#This is literally the equivalent of meandering I really would have never thought the world would be so cold to a genocide

[thecarnivorousmuffinmeta]

What if Lily in ‘lily and the art’ was born at the same year as Tom Riddle, and for some reason, Lily and James die young again and Lily is sent to Wools?

Anon is referring to "Lily and the Art of Being Sisyphus" a fanfic that in and of itself once spanned a multiverse and I'm sure whose mention confuses this blog endlessly.

I think this is a more complicated question than you intend, anon.

It also is more or less requesting I write out the story which I'm in no mood to do. So, you just get my meandering thoughts instead.

A Lily Born in 1926 to a James Potter and Lily Evans

Lily's background is so different she might as well not be born to James and Lily at all. What do I mean by this?

The circumstances in which James and Lily got together, and then died, were extremely specific and very much shaped who Harry Potter and any iteration of him (including Lily) became. They were very young, literally just finished with their primary education, they were part of an illegal resistance movement run by their principal against the dark lord who was an imminent threat to their country/a domestic phenomenon that the legitimate powers of the country (aurors/government) seemed disinclined to do anything about. They quickly went into hiding where they were then betrayed by a close friend, murdered, and little Ellie Potter then became the close equivalent to that society's messiah.

Well, what if we put them in 1926?

The times are different, there's been no dark lord (Grindelwald himself is not in power and very likely not making any waves whatsoever even if we take Fantastic Beasts seriously). Anti muggleborn sentiment is still rampant but we're in a time period where a Potter marries a Black, it's very unlikely that James Potter's current family would approve him pursuing muggleborn Lily Evans. The depression has hit England, but it's unclear if it ever really effected the wizards who, at least economically, are effectively quarantined from the muggle world. Dumbledore is only a professor who has not yet built up his network of moles/spies/fighters that he had by the early 1980's (though per Fantastic Beasts, if we take it seriously, he does seem to have employed a reluctant and somewhat witting Newt Scamander as his agent).

My point is this world is extremely different and that Harry Potter's backstory was very important. Perhaps not so much for the showing up at Wool's bit, but certainly in being introduced to the wizarding world.

If Lily's father was a pureblood who impregnated her muggleborn mother whose family then forced him to spurn her/place their bastard child in an orphanage for the shame of it, that's a very different story.

Similarly, if both died and Lily... somehow ends up in a muggle orphanage. In this world, that's a sign that her surviving pureblood relatives were all too eager to get rid of her and chances are she'll never find out her heritage. Unless her overwhelming talent is so overwhelming that the family seeks to get her back in the fold. She may be the daughter of a mudblood, but who cares when she's the next Merlin? (Though Lily being a girl rather than a boy, makes me have my suspicions about her talents ever being widely recognized period.)

Do it Anyway, Muffin

Fine, fine, we'll do it anyways. Honestly, to save myself a lot of trouble, I'm going to say that the Lily born in 1980 does it to herself. One moment, Dumbledore places her on a doorstep, the next, poof, that baby is on the doorstep of Wool's orphanage in the east end of London.

Why does she do this? Well, she's now caught unwittingly in a paradox where if a future Lily doesn't do it to herself then she radically changes the universe she knows, rids Tom Riddle of a very important figure in his life, and the universe itself may actually collapse. In other words, she doesn't know why she does it either, she just knows that she does.

Which, of course, is Lily's constant battle with time travel and why you shouldn't do time travel, kids, rids you of all sense of free will and determinism.

Right, so Lily and Tom both show up at the orphanage in 1926. Given Tom was right at the end of the year, December 31st, that means that Lily appeared sometime before him and is weeks/months/at most one year older than him.

What Happens?

I imagine, at first, the pair don't pay that much attention to one another. Lily herself is a rather odd duck, a girl, and more than likely keeps to herself/is a bit of a space cadet. Initially to Tom, who is a hate filled ball of rage, she's not going to be that interesting. She doesn't give him any trouble like some of the other orphans but she also doesn't do much of interest either. (Remember that initially, before dying in the original story, Lily wasn't all that blatant with her godlike abilities/even used them at all. She was making a point of playing nice with reality, and reality proved to be patchwork garbage she threw all of that out the window.)

Tom, of course, discovers his own talents, though when is unclear except that we know that it was likely at least a few years before Dumbledore showed up, and I imagine Lily looks at him and thinks "huh". Now, it boggles her mind why the universe should treat one person differently than any other. Tom, of course, believes he has a gift and is superhuman but Lily would more likely believe that the universe has, for some inexplicable reason, chosen him. After all, how could a single person possibly break the laws of thermodynamics. This, I imagine, would prompt her own exploration of the decaying universe and she likely decides a lack of imagination is the problem: anyone can do this, reality itself is the problem, it's just that the other orphans accept the Matrix and Tom Riddle is only so clever as to shout "fireball, fireball, fireball!"

Well, this is a big deal, Lily says to herself. The ability to play fast and loose with the universe like this is a) terrifying b) has a lot of interesting implications. Why, for example, do people die? They could rewrite the universe such that death is simply a non-concept. Why do people have to travel through time and space to get from point A to point B? Time and space mean nothing and can be squeezed together at will. In other words... the universe doesn't have to be the way it is and perhaps there could be a path to world peace.

If, of course, human beings could get along/not abuse this tremendous power and accidentally will the universe out of existence.

(Lily then has the terrifying thought that the current universe she lives in is some wise man's compromise. The world might have once looked very different and worked in a very different way, that it has so many laws and so many internal consistencies to her now points that this was planned. Which means that whatever came before... may have been worse.)

After a few sleepless nights, Lily decides to start a religion. And a young Tom Riddle, who had previously thought he was quite grand, suddenly takes acute notice.

Lily (Master of the Universe) and Tom (Master of Fireballs)

In a single morning, Tom is completely and utterly upstaged. This girl, who he has been completely ignoring and always assumed was something of an idiot, is now claiming to be Jesus' second coming and from the looks of it she's probably right.

Mrs. Cole, who had previously thought Tom was the devil's child, changes her mind. It's this other kid, it's probably always been this other kid, and holy god she is terrified. As are the other children.

Well, Tom takes off his white glove, slaps her across the face, and challenges her to a duel.

Lily... Did not expect any of this reaction. Sure, it's a little alarming and took her a bit to get over as well, but this just appears to be how the universe works and they'd all better get used to it because it's not going to change just because they dislike it.

As for Tom, she's not even sure what his deal is. After a bit of thinking she realizes that Tom had thought he was special, that it really was him at the center of all of this, and that this was very very very important to him and Lily... sort of just spat in his face and went "EVERYBODY CAN BE A WINNER".

Woops.

On the other hand, if she does duel him, well she's pretty sure she can crush him.

Right about then I imagine the aurors show up as Lily has been making terrifying, magical alterations, to the orphanage that have got to be noticed by somebody.

In an effort to be nice, Lily blames Tom, who will surely feel special that all these funnily dressed clowns are showing such interest in him. This, of course, backfires as it turns out the clowns are there to erase everyone's memories.

"Oh dear," Lily says, and decides this whole day has been a wash and forces time and space to unwind itself such that the day never happened and she starts it lying in bed again.

She starts over and she does so by deciding that, if nothing else, she's got to be nice to Tom and maybe, uh, help him progress a little beyond fireballs.

Tom Makes a New Friend

Much as in the original fic, Tom is not a fan, especially when Lily casually reveals that he's not even a big fish in a small pond. He was a small fish in a puddle, the pond contains a whale known as Lily.

This causes him much angst and he seeks to both a) show her up b) put her in her place. This doesn't work and only convinces Lily more that he needs help. (Also, every time they go too far the clowns show up, you don't want the clowns showing up.)

I imagine eventually Lily decides that she has to offer him something useful/interesting. So she decides to take him on vacation. There's so much world out there beyond London. They take trips through time and space where Tom learns a lot of life lessons that a) he is actually quite talented, Lily's just a god b) he enjoys being friends with Lily and the most painful c) people will try to use him to get to Lily.

Tom realizes that, painfully naive and optimistic as Lily is, people will try to take advantage of her and her unlimited power (as Tom effectively has now been doing for years), and that it seems to fall to him and him alone to protect her.

Dumbledore Shows Up

What does this mean? Well, it means that Dumbledore's visit becomes very interesting.

A funny man in a yellow suit shows up at Wools. Coincidentally, he wants to meet with Tom Riddle. He tells Tom that Tom was registered to attend a magic school for extraordinary people at the moment of his birth. Unlike canon, where this was Tom's first-time meeting someone like him, he just stares. And keeps staring.

He asks where Dumbledore was a few months ago (at Lily's eleventh birthday). Dumbledore has no idea what he's talking about (Lily, being an unwitting time traveler, was born in 1980 and thus not yet recorded in Hogwarts register).

Oh, Tom sees where this is going. Dumbledore is clumsily trying to tempt Tom to attend this school, leaving Lily alone and vulnerable, and while Tom is distracted thinking mighty well of himself, someone will swoop in, run off with Lily, and convince her to rewrite the universe in their favor.

Tom laughs in Dumbledore's face and tells him to get the fuck out.

Dumbledore... is very confused, and alarmed, he writes this off as Tom Riddle being an evil gremlin. An evil gremlin he must, nevertheless, convince to attend Hogwarts.

He tries to tell Tom that magic, indeed, is real and that Tom is special. Tom presses, just how special is Tom here? Dumbledore reluctantly admits that Tom is phenomenally talented.

(Right, Tom saw that coming, this is classic 'butter Tom up to make him stupid' which has been done several times before by this point.)

Tom still isn't interested, good day, Mr. Dumbledore, now please leave.

Dumbledore then drops the bomb. Tom really doesn't have a choice here. As a magical orphan, even muggleborn, Tom is considered a ward of the state with no guardian. Tom must pursue a magical education, he has no parent to deny him admission (Mrs. Cole doesn't count and has just been obliviated downstairs), and while he can choose any alternative of magical schooling, Hogwarts is his best and easiest option.

Sorry Tom, my dear boy, you're going to Hogwarts.

Tom reads this as "you're being kidnapped" and this starts to get very real. He decides to summon the clowns (who oddly enough only ever appear to show up in London). Unfortunately, Dumbledore himself seems to be a clown (Tom should have known from the suit) and Lily is forced to unwind time.

Lily notes that it looks like Tom is going to this school. She decides that she likes this magical boarding school aesthetic and she'll accompany him. Dumbledore suddenly finds, when he arrives at Wool's, that he has two letters in his hand (which is very funny as he only left with one this morning). He meets with both Lily and Tom. Tom glares daggers at him while Lily just says, "Oh hello, Mr. Dumbledore, we'd love to attend your clown school!"

Dumbledore decides that they're both the antichrist and lights Tom's wardrobe on fire. Tom officially hates this man more than he's hated anyone in his life (and that is a high bar).

Lily and Tom Go to Magic School

Neither are impressed. Lily had always thought that Tom was on the less talented end of the spectrum. Oh sure, he's leagues ahead of people who haven't figured it out at all but-- Well, there's a lot Lily can do that he just can't wrap his head around. Tom is very much the apprentice to her mastery.

Well, these people are ten thousand times worse. They rely on these wooden sticks, and even with those, can't do half of what Tom can do (who over the years has been undergoing Rocky IV style training to keep up with Lily and not feel so incompetent/embarrassed).

Tom votes they leave: this is the dumbest waste of time they've ever embarked on. And they've done some very dumb things. Lily's curious though.

Well, Tom is undoubtedly very bored and cries at the fact that he's made top of the class (what did he expect? What did he even expect? This is just embarrassing at this point and he wishes they all would shut up and get on with it) while Lily is dutifully ignored for being weird/a woman (also expected as if they're trying to butter Tom up then they're going to do so by making him feel artificially superior to her AND GODDAMMIT DON'T THESE PEOPLE HAVE ANY NEW TACTICS?)

Now, why his roommates keep trying to steal his things and beat him up, he doesn't know. Except he assumes they're just so dumb they honestly don't know what to do with him. That or they're a sad attempt at realism to make this not look completely fake. (He still beats them up, it's the principle of the matter.)

I imagine Tom lasts until Christmas at which point he very dramatically disavows Hogwarts and tells them they should all be ashamed of themselves and dramatically drops out at eleven years old.

And Then?

Tom and Lily continue on derpy adventures, running obliviously from the law/formal education, Lily eventually realizes her time travelling past and has to send her baby self back in time to Wool's.

Lily and Tom probably save the world from Grindelwald at some point, are declared national heroes, and Dumbledore just dies inside. He just dies.

[third-rail-vip]

Complicated

Summary:

It’d be killing two birds with one stone, she’d said. MacCready glared at the crinkled, blackened leaves of the fern sticking out of his duster pocket. His duster, which like the rest of him, was currently chest deep in stinking marsh water, facing a cluster of ferals.

--

Ivy and MacCready's trip to take on the Gunners is stopped in its tracks by a poor judged detour. Mac gets hurt, but he's never been very good at being cared for.

Rating:  Mature

Word Count: 5625  [AO3 link]   [Then I Met You - Series Link]

Mud-clouded, irradiated marsh water burned into his nose, filled his throat, and tried to force its way into his lungs.  

And as if drowning wasn’t bad enough, a close second in the ranking of bad-to-worse was the gouging pain of claw-like nails burying themselves deep into his back, forcing him under water as they tried to tear chunks out of him.  

A dull thought overtook him as the last of the breath left his lungs; he was going to die here.

--x--

The chill of cold water was replaced by a brief but biting gust of wind as a door clicked shut.  MacCready stirred, floorboards shifted as he flexed his back and shoulders, which turned out to be the worst idea he could have possibly had - pain radiated from his left shoulder like fracturing glass.

He hissed through his teeth, taking a sharp breath in and sending a fresh wave across his body, briefly reigniting the burning sensation in his lungs.  Waking up from a nightmare was supposed to be a relief, not just another chapter of discomfort.  

MacCready kept his eyes scrunched closed.  There was light beyond the barrier of his eyelids, low but warm.  If it hadn’t been for the dull headache starting to tap away between his eyes like water torture, it might even have been welcoming.  

“Shhh, shh, shh,” a voice murmured close by.  “You’re okay.”

First things first, when you woke up somewhere strange, it was always best to keep your eyes shut.  There was a lot you could learn when people didn’t know you were awake.  Things that could keep you alive if you weren’t somewhere safe.  

He took a breath in through his nose; the cold December breeze cut through the old damp scent of the room, it carried with it the smell of vegetables (tatos probably) and manure – he grimaced, trying to hide the expression of regret at his deep inhale.  So, it was a farm.  He listened carefully, the lows of brahmin and the quiet chatter of voices confirmed enough for him – the only danger he faced here was boredom.  

As his apprehension dwindled further, he realised it was Ivy’s voice offering the soft reassurances – of course it was – and he could only assume it was her who’d just gently brushed his hair back from his sweat-damp forehead.  The tender motion would be enough to lull him back to sleep if he let it, but he wasn’t ready to be drowning in his mind again, or to watch Lucy pulled to pieces, or to be yelling for his missing partner.  No, it was time to wake up.  

His vision was blurry when he eventually peeked his eyes open, the dull glow of an oil lantern was the only thing beating back the shadows of early evening.  It’s illumination barely reached the wooden slatted ceiling he found himself staring up at.  

He was laid on a mouldy old sleeping bag in a small room with broken windows, but that didn’t exactly narrow down locations when it came to the Commonwealth.  Glancing out the window, the faint remnants of orange warming the darkness on the horizon told him the sun hadn’t long set.  

Sat next to him, lantern light shafting through her hair and casting her face in shadow, was his partner.  He smiled to himself at the halo effect doing its best to make her look like an angel – if angels sat there drinking Nuka-Cherry with a cute little crinkle on their nose from their patented ‘worry frown’.  

Quick check for his other essentials; his sniper rifle was propped up in the corner by the lamp, which sat on the same small table as his hat.  He reached up and patted his top pocket and felt the reassuring bulk of the toy soldier.  Everything was where it should be.  

“So, did I die or is this just my guardian angel coming to pay me a visit?” he croaked, with a throat drier than wasteland dirt.  

“Hey you.”  Ivy swiped the heel of her palm across her eye, before pushing a smile onto her lips and turning to look at him.  “You had me worried there.”

Crap.  He really did.  That light tone didn’t hold any weight with him, he could hear the waver in her voice, see the tension in her smile.  She’d hired him to make sure this kind of thing didn’t happen, but all it took was ferals and he was failing people all over again.  

Now the light shone on her properly, the scratches on her face (earned in a fight he was nowhere near to help her with) put his heart into a vice-like grip.  

They didn’t look as bad as before, there wasn’t blood all over her face anymore, for one thing.  In fact, her hair was damp but back to it’s usual creamy white – no more essence of marsh water – and her rolled down vault suit showed she’d swapped into a clean tank top.  

Come to think of it, when they’d arrived at Oberland Station it had only just been getting dark.  Yes, he remembered where they were now - a cluster of shacks and a signal box huddled by the railroad tracks and surrounded by tato plants.  He also remembered the welcoming committee, armed with pipe pistols and a whole heap of mistrust.  

