscar accusingly. Because much contrast to what he looked months ago, he no longer had that impressive beard. He was clean-shaven, much to your display.

Next to you, Oscar scoffs. "Apparently not!" Bumping shoulders with you as you fought back, poking him many times obnoxiously.

You both later discussed a provoking quote referenced multiple times from Dune posters. Fear is the mind killer. Truly a simple yet intriguing phrase that fitted well with the film. And in generally, you and Oscar compared each others quotes from personal experience.

"I guess you could combine them together," Taking a sip out of your glass, you eyed at Oscar. He hums back and smooths his hands comfortably down his hips.

"It will pass and love prevails!" He cheerfully expresses. Even from afar, the interviewer can notice how much fun you two were having with the question.

"Right and, it plays perfectly with the film," You add onto your little spiel, nodding as you go, "Besides the fact that- you know, fear is the mind killer."

The male actor lets out a long sigh. "Makes you forget how violent the movie is."

On the other side of the screen, the blonde interviewer shrugs her shoulders. "Well- it's only included in small parts in the movie."

It was your turn to hum, dragging out the M sound. "I think maybe the film focusses too much on romance."

A caught off cough comes from Oscar as he tries to his best to dismiss his your sarcastic comment. "I feel like there should've been more of it."

"Really?!" The shot pans to your exaggerated shocked gaze. You then turn to look at the interviewer. "He has no idea how to write a movie." Instantaneously the male actor bursts out laughing, shaking his head back and forth in little denial. Even you couldn't hold it together and giggled a little.

"You play Timothee's parents so spent a lot of time with him. What is the most interesting thing we do not about Timothee Chalamet?" The interviewer prompts, having their arms supported on top the their desk with pure keenness.

Pursing your lips together in concentration, your attention turns towards your partner. "Well coming from me- I mean I don't know if people know this about him or not- but he's very open hearted." Oscar continues, "And me, having to play his father- hence the beard!"

"Ah!" Giving more emphasis, you raised your brow in recollection.

He goes on comparing the analogy of having to play Duke Leto as a powerful leader of a House. Without his people and court, he wouldn't resemble much of an prestige leader. However Oscar later mentions that Timothee's performance was the catalyst to their relationship look authentic. He is young yet incredibly sympathetic towards what's to be done for the film. His time with both of you really sold your relationship as a family, you'd think.

"So that's a very generous thing to do for a young actor. And I was impressed and admired that," In the background, you can be heard mumbling in agreement. Your partner shifts his posture, facing and expecting you to go next.

Licking your lips, you took one last glance at him before focusing strictly at the Zoom camera. "I think for me, to have a young actor like him- he's very driven about it all. When he's on and off screen, Timothee's just focused- he's very serious and concentrates heavily on what Denny says- and I can say I respect that." You punctuate your point, tapping lightly on your knee. "And I play his mother you know, and I try to accommodate with that. I play along and we work until we find a good rhythm with each other." The older woman on the screen seemed enamored by your compliments regarding your costar. Yet her eyes quickly makes it's way to Oscar, sitting quietly and listening to you ramble.

His laidback posture showed how greatly he took your words in. You grab your glass and take a quick sip before hearing him say, "We raised him well." Taking your hand in both of his as a sign of pride.

A delightful chuckle comes from both you and the interviewer while your partner gives a satisfied grin. "We really did!"

The media did not need proof to know of your enjoyed time during the production of Dune. In fact, multiple vlogs and documentaries about the film had fans and viewers alike become fond of your positive and laid back attitude about it all. Despite playing a calculating character such as Lady Jessica, you were nothing of serious when on screen with your costars.

"Welcome to Arrakis!" You popped into frame, wearing an exquisite dress, costumed by one of the designers. It was golden yellow with chains running down from the bottom half of your face to your chest. A faint veil covered your head but for right now, you had it placed on your hair. You spread your arms with anticipation for the cameraman to pan around your surroundings. "It's sunny today so I think we'd be out here for some time." You moved extremely close to the camera, before moving out of the frame to the side.

Abu Dhabi was bliss. The production and crew worked diligently day and night working in the deserts. And on this particular day, most of the cast had been present as well for the introduction of House Atriedes on Arrakis.

A few shots slowly pans from the crew's tents and Denny far into the sandy mountains as he speaks with Timothee. Another shot slyly captures you showing Josh Brolin an unknown video, sideways. Which somehow made him cackle very enthusiastically, holding his stomach to air as you quickly pat his back multiple of times. In all, everyone of the cast members were having a blast in the dry outskirts of the unknown.

"Hello," Brolin pops in another clip where he stands, wearing the Atreides armor. Under a massive shade area, a few people can be spotted in the background, moving equipment and conversing with others. From afar, the people filming the documentary can be heard presenting a few questions for him to touch upon. "Ah what do I think about Lady Jessica being played by," He says your name sincerely.

The video cuts to you having a conversation with your on and screen husband. A hand covering above your face to shield yourself from the sun, while Oscar tries to move where the light is hitting you as the best he could.

"I mean a phenomenal actor like her playing in that kind of role is guaranteed to have an amazing performance. She's- We've known each for a long time since Sicario and with Denny," The male actor softly grins, staring at where you were. "But Oscar on the other hand, eh- not so much." His tone becoming monotonous, as if the shift in topic was distasteful to the touch.

"Whatcha say, Gurney?!" A scream echoes and it's Oscar, cupping both his hands into an O.

The older actor couldn't keep it together before breaking into frivolous giggles. "Nothing, my lord!" He takes one last glance back before seeing you give him two big thumbs up with a silly smirk. "No in all seriousness, those two are just the best! You can never have a bad day with them."

Another prominent section in the video fans adored was with the actors that played Duncan Idaho and Dr. Liet Kynes. This time they are situated in what looked like the structure of Arrakeen. Where all ornithopters were supposedly stationed and the introduction of Dr. Kynes.

"They're so mom and dad," Jason Momoa shaking his head playfully with his hands clamped together. Both him and Sharon Duncan-Brewster wore still suits unlike many other extras who wore Atreides armor. "I mean- they're playing Paul's parents- but in real life it's just so different."

"Definitely more chaotic," Brewster jumps in, earning a hum from her costar. "They act nothing like them."

A cool shot from different location displays you in a dark with Timothee. It was the scene after Paul is put to test to by the Reverent Mother. It was a chilling scene yes, but in post production, many realize how unprofessional you sometimes were even in the most serious times.

The cameras were not live however the film crew were about to pan to you gesturing back and forth with your on-screen son. It was a interactive and intriguing conversation you both were having. You looking in purely engaged with what the French actor was saying. After a few sentences being spoken, it looked as though you chided a teasing joke which gave the reaction of Timothee slightly snickering, backing away slowly.

"I mean do they look like my parents? No," The young actor states shortly. It looked as though the clip was shot right after capturing your cute moment togehter. "But I'd say- yeah Oscar Isaac's a great actor and- to be able to play my dad is pretty cool. Even though we look nothing alike." Nervous laughter spouts as he clears his throat.

"I feel like I get the resemblances from my mom though," Affectionately stating your name, "You can tell where I got my powers, good looks from." Momentarily readjusting his collar as he takes a quick look from behind, knowing your footsteps.

"See? I'm the favorite parent!" In hushed squeal, you wrapped your hands around Timothee's shoulders, earning a lovable grin back.

[thesiltverses]

How do you do podcasts, beyond the writing stage? The Silt Verses inspired me to try writing audio drama, and I have ideas, but I am only one person and all I can do yet is write. How do you get published, so to speak? How many people do you have to involve at a minimum (beyond VAs)? How do you find those people?

Let me try and tackle this in increments!

#1: With the right story format, you actually don't have to involve anyone else, so don't feel like you're missing some vital component. You don't need anything but yourself to get started.

An intimidating number of the most successful audiodramas ever made are either single-performer or begin that way before expanding to accommodate guests, and that includes both narration format and action-driven shows (WTNV, Old Gods, Knifepoint Horror, Malevolent...). With a lot of these shows, the writer is taking on performing duties despite a lack of formal voice acting experience or training, and acting as the sole producer into the bargain. Sometimes the ambient soundtrack for these shows is very basic and homespun - as it was for us with I Am In Eskew - or sometimes a sound designer has been paid for a higher-quality track that can play out during an episode, but there's no ongoing sound design work required.

Beyond that, the number of roles will entirely depend on your ambitions and your workload (and again, you can take on as many of these roles as you want to and have time for). If you're working with actors, someone needs to direct them and effectively manage the recording schedule, and someone needs to review and edit their takes. If you want action, someone needs to design that action. Plan to your needs, not anybody else's team size. You can always scale upwards as you go.

#2: How do you find collaborators beyond VAs? This can definitely be hard. But you could start at the Audio Drama Hub on Facebook, or advertise on the Fiction Podcast Weekly newsletter, or I just saw the Audio Drama Creators Discord mentioned on the audiodrama reddit (which is also a very helpful resource). If you have local networks - whether it's a university/college drama society or a citywide actors' page - that can be worth seeking out as well. I'm sure there'll be tons more so gonna drop in the audiodrama tag in the hope that we can get you more ideas.

My word of caution would be - I recommend putting a considerable amount of work into both the writing and the initial production plans before you start seeking other people out, particularly if you're operating on low or zero budget. Writing is a more popular pursuit than production, generally speaking, and I feel like over the years I've seen a lot of "looking for a director/producer/sound designer to help me create a show!" requests from someone who's got a largely unwritten idea and a lot of initial excitement fuelling them - when of course internet strangers largely aren't going to want to commit their time and energy to a project until they have some real tangibles and specifics.

#3: There's absolutely no bar to getting published, per se (other than paying for a hosting platform). If you're thinking of an arrangement where you submit your scripts to an already-formed production team, unfortunately that's something that doesn't reliably exist as far as I'm aware! Much better to do it yourself, generally speaking.

Hope that helps and best of luck!

[summitprinter]

Sabrina Carpenter's Sweet Treat Dependency

Pop sensation Sabrina Carpenter has had nothing but pure success in this past year. From catchy top charting pop music singles, multiple award show wins, and a shower of praise from fans and critics alike, is there anything this blonde bombshell can’t do? Her fame has even gotten to the point that she has accumulated all kinds of sponsorship deals. One of which being from the Dunkin’ Donut chain, who has released a new brown sugar cold espresso drink to promote her aptly titled summer hit “Espresso”.

Of course like any ad deal she’s had in the past, promotion was key. She appeared on late night talk shows alongside her fellow pop star peers and bragged about the sponsorship, even mentioning how Dunkin’ agreed to let her have as many donuts and cold espresso drinks as she can enjoy. As the talk show went on, Ms. Carpenter did have a small secret that she didn’t reveal.

The truth was that she had been taking advantage of the free food a little too much, with the popstar gaining about 10 pounds in the short span that the deal had been up. Nobody had noticed this though as she hid her newly gained gut with the use of a waist trainer every time she was out, but the issue still stood. Maybe her peers were right. Maybe she is getting a little addicted to all that fattening sugar.

Her inner thoughts had suddenly been broken as the host asked if she had anything else to say before the end of the show. She paused for a moment and threw out a scripted response with a wide grin. As she smiled to the audience's applause and waved goodbye, the real questions were being asked in her head. Will she be able to manage her appetite or is she going to throw away her beautiful body and successful career just for a few sugary donuts? Her stomach suddenly groans in hunger and she remembers that there’s a Dunkin’ not too far from the studio she’s been filming in. Seems like she’ll start that diet tomorrow…

An Ungodly Amount of Free Sugary Espressos and Sweet Pastries Later...

Looks like time has not been kind to poor Sabrina Carpenter and her waistline. Turns out Ms. Carpenter never got around to losing those few odd pounds, instead ballooning into a massive butterball. It appears her metabolism just couldn’t handle all those sessions of gorging on nothing but addictive, fattening, sweet treats. With each bite she grew bigger, with her fans and the media quickly picking up on her weight gain. She had tried to lose the weight many times but never succeeded, each attempt just ended in an even bigger failure than the last. The once popular pop star fell hard from grace, with the general public losing interest and moving on to find other, more physically fit pop stars. Most of her sponsorships also cut ties with her now that there was no money coming in. The final nail in the coffin was when her record label dropped her once she couldn’t perform on stage anymore due to not being able to stand for more than ten minutes.

Within a span of a few months, Ms. Carpenter had lost everything she had, with the expectation of one thing; Her sponsorship deal with Dunkin’. While it may have caused her downfall, she just couldn’t stop eating those fattening pastries and sugary drinks. So like every day that had come before, Ms. Carpenter waddled her way to her nearest Dunkin’ to collect her free treats. She would of course have preferred to have driven but truthfully, no car could fit her girth. Even though she didn’t fit into any of her old clothes, she still tried to wear them whenever she went out as she was still too ashamed to admit that she just might be too fat for clothing.

Today was no expectation as she had squeezed into a way too small black lace jumpsuit with a pair of tall, platform heels to match. Upon arriving, she noticed that two young women were in line at the usually empty quiet donut shop. Before she could give it any more thought, she spotted her order sitting on the counter. As she reached for it, the store manager stopped her and let her know a horrible truth. Dunkin’ had decided that starting today, they were canceling the sponsorship deal and would no longer honor her free food deal, with this order being her last one. As the shock hit her and she felt her world crashing down, she waddled over to the only bench that could fit her wide ass, already stuffing her face with donuts and sat down. As she sat, her tight jumpsuit just couldn’t take it anymore and ripped loudly. Ms. Carpenter’s large gut and fat tits flopped out with immense force, freed from the constraining fabric. Her thick back rolls and cellulite covered ass had also torn straight though the ill-fitting jumpsuit with a great force.

Before Ms. Carpenter could even realize what had happened, the two young women turned around and approached. Turns out they were her old pop star friends! As they looked on in disgust and shame, Ms. Carpenter felt tears begin to quickly fall down her chubby face and could do nothing as they commented on her disgusting fat body. She had really lost everything all because of her sweet tooth. 

The future does seems quite grim for poor Ms. Carpenter. No more top charting pop music, award show wins, or sponsorship deals. Nope, all she had to look forward to was nothing but struggle, as her weight had proven to become a serious problem now. Maybe if she had been smart enough to put down the donuts and do some ab crunches, she wouldn’t be in this mess. She would be conquering the pop music scene! Instead, she has to enjoy her sad, pathetic life as a washed up fat ass with no future. Quite the change from her past but alas, that’s what you get for being a greedy piggy…

ALTS:

Clean:

Clean and Tears:

Sweat:

Sweat and Tears:

Slob and No Tears:

Slob and Gassy:

Slob, Gassy, and Tears:

[duxbelisarius]

Back to the Dance Part Three: Ground Warfare

Thank you to all those who have followed this series so far; if this is your first time reading, Parts One and Two are here and there will be a masterpost now that it's up to three parts.

The next three parts examine the conduct of warfare in Westeros on land, at sea, and from the air, starting with ground warfare. I didn't devote a part in the original series to this aspect of the Dance as I did for dragons and fleets, but ground warfare absolutely warrants attention this time around since it was by this means that the Dance was won/ended. Using the Westerlands Army as our example, we'll look at how Westerosi armies are mobilized and who serves under what terms, the command structure of armies and the role of women leaders in the Dance, and the tactics of missile troops (ie crossbowmen and bowmen) and cavalry and whether their performance in the Riverlands campaign adequately reflects their capabilities on the battlefield.

i. Mobilization

The first problem illustrated by the Westerlands forces is that the time it takes to raise armies and commit them to battle varies wildly in the Dance, and seems driven more by plot convenience than anything else. From Daemon's announcement in "Dying of the Dragons - The Blacks and the Greens" that Aegon has the support of Casterly Rock, to the mention of Jason Lannister's host assembling in the Western Hills in "The Red Dragon and the Gold," the name Lannister only appears alongside Tyland's and we're never told nor given any indication of how the Westerlands are preparing. Between Daemon massing the Riverlords in the west, Rowan and Oakheart supporting Rhaenyra to the south, and the Iron Islands having yet to pick a side, one would expect the Westerlands to be raising troops and preparing the Lannisport Fleet, but nothing in the narrative suggests this is the case. By comparison, the Riverlords begin flocking to Harrenhal soon after Daemon takes over, and both he and the Blackwoods amass sufficient forces to engage the Brackens within in a few weeks, perhaps 1-2 months, of Rhaenyra's coronation. We don't know when Rook's Rest takes place in comparison to Aegon's coronation but by that time, perhaps a few months, Ormund Hightower has raised 5000 men to take on the Blacks in the Reach. The time between Aegon's coronation and Aemond's march on Harrenhal is just under a year, meaning it either took that long for the Lannisters to raise their banners or they simply did nothing despite enemies surrounding them on all sides.