The pair of them had been caught off guard on the tracks, Ivy still in his arms – the vice tightened another twist.  They were soaked, bleeding and, unless the settlers expected him to hurl his injured partner at them, they were unarmed.

He’d been about to give them the biggest f-ing piece of his mind, when the world that had started to spin around him, decided to turn out the lights.  

“How long—”

“You’ve been out for a couple of hours.”  Ivy hugged her knees to her chest and nodded to the IV he hadn’t even noticed in his arm.  “You’re on your second bag.”

A bag of Radaway was hung up using the bedstead as a makeshift drip-stand.  It had almost run through.  On the ground nearby was another spent bag and an empty blood pack.  

Shit.  Well that would explain the headache, the dizziness and the nausea, not the mention the fever.  There were only two things in the wasteland that’d do that to you;  a whole heck of a lot of rads, or a couple of sips of Vadim’s moonshine.  

“They let us stay, huh?”  He hoped his smile could pass for something warmer than a grimace.  “I wouldn’t have guessed from that reception.”

Ivy sighed and raised an eyebrow at his salty remark.

“Well, you passing out and dropping me like a sack of potatoes… tatos?  Is there an equivalent?”  She frowned for a second, adjusting the grip on her knees and shifting her weight to the other hip.  “Anyway, I think it helped our case.”

Mac smiled.  He liked her tangents, when her old world and his new one got jumbled up in her head and knocked her train of thought off the tracks.  Her mental meanders had tested his patience back when they first met, but now he found it soothing to watch her puzzle things out.

Ivy leant forward and pressed the back of her hand against his forehead.  Her fingers were cool – a welcome relief he hadn’t realised he needed until they soothed some of the heat in his skin.    

“Your temperature’s coming back down, at least.”  The last of the Radaway had run its course, so she slipped the drip from his arm.  “How are you feeling?”

MacCready sat up – big mistake.  The room spun violently around him, dragging a sickening groan from his lips.  If Ivy hadn’t been there to grab his arms and steady him, he’d have slumped back down onto the sleeping bag.  

Fat lot of good he was doing anyone in this state!  Those goddamn ferals.  He wanted to scream.  Or shoot something.  Or have a cigarette.  Where were his damn cigarettes?  

But he needed to keep his shit together.

“I feel like a herd of brahmin stomped on my head,” he griped, hoping he could at least manage to make her laugh.  “What do you think, doc?  Am I going to make it?”

She wasn’t even looking at him - wide-eyed, she was staring at his shoulder.  Ever so slowly, she reached out and peeled the sleeping bag away from where blood had soaked it to his shoulder.  He couldn’t hold in the pained cry when she did it.  

--x--

It’d be killing two birds with one stone, she’d said.  MacCready glared at the crinkled, blackened leaves of the fern sticking out of his duster pocket.  His duster, which like the rest of him, was currently chest deep in stinking marsh water, facing a cluster of ferals.

He lined up another shot, taking two down with one bullet – a very nicely placed double headshot.  Ordinarily he’d be singing his own praises, but this whole mess had the potential to go bad real fast.  One tackle from a feral and he’d lost the upper ground, got separated from his partner and cut off from any hope of an easy retreat.  

Once-upon-a-time, taking out ferals had been child’s play.  Literally.  He’d been at it since he was 10.  He’d perfected the art of anticipating their shambling, diving movements.  Could line up a shot with barely a glance, the same way he took down raiders and greenskins these days – it came as naturally to him as a heartbeat.  

It was no boast when he claimed to be the ‘best shot in the Commonwealth’.  If you asked MacCready, he was a modern-day Robin-fucking-Hood – except the beggared of the commonwealth could keep their mitts off his caps.

That had all changed four years ago, at least with the ferals it had.  Now he had to focus – there was no winging this shit.  He had to tell his hands to stop shaking, to count his breaths so he even remembered to take them.  Every time those things showed up he had to ride the line between fear and rage - which might have been useful if he was wielding a baseball bat, but it was no damn good for a sniper.  

His finger was slick on the trigger, and as much as he wished he could just blame it on the water, his palms were sweating.  He bungled his second shot, it only winged the racing creature.  

This was goddamn nightmare fuel.

The third shot came from the walkway above him.

“I could have got it,” he snapped, more harshly than he meant to, but this shit had got him on edge.  

“I know.”  Ivy didn’t even bicker back at him.  

She was scared.  And alone.

But he’d thank anything that’d listen that she had a good eye - he admired the clean shot between the eyes of the feral before it sank beneath the water - and that her aim was getting better every day.  The trouble would come if she got overwhelmed and he couldn’t get to her.

Hell of a lot of good he was doing down here.  

The pair had taken on ferals before, but not in this number and he’d not left her side the whole time.  This was different.  There were so many - more rising up out of the water or scuttling across the rooftops at every turn.  They were closer to the Glowing Sea here, but this was ridiculous.  It was like someone had set up a feral summer camp and the damn things had waited for them to get right into the centre of town before attacking.

With barely a thought, he took down another feral as it rounded the corner ahead.  It was easier if he just went on instinct, less time for thoughts of consequences - and the memories of old ones - to creep in.  

MacCready patted his top pocket.  Good, it was still there.  

“I hate getting wet,” he moaned.

“I know.”  Came the reply (after a few more gunshots), this time from a few roofs down, further back into the heart of the sunken village.

MacCready made to move forward in an attempt to keep pace with her, his feet dragging through deep silt.  He’d barely made it a few yards before something heavy fell with a loud splash right behind him.  He definitely didn’t have time to turn around before it was on him – teeth, nails, sheer weight dragging him down under the water.  

--x--

“I’m so sorry.”  Ivy’s voice was so small, her eyes were swimming when she looked at him.  “I really fucked up.”

MacCready frowned, confused.  It wasn’t her fault he’d bled all over the damn sleeping bag.  The settlers would just have to get over it.

“I took us to that awful place and you got hurt,” her voice was growing more and more frantic until it finally cracked and tears spilled down her face.  “When they dragged you under—”

Oh, Ives.  Did she really think this was all her fault?

He leaned forward and caught the back of her neck, gently tugging her forwards until their foreheads touched.  A startled gasp mingled with a sob when he did, her red-rimmed brown eyes looking straight into his brilliant blue gaze.  

“Don’t you dare blame yourself for this,” he murmured.  “Yeah, sh—stuff went wrong, but we made a heck of a team out there.”  

“Mac, I thought I got you killed…”

This close together, with their gazes locked, even in that dark little room, he could see the scratch the knife had made down her eye.  She must have come damn close to losing it.  What kind of animal could do that to a sweetheart like her.  He felt his temper bubbling up, but given it was 200 years too damn late, it was about as redundant as he’d been today.  

“I’m a Capital Wasteland radroach,” he smiled, bumping the tip of his nose against hers.  “It’ll take more than a few ferals to kill me.”

The words tasted like bile in the back of his throat, knowing they might well be true, but the same didn’t extend to the people he loved.  But then, they weren’t for his benefit, and the intended recipient had almost laughed, which was definitely something.

“I am sorry tho—”

“Ah, ah.  You saved my ass, angel.  I’d be feral food if it wasn’t for you.”  

It was true.  It had been terrifyingly close.  

Ivy bumped her nose against his before pulling away, shifting back into her spot against the wall, leaving him with an odd sensation in the pit of his stomach.  Her tears had dried up, and she wiped away the remaining trickles from her cheeks with the heel of her palm.  

MacCready dug in his pants’ pocket for his cigarettes, pulling one out only to watch it flop and snap.  He hated water.  

His partner giggled when he looked across at her, a pathetic sight with his packet of ruined cigarettes.  Then she laughed, really laughed.  The tension from moments before finding its way out in nervous energy.

Ivy laughing - really laughing - was a joy.  

First, she’d fight to hold it in, but you’d see it building in her eyes.  Then the corners of her mouth would twitch, her lips desperately wanting to break open into a grin, so she’d catch it behind a hand - both if it was especially bad - like, if he couldn’t see the smile, he hadn’t won the game of making her laugh.  Tears like diamonds flecked with mascara would form in the corners of her eyes and trickle down her cheeks.

He'd happily sit there with half a cigarette hanging off his bottom lip if he got to watch that sight.

Once her giggles had faded, she filled a cup with purified water for him.  It’d be more soothing for his throat than a cigarette anyway, just not for his nerves.  Regardless, he downed the water in one and held his cup back out for a refill, big blue eyes pleading the same way dogmeat did anytime they were cooking something tasty.  Ivy obliged.

“How about I take a look at that shoulder now?”

Whether he’d like her to or not, she was already digging in her pack for antiseptic and filling a small basin with more purified water.    

--x--

Removing MacCready’s coat and shirt turned out to be more of a challenge than they’d anticipated.  The fabric of both were either caught in the wound or dried to his skin, and the attempted removal of them left him chewing on the back of his hand.

The pair of them sat hip-to-hip, the small of Ivy’s back resting against his knee as she focussed on her work.  Outside he could Diamond City Radio playing quietly from somewhere in the settlement.  It showed how hard his partner was concentrating that she wasn’t even humming along.  He let the strains of Billie Holliday wash over him and tried to think about anything other than the pain in his shoulder.

“Mac?”

Ivy cast a quick glance MacCready’s way between strokes of the damp cloth she was using to stop the dried blood clinging to the fabric.  

“Hmm?” He tried to sound casual, like he hadn’t just been counting the freckles on the bridge of her nose.  23.

“What does RJ stand for?”  She treated him to the little hopeful smile she usually reserved for shopkeepers and potential employers.  

“Where did that come from?”

“I just wondered.”  And you thought it’d distract me from thinking about my shoulder trying to pull itself apart.  “I can’t believe I’ve never gotten around to asking before.”

“Oh, you have.”  

He grinned at the confusion dawning into a half-memory on her face.  He’d been just sober enough to remember the second agreement they made on Halloween night, when they first met in Goodneighbor – one shot per question.  

It’s no wonder she couldn’t remember though.  Most of his memories, other than a few of her more outlandish questions, revolved around those big, bright, buzzed eyes.  

They’d been sprawled on opposite sofas in The Third Rail, half a bottle of whiskey – which she obviously couldn’t handle – down and she’d just asked him (as one of the 20 questions he’d limited her to) what the meaning of life was.  He’d told her to shut up and drink.  Then she’d tried for his name with so much mischief in those eyes and a smirk on her lips that he’d never quite been able to take his eyes off since.

“And I’ll tell you now, what I told you then.  No way.  I’m not telling you.  You’ll only use it to tell me off.”

He hissed indignantly at the cold hand she purposefully rested on his chest when she paused to give him an appraising look.  

“That’s fair,” she eventually conceded - most likely when her hand had reached the temperature a human body should be - setting back to work, only to pause again a second later.

“Of course...” she smirked at the new idea that had presented itself to her, leaning across conspiratorially to whisper in his ear. “You might have to make a choice between that, and me making up names for you.”

“I’ll take my chances,” he replied without hesitation.

“That’s your prerogative, Rodney.”

He glared at her.

--x--

It took a couple more minutes to work the material free of the wound – and a couple more minutes of enduring every name beginning with ‘R’ that Ivy could think of – but now the damage was plain to see.  

Or at least he could guess it was from the sudden lack of teasing and the expression of horror on Ivy’s face. The colour that he’d tried so hard to get back into those cheeks had drained again, and the guilt he could see in her eyes, when she flicked them to his face then back to his shoulder, was like a mirror to his own.  

If the deep red stains that had soaked into his once white tank and across his shoulder were anything to go by, those ferals had made a goddamn mess of him.  

“I—this might take a little while.  I’m going to need to clear out the…debris…and clean the scratches before I can even think about getting a Stimpak in there.”  She chewed on her bottom lip.  “These deeper ones… RJ, they’re going to hurt.”

“I’m a big boy, angel.  I can take it.”  

Debris.  He knew exactly what that meant.  And damn right it was going to hurt.  This wasn’t the first time he’d had to dig broken off feral nails and teeth from his flesh.  At least this time he wasn’t trying to comfort a bawling infant as he did it.  

When she dragged the lamp closer, MacCready knew exactly what else she’d see.  The back of his shoulder and upper arm were littered with old scars.  How long would it take her to spot the similarities between the old marks and the ones she was cleaning?  He wondered whether she’d guess that’s what wrecked his duster in the first place.

He braced himself, waiting for the inevitable pain, trying to ignore the glint of lamplight on the already red-tinted basin of water next to him.  Picking a patch of peeling paint on the skirting board, he stared at it, trying to make himself focus on what colour it might have been two centuries ago.  Would it have been something fun?  Midnight blue, maybe?  Not likely.

A shiver ran up his spine as Ivy smoothed a hand over his shoulder-blade, her thumb tracing the lines of the old wounds with a touch as delicate as a kiss.  She didn’t ask.  She didn’t need to.  One glance between them and she could recognise scars with a history.  If anyone understood the vulnerability that came with them, it was her.  

MacCready had never been much of one for looking after himself when he was hurt.  He was more of a ‘rip the bandaid off’ kind of guy.  Stick a stimpak in it and hope for the best.

Oh, but Ivy, she was as gentle as she could be with him, soft hands working to soothe, stopping with every groan and halted curse – if she could – whispering apologies and reassurances that she wouldn’t take much longer.  

The water beside him grew deeper red with every time she had to wash the blood from her fingertips.  He thought he’d bite clean through his lip when she dug out the last of the debris, it was buried deep and he could hear from trying to keep from retching as she pulled it from deep in the muscle.  

The smell of the antiseptic burned his nostrils.  He was such a mess, he barely even felt the sting of the carefully applied stimpak getting to work on knitting his muscle back together.  Woozily he pressed his fingers to his bleeding lip, rocking forward to put his head between his raised knees until the room stopped spinning.    

“Hey, that was the last one,” Ivy gently rubbed her hand up his spine and across his uninjured shoulder, quietly reassuring him.  “Just got to get you bandaged up and you’ll be good as new.”

“And what about you?” he asked as she began to bandage his shoulder, glancing pointedly at her swollen ankle which was covered in an ever-increasing nebula of purple and black bruises.

“It’s just a sprain, Mac” she shrugged.  “It’ll go down in time.  Let me worry about you.”

--x--

He heard the gunshots, that wasn’t what frightened him.  It was the scream that came after.  The last he’d seen of Ivy she’d been standing up on a pitched roof – stupidly out in the open, but if she hadn’t thrown caution to the wind to get that vantage point, he’d be a dead man.    

Now she was gone.  

There were feral corpses bobbing in the water all around him, even more hanging off the roofs and walkways.  He hadn’t realised how many were on him until he pulled himself back up, fighting for air.  

In seconds his vicious memories were replaced by a new fear.  

Bleeding and dizzy, he began wading through the deserted streets.  He couldn’t see any more movement, not around him and not on the rooftops.  And he couldn’t see her.  The village was as silent as when they arrived.  

“Hey partner, you okay?” he hazarded a shout.  

No answer, just the echo of his voice bouncing back off deserted buildings.  

MacCready started to move faster towards where he’d last seen her, forcing his body through the deep water, causing eddies and ripples to trail out behind him.  He tried to keep calm but his breaths were getting shaky.  

“Hey angel, you good?”  he shouted louder this time.  

Nothing.  

“Ivy?”  

It was more of a croak than a shout.  There was no way anyone could hear it.  He could barely hear it.  But that didn’t stop the nausea rising in the pit of his stomach, or his pulse starting to pound in his ears.  

No, no, no, no, no… not this time.

“Ives!” he yelled at the top of his lungs.  Over and over again, he shouted, his voice mixing with the echoes as he dragged himself up the rusted fire escape onto the rooftop.

“Mac?”  He almost missed it.  Her voice was stifled by coughing, but it was her.  

Scrambling up onto the pitched roof he’d last seen her on, he spotted a hole edged with rotten beams and snapped tiles.  Peering over the edge into the gloom of a dusty attic space, he could see Ivy.  She lay crumpled half on/half under a pile of broken beams with blood smeared across her face.  Her ankle was caught at a weird angle.  The body of a feral lay impaled where it landed just feet away.  

He wasn’t sure he’d ever been so relieved to see a person in his life.  The way she was smiling at him, she looked pretty damn glad to see him too.  

“Did we win?”

Shaky laughter spilled from his lips, “Something like that, angel.”

“You called me Ives.”

She gave him the soft look of a woman who’d probably hit her head on the way down.

--x--

But Mac was the one doing the worrying.  

It had been a long time since he’d been that worried about losing a partner.  What rattled him the most was that when she’d disappeared out of his sight, his panic had nothing to do with suddenly being alone in a feral-infested swamp.  He didn’t even spare a thought for the Gunner base less than a half a mile away.  He’d been too wrapped up in the fear of losing her.

Ivy was giving him that soft look again now, even without the concussion.  Would it be so much to hope that she actually gave a damn about him?  He’d made mistakes in the past, given his trust to people who didn’t deserve, and he’d been burned.  

But maybe she was different, just like he’d told her when he convinced her to help him with this dumbass plan.  

“You really don’t have to do all this for me, angel, but thank you.”  

Without thinking he reached out, brushed that one stubborn curl back behind her ear and cupped her cheek.  It took his thumb brushing her scar for him to realise that he was the biggest dumbass in the commonwealth.  Of all the things he could have done…

He was on the verge of panicking and pulling his hand away, when she pressed her hand over the top of and smiled at him.  He couldn’t have imagined such a different reaction to when she’d been falling apart in front of him in Malden.  

“You should let somebody else take care of you every once in a while.”  

If he thought she’d been looking at him softly before, well this look coaxed all the air from his lungs, and if he remembered to breathe at any point in the future, he’d struggle.  

This wasn’t how it was supposed to go.  Usually MacCready was the one who knew how to tease blushes and smiles out of her.  To catch her eye and leave her speechless.  How did one simple gesture have his stomach in knots?  

Holy crap, he did not see this coming.

There was a creak on the wooden stairs outside their room and he wasn’t sure he’d ever resented a noise so much in his life.  Their little bubble had been burst and now he could hear the chatter of settlers outside again, and the damn brahmin still hadn’t shut up – even though he’d been deaf to them just moments before.  He could hear one of those damn crows squawking away in the woods nearby.  Dinner was cooking, and people were laughing, and didn’t they have anything better to do than interrupt them.

Ivy gave his hand a quick squeeze and took it away from her face just as the door creaked open and one of the settlers arrived with a basin of scalding hot water - now he thought about it, after the day they just had, he probably smelled like antiseptic and stagnant marsh water.  Nice.

“I’ll leave you to get washed up.”  There was a flush to Ivy’s cheeks that couldn’t just be put down to warm lighting.  He just smiled at her like an idiot.  

“You need a hand down the stairs?”  their host enquired, giving them both the kind of look that gossip was built on.  

MacCready glared at the woman.  Ivy might be quick to forgive, but he remembered that pipe pistol, and if he started getting shit from caravan guards, he’d know exactly where it had come from.    

“No, thank you, Lynn.  I can manage.”   The woman bustled back out into the night air, but MacCready could hear her taking her time going down the stairs.  Nosy...

Before he could help her, Ivy had dragged herself to her feet, using the doorframe to keep as much weight off her ankle as possible.

“I’ll be outside.”

“What, no bed bath?”  MacCready forced a laugh.  This was the crap they usually joked about, right?  He was sure it wouldn’t have sounded so awkward that morning.  

Ivy shook her head in exasperation, or at least that was probably what she was going for, but the grin and the blush undermined the impression.  

“I was an artist, sweetheart, not a nurse,” she teased.  “So, unless you’re planning on posing for a life drawing, I’m going to go and help with supper.”

A sudden panic hit him as the room emptied.  What if something happened?  What if something happened while she was out there and he couldn’t get to her in time.

The door had barely clicked shut before he called after her, “Angel?”

“Yeah?” she poked her head back in, curious smile in place.   The wave of relief he felt after just a second, well, it was ridiculous.

“Stay close.  Yeah?”

--x--

The previous night had ended up much like that morning had begun - with bickering and a meal.  A big bowl of vegetable stew and a quarrel about how to get back to Diamond City, to be more precise.  Not that they’d gone to sleep on bad terms, if intertwined fingers and shy smiles in the darkness were anything to go by.

MacCready watched the weather suspiciously, the morning was dull and windy, and knowing his luck, they’d probably end up hiking in the rain.  He stood on the tracks with Ivy, all packed up and ready to go, but they were still undecided on the route they should take.  Her ankle was no better than the day before, despite her hobbling on it and trying to convince him that she’d be able to make it the long way on foot.

“I’m telling you, if we go via Cambridge it’s actual roads and I’ll be able to walk.  I might just need a little support,” she challenged him.  Again.

“And I’m telling you, you’re in no fit state to try and get past raiders and muties if they’ve infested that apartment block again,” he snapped back, frustrated.  “If we take the shorter route we can be back in under two hours.”

“And if there are yao guai, Mac?  What then?  I’m definitely going to get eaten, is what.”  She folded her arms across her chest, the very picture of defiance – if it wasn’t for her standing on one leg like a lawn flamingo.  “Where’s the salt?  Because you might as well season me now.”

“Stop being so damn dramatic.”  He rolled his eyes at her indignant look.  “I’d get us there in less time if you’d just let me carry you.”

“And what about your shoulder?”

He chose to ignore that one.  The shoulder in question still ached like a son-of-a…gun.

“I’ll tell you what RJ stands for.”  Looking at her like he’d just upped the ante on a bet she could never refuse.  “But only if we can go the shorter way.”

…got her.

“Really?”

He shook his head and stalked over, picking her up in one fluid movement and–hopefully–managed to hide the sharp pain in his shoulder.  She quickly wrapped an arm around his neck to steady herself and swallowed hard – he couldn’t miss it – composing herself after being caught off guard.  

“Robert.  Joseph.”

She smiled, glancing away at nothing in particular, like she was trying out the feel of his name in her mind.  Then she smiled at him, and it was his turn to steady himself.  There was none of the teasing he’d anticipated, just that gentle warmth that always caught him off guard.  

“Ok, you win.  We can go your way.”

Oh, this was going to get complicated.

[lightsandlostbells]

Druck season 3, episode 1 reaction

WE DID IT, KIDS. When Druck’s first season aired, I knew shortly after Matteo’s introduction that I could not wait for his season. But with that came a lot of apprehension that we would ever get Matteo’s season - Druck S1 got less attention than some of the other remakes, and for a long time, the fandom didn’t know if the show would get a S2, let alone S3. Months went by with no official news of when the show would return. Many people thought the show had been quietly cancelled. 

And then, finally, Mia’s season was announced. Ratings and subscribers grew substantially. Druck trended frequently on YouTube and Tumblr. Then finally, we got confirmation that S3 was in the works. So here we are, and to put it politely, my ass is on fire. 

Episode 1

Clip 1 - Matteo’s miserable night

Party time! This opening is pointedly sexual, with the music (”You’re turning me on”) and the dancing, with the closeups of boobs and butts and writhing bodies. Sara gets freaky with a banana. The presence of sex makes sense to highlight Matteo’s alienation, as we see him sitting on the couch, not participating. He’s disengaged from the flirtation and seduction, this isn’t something he wants to be a part of.

Is the guy dancing with Hans the turtleneck dude, or is that someone else? PLOT TWIST: he was never Matteo’s love interest, despite fan theories. He was Hans’ love interest all along!

Matteo gets up, trying to escape this scene that makes him uncomfortable. But Sara pulls him into a dance (much like she’s going to be playing the role of Emma this season, pulling Matteo back into an attempt at a straight relationship). They kiss, and he’s soooo not into it, hugging her and staring over her shoulder into space like she’s his great-aunt who smells like mothballs and he can’t wait to get the fuck out of this family reunion.

He escapes into the bathroom where the boy squad is smoking weed. Carlos showing the boys a sex position on his phone. I’m sure Matteo loves hearing about that. He’s getting high as the boys debate the mechanics of this man-woman sex position. The proper response, honestly.

Oh my God, Carlos just called Kiki a catheter. He meant cathetus. I don’t think you’re ready to integrate catheters into your sex life, dude. 

Matteo looks dead. I know he’s getting high, but this kid looks fucking deceased. Someone revive him already.

When he realizes he has three calls from Kiki, Carlos pulls up Jonas and Abdi, saying they’re going to go hook up with girls. An activity that I’m sure Matteo wants to participate in. Matteo lingers behind. He just seems so wiped. He looks at himself in the mirror and it’s as if he’s disappointed in what he sees.  (The way it’s shot makes his mirror image divided down the middle, like he’s a fractured person.) I’ve seen some later episodes by this point and Matteo seems like he’s really struggling with anxiety, like he just needs to escape sometimes, it all gets overwhelming.

The girl Jonas is dancing with kinda reminds me of Sonja (similar-ish haircut).

HOLY FUCK DID MATTEO JUST PUT THE WEED IN AMIRA’S BACKPACK???? Matteo, that is TOTALLY the worst an Isak has been about this, planting weed on on a person rather than a vase. I guess he assumes a Muslim girl in hijab seems like an unlikely candidate to have drugs, but ... dude. Asshole move. And I wouldn’t trust the authorities not to search the Muslim girl’s belongings for discriminatory reasons, anyway, which would have made it even worse.

Photoshop Markus is at this party and Matteo tells the cops Markus is the renter, LMAO GOD. Matteo is just snaking all over the place tonight. The cops tell everyone to turn the music down, which is pretty reasonable and not nearly as bad as them telling people to break up the party. Or maybe I’m just old. Carlos salutes as the cops leave, heh.

Amira just walks out with her backpack … and the weed. Lol, she might’ve just left because the cops showed up and she figured better to bail now, not wanting to get in trouble, or because she had a curfew or something, but part of me wants to believe she knew Matteo stuck weed in her backpack and she’s walking out to make him suffer. In that case: he deserves it, make him suffer.

Mia wasn’t at the party. I guess she and Alexander were making their own fun, but her presence is missed.

Clip 2 - Survival camp

Matteo’s new room is already a little messy, with beer bottles and remnants of the party. He wakes up and checks his phone, he’s got a Bible verse from mom. One that sounds normal and non-threatening enough, not like it’s about sin and hellfire, but you know. All religious texts are probably loaded coming from Matteo’s mom.

Matteo rolls over and Jonas is conked out in bed next to him. Oh nooooo, my heart. Matteo watches him and then reaches out and slooooowly lowers his hand to lightly touch Jonas’ curls, closing his eyes a little. GODDAMMIT.

If he doesn’t do this to Gereven at some point, touch his hair without having to be secretive about it, then I’m suing Druck.

You can tell Matteo is indulging in this fantasy that Jonas is his boyfriend and he’s waking up next to him, and the fantasy is broken when he looks down and sees that Jonas has a phone number with a little heart written on his arm. A girl. Jonas will never be his boyfriend.

Although I almost don’t think this is specifically about Matteo pining over Jonas - I think there’s definitely some lingering feelings, enough to be disappointed that Jonas might have a girl, but I also think it’s just the wish that Matteo can have this experience with a guy at all, he can wake up next to a boy who’s not just a friend, who he can touch and show affection to. 

The fantasy is further interrupted when Hans walks in (the dreamy music cuts off) and Matteo rolls on his back like he’s totally not staring wistfully at Jonas. Hans throws himself on the bed between them in a perfect face plant, lmao. 

Hans asks Matteo to buy rolls, saying Mia would’ve done that. Hans, if you are expecting Matteo to be a Mia substitute, you are setting yourself up for disappointment. I don’t think Matteo will lovingly wipe your vomit off the tub. (I mean. Maybe when he falls in love and is in just that good of a mood.)

Jonas asks why Hans is in Matteo’s bed, and Hans says he could ask Jonas the same question (DAMN) but Jonas is like … I’ve waited for you. He and Hans stare into each other’s eyes. Lmao, the way their gaze holds without comment or them breaking it off. I’m sure Matteo just loves seeing them “flirt.” But I don’t think the fantasy of Jonas in his bed involves Hans, sorry Hans. Matteo gets up to buy rolls, just to get away from the JoHans lovefest, I guess.

Linn comes in and says she wants to make pancakes but doesn’t know where the pans are, and she doesn’t know how to make pancakes either. Everyone in this flat is screwed without Mia. But Jonas offers to make pancakes, so all is saved! Matteo grumpily leaves Jonas, Hans, and Linn to take a selfie of their “survival camp” to send to Mia, showing they’re totally making it on their own. They look so perky, heh. They won’t be so perky when Jonas leaves and takes his pancake-making skills with him.

Matteo steps outside and gets a text from Sara about whether he slept well. I feel bad for Sara. She’s not just the Emma equivalent, she’s a character we’ve seen in the past who has been entertaining and likable. I don’t want to see her either make Emma’s mistakes like outing Matteo OR get her heart broken by him.

 Hans throws Matteo’s wallet out of the window, beaning him in the head, which is truly the perfect gif.

Clip 3 - Will you surrender?

Matteo goes into school on a rainy Monday morning. We start with some passionate straight kissing in the foreground, coupled with a pic and text from Sara, just to show the kind of shit Matteo is dealing with. A heterosexual assault from all angles. 

He meets up with the boy squad. Jonas is looking to get with Linn’s friend, who is “Emma Watson but blonde.” Sucks for Matteo to hear yet more girl talk, and girl talk from Jonas specifically. The heterosexuality strikes from another corner.

Adding another unwanted conversation topic, Abdi asks about the weed. Matteo seems like he wants to get the hell out of there, so he bails and goes up to Hanna and Sam, asking where Amira is. She’s out sick, so solving the weed dilemma will have to wait another day.

Hanna glances over at Jonas, who finally seems to have snapped out of his S2 funk as he talks about his new girl … does Hanna know yet Jonas has a new flame? Or is she just suspicious?

Man, I keep saying it, but Matteo seems like he’s sleepwalking through life, like this kid is just. Legit depressed. He has no energy for anything. Not even to fake being OK.

Continuity snarl: Matteo puts up his hood as he rounds the corner after leaving the girls, but it’s down a moment later.

The music is kicking in and there’s still almost a minute of clip left, is Matteo going to like … literally run into Beanie Boy/Gereven?

YEP

Well, they didn’t do a rom-com Meet Cute collide into each other or anything, but they passed each other in the hallway! In slow motion!

The big moment: Matteo and Gereven are coming at each other from different sides (like different ~walks of life? ooooo). They lock eyes and then look back at each other once after they’ve passed.

The scene goes into slow motion as soon as Matteo lifts his head and sees Beanie Boy. Matteo is just ambling his way to class and meandering through life, but when he sees that guy, that’s when he starts to feel present in the world, like it’s not just around him but including him. And then Gereven comes into focus as they pass each other.

I adore the music choice for this moment. It’s beautiful, and the lyrics are so lovely. “Will you surrender?” when we see Gereven and Matteo looking at each other, because Matteo’s seeing the boy who will make him give in and stop hiding who he truly is, who will make him surrender to love. And I suspect the same is true for Gereven, that Matteo will make him surrender as will, let go of his fears. 

So I reaaaaally don’t think Beanie Boy was trying to get Matteo’s attention like Even was. There’s nothing about it that suggests so. My prediction is that Beanie Boy, like Matteo was trying to keep his head down and get through life, and they just happened to walk by each other. I mean, Matteo’s just walking down a school hallway, it’s not like Beanie Boy parked his ass deliberately somewhere so Matteo could see him, he couldn’t predict Matteo was going to walk down that hallway at that particular time. I feel like Beanie Boy is very much like Matteo in that he’s lonely and an outsider. He’s not trying to attract attention, he’s not seen smiling or laughing at someone at the beginning. Our first glance at Even was his brightness. Our first glimpse of Gereven (from Matteo’s POV, not the brief moment of him last season which is more of an Easter egg, really) has him in dark clothes, headphones on. I feel like he and Matteo are just checked out of life. And I think that’ll be an interesting take on Even, not so much that Beanie Boy has Even’s confidence and swagger in drawing Matteo to him, but that Matteo and Gereven are both outsiders and recognize their loneliness in each other.

That’s what really makes me love this scene. It’s just a mundane occurrence. Two boys walking by each other. Something that happens all the time. Something that Matteo no doubt does every day, walk by other boys whose faces don’t register. But this time, there’s ... something. Physical attraction? Sure, that’s part of it. But even more I think it’s a sense of connection, something inexplicable that draws them to look back at each other even when the moment should have ended. A gut feeling that this person is also lost, that he would understand. 

Clip 4 - Everyone’s favorite reluctant friendship begins

It’s the first remake to focus on the teacher’s nipples! Matteo is staring at them instead of listening to her talk about their exams. 

Amira comes in and Matteo just gets up from where he was sitting and sits next to her while the teacher is talking. Lol, is that allowed? Is this a study session or something?

Amira coolly ignores Matteo even when he tries to get her attention. Eventually she says she found his weed and how fucked up it was for him to do that, she could have gotten in trouble. A bit of a change because Sana was upset that Isak almost fucked over Eva, causing a demonstration of Sana’s loyalty to her friends. With Amira, it was personal, a risk to herself. Matteo acts shitty too, he’s just like come on, it wasn’t personal, it wasn’t a big deal. Dude! If you want your weed back, that’s not the best course of action. You need to grovel.

The teacher calls on Matteo and Jonas shoots him an entertained look, like ha ha, you got in trouble. Or probably, more ha ha, check out our teacher’s nips. Nice display of Jonas going for that hetero bro bonding that Matteo would love to avoid.

LMAO, when Matteo asks for the week back and Amira says, “What will I get for it?” Matteo is like “IDK, blowjob?” THIS KID. His mind went to that, huh. Remember Even was all “yeah, we had to suck dicks” without two minutes of meeting Isak? And then later Eskild told Isak that talking about sucking dick when you meet someone is a sign someone’s gay? Yeah. 

Amira says she’ll give the weed back if Matteo and his boys join the abi-prank committee. Didn’t they do that last season? The copies of the boobs and butts and Jonas’ dick, didn’t that count as the prank?