The greater issue with mobilization in the Dance and in ASOIAF as a whole is how these armies are raised and who serves in them. F&B states that Jason's host consisted of 1000 armoured knights and 7000 archers and men-at-arms, and this force is eventually annihilated at the Battle of the Lakeshore, aka 'The Fishfeed.' According to TWOIAF's entry on the Iron Islands, the Westerlands were thinly defended since "Lord Jason Lannister had taken most of his knights, archers, and seasoned fighters east," while F&B claims that the "greater part of the chivalry of the west" was "slain or scattered at the Fishfeed." Leaving aside that we know of other Lannister hosts in the books that far exceeded 8000, and the fact that the Riverlords probably lost more than 8000 men between the Burning Mill, the Red Fork, the 'Fish Feed,' and 1st Tumbleton yet still managed to raise two different hosts of 4000 and 6000 men later on, the fact the Westerlands struggles with manpower for the rest of the Dance makes little sense. F&B later tells us that 100 knights and 3000 men-at-arms took part in the abortive surprise attack on Dalton Greyjoy's forces on Fair Isle, but this takes place 2 years after the Dance ended. We also have to ask what is meant by the "greater part of the chivalry of the west" being lost: if this means that Jason's host was made up of retinues, i.e. military professionals supported by their incomes and those of their lords, then shouldn't the Westerlands still have untapped manpower in its feudal levies, i.e. men not under arms at all times but possessing their own equipment or are provided it by their lords? Why would these forces not have been called up when Jason was raising his host, and how can the Westerlands be thinly defended when the existence of Lannisport and the west's mining industry indicate that it possesses a substantial population to draw upon?

The issues with how armies are raised in ASOIAF goes much deeper than this, to the feudal system as it exists in the books; Bret Devereaux has covered this subject before, but I want to try my hand at it with reference to the books rather than the show. In the books we hear regularly about lords raising levies or 'calling their banners,' but we have little sense of what this entails beyond calling up anyone capable of fighting through vague feudal obligations of military service. The closest we get to seeing this process at work on the individual level is Septon Meribald's 'Broken Man' monologue from AFFC:

Broken men are more deserving of our pity, though they may be just as dangerous. Almost all are common-born, simple folk who had never been more than a mile from the house where they were born until the day some lord came round to take them off to war. Poorly shod and poorly clad, they march away beneath his banners, ofttimes with no better arms than a sickle or a sharpened hoe, or a maul they made themselves by lashing a stone to a stick with strips of hide. Brothers march with brothers, sons with fathers, friends with friends. They’ve heard the songs and stories, so they go off with eager hearts, dreaming of the wonders they will see, of the wealth and glory they will win. War seems a fine adventure, the greatest most of them will ever know.” “Then they get a taste of battle.” “For some, that one taste is enough to break them. Others go on for years, until they lose count of all the battles they have fought in, but even a man who has survived a hundred fights can break in his hundred-and-first. Brothers watch their brothers die, fathers lose their sons, friends see their friends trying to hold their entrails in after they’ve been gutted by an axe.” “They see the lord who led them there cut down, and some other lord shouts that they are his now. They take a wound, and when that’s still half-healed they take another. There is never enough to eat, their shoes fall to pieces from the marching, their clothes are torn and rotting, and half of them are shitting in their breeches from drinking bad water.” “If they want new boots or a warmer cloak or maybe a rusted iron halfhelm, they need to take them from a corpse, and before long they are stealing from the living too, from the smallfolk whose lands they’re fighting in, men very like the men they used to be. They slaughter their sheep and steal their chickens, and from there it’s just a short step to carrying off their daughters too. And one day they look around and realize all their friends and kin are gone, that they are fighting beside strangers beneath a banner that they hardly recognize. They don’t know where they are or how to get back home and the lord they’re fighting for does not know their names, yet here he comes, shouting for them to form up, to make a line with their spears and scythes and sharpened hoes, to stand their ground. And the knights come down on them, faceless men clad all in steel, and the iron thunder of their charge seems to fill the world…” “And the man breaks.”

The way Septon Meribald portrays it, the lord 'takes' his men off to war, although Meribald's own experience in the War of the Ninepenny Kings suggests some degree of voluntarism; weapons are whatever these levies can scrounge up, and service ends with death, desertion, or the conclusion of the conflict, presumably. The idea of men fighting for years on end seems to be used more for effect, since the War of the Five Kings is the longest war fought in Westeros since Daeron's Conquest while none of the Blackfyre Rebellions or Robert's Rebellion lasted longer than a year. Nonetheless, Jaime's quote about the dismissal of the Lannister army is instructive: armies seem to fight for as long as they can fight.

Don't get me wrong, I love Meribald's speech and it perfectly encapsulates George's anti-war sentiments which permeate ASOIAF: the glorification of war by society vs its cruel reality, the disillusionment that follows, the terrible toll it exacts on the body and mind of those that fight, this is all good stuff. Unfortunately the system of military organization it depicts is poorly suited for raising and maintaining armies like Jason Lannister's host, let alone Ormund Hightower's army. For starters, it simply isn't true that feudal service entitled a lord to lead his armies indefinitely; as Kelly De Vries notes in his essay "The Question of Medieval Military Professionalism," the terms of feudal military service varied from region to region. Medieval Romania had feudal service which was given till age 60 unless a suitable heir was appointed, with a third of the year each spent in garrison duty, in the field, and at home, while the Latin Kingdom of Jerusalem required military service for the entire year or until death (De Vries, "Military Professionalism," 117-118). In less embattled regions, terms of service could be much less even for a kingdom like France: when Philip III called on his vassals to put down a revolt by the Count of Foix in 1272, John France notes that some lords were owed only 20 to 40 days service from their vassals. When Philip called on his vassals again two years later to invade Castile, it was determined that he would have to pay his troops since their service would go beyond the borders of France (John France, Medieval France at War, 191-192).

The scope and quality of Westerosi recruitment is also counterproductive, mobilizing large numbers of men with little to no military value while simultaneously hampering local economies. F&B tells us that hundreds and thousands of Riverlanders grabbed even "a pitchfork or a hoe and a crude wooden shield" and set out for Harrenhal at Daemon's summons, while Tyrion VIII of AGOT mentions "field hands on plow horses armed with scythes and their father's rusted swords, half trained boys from the stews of Lannisport" among the vanguard at the Green Fork. The breadth of the call ups in the North during the War of the Five Kings is so great that in Bran II of ACOK, Hother Umber tells Bran that "the Greatjon took too many. Half our harvest has gone to seed for want of arms to swing the scythes," and Alys Karstark in Jon X of ADWD says her father took so many men south that "crops withered in the fields or were pounded into the mud by autumn rains," as only old men, young boys, and women were left to bring in the harvest. We have to ask what is the point of raising such large armies if their ranks will necessarily be filled with poorly equipped, untrained men that will consume rations while being a liability on the battlefield?

This is a problem for the worldbuilding since, as Clifford Rogers notes in Soldier's Lives Through History: The Middle Ages, lords might raise as large a force as they could for prestige purposes, but they most often had quotas for the numbers of men they were expected to raise and equip based on their incomes and lands owned (Rogers, Soldier's Lives, 27-28). By the 12th century if not earlier, legislation existed in most European kingdoms like England and France that required men to own arms and equipment commensurate with their status and income, such as Henry II's Assize of Arms of 1181 and Aistulf's amendments to the Lombard Code in 750 (Ibid., 42-44, 61). Based on the evidence of the books, Westeros' military organization is remarkably ad hoc and unsuited for raising armies in the thousands as is done in the Dance and throughout the books.

ii. We get paid, right...?

These problems pale in comparison to the most glaring omission: the lack of any form of paid military service beyond sellswords. Leaving aside his comments about a certain LOTR character's 'tax policy,' it's no secret that George places a great deal of importance on money in the series: AGOT features starts with Ned and Catelyn agonizing over how to cover the costs of Robert's royal visit, we have Ned's continued agonizing over Robert's lavish spending and the debt this incurs from the Lannisters and the Iron Bank, while ADWD ends with Kevan Lannister mulling over how the crown can fund it's war effort and pay off it's debts now that the Iron Bank has turned to funding the crown's enemies, and Cersei's ruinously expensive fleet building project has gone awry. Rhaenyra's own downfall has Helaena's death and the 1st Battle of Tumbleton as it's catalyst, but the powder keg ignited by these events was filled through Rhaenyra's disastrous tax policies which alienated the population of King's Landing, alongside her cruel punishment of those suspected of supporting Aegon II. I plan to cover fiscal policies more when we discuss strategy in the Dance, but here it is important to note that the Westerosi economy is heavily monetized, meaning cash is the primary facilitator of most economic transactions. When Tyrion meets with the alchemists guild in Tyrion I of ACOK, they inform him that Cersei is paying for wildfire production with the aid of Baelish's tax on entry into the city, implying that even the smallfolk fleeing the Crownlands and Riverlands for the safety of the capital have coin or the valuables to sell for coin to pay the tax.

The problem with the Westerosi economy existing this way is that the military system seems to be completely exempt, and this should not be the case if George wants his armies to have tens of thousands of men serving for long periods. If we look at the Hundred Years War (1337-1453), we find that the French and English states relied heavily, if not entirely in England's case, on paid armies consisting of forces raised by the lords of the realm and paid in their own and/or the crown's coin, leavened with mercenaries. The last time a feudal summons was put forth by the English crown was in 1385 at the behest of Richard II, prior to which it had last been utilized by Edward III in 1327; 4590 men-at-arms and 9144 archers were raised for an expedition to France which Richard redirected against Scotland, but all of these men served 'at the king's wages' according to J. J. N. Palmer (Palmer, "The last summons of the feudal army in England," 771; N. B. Lewis, "The Last Medieval Summons of the English Feudal Levy," 5).

France was able to rely more on feudal obligations to raise forces owing to the fact that France was the defender protecting it's lands; as Christopher Allmand notes, a general levy of all men 18-60 called the arrière-ban was called seven times between 1338 and 1356 by the French government, but it's use was discontinued (Christopher Allmand, The Hundred Years War, 93). Both kingdoms relied upon a form of paid military service known as an indenture or lettre de retenue, which was a contract between the monarch and their commanders (lords, magnates, etc.) that laid out the amount of men to be raised and equipped, their pay, and terms of service, although Allmand suggests lettres were not quite as detailed as indentures (Allmand, 94). This developed from the need for armies that could operate for greater periods and outside the regional confines set by feudal contracts, and it was also far easier to raise troops when they and their lords had a financial incentive to enlist, with a soldier's wage often being well above what a farm labourer could hope to earn (Rogers, Soldier's Lives, 45).

It might have been possible to overlook Westeros' reliance on feudal obligations to raise it's armies, had it not been for the fact that these armies can be very large, larger even than Medieval armies following the expansion of paid service from the High Middles Ages onward. Richard II's host of almost 14000 men-at-arms and archers was one of the largest ever raised by England in the 14th century (Lewis, 13); by comparison, Ormund Hightower raised more than a third that number of his own troops following Rook's Rest, 5000 knights, men-at-arms, and archers, and his host eventually grew to as much as 20000 by the time of 1st Tumbleton, only some of whom would have been sellswords. Ormund's own initial host outnumbered the entire men-at-arms contingent of this 14th century army drawn from all of England! As for the cost of such armies, the wages for the 1385 host in a 40 day campaign were nearly £14000, while a 'double regard' paid to the leaders who organized these men would have amounted to £4750 (Lewis, 13); adjusted for inflation, that would be £17.2 and £4.8 million respectively in 2024, or almost $28 million USD combined. The armies of Westeros should require obscene amounts of money to keep them in the field, let alone pay for weapons, equipment, animals, supplies, transport, etc., but the series avoids this issue by ignoring it entirely.

iii. "Who's drivin' this flying umbrella?!"

If the organization and mobilization of armies in the Dance leaves much to be desired, the same can be said for how they are led, with the Westerlands being the perfect example as I previously discussed in Part 8 of the original series. Following Jason Lannister's death at the Red Fork, the Westerlands army is led by the landed knight Ser Adrian Tarbeck, who distinguished himself in the battle. Lord Humfrey Lefford replaces him when Tarbeck falls in battle at Acorn Hall, and Lefford remains in command until his death alongside the rest of the host at 'the Fish Feed.' We have no sense from the narrative that any kind of chain of command exists, when in reality even Medieval armies possessed a basic form of command structure: hosts were divided into 'battles' when meeting in the field to ease control, as Renly's forces are organized for battle at Storm's End in Catelyn IV of ACOK, and knights and other mounted men formed their own subunits called 'lances' which were then grouped into 'con rois' or 'constabularies' (Michael Prestwich, "Miles in Armis Strenuus," 215-216). Armies were likewise divided on the march into vanguards, rear guards, flank guards, and main bodies, which would require at least 5 commanders to be appointed; thus in Book 3, Chapter 6 of De Re Militari, "The degree of caution to be observed when an army moves in the vicinity of the enemy," Vegetius advises that, "the cavalry take the road in front, then the infantry, with the baggage, pack horses, servants and vehicles placed in the middle, and the light armed portion of the infantry and cavalry bringing up the rear," while the baggage train "should also be enclosed on the flanks with equal strengths of soldiers, for ambushes frequently attack the sides" (Milner, DRM, 75).

Likewise, Book 9, Chapter 4 of Maurice's Strategikon ("The Passage of Defiles and difficult country") advises that, "troops passing through the defile, accompanied by supply trains or plunder, should divide into two groups or formation marching on foot in column by the flanks," adding that "in such situations and places, in addition to the double column assigned to guard the baggage and plunder they might have, a strong force of good, light armed troops must be chosen from the main body, stationed on the four sides of the double column as the terrain permits" (Dennis, Strategikon, 101). It thus makes little sense that Humfrey Lefford is given command of the host when F&B blames his age and injuries for requiring the Westerlands host to march slowly, and when Lords Swyft and Reyne and Sers Clarent Crakehall and Emory Hill of Lannisport are listed among the notables slain at 'the Fish Feed.' Between Jason Lannister, Adrian Tarbeck, Humfrey Lefford, and the aforementioned notables, there are enough men here to lead the subdivisions of a hypothetical Westerlands host, but we have no indication of any chain of command to explain how or why anyone becomes the leader. Nor does the army seem to organize itself into units as mentioned before, since the host all but stumbles upon Forrest Frey and the Winterwolves at the Lakeshore, and Pate of Longleaf arrives to their rear with more men from the south without being detected. Aemond's host is the lone force we're told possesses a vanguard, led by Criston Cole, while the Westerlands army and the rest of those in the Dance simply move and operate as masses.

Another area in which leadership during Dance, military or otherwise, suffers from skewed perspective or lacks it altogether, is the role of women as leaders. This is especially so where the Greens are concerned, as exemplified by Johanna Lannister (Westerling). Following 'the Fish Feed,' the Westerlands all but disappears from the Dance save for the exploits of Dalton Greyjoy. While Johanna Lannister features prominently in the 'Hour of the Wolf' as one of the 'Three Widows' (see Part 13 of the original series for that nonsense), it's only when the Dance is over that she is allowed to take any real action against the Ironborn. The Ironborn alone are a serious problem in the Dance which I'll tackle fully in Part Four, but I've already noted how the weather should severely constrain their actions in Part Two, and we've just talked about the Westerlands manpower is strangely restricted by the narrative. When it comes to Johanna's efforts post-Dance, she's credited with allegedly donning mail and taking up arms to defeat the Ironborn at Kayce in 132 AC, but her attempt to rebuild the Lannisport fleet in 131 is foiled by the Greyjoys while the failed surprise attack on Fair Isle in 133 AC costs the lives of Lords Prester and Tarbeck and Ser Erwin Lannister.

It of course makes no sense for the Westerlands to be 'on pause' until the end of the Dance, as Johanna's efforts at rebuilding a fleet, raising new armies, and repulsing Ironborn incursions cannot wait a year. As of 'the Fish Feed,' her husband and his army are dead, the Westerlands has no fleet to defend it's shores, and Rhaenyra possesses a large number of dragons; if she wishes her family and people to survive, she cannot wait to begin raising new forces and she should absolutely be requesting aid from the Greens in the Reach, especially the Hightower and Redwyne fleets. Even then, her actions post-Dance are still more than any woman in the Green camp is permitted when compared to the Blacks. Rhaenyra joins her dragonriders in their attack on King's Landing despite otherwise not taking part in the fighting, Rhaenys assists the Velaryon Blockade before falling in battle at Rook's Rest, Baela fights in no battles but manages to cripple Aegon and Sunfyre, Sabitha Frey leads her husband's forces after his death even though she herself is a Vypren and her husband ought to have had uncles, cousins, and brothers who could lead their house, Alysanne Blackwood fights at Burning Mill, 2nd Tumbleton, and the Kingsroad leading her archers, and even Jeyne Arryn accompanies the Vale host to King's Landing.

By comparison, Johanna is the only woman on the Greens side who is allowed to take an active, military role and that's after the Dance ends; Helaena doesn't even get to act as an envoy like Aemond before B&C, Alicent briefly tries to organize the defense of King's Landing but is quickly foiled; neither Elenda Baratheon nor her daughters play any role in defending the Stormlands let alone try to force Aemond to uphold his betrothal, despite Elenda being a Caron by birth and thus related to Ellyn Caron who fought the First Vulture King; in short, only the Blacks are allowed to have women fight for their cause and defend their lands.