The teacher makes them study partners. So far, she’s not a racist, at least? Anyway, Amira and Matteo look positively thrilled to be paired together; meanwhile Jonas is flirting with his seat partner. Oh, maybe that’s what the Look was about. Matteo continues to be pelted with heterosexuality like rotten fruits and vegetables.

Clip 5 - Matteo gets a prom date

Matteo and Sara sit on opposite sides of the bed, texting their friends, on their phones. LMAO, sounds about right, tbh. Truly scorching chemistry. Nah, it’s very Isak and Eskild.

The boys’ group chat has Jonas saying he’s getting laid on Friday. That rotten hetero produce comes in the form of eggplant emojis. Matteo sure loves hearing about Jonas banging chicks!  He’s like, yeah, I’m totally having sex with a girl as well.

Sara asks his opinion about a dress. Subtle (“subtle”) hint about the prom? Yes, as it turns out. But she suddenly leans over and kisses him after he’s like yeah, that looks nice. He looks as excited as you’d expect. He was actually staring into space before she did that.

Sara gets a text, Matteo wants to know what they’re talking about, and there’s some “flirting” until Sara caves and tells him that Leonie likes the new guy from their PE class. GEE I WONDER WHO THAT COULD BE. Matteo offers to investigate for her. Yeah, I’ll bet he’s gonna enjoy that more than he knows. He’s going to become one of the Hardy Boys.

Sara somewhat nervously asks if they should go to prom together, and when Matteo is agrees, she asks whether they’re a thing. It makes me sad how clearly vulnerable she is right now, like she really likes him and is hoping to say yes, but she isn’t sure. Matteo says they’re a thing. Not conveying how utterly miserable this must make him, but not exactly jumping for joy, either. Like Isak tried hard to impress Emma, he could turn on the charm, but Matteo is just sleepy about it.

Sara kisses Matteo again, but before they go further, he asks if she wants to watch a movie with him. Smart move.

I’m sure Matteo will end up going to prom with Gereven. Sara and Leonie can go together? Realizing their love for each other at last. Or just as friends. (But preferably girlfriends.)

Clip 6 - Make a wish

Matteo goes to the abi-prank meeting, looking like he gives nary a fuck. Amira shoots him a nod and he gives her a “what more do you want from me” look. The girls are at the meeting, the rest of the boy squad is not, obviously. I see Photoshop Markus but not Beanie Boy.

All the girls are looking beautiful by the way. Look at Amira, she’s radiant!

Kiki literally goes Fight Club on this meeting. I have to say, if you asked me which Druck character would be a member of Fight Club, it would be Kiki. Her clumsy nervousness is a total front for bloodlust.

Matteo is being rude as hell just taking out his phone while Kiki is talking. The boys text why they aren’t there: Jonas has a date, Kiki is still mad at Carlos (dude, that’s why you need to come, it’s a way to get back on her good side) and Abdi just forgot.

They suggest a flash mob. Lmao, good luck getting Matteo to dance. Or they suggest just randomly hugging teachers. That could get all kinds of awkward, judging by the last teacher we saw with the power nipples. I’m just imagining some short kid going for a hug and getting their face mashed into the teacher’s areola.

Photosohp Markus has a suggestion. I love this dude, sorry. He loves hugging! He wants to practice with Kiki. Kiki realizes in an instant why the hugging prank might not be the best idea. But she’s like, we can group bond instead. Kiki wants everyone to hold hands and Matteo just peaces the fuck out. This prank meeting is pretty depressing, honestly. Way more so than kosegruppa. Kosegruppa might have been uncool or whatever but I got the sense the people involved enjoyed it. This meeting was just excruciating, and barely anyone is there. Look at that tiny circle.

Oh shit! As Matteo exits the room, Beanie Boy is going into it, and Matteo stops him. No, don’t go in there, it’s dangerous! Or actually it just sucks and they’re doing a trust circle where they hold hands. Beanie Boy obviously does not want to hold hands in that room, since Matteo is out here and not in there.

Aww, I love that Matteo has a slight smile? Just the tiniest when he talks to Beanie. Beanie is kinda doing the talking with his eyes, he’s definitely considering Matteo.

Shit, it’s Matteo who offers weed! Matteo is the one being the initiator! The bolder one. I love the idea of maybe having a shyer Even, like it does drastically change their dynamic, but I’m fine with that as long as the show does a thorough job of adapting their interactions, not just a cut and paste. Beanie Boy is the new kid and probably didn’t expect someone to make overtures of friendship (or more…).

And I love Matteo doing this when we’ve seen him sleepwalking through his interactions with Sara and … everyone else, kinda. He’s actually found some courage. Like he could have just let Beanie Boy go off and do his own thing, there was no real reason to offer a joint once he’d warned him off the meeting. But he somehow just felt the need to keep talking to this dude.

Holy fuck, MATTEO putting the joint behind his ear. This role reversal is so much fun already. And it’s even more amusing if you think that this is how some of Evak played out from Even’s POV? We thought Even was this charming, suave, mysterious dude when he stuck that joint behind his ear, because we were in Isak’s POV and Even was some handsome stranger. Later we realize what a huge dork Even is and that he was super desperate to get Isak’s attention and had been pining since the first day of school. So this is like how Even actually was - we know Matteo is a big dork and not a suave dude, but maybe that’s how he comes across in Beanie Boy’s eyes. 

HIS NAME IS DAVID. A perfectly excellent name, tbh. I was worried they were going to call him something like Daniel or Noah, names that already exist in the Skam universe, which would be confusing as hell when those Noorhelm seasons are concurrently airing. “I can’t believe that thing Noah just did in this clip.” Uhhhh which Noah are you talking about, untagged post? Or God forbid, another Lucas, although David’s actor is named Lukas so I figured we would dodge that bullet.

Although it does occur to me that we have do have a David, the Skam France director, soooo … fuck.

I want to make a disclaimer: as fandom knows, David is played by a trans actor. There’s no guarantee that this character will be trans yet, but I think it’s unlikely that they won’t bring it up. The nature of this show seems like they’ll incorporate it into the story rather than let the opportunity pass to talk about trans issues, and I know that trans Druck fans campaigning for a trans Even had a ton to do with this decision, so I believe their input would weigh on the story itself beyond the casting. So I’m going to make speculation and comments with the assumption that David is trans and how that will affect the plot. There are things in this conversation that are potentially relevant to that, for instance. I don’t want to overstep, but I also don’t want to ignore moments of possible foreshadowing or pieces that might be relevant to his characterization.

So for instance, I don’t know if they have replaced Even being bipolar with David being trans. To be clear, NOT because being trans is a mental illness but more as an area of societal marginalization that the character has to deal with, that might be hidden from the other characters and the audience. We don’t know when we will learn that David is trans; while I write this we’re several episodes in, but I don’t know if we’ll learn three clips from now or three episodes from now. I don’t know if David will be trans and bipolar, or just one of the two. I don’t know if the reveal will end up being casual and non-dramatic, or if it will be a big thing like the end of episode 8. I have some guesses about where the story might go, but I’m keeping in mind that there’s a new element that none of the Evak seasons have tackled before, and that may cause big changes to the story. 

Matteo asks David about being new so close to Abi, and David says he killed someone and had to go into hiding. That could be a reference to his dead name. I don’t know if that term is the same in German, but seems like a possible hint. He does say he killed his parents, but that’s after Matteo asks if he had stress with them, so he’s just riffing off what Matteo said. Or just the fact that when Matteo asks about him being new, David wants to know why - maybe he’s wondering if Matteo knows something or heard a rumor. 

Isak asking about Even transferring in his final year got cut off because Emma showed up. Here Matteo just kinda accepts David’s joke and doesn’t question him further.

Matteo is super into him, of course. Look at that body language, he’s all angled toward David. David, too. Tarjei and Henrik had masterful body language so this is very promising.

David points out an eyelash on Matteo’s face and you fucking KNOW later in the season he probably won’t ask, he’ll just brush it off himself. Matteo is like, can I make a wish now? JFC, Matteo is flirting so much, he is intensely looking at David when he says that. Honestly, it’s really exciting to see this dynamic kinda flipped, mixing and matching Isak and Even elements between Matteo and David. David says it was just an eyelash. Maybe he’ll be more of the realist rather than the romantic? God, if Matteo is the more romantic one, I will lose my mind (in a good way).

David does ask what Matteo’s wish would have been, and Matteo is like, IDK, go on holiday or something. David says he knows the feeling and Matteo asks where he would go. Matteo would get in a car and just drive away. David says to go directly to Detroit. David, I’m fond of you already but unless your car turns into a submarine that is not gonna work.

David has been pretty chill so far, but he perks up and smiles when mentioning Detroit at the very end, so Matteo gets hit with the ray of charm. That’s when the music kicks in, too, because Matteo has seen David smile. No turning back now. I presume we are going to be hearing music from Detroit artists this season?

LMAO, I was like oh, Sara’s not there at the meeting so she can’t interrupt their moment, and yet SOMEHOW she managed to anyway. And she kisses Matteo so David knows Matteo has a girlfriend right off the bat. David takes this as his cue to exit.

Why was Sara there, anyway? Did she show up late for the Abi prank meeting? Didn’t she just do a big prank where she photocopied her boobs for the school to see? Or did she just know that’s where Matteo was headed tonight and she waited around for him?

For Matteo, Sara’s arrival cuts into this charged moment with David. With David, it’s a little less intense than Isak finding out about Sonja? Because he’s only shared a few minutes now with Matteo instead of stalking him for a week and then spending hours at his house, although obviously he could be crushing on him for a while already. Though personally I think they might eliminate that part of the story. Anyway, this is like … a spark of hope getting extinguished REALLY early and it makes me wonder how the rest of this story is gonna go. Matteo is the one with the girlfriend, the “obstacle.” Is he going to run hot and cold, go back to Sara after getting with David? 

Matteo looks sad as David goes, obviously. Making it worse is that of course that’s the dude Leonie likes. Matteo takes a drag of the joint before replying that he thinks it’s somebody else. Well, David was someone somebody else liked (ahem), so I guess that does make him somebody else. But clearly David is going to be so much more to Matteo than just “dude Leonie likes.”

Anyway, I love how quiet and down to earth that scene was, how it wasn’t instant smiles and conversational bliss but a little rough, testing each other out. And I think it’s good that Matteo seems to be more proactive around David, because they both seem kinda like chill stoner/emo kids, and two sleepy guys is not going to be that exciting of a dynamic, honestly. Matteo being the instigator gives the story a fresh take, and the contrast between Matteo with David and Matteo with everyone else is really, really important. We can already see that David is the person, the one who makes Matteo slip into a different mode of his being, one that’s happier and more comfortable. The one who makes him wake up.

Social Media/General Comments:

Jonas says he’s better about the Hanna situation than he was before. We’ll see how long that lasts. I hope his S2 attitude leaves a trace this season, like it was such a big deal and had an affect on Matteo feeling adrift from his best friend, so it should play a role in their relationship.

Abdi refuses to get on Instagram, which is convenient for the show’s social media content creators, lol.

As explained in the texts, a pipe broke in the apartment, so Mia, Hans, and Linn had to move out, and Linn found them a new apartment but one with an extra room, so they needed another roommate fast. Mia suggested Matteo as she heard through the grapevine that he wanted to move out. It’s pretty sad because he was looking to leave, so we can assume things are very bad at home. At least it didn’t escalate to him sleeping in a basement.

I’m glad they found a way to move Matteo into the apartment neatly and quickly with the small gap between S2 and S3. I think Matteo living on his own is a pretty big contributor to his feelings of isolation and instability, and assuming Hans plays a similar role as Eskild with his “guru” advice, it helps a lot if they’re living under the same roof. However, it does create a different setup for the two, though, because Hans didn’t “rescue” Matteo like Eskild did with Isak. Living with Hans will give them more opportunities to bond than living apart would, but Hans didn’t nurture and shelter Matteo to the degree that Eskild did for Isak. Hans is like a new acquaintance, and it will take more effort to build them to a point where Matteo feels like he can trust Hans and go to him for advice. Unless it’s solely like “well, he’s the only other gay guy I know” which would be understandable but a bit underwhelming. Hans has a depressing family life, as shown in S2, with relatives who don’t accept his personality, to the point where he adopts a “straighter” persona to interact with them, and it would be amazing to bring in his background to the Pride clip.

LET’S GET SOME MIA/MATTEO CONVERSATIONS ABOUT SEXUALITY GOING, TOO. They made Mia bi but many people think they could’ve done a better job of addressing it, so this is their chance! Don’t just sleep on it by following the OG story structure - make use of those changes.

The only non-confirmed LGBT person in the flat is Linn and you know, they could remedy that this season.

Linn apparently took care of a lot of the move, so that’s progress for her, she got something done for once, lol. 

With the other girls, Hanna and Mia are furtive about why they don’t think it’s serious between Matteo and Sara. I love them for keep their mouths shut about his sexuality.

Seeing Matteo flirt with Sara and make plans to go to the movies with her has me yelling like I’m in the movie theater for a horror film. DON’T GO UPSTAIRS! GET OUT OF THE HOUSE!

There are pictures of Matteo and Amira looking smiley and happy because The Incident happens, heh. Matteo looks like he was having a decent time earlier in the evening and then descended into sadness and fatigue. And, you know, getting drunk and high.

Sara posts a pic with Leonie being like #theonewhounderstandsme and if that isn’t screaming for a Sara/Leonie endgame...

Linn super loves flamingos. 

Kiki and Carlos fight because he was in the bathtub getting high and ignoring her texts.

Mia is absent a lot because she’s hanging with Alex, that’s why she missed the housewarming party. The girls miss her. Come back soon, Mia! Don’t just disappear because Noora went to London!

We got a sappy chat between Mia and Alex to remind us that they’re around, at least. Alex misses Mia even though she’s sitting across from him. I guess they’re in their little couple bubble now.

Matteo checks in with Amira and asks if she’s feeling better or still sick, and Amira’s answers make me suspect she knows exactly what bullshit Matteo pulled on Saturday.

When Matteo invited Sara to study at his place on Thursday, I found myself wishing that maybe Hans could save the day and just be so intrusive and annoying that he drove Sara away without Matteo having to make out with Sara or blow her off rudely or whatever. Alas.

I’m laughing how Markus is “Photoshop Markus” even in the group chat. No one else appears to have a nickname, just him.

Leonie and Sara chat; Leonie has her eye on Gereven and Sara is trying to figure out where she and Matteo stand as a couple. I’m really fond of them and I hope they don’t become Emma and Sonja, honestly. Again, just ... nip those relationships in the bud. Let them go to prom with each other, not the boys. Even if they aren’t together romantically, they seem to be the most important people in each other’s lives.

Matteo zips his lips when Jonas asks if he banged Sara, which conveniently doesn’t mean he has to say no. A very Isak technique.

Mia wasn’t in this episode at all, which is strange when she, you know, lives with Matteo and goes to school with him and we saw all the other girls. In-universe the explanation is that she’s with Alexander, but I wonder if they were filming parts of S2 at the same time, maybe? Reshoots? And that’s why we haven’t seen either Mia or Alexander, because the actors were busy. The other explanation is just that Mia is not here because Noora was not there, and Druck felt the need to follow that story. I’d find that really disappointing. 

This is a really promising start to the season, and I already love the tone. It has a very down-to-earth, painfully vulnerable feel. Matteo’s misery is palpable in basically every scene, except the ones with David, where we get glimpses of his better self. I can sense this kid’s internal struggle all the time. There’s also pining and longing in the simplest moments, from Matteo brushing Jonas’ hair while he’s sleeping, to that one look in the hallway with David causing a spark, to the way they look at each other while smoking, David pointing out the eyelash on Matteo’s cheek. It’s quiet, raw, and real. And that is exactly the atmosphere I want from a S3 remake.

I’m not German so feel free to correct me on translations or cultural notes.

If you got this far, thank you for reading!

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 031: Just How Many Kids Am I Gonna Have to Adopt

Previously on BnHA: Bakugou went on a roaring rampage of revenge. The once-mighty class B ate some humble pie and got shut out of the finals. Tokoyami was the fucking MVP and kept Team Deku’s hopes alive at the last second. Todoroki used his Arm That Reminds Him of His Dad Who He Hates for a half second and had instant angst. He, Deku, Baku, and the mind control guy with purple hair advanced to the final round along with their teammates. Todo and Deku went off to have a private chitchat while their dads met up in a random hallway.

Today on BnHA: Todoroki thinks All Might is Deku’s dad (but is he wrong?). He then tells Deku all about his dad, who is terrible. And his childhood, which is also terrible. And his scar, which, you guessed it -- terrible. All Might and Endeavor have their own separate conversation during which Endeavor is, wait for it... terrible. Deku has no idea how to respond to any of this, so he affectionately declares war. Bakugou listens in on the whole thing because of course he does. I basically lose all of my shit and then some and I’m not gonna pretend like I didn’t.

(As always, all comments not marked with an ETA are my unspoiled reactions from my first readthrough of this chapter. I’ve read up through chapter 68 now, so any ETAs will reflect that. Although there is one ETA here that was written the day after I read the chapter and is noted as such.)

well hello there Todoroki! are you about to become my third adopted son from this series, because it’s getting a bit crowded tbh. but you’re all good boys, so. it’s hard to say no to you

finally some more info about this guy!

his mouth is relatively ill-mannered? I haven’t gotten that vibe from him

(ETA: and I still haven’t? like is he using the wrong kind of keigo or something and I just never noticed or what)

Todoroki’s burn scar: dot dot dot. except that this is one of the few things I think I might have accidentally spoiled myself for, because there was a gif making the rounds a while back that I happened to see accidentally. which is my own damn fault, and it’s not like it’s other people’s job to keep me from getting spoiled. if anything this taught me to take extra care now that I’m at the point where I know and recognize the majority of the cast, and am thus more potentially spoiler-literate than I was before

anyway

(ETA: haha so let me just explain here. I actually was not spoiled, but I thought I was. what happened was that I saw a gif of Todoroki lying on the ground and then his flames slowly ignited, starting from around his left eye right where his scar is, and then expanding to cover the scar. and I thought, oh, that must be what happened originally before he learned to control it! hence, burn scar! little did I know that was not the case at all and that the actual story was so. much. worse. omg. but the whole thing really set me up to be properly shocked, so.)

he apparently is another one who’s not immune to his own abilities! he has to use his left side to regulate the temperature changes from the right so he doesn’t give himself frostbite or anything like that

“if he uses his left side for too long”... yeah I’m pretty sure I did spoil myself there lmao. we’ll see, I guess

IZUKU: “you wanted to talk?” TODOROKI: [GLARES]

well this is off to a smashing good start

there goes Deku comparing everyone and everything to Kacchan once again! Todoroki apparently has “a much colder sort of intimidation”

“you overwhelmed me. so much that I broke my own pledge.” it’s kind of a stupid pledge, honestly, Todo

whoa hold up

did this kid just fucking put two and two together and actually come up with four

“I felt the same pressure coming from you.” hahaha! you don’t say! :’D

WOW he’s SO DAMN CLOSE

I’m pretty sure he’s not! he supposedly does have an actual bio dad somewhere out there, but we’ve never seen him and he doesn’t seem to be around! but!! aside from that, All Might did pass down his quirk and he has adopted him now, so! I’m gonna give him close to full marks for accuracy!

motherfucker, Deku is going off on some meandering rant of denial and it’s possibly the least convincing thing I’ve ever seen

lol Deku. at this point maybe just shut up

now he’s asking why Todoroki thought that. well I guess it must be because he himself is the son of a famous hero, right?

oh shit

yeah, come to think, it really does imply the existence of a “but” there, huh

now he’s telling Izu that his dad is Endeavor. would Izuku have already known that, what with the degree to which he tends to stalk his favorite heroes? the number two hero having a son his own age definitely seems like the type of factoid he would have made a note of

“all the more reason for me to crush you.” boys, no. :( why are all of my sons so antagonistic toward each other

cut to All Might and Endeavor!

All Might is being super nice so naturally Endeavor basically tells him to shove it!

hey, Endeavor! get fucked!!

DAMMIT ALL MIGHT STOP MAKING ME LOVE YOU EVEN MORE

he’s talking about how Todoroki (or “little Shouto” as he calls him... what was the Japanese equivalent? don’t tell me it was Shouto-chan) (ETA: nope, just the same -shounen suffix he uses for all of his kids) won the round even without using his left side, and says that “someone has been raising him well”

are you guys going to have a battle of who is the best dad

?! All Might is asking him for tips on how to dad?

All Might, maybe he’s not the best guy to ask? unless you’re going for a “how to make your son hate your guts” thing here

oh. whoa. hold the fuck up

[PULLS THE CAR AROUND!!] I’VE MADE UP MY MIND, SHOUTO, YOU’RE ADOPTED. HERE, YOU CAN PUT ALL YOUR THINGS IN THE TRUNK, AND I’VE BROUGHT YOU A TEDDY BEAR. TAKE IT EASY, KID, EVERYTHING’S GOING TO BE ALL RIGHT

ENDEAVOR YOU ARE ALSO CANCELLED. I’M SERVING YOU PAPERS. BY THE WAY, I HATE THAT STUPID MUSTACHE

All Might is all, “wut”

lmao I just realized he basically went up to Endeavor and was like “can you give me some advice” and Endeavor’s response was basically, “FUCK YOU!! NO!!! I HATE YOU!! ALSO!!!! MY SON WILL BE BETTER THAN YOU AND THAT’S THE ONLY REASON I HAVE A SON IN THE FIRST PLACE!!!”

and he said all of this while being, just... on fire. just all over the fucking place

what a weird conversation, is my point

he says Todoroki is a “rebellious little brat”, but that he’ll make him surpass All Might

wowwwwwwwwwww. CANCELLED. SO FUCKING CANCELLED

back to Shouto! Shouto we’re on a first name basis now

his dad basically embodies the worst of all this pro hero crap. the complete antithesis of All Might

All Might. bud, hold up. we need to sit down and discuss. there are three of them now, All Might. we need to do everything we can to make sure that none of these impressionable young kids ends up going down the wrong path and ending up like this salty fuck. I apologize for my language, All Might, but this is serious stuff. I know Katsuki is pretty rambunctious, but he has a good heart underneath it all, I’m sure of it. Deku is a good influence on him. now, I don’t know what kind of emotional damage this new one has been dealt, but he seems all right so far, so we just need to make sure he stays on track and makes some good friends, and is doing all this because he wants to be, and not because his POS father tells him it’s what he’s supposed to do

-- oh sorry guys I went off track there

so anyway, Shouto is telling Deku all about his horrible dad who wanted to be better than All Might but wasn’t better than All Might (AND HE COULD NEVER!!!!)

so he “came up with another plan.” oh honey ;_;

Deku apparently doesn’t have any idea why Shouto is telling him all this, because he’s still relatively new to this shounen protagonist stuff, and it’s his first tragic backstory. hush and just listen for a sec, Deku

“quirk marriages” fucking shit we’re really getting into fucking eugenics now. that got real heavy real fast

so basically Shouto’s dad forced his mom’s family to agree to marry their daughter to him. WOW. WOW

now Deku has shut up and looks properly horrified

I’m glad he understands that his father is a total piece of shit, though. like, good. good fucking show, Shouto, you keep it up

“as I remember it, mom was always crying...” ;_;

-- WHAT

WHAT.

DEKU. YOU AND ME ARE TWO OF A KIND HERE

FUCKING WHAT. SO YOU’RE TELLING ME BOTH PARENTS WERE ABUSIVE. DAD IS A NARCISSISTIC ASSHOLE WHILE MOM TOOK HER OWN HORRIFICALLY SHITTY SITUATION OUT ON HER FUCKING CHILD, WHICH IS NOT FUCKING OKAY NO MATTER WHAT THE CIRCUMSTANCES, AND ABUSED HIM EMOTIONALLY AND PHYSICALLY. HOLY FUCKING SHIT

I APPARENTLY WAS NOT, IN FACT, SPOILED BY THAT GIF, THANK GOODNESS

YEAH THIS CAME TOTALLY OUT OF LEFT FUCKING FIELD FOR ME TBH

SHIT

poor Deku really does look so shaken up all of a sudden. like, he has the best mom in the world, who loves him so much even without him having a quirk (as far as she knows). and then along comes this cool kid who seems to have it all, but in fact his home life was horrific and abusive, and he just came up and told Deku all of this out of the blue lol, and I say lol, but I’m not actually lol, you guys, I’m so not lol

okay. okay, dude, I get it. but! I still think that if you were to go ahead and use it, it would still be fine, because in the end you are not him, you’re not his tool, you are you, and you can go ahead and be as incredible of a hero as you want, and it’ll be in spite of Endeavor and certainly not because of him

(ETA: this is basically exactly what Deku ended up telling him. only I bet you I could have done it without dramatically ripping every fucking limb in my body to shreds. but hey, you know, shounens gonna shounen)

does U.A. have counseling. aside from All Might, who to be fair does try his best. but like, real counseling

because if not, they should. have counseling

-- !!!!!!!!!!!!

[AUDIBLE GASPING SOUNDS, I LITERALLY GASPED IN REAL LIFE???!!!!]

KATSUKI OH MY GOD. SURE, GET IN ON THIS. OF COURSE YOU WERE LISTENING, NO FUCKING WAY DEKU AND TODOROKI GO OFF ON THEIR OWN AND YOU DON’T NOTICE AND SLINK OFF TO FOLLOW THEM AND EAVESDROP. BUT I BET YOU WEREN’T EXPECTING THAT, WERE YOU

ARE YOU HAVING FEELINGS OF EMPATHY?? I HOPE TO GOD THIS IS HELPING YOU WITH YOUR EMPATHY MY ANGRY SON

LESSON ONE: DON’T BE LIKE ENDEAVOR!!

LESSON TWO: JUST BECAUSE YOU’RE COOL AND STRONG AND POWERFUL DOESN’T MEAN YOUR LIFE IS AUTOMATICALLY GONNA BE GREAT

LESSON THREE: I’M JUST CURIOUS, WERE YOU LISTENING IN ON THE “IS ALL MIGHT YOUR DAD” PART OF IT TOO?????

OH MY GOD

[shaking out hands to dispel all of my crazy excited nervous energy] oh my god. deep breath. okay

s-sigh. okay, Deku. now you have to say something, okay? don’t think about it too much, just. say something back to him, dude

oh shit Shouto’s walking off now. DEKU YOU DIDN’T SAY ANYTHING!!!!

also!! Shouto mentioned the All Might connection again, so even if Katsuki hadn’t heard him the first time, he definitely heard him now

ugh I’m SO FUCKING DYING TO KNOW just how much Kacchan has actually put together when it comes to the “Deku received his powers from All Might” thing and it drives me fucking crazy and I’m pretty sure I’m not going to get answers any fucking time soon. this manga has been good to me so far, but not that good

(ETA: this is a next day ETA! like, just to be clear, I haven’t read any additional chapters yet. but I was thinking on this some more, and basically I’ve come to the conclusion that Katsuki must know. the thing is, I keep forgetting just how insanely thorough Horikoshi is when it comes to his attention to detail. and I just can’t see him going out of his way to show Katsuki within earshot of a conversation like this, twice (here and on the bus to USJ), and not have that lead up to anything. yes, Katsuki has shown himself to be fairly oblivious to a lot of the goings-on surrounding him if it doesn’t involve him directly. but we’ve also seen that he absolutely does pay attention if the matter involves Deku. and he showed during the fight with Kurogiri and the rest that he’s definitely clever enough to pick up on subtle clues and connect the dots. and the thing is, the thing with Deku getting his power from All Might is not subtle at all. it’s the most obvious fucking thing ever, so obvious that two of Deku’s other classmates have come close to figuring it all out even without any hints. and neither of them had Deku literally come up to them and say “I got my quirk from someone else, but I can’t say from who.” yeah, Bakugou didn’t seem to understand it at the time. but he’s had time to process it since, and I just can’t see any way he wouldn’t have made the connection by now. so until we’re shown otherwise, I’m going to operate under this assumption from now on.)

(ETA 2: as of chapter 68, this is still up in the air! so I stand by it! I’m putting it out there!)

-- DEKU IS SAYING SOMETHING!!!! DEKUUUUU

and he says he’ll repay everyone who helped him by becoming the best

“let me return your declaration of war with my own.” awww. “declaration of war” isn’t really the best description for it lol. not when it’s being done like this

;_;

a healing shounen bond of determination is born

meanwhile Kacchan’s still listening in but doesn’t say anything. last time he got upset because they were having a rivalry without him. I wonder if he’s gonna let them have this thing for themselves this time around

don’t worry Kacchan, no matter what happens you’ll always be Deku’s number one rival. seriously, no matter how many other people he goes around declaring war on, you’re the one that fucking inspires him and lights that crazy fire in him and spurs him on to do crazy things and be amazing. you and All Might. but he’s not in love with All Might

lunch break is over. I wonder if they ever got to eat lunch

lol I’m so checked out of the sports festival now. I just want these three to go get ice cream together and chill

apparently they prepared some sort of “recreational activity” for the kids that didn’t end up making it to the final

um. what

I’m hovering my hand over the “cancel” button once again, people. don’t make me do it

[REPEATEDLY SLAMS CANCEL BUTTON FURIOUSLY!!!!!]

...okay, we’re back to the actual plot now

YESSSS THIS IS WHAT I FUCKING HOPED FOR THE MOSTTT

I mean come on, you can’t have a fucking shounen tournament arc without a fucking tournament

wait a sec. I’m looking at these individual panels, and the only conclusion I can draw is that Aoyama and Ojiro were somehow on the purple haired guy’s team this entire time and I didn’t realize it?? how’d he manage that? (mind control. obviously.)

quick bold predictions: MY GIRL OCHAKO TAKES IT ALL. LET’S GOOOOOO

more seriously, Deku and Todoroki will obviously have to fight each other, most likely in the final. so Bakugou is probably out in the semi or quarterfinals. although I can’t picture him going up against Deku again this soon, and if the finale is going to be Deku and Shouto, having Baku fight Shouto first kind of takes away from that, I feel? so maybe he won’t make it to the semifinals either. in which case probably the purple haired guy will, along with... MY GIRL OCHAKO. DID YOU NOT HEAR ME EARLIER. LET’S DO THIS. PLEASE. SOB

(ETA: honestly this tournament ended up surprising me at every turn. what a fucking ride)

BONUS:

STEEL RYOHEI!

Tetsutetsu is actually a pretty easy name to remember, but I just like calling him Steel Ryohei so much because I feel like it’s so fucking accurate

this guy really likes spinach

[hitchcock-eastern-hemisphere]

Tuesday 9.21.21

I feel like it's been a week since I got here. I've walked probably 20 miles in the last three days. Let's see where to start.

Sunday morning I went to Costa's for coffee and breakfast, apparently it's a big coffee chain here. Around lunch time, I went to meet a friend K (I will shorten all names for confidentiality) from my cohort on LSE campus. I'd never been on it before!

We immediately left and walked across the bridge to Southwark (pronounced Suthark, apparently). It was drizzling and everything was pretty grey, it felt pretty enchanting in a dreary London kind of way. The whole south bank of the river around there is super built up, it feels like the Yards or the Wharf in DC near where I'm from.

We eventually ended up at Ristorante Olivelli for lunch, we both really felt like having pasta for some reason. It was a cute restaurant. We meandered around Vauxhall and then crossed the river again toward Pimlico, and we walked by Big Ben (I hope my gold production is now increased by 25% [hah, Civ 5 reference]) and Westminster Abbey. Big Ben was mostly blocked by scaffolding. Eventually, I split off and took the train back up to Tufnell Park. For dinner, I ate granola out of a whisky tumbler with a fork, so that's the type of life I'm pursuing now.

On Monday, I went to meet my friend N from the cohort at LSE campus. He had literally just arrived from NYC, and couldn't check into his hotel until later. We walked around LSE campus a bit more, and both bought some LSE clothing/etc at the school store. It's funny, a lot of the buildings are quite modern, but the way they're all tucked in together, it still feels kind of like a medieval street. Lots of cobblestone-ish roads, no real quad like I'm so used to at UChicago or Columbia (though I only spent a couple months at the latter, and I always found that campus to be not terribly welcoming).

I wanted to go to the bookstore Hatchards in Picadilly, which I thought would be a 15 minute walk. Instead, I dragged my friend on a like 40-minute march (keep in mind, this man just got off a red-eye flight to a country five timezones away from home). We made it, and I bought two books that looked related to my dissertation subject.

We were supposed to do a lot of work on that this summer and I did none, because I needed a five month break from that truly exhausting nine-month slog of virtual class and quarantine isolation. Anyway, we chilled at a Caffe Nero nearby for a while, then I left and bought a tennis racket+balls and a basketball at Lillywhites nearby. Yesterday afternoon, I bought some plants. I'll be filling my apartment with as many as possible while I'm here. Pictures soon.

Yesterday evening, I wanted to try this Ethiopiean restaurant Lalibela on Fortress Rd nearby, but I stood outside for like 20 minutes after their supposed opening time of 6, and they never flipped the closed sign to open. I also realized I was slightly under-dressed wearing only a tank top and shorts. So I walked across the street and ordered from Blue Moon Thai instead. While I was waiting, I went over to Sainsburys to buy a few things, and I think the security guard thought I was a suspicious loiterer because he followed me around most of the time I was in there.

I forget what else I did yesterday, but I went to sleep at 10-ish and actually slept through the whole night!! Which is a big deal, because the first night I woke up at 1 am and fell asleep again like an hour later. And then Monday night I woke up at 2ish and proceeded to text one of my friend, L, until like 3:45 am.

This morning, I walked over to Rustique Cafe, on Fortress Rd right near all the other things on Fortress Rd that I talk about. Inside, they have a bunch of bookshelves and all the books are for sale. And you can walk out the back and sit in a wonderful garden they have.

I also saw a cute cat walking around outside my building.