Lest anyone try to make the asinine claim that this is because the Blacks are fighting for Rhaenyra, i.e. a woman, Medieval history provides us with plenty of women who were leaders and even combatants in war regardless of their sex or their cause. Queen Matilda, Duchess of Boulogne, and Empress Matilda led their factions after King Stephen of England was captured at the Battle of Lincoln (1141) during England's Anarchy. Queen Matilda and her kinsman William of Flanders led Stephen's army against London, driving Empress Matilda from the city before she could be coronated as Queen, and Queen Matilda ultimately succeeded in ransoming Stephen back the Empress. The Breton Civil War came to be known as the "War of the Two Jeannes" after Joanna of Flanders and Joan of Penthièvre took up their husbands causes, and Sichelgaita of Salerno accompanied her husband Robert Guiscard on most of his campaigns in southern Italy, most notably at the Battle of Durazzo in 1081. These are but a few examples, but alongside the other issues we've discussed they highlight the broader problem with military leadership in the Dance, that the limited perspective of the narrative results in leaders being chosen and acting not in the interests of themselves and their factions based on in-universe reasoning, but for the convenience of the plot.

iv. 'Arrayed as if for war'

Having covered the problems with the way armies are raised and led in the Dance we can now cover how they fought, in particular missile troops and cavalry. Some housekeeping is necessary first regarding the equipment and overall technology we should expect of the armies in the Dance per George's worldbuilding. He's talked in the past about his aesthetic for the armours of Westeros being derived from the Hundred Years War, Crecy and Poitiers as well as Agincourt, but also the Crusades. He points out that the further south one ventures the later the armour styles become in ASOIAF at least, thus mail is most common in the North while plate armour is widespread in the Reach. There's no word on how this affects armour in the past, since the Seven Kingdoms were at war for millennia prior to Aegon's Conquest, with the North in particular warring with the Ironborn and the Vale while the kingdoms south of the Neck were constantly at each other's throats. It also doesn't help that TWOIAF credits the Andals with bringing iron mail and plate armour to Westeros, while the Rhoynar smiths that settled in Dorne with Nymeria are said to have produced suits of scale and plate even the Andals couldn't match.

Nonetheless, the Hundred Years War from Crecy to Agincourt is a good point of reference for us to assess the arms and armour of the Dance. "Armour in England, 1325–99" by Thom Richardson gives an excellent overview, via the Tower of London's inventories from the first half of the Hundred Years, of the kinds of armour that would have been used at that time including mail, coat of plates, and individual pieces of plate armour. The Grandes Chroniques de France, a history of France begun by St. Louis/Louis IX in 1270 and continued until 1461, also contains images which give a good sense of the armour and also arms we could expect, at least for knights and men-at-arms. In particular, these illustrations of Crecy and Poitiers made roughly 20 years after the events of those battles shows a wide variety of equipment: swords and daggers, lances and spears, battle axes or hand axes and poleaxes; round shields or triangular heater shields, of which some have a notch or curve in the corn to support the couched lance; helmets of the bascinet and kettle hat variety, some of the latter having visors and almost all having an aventail to protect the neck and head below the ears; and probably more plate armour than we should expect but most of it protecting the limbs and lower body, with some combination of mail and coat of plates protecting the torso underneath a surcoat. This issue of armour and equipment is important, as it has implications for the performance and effectiveness of missile troops and cavalry in he Dance.

v. Archery, historical and Westerosi

Missile troops in this instance refers to bowmen and crossbowmen, generally referred to as 'archers' in the narrative of the Dance. Outside of Essos and southern Dorne where composite recurve bows seem to be most widely used, archers not armed with a crossbow generally use a longbow, a weapon most famous in our own history for it's use by the Welsh and English armies of the Medieval and Early Modern Periods. They feature prominently in the Dance and particularly the defeat of the Westerlands army: Red Robb Rivers shoots down the ravens which Lord Lefford sends to request Aemond's aid at the Lakeshore; Alysanne Blackwood is thought to have killed Amos Bracken at the Burning Mill with an arrow through his visor, and later shoots down the charge of the Stormlands cavalry with her archers at the Kingsroad; and Criston Cole is killed by Red Robb and his archers at the Butcher's Ball when they put three arrows into his neck, belly, and chest, while Bill Burley puts three arrows in the eye of Tessarion after the 2nd Battle of Tumbleton. Their performance in the Dance is heavily exaggerated however, and a proper assessment of the capabilities of the longbow has important implications for the Dance.

It's worth noting that the emphasis on the longbows of the Riverlords obscures the fact that they should be widely used by the other kingdoms. Aside from F&B telling us that the archers of the Hightower army thinned out the blacks ranks at the start of 1st Tumbleton, we never hear of anyone else in the Dance employing to great effect aside from the Riverlords. This makes little sense given that the Lannisters, Gardeners, and Durrandons among others fought over the Riverlands for millennia, so we should expect longbows to feature prominently in all the armies south of the Neck. This also ignores aspects of the worldbuilding which make clear that this is the case: as I talked about in Part 5 of the Dorne series, the Dornish Marchers are renowned as the finest bowmen in all of Westeros and yet it's the Stormlords who wind up on the receiving end of the weapon at the Kingsroad; the Marches also extended into the Reach with the Tarlys ruling over Nightsong for a time, and combined with it's use by the Stoney Dornish and the Riverlords, the bow should be well understood in the Reach (as 1st Tumbleton implies).

The Westerlands similarly warred with the Riverlords and the Gardeners, but TWOIAF indicates they were familiar with the longbow by their own experience: House Yew, which 'sprang from the loins' of the Blind Bowman Alan o' the Oak, is named after the yew tree whose wood is the best for making longbows. When we consider that Jason Lannister's host comprised 1000 mounted knights and seven times as many archers and men-at-arms, the fact that the archers of the west play no role whatsoever in the narrative makes little sense. Michael Harbinson notes in his article "The Lance in the Fifteenth Century" that English tactics in the period of the Hundred Years War centered on the "defensive-offensive," with the English deploying their men-at-arms dismounted in a prepared, defensive position, relying on the longbows to disrupt and disorganize enemy attacks with a mounted reserve pursuing the defeated enemy (Michael Harbinson, "The Lance," 160). The longbow's range also meant it could be used to induce an enemy to attack, ensuring the English could fight an attacking enemy from their secure position; this is what the French sought but failed to do with their Genoese crossbowmen against the English camp at Crecy. The Westerlands army should have had hundreds if not thousands of archers to attempting such tactics when Frey and Pate's hosts first arrived at the lakeshore, rather than sitting back and allowing the Blacks to be reinforced over the next two days.

If the tactics for missile troops leave something to be desired, the feats attributed to the longbow display ignorance of the weapon's actual capabilities and requirements. When it comes to defining what is a longbow, the British Long-Bow Society takes as it's definition a bow of at least 5'6" in length with a "D" shaped cross section (David Whetham, "The English Longbow: A Revolution in Technology?" 215); as Stuart Gorman notes in his PhD thesis The Technological Development of the Bow and the Crossbow in the Later Middle Ages, a bow less than 4 feet is not considered long while one 6 feet or more is, but how to categorize those that lie between is the difficulty (Gorman, Technological Development, 68). Longbows of the Late Medieval and Early Modern Periods were quite powerful: those recovered in 1982 from Henry VIII's warship Mary Rose which sank in 1545 had an average draw weight of 100 to 130 lbs at 30 inches (the distance from the nock point on the string to the grip of the bow when drawn) (Gorman, 40). What the narrative of the Dance fails to acknowledge, although this is an issue it shares with many portrayals of the longbow in other media, is that this power had a cost:

"The skeletons of two men found within the doomed ship have been identified by one of the world’s leading maritime archaeologists as archers thanks to the presence of physical deformities caused by regular practice with a large bow. One of these men had a thickened left fore-arm characteristic of bowyers; and both had spinal deformations from the pressure of repeatedly drawing a bow with the body twisted sideways. These deformities were present despite the fact that both men were still only in their twenties. While it may appear strange that medieval people would be capable of pulling such immense weights—weights that until very recently were thought impossible, it was the technique that made it possible. An archer could not draw a war bow and hold back the string while carefully sighting his target. Even if it were physically possible (which it is not), the enormous tension of a bow held at full draw would have been greatly detrimental to the weapon. Watching experienced modern archers attempt to shoot bows of only around 100 lbs (45 kg), it is clear that even these must be drawn and loosed in a single fluid motion, one that requires the entire body to be “thrown into it.” It is this fluid technique rather than simple brute force that made possible the ring of heavy, English war bows in use during the later Middle Ages. The level of practice required for effective use of the long bow was extremely high and such skills must have quickly atrophied in the absence of practice. It is highly doubtful that the majority of modern enthusiasts would be willing or even able to put themselves through the type of training regime that could inflict the physical deformities similar to those discovered on the Mary Rose archers." (Whetham, 223)

These two videos give an idea of the technique required to draw a longbow-it was not a simple task, and the inability to take precise aim due to the forces being held back in the draw has obvious implications for the plot of the Dance. One can find other ways to have Amos Bracken and Tessarion die that don't require a perfect hit to their eyes, but the elephant in the room is Red Robb picking off the ravens. A renowned archer like Rivers could probably aim instantaneously as would be required, but this wouldn't allow much lead-time and combined with environmental factors and the arrows he'd have access to likely being intended for combat rather than hunting, it's highly doubtful he or even his other archers could pick off every single one. This means, of course, that there's nothing to prevent Aemond from learning of Lefford's plight and flying to the aid of the Westerlands army.

Hitting Ser Criston Cole in the neck, chest, and belly from across the field at the Butcher's Ball also raises some issues, and this is where armour comes into play. When comparing the Mary Rose bows to longbows dated from the Neolithic era up to the Early Middle Ages, Gorman found that while many of the predecessor bows shared certain traits with the Mary Rose bows such as similar lengths, grip widths, and thickness of limbs, the Mary Rose bows were longer and had a narrower grip width compared to the thickness of their limbs, factors that combined together to produce their high draw weights (Gorman, 81-89). The higher draw weights of the Mary Rose bows compared to the likely weights of their predecessors was due to the need to defeat stronger armour as was available in the 16th century; writing of the Battle of Flodden (1513) between Scotland and England, the English chronicler Edward Hall observed of the armoured pikemen in the Scottish front ranks, "they abode the most dangerous shot of arrowes, which sore them noyed, and yet it hit them in some bare place it dyd them no hurt." (Gervase Phillips, "Longbow and Hackbutt, 579) For the bows used at Crecy and Agincourt, their performance against armour would have been better at short range for weaker bows than at long range, where even bows with the highest draw weight would have struggled against torso armour of 2-3mm thickness, although limbs and the less well-armoured soldiers would have been at greater risk.

vi. Medieval Cavalry: A Historiographical Essay

We now come to our final subject for ground warfare, cavalry; despite having 1000 mounted knights in it's ranks at the start of the campaign, we have no indication that they played any role for the Westerlands army. On the other hand, the Blacks cavalry is crucial to their success: Forrest Frey brings 200 knights to 'the Fish Feed' and 300 are with the Black army at the 'Butcher's Ball,' but it is the 2000 'Winter wolves' under Roderick Dustin that take center stage. Clad in 'old mail,' armed with axes, mauls, spiked maces, and ancient iron swords atop their 'shaggy northern horses,' the 'Winter wolves' make five cavalry charges against the Westerlands army at 'the Fish Feed,' losing more than 2/3rds of their number killed or wounded. Accepting Elio Garcia's claim that the 2000 dead at the Lakeshore in F&B refer to the Blacks losses, this means the 'Winter wolves' dead made up a significant portion of that number and that the 'Winter wolves' almost singlehandedly won the Battle of the Lakeshore. Their remnants go on to spoil the Greens victory at 1st Tumbleton, as Dustin and his remaining men charge through the ranks of the Hightower army to kill Ormund and Bryndon Hightower.

In an addition to Part 12 of the original series, I took aim at what I believed was the story exaggerating the qualities of cavalry historically; as I admitted in Part One of this new analysis, reading more about pre-modern warfare has led me to revise some of the stances I took in the first series, and this is one of them. My own background is studying the First World War and 19th-20th century warfare in general, having written my Master's dissertation of British cavalry training and operations from 1904 to September, 1914. Given that infantry, let alone cavalry, sought to avoid massing formations on a battlefield swept by firepower, I accepted John Keegan's 'maxim' from The Face of Battle that horses wouldn't charge a solid formation as they couldn't leap it or pass through it. The conditions facing cavalry on Medieval and even Early Modern battlefields was very different, and I want to try my hand at reassessing the effectiveness and capabilities of Medieval cavalry. To do this, I'll be responding to some of the arguments in the historiography of Medieval military history from the past 3 decades or so, before laying out how cavalry could or should have operated in Dance and where the problems actually lie with how they were written in the Riverlands campaign.

Beginning with historiography, i.e. how history has been written and the trends it followed, I'm assessing Matthew Bennett's essay "The Myth of the Military Superiority of Knightly Cavalry," delivered as a conference paper in 1995 and republished in Medieval Warfare 1000-1300 in 1998, edited by John France (pg 171-184). Bennett has been a successful Medieval military historian for many decades, and his essay is an excellent place to start for assessing the arguments of likeminded historians such as Bernard Bachrach and John Gillingham who argued against the centrality of battle and cavalry in particular to Medieval warfare, placing greater emphasis on infantry and sieges. Bennett's thesis is that "cavalry, no matter how well-equipped or motivated, could make no impression upon foot soldiers who kept their formation," adding that "even the best equipped mounted men of any period could not hope to overthrow a determined infantry line, without missile men to break it up, enabling the horsemen to force their way into breaches," touting "the ability of well-ordered foot soldiers to hold off knightly cavalry in almost any time or place..."(Bennett, "Myth of Military Supremacy," 178-179, 183). To support these contentions, Bennett cites the Norman victories at Hastings (1066), Civitate (1053), and Durazzo (1081), as well as the Battles of Legnano (1176) and Bouvines (1214) with further instances from the Latin East during the Crusades. In his view, the Flemish victory over the French at Courtrai (1302) was unsurprising as the previous clashes indicate that cavalry could make little headway against infantry, thereby questioning the idea that an 'infantry revolution' in the 14th century ended an 'age of cavalry.'

Closer examination of his evidence shows that the majority of examples he provides actually disprove his argument, starting with the Battle of Hastings. Drawing on Stephen Morillo's essay "Hastings: An Unusual Battle," Bennett argues that the Norman cavalry were unable to break into English formations until they had been thinned out by archery during the day, and that the initial retreat of William's army at the start of the battle was halted only by the deaths of Gyrth and Leofwine Godwinson, Harold Godwinson's brothers, which disorganized the English advance. This argument doesn't actually support the cavalry being impotent however: if we follow Morillo's hypothesis of a general advance by Godwinson's army after the initial Norman attack failed, this still means the initial archery of the Normans and the attack of their infantry failed to make headway, and the Norman cavalry had to intervene to prevent a rout. Moreover, if we follow the Bayeux Tapestry as Morillo suggests (Morillo, "Unusual Battle", pg. 100) regarding the placement of Gyrth and Leofwine's deaths, we have to acknowledge that the Tapestry depicts their deaths at the hands of the Norman cavalry while surrounded by their own men. Morillo's placing of the brothers at the center of the line would even suggest that the Norman cavalry could 'make an impression' on the English formation, since the Norman cavalry would have to pass through or around their own infantry to strike the center of Godwinson's formation, allowing time for Harold's brothers to join the ranks had they been placed in front of the lines.

The evidence proposed by Bennett using Morillo's hypothesis does not support that the cavalry had no answer to an infantry formation, at least not unequivocally. If we then accept that it the feigned flights by the Norman cavalry ultimately broke up the shieldwall on Senlac Hill, this likewise fails to decrease cavalry's effectiveness: after all, the Norman infantry attack failed and they were nearly routed, with the Norman cavalry deserving the credit for halting the English advance by killing Harold's brothers and so disorganizing their advance (again, following Morillo's hypothesis). Aside from a brief crisis when William was believed dead, the Norman cavalry remained the primary force for the Normans in the rest of the battle, maintaining pressure on Godwinson's forces with their advances and feigned retreats. The physical and psychological drain of these maneuvers finally induced the English to pursue the final Norman 'retreat' down the hill; this was made possible by the superior mobility of the Norman cavalry, who had a difficult enough time repeating these advances up hill which infantry would have found exhausting in the hot sun.

Bennett's argument regarding Hastings relies on a significant amount of context being left out, and his use of the Battle of Civitate between the Papacy and the Norman Humphrey d'Hauteville is a similar case. Clifford Rogers covers the battle in his essay "Cavalry in Battle in Italy, 1000-1200," and Charles D. Stanton has also reconstructed it in the Journal of Medieval Military History. The battle was won from the outset by the Norman cavalry with little aid from supporting arms, as Humphrey charged the Italian and Lombard levies who were disorganized and ran at the sight; according to Stanton, the Swabian swordsmen remained on the field and charged Humphrey, with both sides clashing in a stalemate until Robert Guiscard fell upon the Swabians flank and inflicted heavy losses, the coup de grace being delivered by Richard of Aversa after he returned from pursuing the papal forces (Stanton, "The Battle of Civitate," 48-50). In this case the cavalry unequivocally won the day, and even when they met opposition from the Swabians these only withstood one attack by the Norman cavalry.

Infantry faired far better at Durazzo but the day still ended in a crushing victory for the Norman cavalry; in this case, Robert Guiscard clashed with the Byzantine Emperor Alexios I Komnenos in modern-day Albania. Norman cavalry on the right attacked the Byzantine left and the Varangian Guard, possibly in a feigned retreat to draw them out; Georgios Theotokis provides more details in his article "The myth of the invincibility of the Norman cavalry charge," and suggests that these were light cavalry levies while Guiscard's knights were with him in the center of the line. Nonetheless, the Varangian Guard attacked and managed to rout the Norman right but wound up removing themselves from the fight by pursuing the Normans, who rallied and defeated them with the support of Guiscard's infantry from the center. Bennett emphasizes this episode but subsequently 'buries the lead' that Guiscard's cavalry carried the day despite this reverse by charging the remaining part of the superior Byzantine host, routing it in turn. Infantry were not unimportant in this battle, but it was the cavalry that proved decisive in Guiscard's case while also proving they could charge and break infantry formations. The results of Hastings, Civitate, and Durazzo show only partial infantry success at best, and even when they could hold out for a time in defensive formations this still does not undermine the overall superiority displayed by cavalry in these engagements.

At Legnano, the cavalry of Frederick Barbarossa drove off the Milanese cavalry and allowed Barbarossa's army to attack the Lombard League forces on the road to Pavia. The League infantry held off Barbarossa's cavalry for a time, but the League only won the day when the Milanese cavalry joined up with the Brescian cavalry that were riding to their aid and attacked the Imperial army, with Barbarossa nearly being captured in the process (Rogers, "Cavalry in Battle," 77-80). At Bouvines, Bennett speaks of the Brabancon pikemen "defying the French knights, only to be let down by the Imperial horse, and eventually overwhelmed by the French foot," but this again ignores the wider context of the battle; I'm drawing on J.F. Verbruggen's account in this case, and while he is more supportive of cavalry's role in the Middle Ages his account of Bouvines also highlights the Brabancons. The battle on the French left was decided by cavalry, the French getting the better of the Flemish and Hainault forces there; in the center, the Holy Roman Emperor and his cavalry broke through the French infantry and fought through to the retinue of Phillip Augustus, the French king, with the Imperial foot also breaking through to follow up, the battle being won by the knights of the French center and left (Verbruggen, The Art of War in Western Europe, pg. 251-255).

The Allied right was made up of Renaud de Dammartin and the Earl of Salisbury representing King John of England, with Dammartin's Brabancon mercenary pikemen forming up two ranks deep in a circular formation that allowed Dammartin to launch mounted attacks against the French left; the Brabancons were not alone on the right nor did they play the only role in stymying the French attacks there, who only attacked the pikemen once; by this point the battle was already won and it ultimately fell to Thomas St. Valery and 50 knights with a number of French foot to defeat the Brabancons. The situation was similar to that of the Swabians at Civitate, the battle being already won and the Brabancons abandoned; they withstood an attack by cavalry, but the smaller force led by St. Valery seems to have penetrated their formation, allowing the French infantry to annihilate the Brabancons (Ibid).

Bennett's argument is on better ground with his examples from the Latin East; he quotes an episode from The Autobiography of Ousama in which Prince Tancred of Antioch and his retinue clashed with Muslim footsoldiers from Schaizar:

On a day (in Spring 1111), a number of footsoldiers came out of Shaizar. The Franks charged them, without disturbing their formation. Thereupon Tancred became angry and said, 'You are my knights and each of you receives pay equivalent to the pay of a hundred Muslims. You have these sergeants (by which he meant the infantry) in front of you, and you are not capable of moving them!' They answered, 'Our only fear was for our horses. Otherwise we would have trampled them and pierced them with our lances.' Tancred replied, 'The horses are my property; I shall replace any one's horse that gets killed.' They then made several charges against the men of Shaizar, and lost seventy horses, without being able to get the men out of their position (Bennett, 179).

The infantrymen held off Tancred's attacks but this does not suggest that he could not break into the ranks, rather that he could not drive them from their position. The initial attempts failed due to his men's reluctance to charge, but they clearly came to blows based on the amount of horses they lost. Nonetheless, this is a single skirmish between forces whose numbers are not given; he also cites the Crusader's 'fighting march' during the 3rd Crusade, but highlights the importance of crossbowmen to keeping the Arab horse-archers at bay, demonstrating that infantry required more to withstand cavalry than just maintaining formation (Bennett, 178-179).

The reasons behind this situation stems from institutions, as Stephen Morillo argues in the "The Age of Cavalry Revisited;" state capacity and urban growth were required to foster the institutions necessary to raise large infantry armies, or at least foster the social bonds that allowed infantry to hold formation in battle. While I disagree with Morillo's claim that it was 'bad infantry' more than good cavalry which characterized this age, as it we have seen good infantry which good cavalry could defeat, the challenge to cavalry towards the end of the 13th and beginning of the 14th centuries saw this trend reversed. Courtrai and its successors showed that large forces of infantry which were furnished in this case by large towns, could hold their own if well led and fighting on suitable ground, but it was growing states and urban settlements that ensured this.

As we will see, cavalry could still break infantry formations after this time but it became a more costly enterprise; writing about the Battles of Dreux and Ivry during the French Wars of Religion, Frédéric Chauviré records the observations of Gaspard de Saulx, a Catholic commander and Marshal of France, and Henri IV of Navarre, the later Protestant leader and unifier of France, to this affect. de Saulx's son, Jean de Tavannes, records his father's comments about the Huguenot cavalry attacks on the Swiss pikemen at Dreux: "it was very foolish to use the vigour of the cavalry to make charges against the swiss or enemy footmen in the campaigns of France, especially since it is easy to judge that the cavalry being defeated, the infantry must be lost" (Frédéric Chauviré, The New Knights: The Development of Cavalry in Western Europe, 1562-1700, 175). The Huguenot gendarmes (heavy lancers) penetrated the square of 5-6000 Swiss pikemen many times with the aid of pistoleers and mounted arquebusiers, but with their lances expended the proved easy prey for the Catholic cavalry; thus at the Battle of Ivry, when informed of the numerous horsemen of his foes, Henri Navarre declared "Good, more people, more glory. Besides once the cavalry are defeated, it will be all well for us to beat the footmen" (Ibid.).

The track record of cavalry in battle was better against even infantry than Bennett would suggest, but the position that cavalry was not a dominant force in Medieval warfare derives from a broader view of the period. Summing up research on Medieval siege warfare in the Journal of Military History in 1994, Bernard Bachrach concluded that "siege warfare dominated Medieval Warfare" and that "the heavily armoured knight on horseback...had at best a minor role to play" as "there was no place for the warhorse in the sapper's tunnel, the artilleryman's battery, or the crossbowman's belfry" (Rogers, "Cavalry in Battle," 61). In the context of the Hundred Years War we can say that Bachrach is correct about the place of siege warfare, though it is also more complicated: using the Chronicles of Jean Froissart and his successors, Clifford Rogers and his students determined that there were just under 900 sieges in the Hundred Years War using a broad definition and 350 with a narrower definition, compared to 132 and 50 battles respectively (Clifford Rogers, "Investigating the Outcome of Sieges During the Era of the Hundred Years' War," 26). Whether broadly or narrowly defined, sieges outnumbered battles by a ratio of 7:1 and this is undoubtedly a great amount but is hardly a 'vast' difference (Ibid.).

Rogers and his students did not examine the number of raids or chevauchées, but it should be noted that neither sieges not raids were mutually exclusive to battles: Crecy and Poitiers were both fought between English armies raiding and devastating the countryside and French armies responding to them, while Courtrai and Bannockburn came about as French and English armies sought to relieve the Flemish and Scottish sieges of Coutrai and Stirling Castle respectively. Moreover, while cavalry obviously played an important role in raiding, its role in siege warfare was considerable as well; in his article "Horses and Horsemen in Fifteenth-Century Siege Warfare," Michael Harbinson stresses the numerous roles for cavalry in maintaining or breaking a siege: cavalry were extremely useful for launching sorties or defending against them, for protecting convoys and foraging parties fore the besiegers or attacking those of the defenders and their relief forces, for defending and scouting the environs of the siege against relief forces, and for devastating the areas surrounding the besieged settlement to deny supplies to the besieged or besiegers.

At Harfleur in 1415, Henry V's army of 15000 men and 25000 exhausted it's 3 month supplies, allowing the French cavalry under Clignet de Brabant to exact a heavy toll by cutting off further supplies to the army and harassing Henry's foraging parties (Harbinson, "Horses and Horsemen," 207). The crowded camp and spoiled stores due to humidity led to dysentery and other sicknesses, which probably cost Henry 1500 men and over half his horses due to sickness or being slaughtered for meat (Ibid., 209-211). When Henry besieged Rouen in 1418-19, he took measures to prevent a repeat of Harfleur:

He ensured that the Seine remained navigable to English ships so that victuals from England could be “conveyed to the hoast,” particularly wine and beer. The king also “ordained a market of all things requisite to be holden,” and “armed horsemen” ensured the safety of merchants and others, who brought fodder and provisions from the surrounding countryside. (Ibid., 212)

The sieges of Arras (1414) and Compiegne (1430) demonstrate the importance of cavalry to the besieged as well: when King Charles VI of France moved to besiege Arras, John "the Fearless" of Burgundy reinforced the city with archers an6 600 men-at-arms while mounted sorties from the city and the nearby castle Bellemotte severely disrupted French efforts and encamping; further raiding by mounted troops from Lens and Douai cut off the French supplies, forcing them to abandon the siege (Ibid., 216-217). When the English and Burgundians laid siege to Compiegne in 1430, they constructed fortifications called 'bastilles' to house their troops and control the approaches to the city, although these efforts had met with mixed results at Orleans in 1429 (Ibid., 222); although the besiegers captured Joan of Arc during a French sortie, mounted forays succeeded in harassing the defenders as the bastilles were too small to house their defenders horses; construction of further bastilles near the city gates and a bridge over the Oise to ease communications in the siege lines began to have an affect on the defenders of the city, a French relief force succeeded in breaking the siege owing to a mounted attack on the siege lines after the defenders had sent away their horses, leading to a rout of the Anglo-Burgundian forces when the defenders of Compiegne sallied forth on horseback (Ibid., 222-223).

It appears the role of cavalry in Medieval siege warfare has been greatly underestimated, but it's role in raiding or chevauchées is impossible to overestimate. By Clifford Roger's estimate, mounted troops could advance 50% faster than infantry while inflicting 123% more damage during raiding, and this is certainly borne out by the historical record (Ibid., 200). In Early and High Medieval Spain, cavalgadas or raids by Spanish and Portuguese armies were a central part of warfare, securing booty and devastating the countryside in Muslim-held territories; raids by the Christian monarchies were capable of penetrating far into enemy territory, with Alfonso II of Asturias reaching Lisbon in 797, Count Rodrigo of Castile reaching Talamanca in the center of the Peninsula, and Ordoño II of Leon covering over 300 kilometers with his army to Mérida in 915 (García Fitz and Monteiro eds., War in the Iberian Peninsula, 66-67). This policy of repeated raiding or 'softening' of enemy lands allowed for many cities to be taken with only a short siege or none at all: Fernando III captured Toledo in 1085 after 8 years of raiding the surrounding country, including devastating the environs of Jaen and Seville prior to the siege of Toledo itself, with the city subsequently surrendering without resistance after negotiations (Ibid., 68-69, 84-85).

vii. "I wanna be in the cavalry, if they send me off to war..."

As I hope I've made clear, Medieval cavalry could be extremely effective fighting forces on and off the battlefield, and while far from invincible, it was absolutely the dominant arm of the Early and High Middle Ages and remained crucial in war during the Late Medieval and Early Modern Periods. The question is to what extent we get any sense of these capabilities in the Dance, particularly during the Riverlands campaign. We've already talked about the absence of a vanguard or any kind of subunits in the Westerlands army and how this makes little sense given the 1000 mounted knight Jason Lannister brought with him and how useful they should have been as coureurs, a combined term for foragers and scouts whose roles George divides into separate units of foragers and outriders in ASOIAF. The Westerlands army stumbles upon the Blacks at the Lakeshore who are already in it's path, while the Blacks are able to ambush Cole's scouts and foraging parties almost at will. There's no real excuse for this haphazardness especially on the part of the Westerlands forces given the mounted troops they have available.

When it comes to cavalry 'types,' i.e. light, heavy, Medieval cavalry tended not to be so specialized with dedicated light and heavy cavalry regiments (Chevaulx-legers or Stradiots vs Gendarmes in French) only emerging in Europe during the Early Modern Period, in particular during and after the Italian Wars (Michael Harbinson, "Coureurs and Their Role in Late Medieval Warfare," 189-190). As previously mentioned, Medieval cavalry in the High and Late periods were organized into 'lances' comprised of both heavily armoured men-at-arms as well as mounted archers and/or crossbowmen and more lightly armoured men-at-arms known to the French as coustilliers and "valets de geurre" (Ibid., 159). Nor was the equipment of coureurs drastically different from their more heavily armoured comrades: the Discipline militaire of 1548 documents the equipment of French chevaulx-legers which differs little from the earlier coureurs: "salade [sallet helmet], gorget, hallecret [armoured undergarment], (breast plate), gauntlets, tassets, shoulder and arm guards, and carried a lance" (Ibid., 169).

The main difference appears to have been the degree of protection worn and how they were mounted: ronceys and coursers seem to have been the preferred mounts for coureurs, being more riding horses than battlefield mounts like a destrier, although the differences between these horse types are not clear and most Medieval warhorses tended to be 15 hands at most (see Part Four and Five of the Dorne series for my discussions there) (Ibid., 160-161). Since a knight or man-at-arms could be expected to have 2 or even 3 horses, this allowed even those more heavily armoured men-at-arms to partake as coureurs, and even kings or high ranking nobles partook in scouting with their coureurs, such as Richard the Lionheart and Joan of Arc (Ibid., 155-156). Yet despite the horsemen available to both sides and their potential to effect events away from the battlefield, it is in battle that we get our only real case of cavalry decisively affecting the campaign.

When it comes to the actions of the 'Winter wolves' at 'the Fish Feed,' part of the issue we have is that the details of the attacks are minimal, aside from being told that they begged to have the honour of leading the attack and charged five times into the Lannister spears. Based on our account of Roddy the Ruin's charge at 1st Tumbleton, the 'Winter wolves' seem to have helms, shields, and mail armour along with their eclectic mix of weapons we listed earlier, while the 'Butcher's Ball' contrasts the 'Winter wolves' "shaggy northern horses" with the "armoured destriers" of the Riverlands knights. We don't know where on the front of the Westerlands army the 'Winter wolves' made their attacks, anymore than we know where the Westerlands cavalry and archers were in this battle, but comparing what we do know about their tactics and equipment with actual Medieval cavalry makes it clear that their implied success against the Westerlands army should not have been possible.

Starting with their tactics and general employment, if we are to believe that the whole of the 2000 'Winter wolves' charged the Lannister spears, then this is far too many men involved for their own good. As Michael Harbinson demonstrates, success in a cavalry charge was not necessarily dependent on having large numbers:

At Poitiers (1356), Eustance de Ribemont considered 300 armored horsemen were sufficient to deal with the English archers. At La Gravelle (1423), the English were routed by 140 lances, and in the following year at Verneuil, 400 armored Lombards penetrated the whole English line. At Vivoin (1432), a charge by 80–100 lances destroyed a significantly larger, but disorganized English force; while at Gerberoy (1435), the English were defeated in detail by around 60 horsemen. Lastly, at Formigny (1450), Richemont achieved success with 200–240 lances. (Harbinson, "The Lance," 171-172)

These engagements featured the lance as the main weapon, but the 10th Century Praecepta Militaria of Nikephoros II Phokas records Byzantine Kataphraktoi tactics for breaking through the enemy's ranks using mace and sword-armed cavalrymen. It recommends forming a wedge 10-20 ranks across at the front and comprised of 384-504 men in total, 80-150 of whom were to be horse archers in the rear ranks who would fire on the enemy as the formation advanced (Eric McGeer, Sowing the Dragon's Teeth: Byzantine Warfare in the Tenth Century, 35-37). The charge was to be delivered at a trot with the aim of smashing through the shields and spears of the enemy front ranks and breaking through to attack their commander, with light cavalry vanguards or prokoursatores moving on the formation's flanks to support them with missiles (Ibid., 39-42).

The most important factor to successfully executing a cavalry charge was maintaining the momentum and order of the units involved, so as to strike with speed en masse when the time arrived to deliver the charge. Collisions between tightly packed horses would cause disorder which would in turn reduce the pace of the advance and leave riders and mounts vulnerable to enemy missiles, causing the formation to dissipate as men fells out of the ranks. As 19th Century British cavalryman Louis Edward Nolan put it in 1854:

A charge, even on good ground, is seldom executed by the whole line at once; the enemy is reached in succession by different points in the line more advanced than others. It is therefore of the greatest consequence that those detachments which reach the enemy first shall be compact, and go at him as one man, to burst through. It is easily understood that with fifty men this can be done; but it becomes almost an impossibility with one hundred and fifty or two hundred. (Harbinson, "The Lance," 159)

Although the French lance charges which Harbinson lists above were from battles which had nowhere near the number of troops involved on either side of 'the Fish Feed' save Poitiers and Verneuil, nor were the English in any of these battles surrounded on all sides as the Westerlands army was, arranging the 'Winter wolves' into more manageable units for their charge would have been vastly more effective than however they seem to have been employed. This would also have permitted multiple charges simultaneously or in quick succession, although it's also worth noting that the Blacks may have been better off engaging the Westerlands army on the march rather than at the God's Eye where it's rear would be covered by the lakeshore.

viii. "I wanna be in the cavalry, but I won't ride home no more."