I got a cappuccino (UK cappuccinos always seem to be like 12-16oz, a traditional capp is supposed to be 8 lmao). Also, it has just become apparent to me that tumblr or Firefox spell-check does not recognize cappuccino as a word. It's 2021, boys.

Today, I might my friend K came up to Tufnell park because she was thinking about trying to get a room in my building. We walked to Workman's Cafe (where I went the first day I was here) and got lunch, which was cute. I like the vibe. When we were paying at the counter, I asked the guy if I could tip them and he stared at me for like 10 seconds. Apparently, tipping isn't really a thing here. Also, I'd been wanting to get a picture of the train tracks from the bridge near my apartment for a few days. Got it today. It makes me think of Persona.

We then walked all the way down Fortress Rd, which eventually becomes Kentish Town Road, to Camden. My best description of Camden is that it's basically like the Greenwich Village of London, with some Times Square elements on a couple blocks. Parts of it were really cool, other parts were cheapo London/Britain knick-knacks shops that looked like they belonged in wherever the equivalent of Midtown NYC is in London. We walked by this cool lock on the way.

We went to an anime store!!! that she found called Japan Craft. Manga shelves took up like half the store, and they had some posters, t-shirts, and figurines as well. And for some reason, some Harry Potter merchandise? Anyway, I didn't buy anything, but that's probably the best manga selection I've ever seen short of Kinokuni-ya in NYC, so I want to go back. And somehow, I forgot to take any pictures.

Afterwards, we walked over to this Italian Cafe to get coffee, and instead got a Rosé (K) and Peroni (me). I also had a Portuguese custard pastry. I'm too tired to remember the name of this cafe, but it was cute. We toured another apartment she's looking at near there, then I walked all the way back up to my apartment.

And immediately got changed and got on the tube back down south to LSE campus again, to meet my friend C who flew in yesterday! After a brief tour of LSE campus, I led her too on a long and partly unguided walk through Picadilly and Soho, and we eventually landed at Kissaten bubble tea shop right near Chinatown. I definitely got us lost because I wasn't looking at the map, which she was not thrilled about lol. The bubble tea was good and there were so many super flashily dressed people there. But they only had caffeinated options which is why I'm now up at 12:40 writing this, oops.

We also walked by a pub called Duke of Argyll, which is where the Scottish part of my family is from.

Afterward, we walked through Chinatown, which was absolutely enchanting. My friend C is from Shanghai, and I really like food from places all over China, so we were both excited.

We ended up sitting outside at See Woo, a dim-sum restaurant that had mapo tofu, which I name as my favorite food in the world. That's also one of the first things she and I ever talked about when we were becoming friends. We both want to learn Cantonese and she suggested we take it together.

I took the train up and got home a bit after 9. I continued my multiplayer Terraria game with my stepbrother H for a couple hours, and now I'm here. And I think I might finally be ready to go to sleep.

[dishonoredrpg]

Congratulations, ROGUE! You’ve been accepted for the role of THE WORLD with the faceclaim of NATASHA LIU BORDIZZO. From the minute I thought of her skeleton I knew that The World would need to be written in a way that showed an understanding for the atrocities and horrors that come with being royal and the power that comes with change, and Rogue, you were a perfect fit. Aurelia -- aptly named, that lovely daughter of Septimus’ -- fits into the world. She makes it right itself when crooked merely by existing. From her voice, to the whopping amount of plots you provided, to the clear delight that bled through with every sentence I read, I think that Aurelia is meant to be here, and I am so glad you brought her to me for me to love and cherish as long as I can. 

Please review the CHECKLIST and send your blog in within 24 hours.

OOC

NAME: Rogue! PRONOUNS: She/Her. AGE: 23. TIMEZONE, ACTIVITY LEVEL: PST, uhhhh idk how to pick numbers. I have been known to keep track of like 100 threads god I wish I was kidding, but I also am in other rps... so like. 7? 8? Somewhereish around that. ANYTHING ELSE?: 

IN CHARACTER

SKELETON: The World. Future, Upright — You are the relief that comes at the end of a long and winding project, the comfort taken from the knowledge that it’s done well, and the sense of completeness that brings. You are a circle that has no beginning, a closed circuit of a girl with her hopes settled and dreams nothing more than a memory, for what you want is now in hand. You are someone defined by your goals, yet comforted by reaching them, on a larger scale or even day to day. The journey has been hard, but you have been rewarded with the celebration of your achievements, and you understand that your responsibilities exist, but do not inhibit your joy. You carry with you a sense that every step of the journey has made you smarter, stronger, or wiser, and even when your path was lonely, there has always been a light at the end of your tunnel. The light is you, and all that you encompass. Self-reflection is key to who you are, and your awareness of your faults and strengths is what keeps you going. In the completion you seek, you will find new beginnings, too, for yourself and those around you. Whether you enjoy change or not, you must tug it ashore and present it to the world, neatly wrapped and tied off with a bow. Present, Reversed — You are the sensation of standing at a crossroads, turned in the opposite direction of the path you know you must follow. You fear that first step more than anything, but finding closure is essential to your happiness. It is only your tether to the past that inhibits you, and you worry endlessly over the journey, though your feet will make it there whether you want them to or not. In order to find balance, you need to embrace where you are now and let go of what came before, for the conflict within you is only an illusion. Your journey will be personal and quiet, filled with turmoil and self-recrimination, but you will emerge from this, for there are no other options left to you. You have a necessary task to complete, but it strains you nearly to breaking, and it will cost you more than it already has before it’s completed. No trial or turn in your path can be overlooked in order to complete the cycle started with your birth. You define the sensation of never being finished, of seeing the light at the end of the tunnel stretch further away with every step you take. You are still a project with an essential piece missing, and until you find it, you will always feel hollow. NAME: Aurelia Josephine Liviana Valmont. Names are chosen for all sorts of reasons, on any normal day, for any normal babe. The problem, of course, is that this is not a normal babe. This is the only daughter of Septimus Valmont, and as the priests gather to bless the name of the princess, King Septimus is tired. Still, her face is as beautiful as her mother’s, even in infancy, and it inspires her father to emerge from boredom into a modicum of enthusiasm. He names her for her beauty, Aurelia, for he’s always wished his own name had some grand meaning, rather than being the equivalent of numbering your children so you won’t forget which came first. Why bow to such wretched tradition? After all, Septimus could have been named Primus for all the good it did the first heir of his generation. On a whim, he named her something gilded or maybe gold, and hoped for her to turn out as pretty and vapid as he’d been, before the burdens of the world were placed upon his shoulders. Any daughter of his should be gilded, no? Even if the gold may only be a film to cover rot and decay, she would always have her filigree, and would always be permitted to harness it. After that, he meandered. Josephine, for his favorite aunt as a child, for she’d died young and the former king had not spared the resources to bring her back to life. He spared no thought for his bride, who had carried the babe to term but was given no option to name her themself. They were as powerless as the daughter they’d provided him, and he cared not for their wishes, not enough to notice them, at any rate. He might have stopped there, but as he looked down into her now-peaceful face, at last stopping crying after being separated from her mother, he smiled a little melancholy smile. He remembered all too well what it was to grow up in the lap of luxury and know the crown would never fall onto his head, despite what he became. He remembered with fondness and chagrin how his second-born sibling had trailed after the heir, always wanting to inherit, never understanding what a burden it would be. The second-born’s life is defined by the heir’s, he murmured gravely, bending down to pretend she could understand him as his thumb brushed her ruddy cheek, if I recall correctly. He cooed at her a moment, and her lashes fluttered as though she was dreaming, maybe even of him. Ah, yes, I know exactly what to expect from you. And so he named her Liviana, because it was for the envious, and he expected her to know its taste on her tongue before she knew how to say the word. He could not know, of course, that she would grow to know nothing of the kind, never coveting anyone’s life but her own, for she knew instinctively that one did not need to be heir apparent to know their own worth. King Septimus could have continued, as each priest and noble in the room waited on him to do so, but he grew tired of the game. Even life and death had become such to him these days. Her life was nothing more than an opportunity for him to reflect, in the end, on his siblings and their demise. Absently, he pressed a whiskery kiss to her forehead and declared her a Valmont, and it was recorded with the rest for the purpose of their royal history. FACECLAIM: I apologize for this, first of all, but it seems like the most efficient thing to do is just list all the ones I would be cool with based on their racial heritage. Not all are on the approved list bc I didn’t want to bug you THAT much but there it is. I am literally down for any of these. White/White: Kristine Froseth White/Black: Marina Nery Chinese/White: Natasha Liu Bordizzo Black/Black: Kiki Layne White/Japanese: Reina Hardesty Vietnamese/Vietnamese: Jolie Nguyen White/Latinx: Seychelle Gabriel Korean/Korean: Hyuna Turkish/Turkish: Simay Barlas Indian/White: Anya Chalotra AGE: 21, born the equivalent of May 17th, in the fantasy world version of Taurus season. Stable, resilient, and capable, she will always have her feet planted firmly on the ground. She knows well her own likes and dislikes, and gravitates toward material pleasures and wealth in spite of herself. Aurelia is most comforted by stability, and disliked fast-paced change, which makes her the perfect person to so easily wave away the concerns of the prophecy to the watching eyes and ears of the nobility. Who, after all, would suspect that a girl too afraid to cut her hair would be the one to change the foundations of the world? She has no issue, however, with change at a slow and steady pace, heralded and planned out by herself and her own sharp mind. She is most interested in being her own master. Responsible and capable, she has a strong work ethic, but that does not mean she forgoes luxury altogether. Aurelia is a perfectionist, which she sees as both a flaw and a decent trait to have, considering her goals in life. She is extremely set in her ways and focused on the big picture, which means that while she empathizes with the small slights inflicted on others, she may allow them to occur while working to fundamentally alter society for the greater good. Aurelia won’t stop until she has what she came for, and she won’t compromise her values (love, empathy, fairness) to obtain it, either.