The equipment of the 'Winter wolves' and their mounts also leaves much to be desired, starting with their 'shaggy northern horses' who seem to have no protection whatsoever. The contrast between the northern horses and the armoured destriers of the Riverlands knights clearly indicates that the 'Winter wolves' brought no barding, i.e. horse armour, for their steeds, and this is a serious problem. Barding for warhorses has been used for centuries, with Xenophon recommending that a cavalry horse should have "a frontlet, breastplate and thigh pieces and its belly, the weakest part, should be protected with quilted material," in the early 4th Century BC (Ibid., 188). The Praecepta recommended barding the horses of the Kataphraktoi "so that nothing of the horses body appears except its legs and nostrils," the legs below the knees and the underbelly being left unarmoured while the barding itself was to be made from pieces of felt or boiled leather that were glued or stitched together, with bison hide also being recommended (McGeer, Dragon's Teeth, 37). By the time of the Hundred Years War, barding included head and neck armour (shaffron, crinet), fore and hind quarters armour (peytral, cruppers), and side armour (flanchards) with gambeson-like padding worn beneath the armour and a cloth covering or caparison sometimes worn over top (Harbinson, "The Lance," 189).

Barding was essential for protecting horses from projectiles and the blows of weapons and collisions on the battlefield, but it was generally not donned unless battle or combat was otherwise imminent, being carried separately while on the march. In battles such as Agincourt (1415), while the less well armoured horses of the valets and other auxiliaries often suffered from archery, the well armoured horses of the men-at-arms were largely unscathed, though prolonged exposure to the blunt force trauma of the English arrows had a negative effect on their willingness to charge (Ibid., 190-194). It was especially helpful when the charge was delivered or in the melee that would follow, as demonstrated during the Ghent War (1449-1453) when Burgundian knight Jacques de Lalaing was rescued from battle by a valet whose horse broke through the Ghentish pikes with it's peytral (Harbinson, Coureurs, 162). The lack of barding for the nothern horses places the 'Winter wolves' at a serious disadvantage, as their mounts possess no protection against the Westerlands archers or the weaponry of their men-at-arms and cavalry. This creates a problem for the narrative since the 'shaggy northern horses' are mentioned at the 'Butcher's Ball' and were presumably ridden at 1st Tumbleton, implying that the 'Winter wolves' somehow still had horses after the horrific losses in men they suffered at 'the Fish Feed' even though this is extremely unlikely.

The riders themselves are similarly poorly equipped for the kind of attacks they are making, as among the list of weapons F&B gives us at the 'Butcher's Ball' wielded by Dustin's men, one is conspicuously missing: the lance. We know from Dunk's Trial of Seven in The Hedge Knight that lances in Westeros come in two forms, 'war lances' and 'tourney lances;' the latter being 12 feet long and hollow while the former are made from 8 feet of solid ash and tipped with steel, with tourney lances being designed to break for safety reasons, although Stannis' knights are said to be armed with 12 foot lances in Davos III of ACOK. Historically, lances were about 10 feet long by the beginning of the Hundred Years War and had grown to 16 feet by the end according to J.F. Finó. As for how they were constructed and used, I strongly recommend Alan William's and co.'s "Experimental Investigation of Late Medieval Comat with the Couched Lance" and Michael S. Curl's "Late Medieval Lance Use," as they do an excellent job of demonstrating why the lance was so effective when couched and how its use evolved in war and jousting.

When it comes to jousting and the use of the lance in war, Westeros seems to be stuck in the early days of jousting, i.e. the 12th or 13th centuries when compared to the equipment and technology available by the time of the Hundred Years War. Westerosi lances are noticeably shorter than those of the 14th or 15th centuries, and shields are used primarily for protection with no indication that notches are added to help support the lance and impart greater force. This also means that Westeros lacks two incredibly important devices, the arrêt de lance or grapper and the arrêt de cuirasse, the former being a leather strap placed in front of the hand grip to prevent the lance being pushed backward on impact while the latter was a metal hook attached to the side of the cuirass to further stabilize the lance and dissipate the recoil throughout the armour and torso to increase the energy of the impact (Harbinson, "The Lance," 143-144). Williams' experiments showed that without the the arrêt de cuirasse the energy imparted by the lance varied from just under 100 joules to just below 200, with 100 joules being possible even without a saddle, but the arrêt allowed 200 or more joules to be imparted regularly (Williams, "Experimental Investigation," 7-8).

These differences in equipment mean that lance strikes by Westerosi cavalry should in theory be less powerful, at least consistently, than was achievable in our own history. Nonetheless, the lance would be the best option for a cavalry charge due to its greater reach and potential to kill or wound through armour when couched. Utilizing the lance, small, more manageable units of experienced men such as the 'lances' of Charles VII's compagnies d'ordonnance in the latter part of the Hundred Years War, were capable of penetrating and breaking-up formations of infantry and cavalry (Harbinson, "The Lance," 196-197). Nor did a charge have to be be a frontal attack, as attacking from an angle or changing direction mid-charge (called "coasting" by the French) could allow units to find openings, attack a flank, or strike from where enemy polearms would not have a good angle to strike rider or horse (Ibid., 175-176). The issue with the 'Winter wolves' is that their weapons have very limited reach on account of not being lances and must be wielded with one hand in order to hold their shield; it's extremely unlikely they could get the first strike on the Westerlands infantry during their charge while the one-armed blows of their weapons would be unlikely to penetrate or otherwise defeat armour unless delivered using the momentum of their mounts. The charges of the 'Winter wolves' could not have ended in any other way than complete failure; on the other hand, if we're to believe the entire Westerlands host was at the Lakeshore when Lefford first encountered the Blacks and assuming his mounted knights had lances, Pate of Longleaf and his stragglers and reinforcements moving up to their rear should have been a prime target for the Westerlands horse to ride over and scatter, as they would have had to take up formation immediately off the march to have any chance of surviving a charge.

I'm going to keep the 'fix-its' fairly brief is with Part Two, since the section on strategy will cover more of how the actions of the armies might have been written better. Nonetheless, the issues with mobilization could be fixed by being more consistent in their timing or having the harvest affect everyone across the board. F&B is too late to be introducing wages for soldiers in Westerosi militaries, but including them from the start of ASOIAF would have made it easier to overlook the issue of army sizes and service length. I want to thank you, dear reader, for making it through this one from start to finish; I hope you found it informative and enjoyable! We'll continue our analysis of Westerosi militaries next time with Part Four: Naval Warfare in the Dance!

[rooshroomsims]

⚠ Dead by Daylight Legacy Challenge ☠︎︎

Dead by Daylight Legacy Challenge: Survivor Edition

General Rules:

Complete all goals for each Survivor before moving to the next generation.

You obviously don't have to name your sims after the characters or play AS the characters, these are just the themes for each gen! But you can if you'd like to!

You may move on once all goals are met, or maintain them until the next heir becomes a Young Adult.

Each heir must embody the traits and roles of their corresponding Survivor, but there’s room for interpretation.

Heirs can pursue careers or hobbies that fit their Survivor's lore or personality.

Generation 1: Sable – The Survivor

Sable is resilient, resourceful, and thrives under pressure. They are the foundation of the legacy, with a natural ability to endure tough situations.

Aesthetic Colors: Dark Gray, Forest Green Traits: Brave, Handy, Athletic, Loner Careers: Firefighter, Self-Employed Inventor, Military

Goals:

Master the Handiness and Athletic skills to represent adaptability and endurance.

Build a small, rugged home as a "safe haven," then expand it as the legacy grows.

Save at least one Sim from a fire or dangerous situation (using the Firefighter career or another rescue-related event).

Form close friendships with 3 other Sims to symbolize a Survivor's group.

Have one "trial" moment: survive a house fire, robbery, or other in-game disaster.

Generation 2: Claudette – The Botanist

Claudette is empathetic and intelligent, with a passion for healing and nature.

Aesthetic Colors: Deep Green, Yellow Traits: Loves the Outdoors, Green Thumb, Genius, Nurturing Careers: Gardener, Scientist, Self-Employed Herbalist

Goals:

Master the Gardening and Science skills.

Create a large, lush garden and rely on it for most of the household’s food.

Befriend 5 Sims and offer them "help" by improving their lives (gift plants, teach skills, etc.).

Marry a Sim who shares her passion for nature or science.

Generation 3: Dwight – The Leader

Dwight starts as an underdog but grows into a capable leader.

Aesthetic Colors: Blue, White Traits: Coward, Charismatic, Workaholic, Friendly Careers: Business, Politician, Education

Goals:

Start at the bottom of a career and rise to the top (symbolizing Dwight’s leadership growth).

Build strong relationships with coworkers or group members.

Host a gathering or party every week to maintain connections.

Help one Sim improve their life significantly (e.g., turn an enemy into a friend or boost their career).

Generation 4: Meg – The Athlete

Meg is driven, fearless, and thrives in high-pressure environments.

Aesthetic Colors: Red, Black Traits: Athletic, Brave, Hot-Headed, Daredevil Careers: Athlete, Military, Acrobat

Goals:

Master the Athletic skill and win at least 5 athletic competitions (e.g., sports games or sparring matches).

Travel to a new world (representing Meg’s running background).

Woohoo in 3 unique locations to symbolize her daring personality.

Have only one child, whom Meg raises with strict discipline and encouragement.

Generation 5: Kate – The Free Spirit

Kate is an artist with a deep love for music, nature, and life.

Aesthetic Colors: Orange, Turquoise Traits: Artistic, Virtuoso, Loves the Outdoors, Charismatic Careers: Singer, Guitarist, Painter

Goals:

Master the Guitar and Painting skills.

Perform music for tips in public spaces and build a fanbase.

Live on a large lot surrounded by nature (with minimal electronics).

Adopt a stray animal as a companion.

Generation 6: Feng – The Gamer

Feng is competitive and strategic, always planning her next move.

Aesthetic Colors: Neon Purple, Black Traits: Genius, Ambitious, Technophile, Rebellious Careers: Video Game Developer, Professional Gamer, Hacker

Goals:

Master the Logic and Video Gaming skills.

Win at least 3 gaming competitions.

Befriend a Sim from each social group (Nerd, Rebel, Jock).

Never marry, but have one child via a close friend or a one-time relationship.

Generation 7: Mikaela – The Clairvoyant

Mikaela is creative and mystical, with a deep connection to storytelling and the supernatural.

Aesthetic Colors: Teal, Lavender Traits: Supernatural Fan, Bookworm, Artistic, Good Careers: Fortune Teller, Writer, Alchemist

Goals:

Master the Writing and Alchemy skills.

Write 3 best-selling novels, with at least one in the Mystery or Fantasy genre.

Own and frequently use a crystal ball (Fortune Teller career or just for roleplay).

Befriend at least 3 Supernatural Sims (e.g., witches, fairies, or vampires).

Host a “spooky gathering” (a costume or themed party) once per generation.

Protect and support other Sims by creating and gifting elixirs.

PLEASE TAG ME IF YOU DO THIS CHALLENGE I WOULD LOVEEEE TO SEE IT! (also pls dont judge this IS a work in progress!)

[greeniegirl23]

Isn't It.. Lovely? (Chapter 3#)

One month.

You had one month to make the biggest decision you'd ever make in your life. Part of you wondered why you didn't tell Alastor to have a field day with your Father's corpse, until you remembered that the other part of you still loved and cared for him.

He was still your Dad and once upon a time he was a very good Dad. Your parents were practically a power couple when your Mom was alive, after her death, depression fell on him like a bag of bricks. Leading him to find feeling again in glasses of wine and bottles of hard liquor.

Everyday you pondered on this, wondering if something would finally push you over the edge. If you'd snap and take revenge for yourself.

You didn't like having those thoughts. Yes, the idea of liberty made you feel elated but at the cost of the last family member you had? It was conflicting to say the least.

All that worrying came to a halt once Alastor began to solidify his place in your life.

Every night at 9pm sharp, when you were dressed for bed and your despicable abuser was asleep. Alastor used his powers to turn your radio into your own personal hotline. He was ever so happy to hear from you, happiest when he saw nor heard any traces of harm inflicted on you that day.

He soon found out that you were a curious one and a terrible over-sharer. It was obvious you never really had friends before and if you did, they left you behind long ago. You were as innocent and pure as the driven snow. Always asking questions about him, about Hell, and what it was like back when he was on Earth.

You loved when he told you more about his life. It was like he was reading you your own personal bedtime stories. Tales of speakeasies and the depression, parties that lasted from dusk to dawn, and of course, all of the completely justified crimes he committed before his demise.

As payment for his stories, you told him about your own and caught him up on modern day issues. He seemed especially interested in World War I, disappointed that he died a few years shy of when it started. You told him about your health science classes, your school, and he even became a good study buddy to help you out with your tests.

“Alright darling, last question.” He stated, a drum roll playing in the background. “If your patient performs a forward lunge, which plane of the body are they moving in?”

You chewed on the end of your pencil. “..Coronal?”

A bell dinging made you smile. “Correct! Well done darling, but I'd like for you to work on your confidence when you answer. No one wants a doctor that's unsure of what they're doing.”

“Yeah..I just get so unsure sometimes. I think I'm more scared of being wrong than being right.”

He chuckled. “Do not fret my dear! I've been doing these little pop quizzes with you long enough to know you have a sharp mind. Confidence is a tool that will solidify your place in the career you plan to pursue, so don't be afraid to utilize it more.” His voice was so kind and mentoirish. It felt like he was giving you life lessons almost every time he talked.

On one hand that made you embarrassed. Like these were things you should have already known but you didn't, but you decided to give yourself some grace. Life was different for you than everyone else, so obviously there would be some things you didn't experience to gain knowledge from.

You placed your pencil down and sat cross legged in your chair. Not being the type of person who could sit still, nor do things normally. “Is that how you become a radio host? Because you were super confident?”

There was a pause. “Well, it was something that helped. Being a professional at what I do required more than just believing in myself. Most people think it's easy, but it has its challenges. For example, I used to rehearse my script in the mirror to stop myself from unconsciously going ‘umm’ every 10-30 seconds. It also aided in preventing myself from fumbling my words.”

“That sounds like solid advice.” You smiled. “I should start keeping a journal when you're around and call it ‘Life Lessons As Taught By The Radio Demon.’”

A loud cackling broke out over the radio. “Ah, so the girl does have a sense of humor. A good one at that!” He said proudly. “And here I thought you were all doom and gloom.”

“Hey! I'll have you know staying positive at all times can be very exhausting.” You huffed, placing your hands on your hips in a pouty attitude. “It's really hard to smile when it feels like the world is against you...”

There was a stagnant silence in the air as you turned your head to gaze out the window, watching the rain drizzle from the grey sky. It was your favorite weather, even more so because of the friend it allowed you to find.

Alastor pondered over your words before he took a deep breath. “That leads to a question that I've been meaning to ask you for some time now. It's a rather sensitive one so if you'd prefer not to answer, I would understand.”

Giving the plushie your attention, Alastor's tone turned concerned as he asked. “I can’t help but wonder, Darling, where is your mother..?”

Without missing a beat, you replied. “Oh, my Dad murdered her.”

A sharp microphone screech omitted from the radio. It was safe to say he most definitely was not expecting that..

Not because he can't see your degenerate of a guardian doing something of the sort, he was actually more curious as to how someone as sloppy as your Dad could get away with something like that. No. What got him was even though you were saying words that no child should ever say until they're well into adulthood, you smiled. A soft one, filled with unspeakable pain and a lust for something you could not yet gain.

You could feel him hesitating to ask you some more questions on the topic, so you decided that you could quickly give him your life story. “Whenever anyone asks about it, I always tell them that she passed from cancer but, that's not true..”

Alastor’s signal chirped in curiosity, but he made sure to sound sympathetic. “What happened?..”

You chuckled a bitter melody.

“She was born a diabetic and I was around twelve.. Everyday my Mom took her medicine, the diabetes is actually what led her to becoming a doctor in the first place. Every morning my Dad would make her coffee, as a way of telling her he loved her. I snuck a few sips before only to find out she made it black, when she caught me she told me “Mommy can't have sugar…”

When I turned fourteen, they started arguing. A lot. I can remember hearing them sometimes. Mom threatened to leave him because he was starting to grow a gambling issue and she was tired of taking the brunt of most of the bills. He promised to change and that's when everything started to go downhill.. Weeks went by, she just started getting sicker and sicker seemingly out of nowhere. Still had her morning coffee though. I'd make it for her sometimes and she reminded me “Mommy can't have sugar.” Hardly able to do anything for herself, much less take her medicine. Of course he said he'd do it, he promised me he did when he took me to school..He still made her coffee, before he went to work and after she had been made bed bound..I thought it was a lie, that it wasn't true until I realized that she died that morning with a cup of coffee in her hand..”

A sour laugh left your lips, as you recalled that day you came home from school and found her lying there with blood on the pillow, blood that she had been coughing up for almost a month.

“That bastard was poisoning her with fucking sugar… Everyday he was putting a little bit in her morning coffee and not giving her the insulin she needed. She was a Type 1 diabetic and he did all of it for some fuckin insurance money..” You sighed, running a hand through your hair. Before yanking it in frustration and punching your fist through the nearest wall, your face was blank and unmoving for a second not even flinching as you removed your bruised fist from the drywall. “Mama couldn't have sugar..”

Alastor listened as you explained your mother's demise. His distaste for your father grew more and more as he recalled memories of his own childhood. He'd never tell you to your face, but he could see parts of himself in you from his younger years, if lead in the proper manner, you could become quite the promising killer.

He shook his head. Not the best thoughts to be having right now, not while you're on the edge of a mental breakdown.

“I..Would be lying to you if I said I knew what to tell you about such an awful situation..” He stated hesitantly. “But I can say that I am sorry, that you had to deal with something like this so early in life.”

“Don't be sorry, there's nothing to be done about it…She's gone now and I have to get away from him.” You declared, looking at your now bruised hand. “Now you understand why I made that wish. On any day, at any time, for any reason, that man could decide to kill me. To kill his own daughter in cold blood..”

Alastor hummed. “If you know this, then let me help you." He demanded. "I cannot sit idly by forever my dear, these links to your world are only good for short times to prevent other demons from causing other problems. No one understands the severity of this situation more than you. I would love to help you exact revenge on that putrid sack of skin but you must choose before it is too late and I am no longer around..

You sat in silence as Alastor did his best to help you come to a decision. As much as you hated being rushed, you couldn't deny that he was correct. But the decision was hard, harder than you thought it would be considering the fact that you still loved your father and the man he used to be…

All these thoughts ran through your head on a daily basis, everytime they made you wanna curl up and cry. Snatching up the plush doll, you gave it a good squeeze and hid your face in your knees, wishing that your Mom was still around.

The Radio Demon pursed his lips in thought, he wasn't good with others emotions unless he could feed off of the entertainment from it, much less comforting them. There was nothing entertaining about this, about you being sad. He didn't like it for a reason he couldn't explain, perhaps because you were so bubbly in the beginning?

You weren't trying to do anything miraculous, you just wanted to live your life in peace and possibly get justice for your mother. That was something he could understand. He wouldn't mind completely decimating your Dad, truly he wouldn't! It'd be on the house for you, truly you're the most pitiful soul he's come across in a long while.

He supposed he could pull a few quick strings to make you feel better in the moment. To bring back that smile of yours, full of wonder and a desire for life.

As you continued to seek shelter in your knees, you felt a gentle touch caress the top of your head, sharp claws softly scraping your scalp in an attempt to comfort you.

Wait..

WHAT?!

Quickly yet carefully, you snapped your head up to see none other than The Radio Demon crouched down right in front of you. His hand still rested on the crown of the head as you both stared at each other for a moment.

“I'm sorry.. am I dreaming?” You blurted out.

Alastor smiled, laughing in a low tone at your completely gobsmacked expression. “Fortunately for you, the answer is no my dear. As a gentleman, it'd be rude of me not to at least attempt to help a lady in emotional distress.”

You were still dazed and confused about him being here, much less t o u c h i n g you!! “Ida..I-- I didn't know you could-”

“Travel through the radio? It is quite possible but I only do so on rare occasions since it requires a fair bit of my power that cannot be overexerted in one day.”

Standing up to his full height, you realized how tall he was and thanked God that the ceiling was high enough for his antlers not to scrape. Crawling out of your chair, you immediately felt like an ant compared to him, the top of your head barely came to his collarbone.

“Holy crap you're tall." You blurted again. "I mean, I knew that you were tall but, you're really, really tall..”

Smirking with pride, he twirled his cane expertly like the show off you knew and loved. “7”0 exactly my dear, a foot taller than I was when I was a mortal! Though I suppose that was the universes funny way of punishing me for my crimes, I've bumped my forehead on door frames a good 50 times in both life and death!”

As you examined his real life appearance, you couldn't help but laugh. “Yeah well, the heels don't help.” You pointed to his shoes.

He huffed in feigned offense. “They are not heels, darling they are tap dancing shoes and it was quite common for them to have a bit of height back in my day.”

“Okay, Fred Astare.” You snorted as he settled himself on the side of your bed as you marveled at the fact that he was still taller than you even while sitting down. “And here I was preparing to offer you a dance in hopes of lifting your spirits, only for you to insult my tastes in fashion.” He hmphed, crossing his arms and legs while sticking up his pointy nose towards you.

In a daring moment, you sat right next to him crissed crossed, careful not to to touch him while he continued to play offended. “C’mon Al, don't be so huffy. I didn't mean anything by it.”

“ ‘Al’ huh?” He hummed. “Sounds like someone is getting rather familiar.”

“Hey, you call me 'Darling' and 'Dear' so often I think that it's only fair that I call you 'Al' on occasions.”

“I suppose you have a point. Nevertheless, I came here to try and boost your spirits, you seem to be doing better so if you wish to be bratty I can just go back home..” He teased with an evil grin.

“Wait!” You said just a bit too loudly. “Would you like to play a game with me? Ya know, before you go..”

Alastor raised an eyebrow in curiosity as he parted his lips to deny your offer, until you pulled out the big guns and gave him your best puppy girl eyes. A chill went down his spine from your usage of such cheap tactics, remembering his years as a lad and doing the exact same thing when he wanted something desperately from his dear mother.

“Okay! Okay!” He said, placing his hands up in surrender. “I shall subject myself to whatever game this is for one round, as long as you stop making that revolting expression..”

He watched as you smiled with pure enthusiasm. Such a beautiful smile you had, it made him irritated that you didn't do it more, yet proud that he typically was the source of it sprouting in the first place. Crimson eyes followed your movements as you shuffled off the bed to grab a small deck of cards off of your shelf. A part of him hoped you heard the chuckle that left his lips while you struggled to stand on your toes to retrieve this game.

“It's called ‘Uno’ “ You explained, walking back to him with a red box in hand. “It's a pretty simple game and the rules are easy.” Dumping the cards out of the box, the two of you sat parallel with one another.

”However, this simple game has been known to end more friendships than Monopoly and Mario Kart put together. It shall truly test our bond as companions, only the strongest survive it's trials..” You spoke in a dramatic tone while shuffling the cards and placing the proper numbers out for the both of you. Once you were finished, you placed the extra cards in the middle and looked the Radio Demon square in the eye. “Are you ready?”

“Yes yes,” He replied aloofly. “There isn't any possible way this silly game could cause such a staggering amount of broken relationships. I refuse to believe it's that bad.’

You chuckled bitterly. “You beautiful unsuspecting fool.”

---------------------- ( 2 Hours Later) ---------------------

“That's against the rules!” Alastor hissed underneath his breath as you threw out a fat stack of +2 cards.

“No it's not Alastor, you said you wanted to play stacks and this is how it's played.” You muttered.

The first round between you two consisted of showing Alastor the ropes. The confident man he was, he assured you that the game was easy enough for an infant to play and win effortlessly, especially since he won the first round. You then decide to spice things up by teaching him how to play stacks. He claimed that was easy as well and you allowed him to believe this as the next round consisted of him losing, and so did the next round, and the round after that, and the round after that…

Before you knew it, two hours had gone by and Alastor was determined to beat you at least once. It had gotten so intense that he resorted to taking his tail coat off and even putting his hair up, leaving him in his tight red office shirt and hair that framed his face like the scrumdiddlyumptious being that he was. The sight of his bare arms totally didn't have you blushing up a storm behind your cards.

While he was stewing over his next move, you got to confirm a few fan theories and ogled at his appearance.

Respectfully, of course.

But, the game wasn't over yet. Alastor sat across from you, irritated and with at least eleven cards in his hand, while you had three. The air was tense as he scratched his head and finally decided to throw out a small handful of 8’s, bringing his card count down to five.

Your poker face remained unmoving as you calmly threw out a wild card. “Blue.”

A warble of interference omitted from Alastor's person as his eyes scanned his cards carefully. You were actually surprised at how the tables had turned personality wise. In the beginning, it was Alastor who was calm and collected, but every loss slowly chipped away at the pride that fueled his unwavering persona. His usual smile was now looking more forced, making his disdain obvious.

Throwing out a blue card, you threw out two on top, leaving you with one card as you stated that dreadful word. “Uno.”

With a growl, Alastor tossed out a draw +4. “Red.” He stated blandly. A quick glance at the clock let him know he was late for a meeting with Charlie, but formalities be damned because he was going to win this game.

You took your cards quickly and deemed your hand an amazing one. He replied by tossing out a 2 and leaving three cards left. Victory was close and he swore that once he won he would ‘kindly’ rub it in your face.

But, just as you had been doing for these past five rounds, you had an ace up your sleeve. You tossed out the red ‘Skip’ card, costing Alastor a vital turn that could have turned the tables, only to metaphorically slap him in the face by cheering “Uno!” and dropping your final cards in the middle of the messy deck.

He suppressed a scream of irritation as you did your little victory dance, glaring at you both with gaiety and pure spite. He stood up and snapped his coat back on and his hair back down, he pinched your cheek just a little too hard. “That's enough cutting a rug darling, especially for someone that has two left feet such as yourself.”

“Stop trying to cease my dancing, I must wiggle out my joy.”

With a roll of his eyes, he tuned the radio on to his station to prepare to go back home. “Well you can dance until your heart's content, unfortunately I have to return back home to handle some business.”

Immediately your uncoordinated movements stopped, as you frowned. “Oh, right..”

Part of him felt bad. Not that he would tell you outright, but he didn't exactly want to leave you behind either. The thoughts of what your father could do unannounced made him concerned for your safety, but there wasn't anything he could do. Instead, he smiled genuinely and lifted your gaze up with his finger.

“Chin up, dearest. I shall check on you tomorrow as always and don't forget, you still need to make up your mind about what you want from the options presented to you.”

You didn't reply verbally, but you did nod your head sadly which would have to be enough for now. As he prepared to walk off, he was suddenly stopped by a tight embrace from behind. Anyone else who would have ever dared to think of such a thing would have been a splatter on the wall and he was just about to give you a kind yet serious talk about personal space until he felt something wet soaking through his clothes.

“..Thank you.” You mumbled through the fabric. Inhaling his scent as you sniffled and tried to calm down, honestly you were surprised he didn't push you off.

As mentioned before, emotions were not Alastor's think nor was physical affection. However in this moment, with you crying lightly and hugging him as if he were your only hope of survival, he decided that maybe, just this once, he would let it slide.

For his comfort, you didn't allow the hug to last longer than a minute. Once you pulled away you were embarrassed to say the least and prepared for him to possibly scold or never talk to you again. But, to your surprise, he simply pat your head and whispered, “Sleep tight, cher.”and was gone with a blink of your eyes.

To say you were sad was an understatement, but you knew that he'd be back tomorrow like he was everyday. The idea of talking to him tomorrow. To hear his voice in real time, talking to you and to offer comfort because he actually cared made your heart pound in your chest. As much as you didn't want to think this way, you couldn't help it. He seemed so concerned about you, in a way that no one else has until now.

You did your best to still your beating heart as you began to clean up your fun from earlier, only to find your cards were missing. You looked everywhere and still couldn't find them, ultimately you claimed into bed and decided that maybe Alastor snapped them somewhere you'd never find so that he wouldn't have to loose, I mean, play anymore.

Meanwhile…

“Alastor you're late!” Vaggie snapped as he came waltzing down the stairs, following her to where the rest of the group sat waiting.

“I am aware Vagatha, I was busy doing something else.” He replied calmly, only to make the fallen angel more irritated. “Whatever, I hope you brought something because it's your turn for a group activity today..”

“But of course! How could I forget?” He smiled impishly, before pulling out a red box with a familiar word on it. Once with the rest of the residents, Alastor clapped his hands together and pulled out a chalkboard seemingly out of nowhere.

“For today's activity being hosted by yours truly, we shall all be playing a game suited for bonding and the strengthening of relationships,” He beamed, writing out the title of the game in big letters for everyone to see.

“The name of the game is...UNO!"

------------------------------------------------------------

(Thank you for coming back for Chapter 3# of this story! I hope you stick around for the next one because I plan to make it the last. I've been so busy with life and stuff, it's kinda hard to find time or motivation to write, but I do want this to come to a close while still making room for a bit of fun between Al and the Reader.

For those who asked me to make a tag list, I'm not entirely sure how to 😅. Though I will try to figure it out for the next time I write a short story. Don't forget to leave your opinions behind in the comments and thank you for all the love you guys give me, it means a lot 💜

Stay Tuned! :D

Taglist: @twistedvanillacoffee @diffidentphantom @boldlyenchantingfox22

[dandelionjack]

an essay about Rogue, The Chimes of Midnight, and how i believe all this ties in to the overarching themes of the series EVEN IF the inside-a-tv-show theory proves untrue

“Rogue” named himself after a stock character. he is the archetypal Handsome Rogue because there has to be a Handsome Rogue role in a period drama story set in Austenesque Regency England.

it’s all theatre — smoke and mirrors. just like the war waged against imaginary foes in boom (because there needs to be an Enemy in a wartime story) was theatre; the creation of the Bogeyman in space babies (because there needs to be a Scary Monster in a children’s bedtime story) was theatre; The Woman following Ruby in 73 yards (because there needs to be a Ghost in a folk horror story) was theatre. dot and bubble less so, but it’s wise to note — the dots created the slugs after all. they invented the slugs so that there would be a tangible Creature for the finetimers (and the Doctor) to fear, rather than simply being betrayed by their own technology. because that’s exactly what the false, harmful narratives colonialists tell themselves — stories of taming and conquering a wild Mother Nature and her ferocious beasts — have trained them to expect from the world. the dots were telling a story too, or rather putting on a play.

the penultimate episode of any doctor who series, if not always leading directly into the two-parter finale, will typically begin to tie up loose narrative strands that have stretched across the entire season. at a first impression rogue doesn’t seem to be doing that. but then you take a closer look at the antagonists: creatures that play a role for fun without the slightest regard for those around them. lethal LARPers. cosplayers out to kill. to put it pretentiously, a hyper-realistic theatre of cruelty.

to nobody’s surprise, i’m bringing up my favourite eighth doctor audio drama — the chimes of midnight. edward grove gives every person trapped in the time loop a designated role: the chauffeur, the doctor-detective, the plucky young lady of the house, the lady’s maid, the scullery girl, the housekeeper. they keep playing these roles, over and over, until they begin to forget their original identity, until the part they’re playing takes over their entire sense of self. the servants keep dying over and over because they cannot transcend their roles, because they believe themselves to be “nothing but a scullery maid”. they are reduced to the parts they play in the narrative until they become nothing outside of it, until they become confined to a single location.

the chimes of midnight is set in Edwardian-era England, a time of restrictive, prescriptive class, status and social roles which defined a person’s life and career trajectory — this strict delineation is driven to its logical conclusion and deconstructed under the unnatural conditions of Edward Grove. similarly, rogue is set in a Regency-era mansion — another historical period defined in the popular imagination by its complicated social rules, elegant courtship dynamics, strict class barriers, gossip and elitism. these two doctor who stories don’t have any intentional watsonian connection, but they are deeply linked on a thematic level.

high society is forced theatre. a 24/7 LARP. play your part, put on your costume, don’t interrupt the performance. the audience is waiting. they’re oh so hungry for tragedy.

the biggest part of them all, the most sought-after role, of course, is The Doctor. a standard to live up to. a name to wear like a banner, a pledge, a promise. he has to be like this because this is what he’s like.

the Scullery Maid scrubs the kitchen floor. The Detective searches for clues. the Chauffeur starts up his car. the Duchess hosts a glittering soirée. the Rake hides a secret fling with the Wallflower. the Rogue breaks hearts and broods on the balcony.

and the Doctor? the Doctor dances. “onwards and upwards”. forever in perpetual motion, spinning and spinning and spinning across the stars. never pausing to breathe. never stopping.

p.s.: so, pray tell, what is Ruby Sunday in all this? “The Companion”, of course. smart, funny, sassy, quick-witted, brave, cheeky, curious, self-sacrificial. she almost feels generic because she’s meant to be. she wasn’t born. she was written. an essential part of the story too. circling the Doctor like a satellite forever.

[seuonji]

night shift ★彡 xu minghao

xu minghao x yn ln

彡when yn’s juniors finds trouble with some fellow college mates, yn goes through mountains just to get them justice, even if it means needing to infiltrate and make friends with the most intimidating clique on campus.

masterlist

#14 white tee! | # 15 lucky charm! | #16 …!

notes: there’s a writing part under the cut! (1.6k words)

last post before the new years!!! so excited for next year! hope you guys enjoy this one<3 thanks for keeping up, love you!

soonyoung had driven to your place and you were notified they were there as jun called you. you silently left the house not wanting to be questioned by thing 1 (cheol) and thing 2 (han) questioning your whereabouts.

you eventually got to the venue of the competition. it was dark and the dim lights glimmered over your face.

“minghao’s already here?” you asked as the three of you walked up the stairs. “yeah, he should be in getting ready in the back or something, let’s head to the stage and find a spot!!” soonyoung beamed.

+

it was a long wait, tons of dancers came out and it was like nothing you’ve experienced before. it was only now you realised you have been too cooped up in your room and taking your role as vice too seriously.

and soon, the man of honour showed up.

“now we have xu minghao, winner of many battles before, let’s give him a round of applause!!” the host cheered out. everyone was loud that even with soonyoungs astronomical voice, it seemed like minghao didn’t notice you guys there.

suddenly jun bent to your ears, “look, minghao’s looking around.”

you turned to him and looked as if you have a question mark above your head.

“he’s checking and wondering if anyone he knows came to see him, of course he’d never admit it but he’s looking,” he softly giggled.

you let out a chuckle, that sounds so minghao. you slowly reverted your attention to the stage and minghao got into his starting positions.

you didn’t expect to be so in awe the next few minutes.

-

“MINGHAOO!!”