DETAILS: What drew me to Aurelia was all of her, really. I know this is where we highlight the things that we liked most, but I can’t pick her apart without explaining why I like the whole, irrefutable package. She’s soft for others to a large degree, but that doesn’t entirely define her; it runs parallel to her other traits, yet it doesn’t work against them. She’s strong, even with her soft heart, strong enough to see that what she’s been told her whole life is right is very, very wrong. She has a will of her own, and you can’t get that by being weak and easily influenced. I love that she refuses to fight outright, preferring to maneuver in such a way that no one has to get hurt, and I love that she has the ability and the confidence to see it through. She knows that she would be a good ruler because she cares, and she cares fiercely enough to protect her family, even when they mostly don’t deserve it. She knows she’ll win because she absolutely cannot lose, all her cards are on the table but they’re also face cards, maybe even an ace. Her power comes from the desire to protect, and her pragmatism is married to her sense of love and duty in an indelible way. She cannot have empathy without having responsibility, and she refuses to lead a violent revolution against those who have cared for her all her life. She’s not one dimensional, not naive, not hopeless. I love her for all those things combined, and to pick them apart wouldn’t yield the same results. BACKGROUND: — Growing up in a fortress can feel isolated at times, but Aurelia found ways to play with those around her, even as a rambunctious child. She was the girl who would sneak cookies for the stable-boy’s dogs and giggle playing peek-a-boo with a guard when he was supposed to be on duty. Curious about others and rarely allowed around other children, she devoured the attention of adults, and from an early age cultivated a strangely adult manner of speaking. The other nobles thought it was charming, that a princess would know to speak so regally throughout her years, and Aurelia never disabused them of the notion, preferring instead to delight them with fun new vocabulary. This got her into trouble, of course, when she learned about swearing, but she was too sweet-faced to be stern with long, and too sweet-natured to take advantage the way a brat or a bully might. For this, she was doted upon by her nannies and tutors, as well as those in the barracks. It was easy, later on, to begin cultivating those people as a network, sneaking her information with worried glances and trust in their eyes. What a sweet girl, they would murmur, pressing their lips to her knuckles, to worry so about such simple complaints. — When she was six years old, they began placing books atop her head and forcing her to walk without them falling. She always thought it was to improve her posture, with the way her nanny was constantly straightening her spine, but she knew it was more than that when she first put her crown on. By Undeath, that thing was heavy, and it took all she had to walk with her head held straight, to eat five courses of a meal, to talk and dance and not throw her head back and let the thing slide right off it. No one would listen if she did complain, and she never told anyone, save for THE LOVERS, who she eventually grew to trust so much that she could let them in on the secret. When she takes the crown for herself, her first non-essential decree will be to melt them all down and make them smaller, sleeker, and more easily wearable. — Aurelia is fond of pestering THE SUN, though she wouldn’t call it annoying them so much as caring for them. Necromancers have always seemed so lonely to her (other than THE HIGH PRIESTESS, who unnerves her), and that’s especially true for the old ones. How terrible it would be, to grow older and older and lose all those you’d once loved. Would you ever try to love again? She’s not sure, but she wants them to know that she’s okay with it if they never love her back. They’re a strange, morbid part of her family, but they’ve been family since the day she was born. What else can she call someone who might one day be asked to kill for her, or on her behalf? She would inherit them as well, after all, and Aurelia is cognizant of the responsibility that would be. They have one of the hardest jobs, she thinks to herself sometimes, and therefore must be treated with the most care. Do they ask for it? Perhaps not, but they’ll have it regardless. — It would be easy for her to hate her family, but she doesn’t, she can’t. She’s loved them as long as she can remember and she will love them after she is dead. She knows the touch of her father’s kiss at her temple as well as she knows the cruelty with which he sends men to the noose. She knows her cousin’s laugh as she knows the whistle of his blade through the air, the way she remembers how to breathe, the way she counts the steps down to the barracks every time she goes. Her brother, best of all, she knows to be as useless as they are lovely, cruel as they are decadent, and all these things don’t make it any easier to choose between them and her people. She will not. She cannot be asked to. As much as she understands that her first priority must be the citizenry, because someone on earth should care more for them than themselves, she also won’t part with her loyalty. Not to them, and not to her family, either. She will find a humane way to settle this, by Undeath, and if she can’t, then it will be on their heads, not hers. Still, she feels confident in her own victory, bolstered by her knowledge of the people who love her, and who she loves in return. She will not be vicious to them just because that’s what people clamor for, or because it’s asked of her with wolfish smiles. Aurelia wants justice, not bloodshed, and she will have it. — It always surprised her tutors, how much she longed to attend lessons with her brother. She was hungry for knowledge from a young age, eagerly snatching up everything and anything she could. Aurelia was curious not just about the castle but about the world beyond it; she would ask that her rooms be decorated with maps, until she knew the lay of the land by heart. Any time there was a visitor, she would attempt to ask that they correct her maps, to ensure they were kept in date. Her fascination with geography was not the only thing she took interest in, however. She wanted to know the ins and outs of trade, wanted to learn as many languages as she could and know the difference between an emerald and a diamond with her eyes closed, hands clasped tight around the stones. She wanted to know the seal of every nation or rebellion that had ever tested their borders, and she asked so many questions that they were forced to send for answers, again and again and again. It should’ve annoyed her tutors, but her enthusiasm was so genuine, they wanted to please her. Over time she grew to recognize that fact and treat it as a responsibility; she could wield the care of others as a weapon, but she chose not to, and that was the difference. — There is not a guileless quality to her, no matter how often she might be called naive by some of the cruel portions of her family. In quiet moments, when it’s only her and her ladies-in-waiting, the age of her thoughts reveals itself in her eyes, in the grim set of her mouth, or even in the delicate curve of her shoulders. She doesn’t pretend not to know about the farce of her existence, because that would never inspire confidence in her as a leader, and it would only hurt those who have come to depend on her. Instead, she makes her rebellion known in small ways, refusing participation in games she doesn’t approve of, humiliating nobles she finds foolish and cruel, or small-minded and weak. The one thing she doesn’t shy away from is executions: Aurelia attends each one, refusing to let anyone die for her father’s whim without someone who respects them bearing witness. They can’t know how she feels, but she makes a promise to each as they die before her eyes: I will never let this be for nothing. Sometimes she comes across as over-aware, too sensitive, too passionate to understand the cool logic of the world, but she understands it all too well. She does not believe that you can exist as a good person without marrying logic and emotion, as disparate as they are, and she will never abandon that part of her that cries for each life lost, each hurt inflicted, each blade in the hands of someone far too young for it. She cultivates it like her own personal garden, honeysuckle growing wild in her rib cage. — The first time she truly understood what she could do, she was only fifteen. TEMPERANCE had said something particularly upsetting, though they never truly understood why she stormed away. With tears in her eyes, she’d run, not knowing where she was going until she almost slammed into the body of a castle guard. They weren’t assigned to her rotation nor her quarters, but they knew her from when she would drop in at their meal times and ask after their days, or peel oranges to slide under their helmets as they stood outside in the hot summer sun, armor burning, skin sweltering. He caught her by the shoulders and held her steady as her guards and attendants rushed to catch up with her, and wiped away an errant tear with one gauntlet-covered thumb. What’s happened, Princess? They asked and she answered, for she was a teenage girl whose heart had been wounded, and as they listened, as all of them did, their faces fell in sympathy, too. When she looked up at them, this guard who barely knew her, it was the first time she understood what it looked like, to watch someone decide they would kill for you. Their offer was couched in softer words, but it was no less lethal, and when she shook her head she could’ve sworn she saw disappointment in more than one face. It was the last time she ever took her relationships, or her feelings, for granted. — She cried for months as a child, wailing unhappily no matter how often her wet nurses tried to shush her. They ended up going through six of them before one realized the problem; the child did not want a wet nurse, she wanted her mother, and she knew the difference quite clearly. Perhaps it is this sense of abandonment, fostered in her early youth, that makes her reach out to others so often. She wants more than anything to hold them close, but the one person who was meant to never has. Oh, she’s heard of the prophecy, but it doesn’t excuse her mother’s cowardice. In truth, Aurelia loves her father and even her brother more, because they at least have shown her who they are. They have shared with her something THE EMPRESS always denies. By eight years old she was calling them by their proper name, much to the shock and confusion of the court, but even that would not prompt them to explain things to her. They looked almost through her, as though she were an alien being, a parasite in their womb who had now been made into flesh, and Aurelia regards it with more bitterness than anything else in her life. Is it not enough, one of her ladies asked her once, to be loved by every person but one? Of course it wasn’t. She didn’t covet adoration from everyone, she simply wanted acknowledgement from the only person who would never give it, and it has curdled her sweetness into poison. They, more than anyone in the world, inspire pettiness and anger with no compassion in it. Aurelia has no empathy for the person who seeks to throw her away, and even if they can make peace, she knows they would never be on her side, anyway. Not when they’ve picked anyone over her at every opportunity, over and over until it left a scar on the inside of her heart. — She was a coward, the first time her father declared her ready to attend an execution. The man’s crime was a bawdy poem about THE HIGH PRIESTESS, but it was entirely her father’s decision to make it punishable by death. He said it was defaming the crown, by extension, and he had no advisor powerful enough to say no, or with the will to do so. No, you can’t! she cried, and bored, he’d said quite simply that he could. Again, he asked if she would attend, and tasting bile on her tongue, Aurelia declined. She dreams, still, about what she might have seen, and about whether he died with everyone jeering around him. Did a single person look him in the eye and remind him of his humanity? She’ll never know, because she was too weak to bear it. No one can say she doesn’t learn from her mistakes, though. The next time she was right in the front row, lip trembling, tears running down her cheeks. Her ladies hate it, always trying to persuade her not to go, but without enough power to save their lives, this is all she can do. She can’t shy away from the ugly bits. Each time, it reminds her of what she needs to fight for, and of what she could be capable of, if she does not continuously tend to the flowers blooming in her chest. She still flinches when the blow comes, or when the boards drop beneath their feet. It still feels like weakness. — She keeps a list, in a pocket-sized journal in the false bottom of her vanity drawer, of all those she must make reparations to. Sometimes it’s just a family name, people whose child was taken from them too soon, or who died in a battle against those who wanted better for the world than her father. Other times, it’s nobles wronged merely for standing up to him, or peasantry she sees abused by the guards who seem to think along the same lines as him. Aurelia is running out of room, even in her smallest hand, and she’s terrified to start a new journal, because that would be crossing some invisible line. If she fills it, how broken does that make her family? How unforgivable? — Every child looks up to their elder siblings, and there were periods of time in Aurelia’s life where she tried to imitate both THE EMPEROR and THE CHARIOT. She tried to be tough, like her cousin has always been, but her skin bruised too easily and her feelings even easier. She tried her hand at the casual cruelty her brother always displayed, but the first time she said a mean thing to a servant, she burst into tears and threw herself into her arms, where the woman patted her back consolingly, likely terrified and confused by her mercurial behavior. The cruelty she inhabits is accidental, and if she’s made aware of it, she rectifies it as best she can. Simple things, like a lack of understanding for what a simple existence might be, or a careless comment from someone dripping in privilege and stained with gold. She can’t understand them, as hard as she tries, and sometimes she forgets them without thinking, though she always feels genuinely chastised later on. She is as close to good as anyone in power can be, but she can never be wholly so, for she has never known true despair or suffering. — Aurelia plays the piano forte, but it’s singing where she really shines. Considering all the useless lessons royal non-heirs are put through, it surprised her to discover she enjoyed music, but she often plays near the window, now, and feels a little like she’s singing a duet with the birds on the ramparts. She likes best when the guards are training outside, because sometimes they hear her, and some of them sing along. She likes that music connects otherwise disparate people, that it can bring passion into lifeless eyes and coax a smile out of misery. More than that, though, she likes to create. So much of the Valmont legacy is destruction, now, and she may never cleanse their name, but she can make things. New, bright things, untainted by the poison of her blood, coming straight from her spirit. Every tune she carries, every new combination of keys, she’s bringing something beautiful to life, not razing anything to the ground. She is endlessly fond of THE STAR for this reason, who looks like magic to her, even if he uses not a lick of it. — While she loves the look and feel of plants, and she tends to the garden within her soul rather well, Aurelia is what you would call the opposite of a green thumb. A red thumb, maybe, for she consistently pricks herself on any bush she can, and plants wither under her care within moments. It’s lucky she has so many servants, who can attend to her desire to have plants hanging in her quarters without a second thought, or she would forever rue her bad luck. Nonetheless, while she doesn’t touch her plant babies and lets others care for them, she does chat with them about things in her day, usually making up fantastic stories about the events just so that she feels like she’s caring for them. She knows they can’t hear, knows it doesn’t do anything, but she hates the idea of having something so lovely around and not at least trying to offer it what she can, however meager fruit that is. — The oncoming conflict with Koldam was the first time Aurelia ever directly asked THE EMPEROR for anything. Mercy, brother, she whispered, I entreat you to try a little mercy. She knew that it’s never been in their nature, but what was she if not someone who tried, even when she failed? She had already petitioned their father to simply reprimand or offer a treaty to Koldam, but that was a failure. This was her first time trying her brother’s version, and look how that turned out? She hasn’t been able to look them in the eye since, in spite of generally seeing the best in them, even when they’re cruel to her. Being cruel at home is one thing; senseless violence is another. She can’t condone it when Father sends people pointlessly to execution, and she can’t condone it for THE EMPEROR either, because he was given enough authority to act. Koldam has taught her one thing: the only royal she can rely on is herself, and perhaps THE CHARIOT, though she hasn’t approached them directly. — Unlike her father, Aurelia has always been fascinated by magic. The wonder and horror of it enthrall her, and at the same time, the pain they are forced to endure to use it wounds her heart. She would not employ magicians unless it was dire and necessary, but for opposite reasons to King Septimus: she will not condemn anyone to torture lightly. That said, she visits the practitioners within the castle often enough, always wanting to be sure that someone in her family treats them with the respect they deserve. At night, lying awake and counting stars out her window rather than sleeping, she sometimes imagines what it would be like to have magic. The power to heal, the power to kill, the power to bring others back to life… all of them would make her a stronger and more capable presence in court, even if they would inspire fear and awe in her father’s eyes and perhaps change her position. Still, she must make due with what the Undeath has chosen for her, and must cultivate the only power that remains to her: that sharp mind and that brave heart. — Her inner circle is how she refers to her ladies-in-waiting, while her guards retain the name of Coterie. This is because while they must be distinguished, she doesn’t think of them as only guards or only ladies-in-waiting. They are friends, confidantes, and trusted sources of information, without which the bare bones of her slowly growing claim to the throne would not be possible. They aren’t disposable tools, and they certainly aren’t only soldiers. This distinguishes them and allows them to stand a little taller, and walk with a little more pride. Naming groups both allows a feeling of exclusivity and reminds them of the privilege they have to be within those circles, and to be cast out hurts all the more for it. PLOT IDEAS: — TO LOVE ANYTHING GOOD, AT ANY COST, IS A BURDEN | Considering THE LOVERS is such an important connection to who she is at her core, I think it’s important to explore that relationship and grow or burn it down. Either works for me. Sometimes, a good ruler must give her heart first to her people, and it leaves no room for anyone else. Sometimes, a good ruler must have a good partner at her side, to share her dreams and prospects for the future, to advise her when she is down, to take care of that heavy, heavy head. The problem is that Aurelia must take care of all of Tyrholm, and that will never leave room to focus on any one individual. So what can they do? They love each other, and what is lovable about Aurelia might also be what undoes them for good. She has already decided to pick family over vengeance, but can she choose love over duty? So far, the answer is unclear, but it crawls from the fog of indecision, closer by the day. — GIVE ME THE BLADE. SOME THINGS ARE WORTH SPILLING BLOOD FOR | There cannot be a bloodless coup, not when the King himself is so bloodthirsty a man, and his heir is worse. She believes she can end this peacefully, but it’s a foolish dream, born from love rather than from logic. Usually, the two pair well in her, but in this she has become blind to the path forward. It will take a lot to open her eyes, but when they begin to see what she must do, I want her to balk. I need her to cower, because it’s what makes her human. She will rage against it, she will fear it, and most essentially, she will be forced to confront it. There will come a time where Aurelia can’t move forward without bloodshed, without ousting someone from her path permanently, and I want her to face that with all the courage she can muster. By the time the knife is in her hand, I want her to have come to the point where she can use it, even if it hurts, even if it twists a blade in her own gut. — WE MUST RESIST. WE MUST REFUSE TO DISAPPEAR | Connecting members of the revolt will be essential to its doing, and I want her to be one of the lynch pins that holds them together. She is the most likely to get along with the most people, to see the way THE FOOL suffers or THE HIGH PRIESTESS grows tired of these games. She can coax revolters together to some degree, with the help of a couple others spread across the city, and if she can win a majority of them to her side, she’ll have won the game. The trick, of course, is uniting their common goals, and in convincing them to pick her over THE CHARIOT, who is the person she most needs to win. Still, consolidating power will become necessary as the revolt kicks up steam, and she will not be left out or left waiting on someone else’s whim. She will pluck the best of the best from those she can coax into aiding her, and together, they will make her dreams a reality. — IT INFURIATED ME THAT THEY KNEW ME BY HEART | With how often she’s been thrown together with TEMPERANCE, she should know that there’s more for her here than animosity, but she doesn’t. I want her to recognize that she cares for them, because in turn, it will help her recognize that they call to the petty jealousy in her, to the frustration she bottles up day in and day out. They call to the spirit of a fight in the pit of her stomach, and there’s no one else who sees that part of her, the not-so-pretty parts. That they care for her anyway, that they float marriage no matter how many years go by, fills her with warmth when it shouldn’t, and for that, she despises them. Love should be soft, she thinks as she looks at THE LOVERS. It should care for her heart and cradle it in careful fingers. Yet they don’t quite challenge her the way TEMPERANCE does, and that fills her with dread so profound she can’t examine it yet. I want her to look into it and make a choice, once and for all, about what she wants, because it will define not only her life moving forward, but potentially the one sharing her throne at the end of it all. — AND EVERYTHING’S HOLY— EVERYTHING, EVEN ME | She acts the pious one because she must, but truth be told, she is afraid of death in a way that she has to confront in order to gain the Undying’s blessing. She wants it, because it’s of her people and she loves her people, but she doesn’t really have a firm grasp of death, not in the way necessary to commune with Undeath themself. She’s too young and too sheltered, and while her heart hurts for those who die too soon, it’s in the abstract, without real context to define her grief. She has not had to accept death before, to look it in the face and make peace with it, and that will be her gauntlet when she moves for the throne. Religion in name only isn’t going to cut it, and she knows that, but she puts it off, afraid of what she’ll face in the Sanctum or, even more dangerous, within the Temple of the Undying God itself. It’s the cross she will grow to bear, and developing her relationship with religion is key, not only for her own development but to grow her connections within the worshippers themselves. Their support would be essential to her coup, after all, as their declaration of the Undeath’s favor and her confirmation of it would bolster her support. — I DON’T NEED TO BE LOVED EXCEPT WHEN I DO | Ultimately, Aurelia will need to confront THE EMPRESS, and I would like to take her development in that direction. For good or for ill, this is her mother, and there can be no moving forward without hashing out their lives. Ultimately she would come to a point where she might even ask her mother to join her, desperate to prove that she can be creation, rather than the destruction they’ve always seen her as. Her need to be cared for by them is constant and frustrates her, but she can’t rid herself of it, either, damned for something she’s not even done yet. Can she understand, Aurelia wonders, that this coldness has led her closer to revolution than love ever would have? That if they had held her closer, perhaps they could have stayed her hand? Without that foundation, she will never listen to them, but she might attempt to take advantage of their political acumen for her own gain. — YOU COULD NOT SPEAK / SOMETHING WAS DYING IN YOUR CHEST | The Necromancers have been used as mindless tools for too long, but Aurelia grew up with them around her, and she knows that they aren’t hollow vessels for magic, they’re people. Sure, maybe the magic takes some of it away, but it can’t take everything, and Aurelia doesn’t want to let it. They deserve more than what they’re given, and so do the Inferni; the Vitalus aren’t the only practitioners worthy of magic, but they’ve been treated like it for their noble birth and their easy to swallow techniques. Aurelia wants to change that. If the Necromancers interact more with the world, perhaps they will consider the lives they take more preciously; if the commoners are forced to interact with them, perhaps they will recognize those sparks of humanity within and foster them. The Inferni can learn that life is precious, that their power can raze the earth and leave it clean for rebirth if they’ll allow it. There’s no one way to handle magic, no perfect system, but then, there’s no perfect system at all with people involved in it. All she knows is that Aurelia would treat them all with respect, if not always kindness; a ruler cannot always be kind, but they must endeavor to always be just. — I DOUBT EVERYTHING, EVEN MY DOUBT | There will come a time where she will be asked to betray her family and she will say no. I would love for that to break someone’s trust in her, as a ruler and as a leader of the revolution. I would love for it to shake her faith in herself. Can she be a good person when she loves them, these awful people she has decided belong to her? It would be a stumbling block, and I want her to need to prove that she’s in this, preferably by deliberately and methodically betraying her family at a later date, after her resolve solidifies. It won’t kill them, she tells herself as she wakes up crying for the fifth time that week. It will only hurt. — LOVE HAS TEETH WHICH BITE, AND THE WOUNDS NEVER CLOSE | This will involve a layer of integration, but someone close to her dying would really galvanize her. If that happens, it would invigorate those parts she’s always bottled up: things like rage and decisiveness would become paramount to her. She would be a little more ruthless, a little more sensible about the reality of the world, if she had to lose something precious. Any loss of something she loves is a loss of a bit of herself, she gives her loyalty so fiercely and without any sort of restraint. She hadn’t known loss, hasn’t known a bit of it, and thus doesn’t know when to hold back and when to pour herself into another person. Her disillusionment would grow, and her view of leadership and its duties would change, which I would love to explore if the plot of the overarching group allowed it. — WHICH SHOULD I REGRET: WHAT I BECAME, OR WHAT I DIDN’T? | It would be essential to her to find the person who originally gave the prophecy about her birth. If they’re no longer alive, then she would find their closest relative or any witnesses to it. She wants to know the exact words, and more than that, she needs to gauge whether this person is bullshit or not. Her hunt would culminate in finding out more about who she’s supposed to be and what she’s supposed to do, with a healthy dose of angst to go alongside it. After all, it’s one thing to hear rumors about a prophecy; it’s another entirely to realize it’s real this entire time. It would depend on what happened, how she reacts, but I know it would change how she views herself and her mother both, at the bare minimum, let alone its effect on her responsibilities to the revolt. — I NEED A VOICE TO ECHO / I NEED A LIGHT TO TAKE ME HOME | This is probably the most fun plot idea I have, but it’s subject to a lot of other people helping, so bear with me. I would love for Aurelia to start masquerading in Lowtown and other places far from the castle as a bard. Not a well-practiced one, but a revolutionary one that always wears a mask. She would have to spend hours practicing, and would involve all her ladies-in-waiting, among others, to help her sneak in and out and ensure her safety. Still, poems and songs are often used to foment the seeds of revolution in all cultures, and royals are so often educated in music, it just seems like a natural fit. It would also tie with her fondness for THE STAR, not wanting to ask his help in fear of endangering him or herself, but will he find her out anyway? He just might, or someone else who frequents these areas of Tyrholm might. In any case, I would like to build a slow-burning revolutionary plot where the princess masquerades as one of the people, both to learn more about them and to show them it’s okay to raise their voices. Maybe it leads to the tavern she performed at once getting razed by the guard, and she realizes she gravely misjudged her father. Maybe she gets unmasked and punished, or even killed. It just offers so many opportunities, and seems like the sort of thing a romantic revolutionary might cook up. — THE FAULT LINES, SEEDING, LYING IN WAIT | Despite knowing herself as the best person for the throne, Aurelia is not, in fact, opposed to THE CHARIOT taking it for themself. With a little more spine, she sees the making of a great ruler in them just as easily as she sees it in herself, and she has a goal to foster that. I would love as an alternative plot, as her first option, to see if she can maneuver herself into aiding their bid for the throne, and then either deciding that she must take it or helping them to grow would be my next objective. Aurelia wants the best ruler for Tyrholm, full stop, and THE CHARIOT is in front of her. They are therefore far easier to get into a sitting position upon it, and together, the two of them might have enough power to do it without killing anyone, especially if they enlist THE EMPRESS. This plot is too dependent on others’ vision to expand on, but I wanted to include it, because I don’t want Aurelia’s only option to be herself. That’s not in character for her, not really. — FOR LOVE, I WILL HANDLE YOUR SINS | This is up to whichever player is down to do this plot with me, but essentially, Aurelia will have started cultivating a friendship with a specific Necromancer. This is so that she can use one of her back-up plans, and it’s definitely a last resort, but if one of her family dies in this revolution, she would want them brought back very badly indeed. In fact, she would give some of her own life to power that regeneration, if necessary. In the event that the King dies or even THE EMPEROR falls, she would want a way to bring them back and set them to sail across the sea and live out the remainder of their days as a commoner. It’s fitting punishment, in her mind, and it’s better than them being dead, isn’t it? For she cannot and will not kill them, but exile will satisfy her needs, and their public death will satisfy the people’s needs as well. CHARACTER DEATH: Yes, but I would prefer her to get close to taking power, first, because it will be sweeter to have that hope and see it taken away. WRITING SAMPLE: SCENE ONE // Aurelia relishes in the feeling of grass beneath her palms, her head cradled safely in Petra’s lap as she cards through her hair. Her voice fills the small space between them, reading to her from the latest novel she’s plucked from her father’s library, and Aurelia lets her eyes flutter shut. She’d prefer if THE LOVERS were with her, but they’ve fallen ill, and she would never coax them from a restful slumber if it will make their healing faster. Petra is her second favorite of her ladies, anyway, her voice the lowest of them all and most suited toward reading. She never minds, either, whether it’s complicated, confusing poetry, or a simple romance novel from twenty years ago. She’ll even read intercepted missives to her, though Aurelia generally lets those lie until her eyes alone can read them. It’s not that she doesn’t trust her ladies, for they are her closest confidantes and her very best friends, but she doesn’t want to endanger them. They can’t know more than they should, for their own safety. Now, the tale is coming to a close, and the Crying Tree whispers in the slight breeze as Petra’s voice trails off into silence. Aurelia sighs; it was a good story, if not a great one, and she’s sad to part with it. ❝ Thank you, Petra, ❞ she says almost to the wind, lashes still brushing her delicate cheeks. Book set aside, her lady-in-waiting now uses both hands to comb gently through the princess’s hair, much to her lazy delight.❝ I thought it was… good, in the end. What is your verdict? ❞ A hum comes from on high, making Aurelia smile slightly. Petra is a thinker, always considering each angle before she responds. She’s the best strategist in Aurelia’s arsenal, certainly. ❝ Passable, my lady, nothing more. ❞ Aurelia has managed to break most of her ladies of their formal habits when they’re alone, but Petra clings stubbornly to some sort of title, downgrading it from highness to lady only after much pleading on Aurelia’s part. Now, she sits up, letting Petra’s fingers trail from her scalp and fall into her lap as the wind plays with the strands of hair around her face. She turns a beatific smile in Petra’s direction, whose responding expression is indulgent and fond. ❝ You comment thusly on all the novels, ❞ Aurelia points out. ❝ We must endeavor to find one that measures to your exacting standard, or I will never be satisfied. ❞ She turns at the sound of Luneria’s voice, looking over her shoulder to where another of her ladies is popping a fat grape into her mouth and giggling. It takes her a moment to swallow, and she offers a grape to Aurelia as she speaks, who takes it with aplomb. ❝ Have you tried her on any historical novels, Aura? ❞ She thinks around the fruit in her mouth; Luneria is the newest of her ladies, and thus would have little awareness of what she has or has not attempted to have Petra read her. ❝ I attempted once, though it was a romance, which we quickly discovered was not to her taste, ❞ she admits after thinking it over. Petra steals an orange from the basket in the middle of their blanket and begins to peel it with practiced precision, neatly curling round and round the fruit until the rind can be neatly coiled in the palm of her hand. As she works at the small project, she smirks a little bit; ah, this is Aurelia’s favorite side of Petra. ❝ The frippery of the language and the content suits me ill. Nothing in them is ever practical, and if you’re not careful, they’ll fill your head with flights of fancy, my lady. ❞ ❝ Give it here, please, ❞ Aurelia asks after the skin of the orange, distracted from their conversation by her overwhelming love for the scent of oranges. She takes the rind and cups it in two hands, leaning down and inhaling the sharp scent of citrus. Luneria giggles again, and Kolva raps her on the knuckles with the spoon they’ve been using to sample the saucer of mousse. Embarrassed, her cheeks flush red, and she turns wide eyes in Aurelia’s direction. ❝ I’m sorry, Aura. I’ve never seen someone so excited by an orange peel, that’s all. ❞ Another member of her family might have punished her insolence, but Aurelia only wrinkles her nose before laughing too. ❝ If I could fill my bath with orange and lemon every day, I would, ❞ she admits, pressing the rind to the skin at the nape of her neck so she’ll carry a fragment of the scent with her during the rest of the day. She can be entirely unselfconscious with her ladies-in-waiting; that’s why she vets them so thoroughly, getting to know them without pretense before admitting them into her inner circle. Luneria is new, but she’s not cruel, and she would do anything for Aurelia. She can be nothing less, else Aurelia would’ve declined to invite her altogether. Now, she holds out her hand for the rind, which Aurelia hands over with mocking reluctance, smile delicate but sure. Luneria lifts it to her nose a moment before smiling. ❝ It smells like you, ❞ she realizes, mouth opening in surprise. ❝ More fool am I not to have recognized it before. Do you keep these beneath your pillow? ❞ ❝ Tucked into the pillowcase, ❞ Kolva explains before Aurelia can. The princess merely shrugs, opening her mouth when Petra offers her a slice of orange so that she can taste the sweet fruit without getting her hands sticky. Luneria claps her hands together, delighted to learn something new about Aurelia’s routine. They’re so easy to please. Sometimes it scares her, honestly, that they’re this easy, but their love is the kind that’s without reserve. She’ll never take it for granted, not with how blessed she feels to have it, but she won’t curtail it, either. She wants them with her always.   Turning bright eyes Kolva’s way, she eyes the mousse with suspicion. Kolva avoids her gaze a moment, but her mouth twitches, barely containing her giggles. For the most taciturn of her ladies, she has a streak of wildness and delight to her that Aurelia coaxes out as often as she can. Now, she leans forward in an attempt to inspect the saucer, but gets caught in the sheer amount of fabric in her dress. ❝ Kol-va, ❞ she sing-songs, flopping onto her back with the effort exerted. ❝ You better leave some for me, or I shall have to inform the entire castle of my most fearsome lady-in-waiting’s sweet tooth. They say it may be the sweetest tooth this side of Koldam. ❞ This memory exists in the space of time before Koldam was destroyed, when they were nothing more than a smaller city-state she’d read about in history books and seen as a dot on the map. It’s also where Kolva is from originally, before her family moved to Tyrholm for better prospects and Aurelia spotted the delightful shade of her hair from across the market. The rest, as they say, is history, aside from Kolva’s light accent. She hears rustling around her, and when she opens one eye, she sees Kolva sitting above her, red kissing the blonde in her hair even more than usual in the halo of midday sunlight. Eager, she sits up almost too fast, breath knocked from her by the corset around her ribs. ❝ Ouch, ❞ she whispers, and all three of her ladies are immediately crowded around her. They strike like soft lightning, like the edge of a healing blade, sharp in movement but soft in expression. ❝ Are you hurt, my lady? ❞ Petra asks, running a hand down her side in an absent, soothing gesture. Aurelia shakes her head, tenderness in her smile as she looks at each of them in turn. ❝ Merely winded a moment, and perhaps touched by your ready response, ❞ she admits, for sharing affection always makes her happy. Petra presses a kiss to her temple, while Luneria takes her hand and presses a kiss to the back of it. Kolva dips her spoon into the saucer, holding it gently to Aurelia’s lips. ❝ Your tooth rivals mine, ❞ she says stubbornly, even as she slides the silver spoon between the princess’ lips. The texture is airy and rich, a perfect compliment to their picnic, and Aurelia’s sigh is one of contentment. ❝ And you never let me forget it, ❞ she answers, reaching out to cup Kolva’s cheek in one soft palm. ❝ What would I do without you, hmm? ❞ She looks at each of them in turn, Luneria practically in her lap and Petra behind her, one hand still on her shoulder. ❝ I would be lost without even one of you. ❞ Yes, even Luneria, as green as she is. Her infectious enthusiasm and joy is something Aurelia had been afraid she was starting to lose, but with Luneria at her side, how can she? Each of them brings something to the table, something to her heart. Her ladies. Her circle. They are the thing that keeps her balanced, her corner of sanity in a world that makes less sense each day.

SCENE TWO // Disclaimer: While I included THE LOVERS, I did my best not to god-mod them. That said, this is only a sample, and not meant to be canonized without the consent of my fellow player. Her receiving parlor is not a throne room, but Aurelia sits in her ostentatious bergère as though the crown is already atop her head. THE LOVERS stands at the back of her chair, to her right side, but they know to keep quiet. The best help anyone can be in matters of censure, with Aurelia being so young and seen as so gentle, is to be silent. Her expression is cold and imperious, a far cry from her usual gentility, and though their heads are bowed, she is almost positive the three guards kneeling before her can feel the sharpness in her gaze. ❝ I have been informed of quite an ugly circumstance, ❞ she says quietly. Her voice is not cold, not nearly so frigid as her eyes remain, but it is far worse: each word drips with disappointment, with the feeling that you have let down someone who loves you dearly. They’ve laid their helmets in front of them, and she can see quite clearly when one uncovered head dips, right at the center. They do not like this treatment, and they should not. She doesn’t have to be cruel to them to punish them. This is something her father and brother have never once understood. When you are the warmth of the sun, you must only force someone to remain in the dark, and they will learn well what it is to appreciate the heat when it returns. The silence is its own form of punishment, forcing them to wait on her to continue. They know what they’ve done, of course. They knew when they began that she would not approve. They just didn’t seem to care. Now, she looks at each of them in turn, wondering which will be the first to break down and apologize directly. ❝ As my midday meal came to an end, I was approached by a servant with news from the dining hall. She claimed that three guards, my personal guards, were disrupting the peace. Would any of you care to confess as to why you would interrupt the rest and rejuvenation of those around you to be needlessly cruel? ❞ She waits. Aurelia was not impatient, and she has nowhere else to be today. This is, after all, the privilege of being second-born. She is never expected, not really, not if she doesn’t want to be. In a lack of duty, a sense of honor was born to her that ensures she has her own responsibilities to attend to, this being one of them. Her fingers tap against her lap for a moment, the rhythm precise and methodical. ❝ No? ❞ she inquires one last time, into the deathly silence of the room. ❝ Then I can only assume none of you will plead ignorance to what you have done in my name. ❞ Her voice now hardens as she confirms what she knew from the start. At in my name, the guard to her left flinches, and her heart hurts. Still, this is what must be done. She cannot avoid punishing them simply because she cares for them. ❝ I have only three rules you must obey to stay a part of my Coterie, ❞ she reminds them, authority ringing even in her own ears. Coterie, she calls them, for they are not only a Guard, they are her friends. They wear her heraldry, her own personal identification on their armor, and every single act they take has her name on it. That is why their betrayal hits her so strongly, perhaps, and it is a betrayal. To go against her beliefs is as going against Aurelia herself. ❝ The one you have broken is the one I value above all else. Will one of you recite it for me? I know you capable and aware of which it is you have forsworn me by. ❞ Etienne is the first to speak, thus refusing Octavia and Isobel their chances. ❝ No one with the privilege of wearing your heraldry shall wield it for the purpose of cruelty or out of spite, ❞ they say, corn-silk hair falling out of their braid and into their eyes as they look up to speak. Whatever they see in Aurelia’s expression burns them, for they gaze upon the floor again soon enough, trembling head to toe. ❝ Thank you, Etienne, ❞ she says out of politeness, for nothing in her countenance suggests gratitude. ❝ We’re so sorry, your Highness, please — ❞ Isobel starts, her voice revealing her to be on the verge of tears. As they are all looking down for the moment, Aurelia reaches over her shoulder for THE LOVERS hand a moment, to steady her. She has never enjoyed making her people upset, even if it’s for a righteous purpose. The warmth of their touch gives her courage. ❝ Not sorry enough, or you would never have done it. ❞ She sighs. ❝ Besides, I am not the one who merits an apology from you. When we are done here, I expect you to apologize to Guard du Jardin, and I hope that you will mean it. ❞ ❝ Of course, ❞ Isobel whispers, ❝ As soon as we are able. ❞ Aurelia is sure they will. She’s sure they mean their apology sincerely, and she’s positive that they will not act in such a manner again. That’s not the issue. The issue is a deeper one that underlies every part of her section of the court, from her Coterie to her inner circle. It’s not particularly their fault that they’ve highlighted it to her, but if it goes unpunished, it will galvanize the others. ❝ I understand that a position within my Coterie is highly coveted, and that my restrictions make it hard to obtain one. ❞ The ban on cruelty and spite is fairly simple for people to swear to, but the five recommendations and the trial period before her inner circle decides whether they stay on in a permanent position are not. ❝ What I do not understand is why you would use that envy against someone else, when you yourselves have felt it so keenly. Your solution is to laugh at someone for thinking to try? To hold your position over their heads and talk down to them? ❞ She shakes her head, expression miserable. She will not be used as a cudgel to put others down. She will not be lorded over anyone. Aurelia turns to Octavia, who has done an admirable job of keeping quiet. ❝ Do you have anything to add, Octavia? ❞ She does not call her the oh-so-affectionate V normally reserved for her, does not indicate any inch of familiarity between them, but Octavia doesn’t flinch. Instead, she meets Aurelia’s eyes evenly, without malice or defiance. ❝ I do not, your Highness. You have said it best yourself. It was a petty thing for me to do, and I regretted it immediately. Any censure you have for us will be deserved. ❞ At this, tears well in Aurelia’s eyes, though she does not allow them to fall. Octavia is the only one in a position to see them, anyway, and at the sight, her own eyes well with salt water as well. They must both be strong, for the sake of not only each other, but Aurelia’s right to respect from her court. They love her, yes, but they must also obey her, and Octavia understands this most of all, coming from a noble house herself. Aurelia nods. ❝ Yes, I find it will be. ❞ At last getting up from her seat, Aurelia leans down to Etienne and Isobel in turn, tilting their chins upward with careful fingers, so that they can see her. She hates this part, the punishment part, but it’s a necessary step. She refuses to do it without at least looking them in the eyes. Once done, she returns to her position, regal as always. ❝ For misusing the power I have given you, I see I can no longer trust you with it. Each of you are no longer a member of my Coterie. ❞ Isobel gasps, a wounded sound that Aurelia associates with hospice or injury. ❝ If you wish to return into my service, you will be required to receive no less than seven individual recommendations, none of which may be issued by those who previously floated you for your positions. In addition, ❞ she says, hardening her heart to the look of horror on Etienne’s face, ❝ I require that one of those recommendations come from Guard du Jardin personally. ❞ They’re lucky that she has enough members in her Coterie now that they will not be missed. Were that not the case, were they infringing on her safety, their punishment would be far greater. ❝ Stand, please, ❞ she says, and the three of them rush to their feet. Octavia holds her head high, but Isobel is crying, and Etienne’s lower lip trembles. Rather than asking THE LOVERS to do this part, because it’s hard, Aurelia approaches them herself to unpin her insignia from their armor. They bear it with as much grace as they can; she knows if this were her brother or father, they would do it where the entire court was watching. Then again, they would never dismiss a personal guard for cruelty in the first place. Once collected, she hands these items to THE LOVERS for safekeeping and turns back to them, now looking somehow naked with no heraldry to mark them as her own. ❝ As I hope you understand by now, your punishment is that which you so disdained your fellow Guard for mere hours ago. I hope, should I see each of you in my service again, you will comport yourselves in a way that does not debase me. I will treat you with exactly as much honor as you show me yourselves. ❞ Head held high, she returns to her bergère and sits, exhausted. ❝ You are dismissed. ❞ The moment they have left the room, Octavia shutting the door behind her, Aurelia allows her tears to fall. It is hardest to punish those you love, she thinks as she covers her face in her hands, allowing THE LOVERS to hold her at last. EXTRAS — In my first writing sample I wanted to say there was a Weeping Willow, but I renamed it Crying Tree because it just seemed to fit the mythos more to me. I would think it would be interesting if perhaps they’re favored by The Undying God, considering their mournful legend in our own history. — The only weapon Aurelia will ever carry herself is a knife, because it’s easy to conceal amid all her layers, and it will only be used as a last resort. She trains with it, so she can defend herself if she’s caught alone, but she isn’t a physical fighter and she never will be. She hopes she’ll never have to use it on a living person, not ever. — Here’s her pinterest. — Here’s her playlist.