“HAOO!” jun and soonyoung continuously chanted.

as his performance came to an end, he seemed like he could finally hear since he finally faced the direction of where the noise was coming from. the area where you, soonyoung and jun stood. and what a face he made when he saw you.

as he thanked the host and jumped off the stage, he immediately made his way to you guys.

“yn?” he said dumbfounded.

“minghao! you did amazing!!” you rubbed his shoulder and commended him.

he felt his ears get warm and he’d never been so dumbfounded before. usually it was only soonyoung and jun that came to these things, along with mingyu and seokmin but most of the time they were too busy but he was thankful for any efforts they put in.

“who’s at work?” he asked totally puzzled.

“seokmin,” jun sternly said it was a bit scary.

minghao just squinted his eyes, further feeling puzzled but the adrenaline was so high he just wanted to let off some steam.

“uh, let’s get drinks?” minghao blurted out and looked at everyone.

+

as college students, it would be understandable to drink alcohol. but, with the vice president around, they were all pretty wary. so here you were, huddled around a small table, drinking juice.

“you never told me it was a competition. let alone, you never told me you were performing!” you whined.

“i didn’t think you’d be interested!” he fought back.

“he’ll forever be like that yn, you need to pry things out of him,” soonyoung sighed and his tiredness with minghao showed as he laid his chin on his hand.

minghao quietly hid his face behind his drink but all of a sudden, the rooms lights dimmed a bit more, catching everyone’s attention.

“well now begin the announcement for this months’ dance battle winners!” the host walked on stage and the cheers came in waves.

as always, the tension had to be built and announcements were taking long. as time passed, soonyoung and jun were holding hands and hitting each other as suspension rose.

“in third place, kina!”

your eyes bounced around the room and you happened to catch a glimpse of minghao’s hands in a fist. he was anticipating.

“in second place, jinni!”

oh, there was a chance for minghao to be first place.

the winners were getting on stage and you poked minghao and pointed to he stage, teasing him telling him he’d be next. he slowly leaned closer to you and whispered, “the competition this month was great, i don’t know if i’ll place.”

you punched his shoulder and whispered back, “you deserve it, stand up already.”

he diddled with your hands stopping you from pulling him up and then you whispered again, “if you win it’s because i’m your lucky charm.”

his response to your words was unexpected, you don’t think you’ve ever seen him laugh so loud.

and amidst your banter, the announcer spoke again, “and in first place, minghao!”

your whole group stood up and even the table almost fell making you all laugh.

just before he went on stage he whispered once again to you, “maybe you are my lucky charm.”

and you don’t know what influenced him, perhaps everything that night was going so well but he went in for a hug with you. just a simple hug.

+

the ride home was like a victory experience. soonyoung and jun sat in the front and soonyoung hung the medal on the rear view mirror as if he won it but it was all in fair game and support to their dear youngest.

“it was really an insane performance,” you patted minghao’s shoulder as swayed as if you were drunk, you were actually just really tired.

“it’s not much,” minghao laughed and stayed humble about the situation.

“no really it was great i think it’s the best ones i’ve seen,” soonyoung popped into the conversation, looking at you both from the rear view mirror.

“well i hope it was worth skipping work today,” minghao joked.

you just realised, you skipped work.

“ah shit i need to tell joshua i’m not at work.”

“you report everything you do to the president?” jun turned around and asked.

you pursed your lips as you realised not everyone knows about your living situation.

“well he’s my roommate and he offered to bring me to and from work,” you explained with a smile.

“ooh you guys are close if you’re roommates,” soonyoung bluntly replied.

“yeah they’re close,” minghao smirked to which yiu gave him a death stare.

and it was as if something clicked in jun’s head as he heard the words come out of minghao’s mouth.

after a long talk about your living situation, the hype and energy died down. soonyoung was focused on driving while aswell singing to every song on the radio. jun was playing some cat game on his phone and you and minghao were continued talking.

“so joshua knows where you are now?” he asked.

“yeah, just told him i’m not going to work today,” you simply explained but in reality havoc was being raised at home.

jeonghan was pinching the bridge of his nose complaining that you shouldn’t be taking your days at work for granted while joshua was trying his best to defend you.

“how’s it going between you two?” he asked in a mildly teasing voice, catching jun’s attention. jun was secretly listening in the front but he almost let his facade slip.

“hm? what do you mean?” you asked back without showing nervousness.

minghao just raised his brows with a smile knowing you knew what he meant.

you laughed lightly and tucked your hair behind your ear, “nothing new.”

minghao pouted his lips and nodded, he never wanted to pry but he was losing things to talk about with you it was the only think he could think of talking about but now he felt bad for bringing up anything.

but he wanted to provide some comfort, he understands the fear of rejection. so while patting your head he whispered, “it’ll be okay.”

you grinned as a response and turned your body to the front, “yeah.”

meanwhile, jun was reporting his live hearings to his fellow mate seokmin and the rest of the car ride was silent but with some chatter here and there.

+

eventually you got home and was lucky enough to avoid an argument with jeonghan.

after taking a warm bath and getting the after party smell off of you, you used your phone just before going to bed.

you let out a sigh and smile of acknowledgement of the fun you had that day and then you shut your phone and dug deeper into the space of your bed.

but suddenly, your hand itched to watch the video you filmed of minghao dancing.

play

you knew minghao was noticeable but with the spotlight on him, he was the only one you could see in this moment. and watching the way his body flowed to the music you saw how he’s powerful but there’s a sense of gentleness in every beat he moves to.

he was just as delicate on stage as he was with you. it reminds you of the way he’s cold when it comes to conversations but he’d never fail to come to your service when you’re in need.

his gaze and his words are sharp like a knife but with every meeting, every game you’ve played and with every shift, your heart grows fonder of mingha—

huh? what are these feelings? joshua’s the one you love.

+

that same night, minghao watched the replay of his performance and he watched the version you filmed. he actually never felt comfortable watching videos of him performing but he was deeply entertained by all the ‘ooo’s & ‘woah’s that could be heard in the background courtesy of your voice.

there was even an ‘oh shit’ at the end of the video by the end of it because the camera was barely pointed at him. you couldn’t focus on taking a proper video because you were that amazed.

and just before he turned the lamp on his bedside table off, he saw the medal he won today reflecting off the light.

he’s won a lot of medals in his life but today in his mind, he mentally thought, ‘thank you, lucky charm.’

lights off.

funfact: minghao thought he saw you in the crowd but he was mildly convinced he was hallucinating. he didn’t quite understand why you’d be there but he didn’t mind that yiu were.

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[xinfinityl0ve17]

STYLE MALICE MIZER

The act of "expression" is not something exclusive to a specialized field. For artists and creators involved in music if we were to put it simply, it is a means of offering hints and proposals that are deeply rooted in one’s personal sensibilities.

This series serves as a method to refine and cultivate those sensibilities in other words, it is a means of expression itself. Life itself is a style.

---------------------

Photography = Yohsuke Komatsu (印), Saori Tsuji (◇印)

Featuring MALICE MIZER

Guest = MALICE MIZER

Text by Kazumi Kanoh

Composition = Kazumi Kanoh

Photographs by Yohsuke Komatsu, Saori Tsuji

---------------------

ADDITIONAL SORROW

At first glance with their extravagant costumes and makeup, they may appear to be a theatrical troupe. At their live performance at Nippon Seinenkan in January of this year the stage was set in a medieval European aesthetic, reminiscent of a scene from a play.

The performance they delivered far exceeded the confines of a traditional rock band. With a spectacle that was breathtakingly opulent, MALICE MIZER has now drawn attention from various fields.

What do they think?

Where are they headed?

While retracing their past and present, we explore the "STYLE" that is uniquely theirs.

[ORIGIN]

Mana: "MALICE MIZER was formed in August 1992, with Kozi and me at the core. From the very beginning our concept was based on an image of medieval Europe. Nowadays we’ve started incorporating more pop elements but back then, we were fully immersed in Baroque and Gothic influences. We also incorporated a significant amount of classical music elements."

Közi: "At first there were no French influences like there are now. At that time there weren’t many bands focusing on twin guitar arrangements, so we wanted to feature guitar driven music."

Mana: "All of our songs were dark in tone."

Kami: "But even back then, we experimented a lot with unexpected elements."

Mana: "Our vocalist and drummer were different back then as well. In May 1993, Kami joined, and from that point on, we started playing more live shows. At that time, we didn’t have the money to advertise so the only way for people to learn about us was through live performances. So we decided to perform wherever we could. At that time, our concept was still very medieval Europe."

Kami: "We were already doing a lot with the stage back when I joined."

Közi: "We’d incorporate something special into our openings. We never made a typical rock band entrance."

Mana: "Back then, everyone was playing their instruments for the entire set, so the opening was the only moment we had to do something unique. But that was also the most exciting moment, so we wanted to make an impact right from the start. We started incorporating stage sets after we began doing one man shows but even before that, we tried our best to recreate our envisioned aesthetic in live houses. Before we became a one-man act we often opened for other bands during tours and even though we couldn’t build a full set we still decorated the stage. We wrapped it in vines, gathered tree branches from the forest, and placed them on stage."

Közi: "Yeah we’d wake up in the morning and start cutting branches (laughs)."

Mana: "Exactly (laughs). We also organized a series of events called "Tragic Banquet", hosted by MALICE MIZER, where bands like PENICILLIN and SIAM SHADE also performed. At the time, many band-led events were happening in Osaka and Yokohama, but we felt like someone needed to take the lead in Tokyo too so we took the initiative (laughs)."

- Fool's Mate 090

[silver-the-hedgeblog]

Team Sonic Racing had character interviews in Nintendo Dreams which can be partially read here. Here are my takeaways from Silver's answers.

When asked what he likes about his car, Silver says that his car has high performance, as if it were designed with future technology and that there were similar cars in his time(has Silver driven a car before?) which makes him suspicious of Dodon Pa.

When asked what type of item (Wisp) he likes to use, Silver says that he "doesn't like that cowardly way of attacking people" (sounds familiar) but the Jade Ghost is the only one he likes because it lets him "disappear and concentrate on the race". Interesting.

When asked what his favorite course is, Silver says that he's impressed by the beauty of Planet Wisp and talks about how different tracks take his breath away but he's also sad to see the damage done by Eggman's invasion.

When asked which racers he considers his rivals, Silver says that it's a speed competition so Sonic and Shadow are the strongest opponents, they're on speed type cars so Silver thinks he can't beat them alone but he believes that if his team works together they can definitely win.

When asked what racers outside his team he'd like to team up with, Silver says they're all good racers with their own personalities so it's hard to pick but he'd go with Knuckles because he has "enthusiasm and energy to win" and that he's a "powerful guy". That's an interesting answer since Silver and Knuckles started the resistance together in Forces.

When asked what his favorite moment in racing is, Silver says that he's never raced before but seeing everyone giving their all for a single objective has made him come to appreciate the joy of racing and that the call for the final lap can make him feel his heart racing.

When asked about his enthusiasm for the race, Silver says that he's uneasy about the race being hosted by Dodon Pa but that and the race are two separate issues. When it comes to the race he says that his team can't lose and they'll definitely win with teamwork!

[the-goldenbunny-diaries]

Mixed Messages

⚢ Pairing - Momo x 10th Member!Reader

✎ Word Count - 2.6k

☆ Genre - Angst/Fluff

♡ Description - You and Momo have been close ever since SIXTEEN, When your company decides to take advantage of your intimate moments with Momo to benefit themselves without your knowledge, things get rocky. (A/N: I haven't had a chance to proofread this in its entirety yet, so please bare with me if there are errors)

★······★

Before you became the 10th member of TWICE, your journey began on the reality show "SIXTEEN." This show was the very platform that brought you closer to the members of TWICE and laid the foundation for the unique bond you shared.

SIXTEEN was a survival reality show that aimed to select the members of a new girl group, which would later become TWICE. You were one of the sixteen contestants vying for a coveted spot in the debut lineup. From the very beginning, it was clear that the competition would be fierce, as each contestant possessed their own unique talents and charm.

During the grueling weeks of training and competition on the show, you had the opportunity to get to know Jihyo, Mina, and the other members of TWICE on a personal level. You practiced together, shared meals, and offered each other support during the tough times. It was through these shared experiences that your bonds began to form.

Jihyo's unwavering determination and leadership qualities made her a source of inspiration for all of you. Mina's quiet elegance and grace captivated everyone, and she had a calming presence that helped ease your nerves. These initial interactions allowed you to see them not just as idols, but as individuals with their own dreams and aspirations.

However, it was with Momo that you formed an especially close connection during the show. You discovered a shared passion for dance and spent countless hours perfecting your moves together. Your late-night practice sessions turned into heartfelt conversations, and your friendship deepened with each passing day. Momo's infectious energy and warm personality made it easy for anyone to get close to her.

As the competition progressed, you all faced eliminations, and the pressure intensified. Bonds were forged and tested, and you relied on each other for emotional support. You remember Mina being a calming presence, Jihyo motivating all of you with her words, and Momo always ready with a comforting smile.

In the end, only a select few of you made it to the final lineup, and you were not among them. It was a bittersweet moment when you left the show, knowing that you wouldn't be a part of TWICE's official debut. But little did you know that fate had a different plan in store for you.

Shortly after the conclusion of the show, you received an unexpected call from Park Jinyoung, Mr. JYP himself. He had been impressed with your performance on the show and saw the potential for you to contribute to TWICE's success. Thus, you were brought in as the 10th member.

Eight years into your career with Twice, your management company saw an opportunity to capitalize on the natural connection between you and Momo, the connection fans had seen ever since SIXTEEN back in 2015. They believed that fan service between the two of you could add an extra layer of excitement and intrigue for ONCE. While Momo and Jihyo were fully informed about the scripted nature of these interactions, you were kept in the dark, leading you to believe that Momo’s gestures were driven by a genuine romantic interest.

As time went by, you found yourself caught up in a whirlwind of emotions. Momo's lingering glances, soft touches, and playful banter seemed to speak a language of their own, one that resonated deep within your heart. Her actions seemed to echo the unspoken feelings you had begun to harbor for her.

★······★

The electric atmosphere of the music show's stage pulsed with energy as you and Momo settled into your seats, ready to share a recent highlight from TWICE's journey. The host's introduction sent waves of anticipation through the audience, and the spotlight turned to you both.

"Hello, everyone! We've got a fantastic treat for you today with our special guests—the dynamic duo from TWICE, Momo and Y/N!" The host's excitement was palpable, matched only by the cheers from the eager crowd.

As the host turned to you, a smile graced your lips. This was your chance to talk about a moment that was fresh in your memory—the most recent concert that had brought you and Momo even closer together.

"So, you've just wrapped up a series of incredible concerts in the US, haven't you?" the host asked, his gaze switching between you and Momo.

"That's right," Momo replied with a grin. "Our recent concerts in the States were an absolute blast. The energy from our ONCE was electrifying, and we were able to share some truly unforgettable moments."

The host leaned in, curiosity evident in his expression. "Could you give us a glimpse of one of those moments? Something that stood out to both of you?"

You exchanged a knowing glance with Momo, a shared memory already forming between you. "Well," you began, your voice filled with enthusiasm, "For our final concert, all of the members prepared special stages. Momo and I had been planning a special duet for a while, so we decided we should show it at the concert."

Momo's eyes sparkled as she shifted her chair slightly closer to yours and grasped your hand, taking you a bit by surprise. "Yes, that duet was really something. The crowd was completely invested, and the energy was through the roof. We were dancing side by side, and there was this moment where our choreography synced perfectly." 

The host leaned in, intrigued by both the story and the surprise piece of skinship. "Synced choreography? That sounds amazing!"

"It was," you continued, a subtle blush spreading across your face. "And in that moment, it felt like time slowed down. Momo and I locked eyes, and there was this unspoken connection between us. The fans were cheering, the lights were flashing, and it was as if we were in our own little world." You couldn’t help but smile as you pictured the moment again in your head. 

Momo nodded, her smile softening. "Exactly. The best part was that it wasn't just about the performance itself—it was about the shared experience, the bond we have as friends and as members of TWICE."

★······★

With your heart still fluttering from your latest interaction with Momo, you found yourself grappling with a question that had been lingering in your mind. Wanting to seek guidance, you decided to confide in Jihyo, who was not only your fellow member but also a close friend of yours

You found her sitting alone in her room at your shared dorms, and the words spilled out before you could second-guess yourself. "Jihyo, can I ask you something?" you began, your voice tentative.

Jihyo turned to you with a warm smile. "Of course, what's on your mind?"

You took a deep breath, your gaze drifting towards the ground for a moment before you met her eyes again. "It's about Momo," you admitted, your voice softer now.

Jihyo's expression shifted slightly, a hint of curiosity in her eyes. "Momo? What about her?"

You paused for a moment, thinking about the best way to ask her. "I've been feeling... something between me and Momo. But I can't help but wonder, do you think she really likes me?"

Jihyo's eyes met yours, her expression thoughtful, and for a moment, you sensed a flicker of uncertainty in her gaze. Her lips parted as if she was about to speak, but then she hesitated. The silence hung between you, a palpable tension that you couldn't ignore.

Finally, Jihyo let out a sigh, her voice a mixture of honesty and reluctance. "I think Momo cares about you a lot," she began, choosing her words carefully. "But feelings can be complex, and sometimes, what we see isn't always the whole picture."

Your heart sank at her response, uncertainty gnawing at the edges of your thoughts. Jihyo's words left you more conflicted than before, as if the truth was both tantalizingly close and just out of reach. The conversation ended on a note of ambiguity. You thanked her before walking away, leaving you with a sense of unease that refused to be shaken off. 

Little did you know, the reason for Jihyo's hesitance went beyond what she could openly reveal. She was aware of the scripted interactions, the orchestrated gestures that had given life to a romantic facade. But it wasn't her place to shatter the illusion, and so, she found herself treading carefully around a truth that was known to her alone.

★······★

Then, one day, as fate would have it, in a quiet corner of the practice room, you stumbled upon a moment that shattered the delicate facade you had built. Momo's phone was briefly unattended, and a curious impulse prompted you to take a peek. What you discovered within her digital world was a revelation that rocked you to your core.

In her phone were meticulously crafted notes, detailing every interaction you had shared, every glance, every touch, and every word exchanged. As you read through these entries, your heart sank as the truth became evident: the romantic moments you thought were genuine were nothing more than carefully orchestrated performances, following a script that only Momo was privy to. 

The moment of truth arrived with a mixture of dread and curiosity. You had managed to keep your discovery to yourself, unsure of how to approach Momo about it. But as the weight of the secret became too heavy to bear, you found the courage to broach the subject. 

You took a deep breath as Momo walked into the practice room and looked directly into her eyes. "Momo," you began, your voice a mixture of uncertainty and vulnerability, "Is this what I think it is? Were all of our interactions, everything we did together, scripted?"

Momo's gaze held yours, and her expression was a complex mix of remorse and understanding. She nodded slowly, her voice gentle as she responded, "Yes, it's true. The interactions between us, they were scripted for fan-service. The management thought it would be a good idea to create that illusion to appeal to ONCE."

Your heart felt like it was in your throat, the reality of the situation sinking in deeper. "So, all those moments, the glances, the laughter... they weren't real?"

Momo's expression softened, and she reached out to gently touch your arm. "The feelings behind them were real," she admitted, her voice sincere. "The bond we share, the friendship we've built, those are genuine. But the specific moments we were encouraged to showcase, those were planned."

A whirlwind of emotions swirled within you—a sense of loss, confusion, and the lingering question of where to go from here. "And the notes?" you pressed, your voice quivering slightly. "You have details for all of our interactions, even ones that haven’t happened yet?"

Momo's gaze dropped briefly, her fingers fidgeting with the edge of her phone. When she looked back at you, there was a raw honesty in her eyes. "Yes," she confessed softly. "I had to keep track of everything for the fan-service plan. The past interactions we shared, as well as the future interactions the company had planned."

The weight of the truth settled heavily upon you, and for a moment, the room felt stifling. It was as if the world you had come to know had been turned upside down, revealing a new layer of complexity beneath the surface. But as you looked at Momo, the vulnerability in her expression spoke volumes—a silent admission that while the circumstances may have been manufactured, the emotions that had blossomed between you were as real as ever.

As the weight of the truth settled upon you, a tumult of emotions stirred within your chest. Disappointment mingled with a bittersweet understanding, and the sense of vulnerability you shared with Momo made the moment even more profound. But amidst the confusion and the pain of realizing that certain moments were scripted, you couldn't deny the warmth that still lingered between you two.

When your eyes met Momo's, you could see the genuine remorse and sincerity in her gaze. The silence that hung between you was broken by her soft voice. "I know I messed up," she began, her voice wavering with a mixture of regret and hope. "But please, can you find it in your heart to give me a second chance?"

Your heart wavered as you gazed into her eyes, searching for the truth in her words. Momo's vulnerability was palpable, and you could see the pain she felt for not being completely forthcoming with you. Despite the scripted interactions, you couldn't deny the genuine connection that had grown between you.

Taking a moment to gather your thoughts, you spoke with a mix of caution and sincerity. "Momo, this is a lot to process," you admitted, your voice soft but steady. "I appreciate your honesty now, but I need time to understand my own feelings."

Momo nodded, her gaze never leaving yours. "I understand," she said, her voice filled with understanding. "I'm willing to wait, to give you the time you need. But please know that my feelings for you have always been real."

Days turned into weeks, and amidst the quiet contemplation, you found your thoughts repeatedly returning to Momo. Despite the scripted fan-service, the bond you had formed was unbreakable. You remembered the genuine laughter, the shared dreams, and the way she had been there for you through both triumphs and challenges. It was clear that the emotions you felt for her were just as real as any script could ever dictate.

On a warm August evening, as the two of you found yourselves sharing a quiet moment in the practice room, you looked at Momo, your heart speaking more clearly than ever before. "Momo," you began, your voice filled with a mixture of vulnerability and determination, "I've thought about this a lot, and I've come to realize that what we have is too special to let go."

Momo's eyes widened with hope, her breath catching in anticipation of your next words.

You took a deep breath, your gaze unwavering as you continued, "I want to give us a chance, a real chance, beyond scripts and fan-service. I want to be with you, Momo, not as a performance, but as a partner."

Tears welled up in Momo's eyes, her lips curving into a radiant smile. "Yes," she whispered, her voice filled with emotion. "I've been waiting for this, for us."

In that moment, you closed the distance between you, your heart racing as you cupped her face gently with your hand. With the sincerity of your emotions guiding you, you leaned in, your lips meeting Momo's in a soft and tender kiss.

Time seemed to stand still as your lips brushed against hers—a moment of truth, vulnerability, and shared affection. The scripted interactions may have brought you together, but it was the undeniable chemistry and the depth of your feelings that made this kiss feel like the most genuine moment of all.

As you pulled away, the world around you felt hushed, the energy of your connection palpable. Momo's eyes fluttered open, her gaze locked onto yours with an intensity that mirrored your own.

"This is real, isn't it?" she whispered, her voice tinged with awe.

You smiled gently, your heart full of warmth. "Absolutely real," you affirmed, your voice steady and sincere.

And as you held each other in a quiet embrace, you both knew that this was the beginning of a new chapter—a chapter defined by the authenticity of your emotions, the depth of your connection, and the unwavering truth of your hearts. The scripted interactions had led you here, but it was your shared journey that would guide you forward, hand in hand, into a love story that was truly your own.

[blackbloodteeth]

Soul Variant as each of the Myerrs-Briggs personality types?

Worked on this throughout last week, and now I've finally gotten around to writing all the blurbs up for these, haha. This was definitely a really fun project to chip away at, and I'm pretty dang happy with how all of these turned out!

Tucking all these variants' descriptions under a read-more, if you wanna hear all the general ideas I had for each of them (I based them all on the chart descriptions you can find on Wikipedia).

Page 1:

ISTJ – Hardworking and trustworthy with sound practical judgement. Holds a key to any door: Gateways, hearts, and even dreams. Will help you get to wherever you need to go if you really ask, and any secret given to him for safekeeping will never reach another soul.

ISFJ – Devoted caretakers who enjoy being helpful to others. Will aid anyone who gets lost or hurt in the In Between, even if done so in silence. The eyes might not actually be true eyes, and instead just for the comfort of others.

INFJ – Seek harmony and cooperation, enjoy intellectual stimulation. Can only be understood when infected with its spores, as that is the only way it's able to communicate through thoughts. The resulting antennae that sprouts from the host's head are otherwise harmless and can be safely removed, albeit this will leave you with a headache for the rest of the day.

INTJ – Driven by their own original ideas to achieve improvements. Supposedly the floating eyes are of his own creation, both to help with his poor eyesight and to keep track of multiple tasks. Once he gets inspired to do something, that's what he'll be invested in doing for a long while.

ISTP – Enjoy adventure, skilled at understanding how mechanical things work. Before the world was reclaimed by nature, there were many unnatural things that have since become repurposed, as rocks and trees and caves. He has such a fascination with these cold-skin remains that he documents anything and everything he discovers, slowly piecing these puzzles back together.

ISFP – Seek to create a personal environment that is both beautiful and practical. Can change reality around him to a small degree, allowing plants to flourish even indoors. Given his control over this fun little trick of his, he's never felt the need to be sad about not having the hands to do this with, and will even show off to help the other kids spark their own imaginations.

Page 2:

INFP – Value inner harmony and personal growth, focus on dreams and possibilities. With the glow of the lights from his body, he can reveal dreams and potential things to be. There's been some serious consideration of him getting into dream therapy, given the potential applications involving memories and the healing effects of processing nightmares.

INTP – Original thinkers who enjoy speculation and creative problem solving. Can change the colourful patterns on his skin with ease, allowing him to fit in with any environment. He's a huge lover of puzzles and riddles, and helping others work through solutions, though talking is not his strong suit.

ESTP – Pragmatic problem solvers and skillful negotiators. If there's an issue, he's usually the one to resolve it. The rest of the world doesn't account for him being nocturnal, so it isn't too unusual to see him up before the sun rises to take care of preparation work and double-checking correspondences.

ESFP – Have strong common sense, enjoy helping people in tangible ways. Gets along with just about anyone, including the spirits who have yet to depart. You got a haunting or residual energy build-up needing taken care of, he's your guy.

ENFP – Value inspiration, enjoy starting new projects, see potential in others. Believes in art as an expression of the soul – Performance art, jack of all trades, graffiti. Birth twin to ENTP.

ENTP – Enjoy new ideas and challenges, value inspiration. Believes in art as a way to push concepts and boundaries – Body art, unconventional mixed media, abstract. Birth twin to ENFP.

Page 3:

ESTJ – Like to run the show and get things done in an orderly fashion. His body is a semi-artificial construct, but it needed a soul, and thus Soul was donated (not for any nefarious plot, however, as he had been chronically ill beforehand). Ever since having taken well to his new form, he's begun to blossom as a sound designer and composer for indie projects.

ESFJ – Seek to be helpful and please others, enjoy being active and productive. Loves to cook, and will always be the first to know about bake sales and potlucks. It's come into question whether he can actually eat what he makes or if he's just living vicariously, but supposedly he can still taste.

ENFJ – Skilled communicators who value connection with people. Steadily but surely learning every language, and is very passionate about becoming a translator for all of them. With his endless hands, he's pretty decent at holding a handful of signed conversations at once.

ENTJ – Effective organizers of people and long-range planners. Ended up in charge of keeping everyone on schedule and making sure they have what they need before showtime, especially when it comes to his excellent sense of direction in mapping out whenever the building's layout shifts. Being the local darling that is often spoiled with snacks, he's certainly starting to earn his friend-shaped status.

[bah-circus]

pokes you . .

level 3 viktor . . . . . . viktor from the hit show arcane . . . . . . prettyboy . . . ough he makes me sick /pos

pleas . . . .

Of course dear audience! We have heard your request and have found a suitable performer for you! We hope this performance suits your needs, but you are free to make any adjustments you wish.

❣︎For Our Next Act, Please Welcome,,,❣︎

Viktor!!!

°·⊱ Name: Viktor, Vitya, Dmitri, Mikhail, Herald, Vulcan, Tesla, Healer

°·⊱ Age: 36

°·⊱ Race/Species: Human,,?

°·⊱ Source: Arcane

°·⊱ Role: Pain Holder / Chronic Fatigue Holder, Academic, Inventor, Low Energy Manager

────── · · · · ──────

°·⊱ Sex: Female

°·⊱ Gender: transMale, demiBoy, Viktorcharic, Steampunkic, Steampunkrobotic, Robotix, Genderbotic, Robotmasc, Robotboything

°·⊱ Pronouns: It/Its; Aug/Augs; ⚙️/⚙️s; Hx/Hxm; Xen/Xenon; Dio/Dioxy; 🧬/🧬s

°·⊱ Sexuality: Lesboy

°·⊱ Personality: Determined, brilliant, self-sacrificing, driven by the desire to help others through technology

────── · · · · ──────

°·⊱ Nicknames/Titles: [Prn] Who Heals, The Machine Herald, The Co-Founder of HexTech, [Prn] That Evolves Humanity, The Hivemind Cult Leader

°·⊱ Likes: Scientific advancement, Hextech, helping humanity, working late hours, invention, Zaun's potential, caffeine, sweaters, cats, romance novels [guilty pleasure], toast with jam

°·⊱ Dislikes: Stagnation, physical limitations, corruption, being underestimated, pity, rich investors, pompous parties, pollution, caviar

°·⊱ Emoji Sign-Off: ⚙️🧬🔧⚒️🧪🪫

────── · · · · ──────

°·⊱ TransIDs: nullHumanity, transArmCrutchUser, permaInLove, permaMarried, nullGr00med, transPurpleEyes, nullBlood, transSpInPokemon, transPokemonUniverse, transPokemonTrainer, nullStarved

°·⊱ CisIDs: Zaunite, Pale Skin, Amber Eyes, Brunette, Muscular Dystrophy, Chronic Breathing Issues, Autism, ADHD, ASPD, GERD, POTS, Anxiety, PTSD, Cult Leader, Inventor, Healer, Gr00med

°·⊱ MUDS: Robodere Delusional Personality Disorder (RD-DPD)

°·⊱ Paras: 💐, 🐾, 🪢, 🔥, ♥️, ⚾

°·⊱ Faceclaim: 1 | 2

oh viktor my baby boy, ive co-hosted our system alongside our viktor and hx is a delight haha, so this is lowkey based off of hxm hope thats alright mate - Pest Swarm ; Kenny

[littlesparklight]

Paris and Helen leaving Sparta basically has two main variations (as survived to us), with some minor differences within each, and it basically breaks down like this:

Menelaos present in Sparta, later leaves:

This is the version that seems to be the oldest, and has staying power close to the "end" of our sources. (Not necessarily exhaustive here, just a couple representative sources below.) It's implied in the Iliad by several of Menelaos' lines where he talks of himself as a host (that has been wronged) and "the Trojans [that is, Paris]" being Helen's guest. The Kypria, too, uses this version. Here's from Proclus' summary: "After their intercourse, they load up a great many valuables and sail away by night." While Ovid's Heroides doesn't deal with Helen and Paris leaving Sparta, this setup is clearly what's going on as well, for they are in Sparta and in Helen's letter she mentions Menelaos having left (with her encouraging/assuring him she'll be fine, while acknowledging she should not have done this and rather told him what is going on with Paris). As does Apollodoros' Bibliotheke: [E.3.3] "For nine days he was entertained by Menelaus; but on the tenth day, Menelaus having gone on a journey to Crete to perform the obsequies of his mother's father Catreus, Alexander persuaded Helen to go off with him. And she abandoned Hermione, then nine years old, and putting most of the property on board, she set sail with him by night."

What happens here, too, is we get some idea of how they left Sparta; apparently quite orderly, with a whole baggage train (inanimate and animate belongings included). This was no quick and sexy little hit and run.

Menelaos not present:

This one has some more variants, and they're all late/er sources; most of them post-0, going on into the Medieval era. Dictys of Crete have Paris come to Sparta, but Menelaos is already absent: "Alexander, taking advantage of Menelaus’ absence, committed a very foul crime. Falling desperately in love with Helen, the most beautiful woman in Greece, he carried her off, along with much wealth, and also Aethra and Clymene, being Menelaus’ relatives, attended on Helen.

A report of this crime came to Crete; but rumor, as commonly happens, spread over the island, making what Alexander had done seem worse than it was. People were even saying that King Menelaus’ home had been taken by storm and that his kingdom was conquered." Dracontius have Helen and Paris meet (after Paris is separated from the rest of his party and driven there by storm) on Cyprus, and he then, with her cooperation "abducts her" - when he sees the Cypriot pursuit he basically goes "oh we die here 8(" and Helen has to tell him to apply his feet so they can reach the ship. In Dares of Phrygia Paris and Helen meet not in Sparta, but on Kythira, and have a moment of mutual attraction. Then this happens: "Thus at a given signal they invaded the temple and carried her off – she was not unwilling – along with some other women they captured. The inhabitants of the own, having learned about the abduction of Helen, tried to prevent Alexander from carrying her off. They fought long and hard, but Alexander’s superior forces defeated them. After despoiling the temple and taking as many captives as his ships would hold, he set sail for home." And in Colluthus' Abduction of Helen, much like in Dictys Paris does come to Sparta and Menelaos is absent.

The interesting thing here is that this second set (again, not exhaustive) introduces a much more obvious/straightforward abduction. And yet, even as they do so, several sources still complicate the matter and introduce some element of willingness for Helen. In Dictys, though nothing is said (because the narrator does not know) about what she might have felt about leaving Sparta, in Troy Helen says she wants to stay there (and the narrator confesses to no idea why she prefers to do so). Dracontius has them both in love and condemns them both as adulterous lovers, Helen urging Paris on in her "abduction". Dictys, too, is the only source that brings up the specter of Paris sacking Sparta to get to Helen - only to explicitly disarm this idea and deny that this was the way it happened. Dares, obviously, note that she's "not unwilling" even as this is the most violent version of Paris leaving with Helen that we have.

Dares, too, is the version of Trojan war narratives that got popular in the West. Even after the Iliad was "rediscovered" and translated into Latin for the West, the more "realistic" and "complete" story as told in Dares (and variously retold in new creations in the Medieval times and forwards) was preferred.

I'm pretty sure that Dares is the reason a lot of our Renaissance (and some earlier, too) art of Paris and Helen leaving Sparta/Kythira look like a violent abduction with battle somewhere in there. Because that is what happens in Dares, and thus in all the Medieval retellings based on Dares... and pretty much nowhere else.