#and make Alasdair sad

[senditothemoonn]

Bad ending

[ultranerdygirl]

I can’t believe Peter Lukas is gonna make me cry during this Dracula podcast.

[historia-vitae-magistras]

Matt accidently scaring the shit out of Gil is so fucking funny. Love how Arthur looks at Matt and sees a little malnourished soping wet kitten left outside in a storm and everyone else sees some ghoulish, brutally stone-cold being 💀. Arthurs the 'it dont bite' to Gils 'GET YOUR DOG!!'. When Gil is over what do their normal breakfast table conversations even look like? It seems like itd be a little awkward.

To be fair, that version of Matt is the one he got when Matt finally stopped shooting at anything speaking English. Sad cold baby. I feel like this is something to try and avoid as best they can. Who wants to watch their parent/mentor make googly-eyes across the table 😂. Matt just like "😬 sorry about that time I slit your throat and drowned you in a trench crater. Or the time I rolled a grenade under your latrine. Or the surrendering prisoners of war— yeah, I'm just going to go— love you dad, bye!" as he grabs some toast and runs for a train to Glasgow as Arthur tells him not to forget an umbrella and his jacket because good god, Alasdair is going to think this is so funny.

Gilbert just dumping booze into coffee all 👀. "Katya would like him."

Arthur tries not to look proud or amused.

"It's nothing we didn't do to each other!"

"In the dark ages."

"Blame the Normans. He's a sweet boy! Breakfast?"

"I'm good with Müsli and you, sir, are delusional."

They don't bring up Ludwig 😂. Nations aren't supposed to fuck each other up so much! You never know who you might need as an ally 200 years down the road! Matt kind of forgot that bit. Father's favourite combat knife got off his leash and everyone forgets he's not the novelty butter knife Alfred advertises!

[ego-meliorem-esse]

I do love your takes because they mirror mine in a way, I am curious about your take on François relationship with Ludwig and partly with Antonio too. Alasdair is a free soul like him, there's not much to say about it there I think. Baby brother stole everything even the french menace and it bothers him but won't stop him. I do wonder about your take on Alfred's own relationship with Ludwig and the italian brothers. I hc he and the south get along really well but he clashes with North Italy bc he doesn't understand why Italy hides behind his airheadness. I know I'm in anon, sorry but I have many things on my mind and don't want to develop my own op right now bc it will take time to write it down

Ohh yess

Ok just a heads up, this is an expansion on the previous François post:

Ludwig and François have an interesting dynamic. At first glance it might seem like they are polar opposites in almost every aspect. And who knows that might be true, but there is an appeal to me of the sad depressed and drinking-wine-in-bathtub-at-3-am François calling up Ludwig just to chat and get reassurance that it'll be fine. Ludwig is young. He feels like he needs to prove himself on this old world continent. He feels the need to work more just to get to where the rest are. And as an economic powerhouse, he feels somewhat responsible for keeping the peace. Though, despite that, he is kind. And in the recent years (cough cough after Brexit cough cough gurgle fall over die) he and François have gotten close. As close as the ghosts of the past will allow, at least. So, if there is anyone willing to talk to, and even come over and make sure the Frenchman is not drowning in the bathtub or the wine, it's the german lad. Even if he's just sitting on the toilet, laptop on lap, doing work and listening to François' rants. It's the kinda dynamic François can relax in. He doesn't enjoy Ludwigs quiet company always, but it's a nice break from bickering with Arthur and debating with Alfred.

Antonio is a different story. They are very similar in their worldviews and mindsets. Two past empires grown up under Rome (more or less) and getting dunked on by the rat man extraordinaire and his big fat rat baby. If François is going to do dumb shit and get plastered in the town center, he's doing it with Antonio. Gil is also included. They are not the type of friends to talk about their feelings and go emotional on each other. But, naturally there is mutual respect and understanding. "The world has changed and its pace is too fast for us now."

Alasdair is someone who has seen and stood next to François for a very long time. I think he understands the inner workings of François better than most. And, in a certain way, better than even Arthur. From the fall of Rome to the 7 years war, Alasdair kept frequent contact with the man, both physical and if unable to visit, by letters. Alasdair is the one trapped between worlds and emotions after the Treaty of Versailles in 1763. Matthew, whom he adores so much, was abandoned by the man he deeply feels for. And in times like these it's very human to take sides, despite actively trying to understand each party. Alasdair chose Matthew. A boy he almost saw as his own. And François felt the shift. Less frequent letters and visits, as well as somewhat reserved communication when in person. They are still important to each other and always will be. But nations, in my hc are very human. I understand the appeal of making them non human eldritch beings, but i think they are very very human in their emotional and mental capacities and understandings of the world. Wiser and more experienced sure, but human non the less.

You also mentioned Alfred and the Italy bros. I'll do a separate post on their dynamic. However ye i do agree, Alfred and Romano are closer than Alfred and Feli. But what i will add is that Alfred doesn't dislike or find Feli off-putting due to the mask of airheadness. It's the fact that Alfred does the same and knows what it's used for and how it works that doesn't sit right with him. He knows the mask is a front for a sharp mind and knows that there is intelligence behind it.

[danjaley]

Music I associate with the McCarric Series. A playlist in prose.

A wish of @nocturnalazure Thanks to you and everyone else for smoothing my ruffled feathers yesterday!

The founder, Fergus McCarric the elder, was named after the Irish song "Carrickfergus". Specifically after the arrangement in my flutebook, which is the saddest tune I can play on the flute. He died within the first chapter of the series, which was of course a sad fate, but we didn't really get to know him. It's no coincidence that I named Fergus the younger after him.

If the series had a theme song that would be played at the beginning of each episode, it would be "A night in Summer Long Ago" by Mark Knopfler. It has just the right feeling and a touch of bagpipes too. (When I first thought of the family and started the series, I had just gotten all the albums by Mark Knopfler. It still shows).

For the Scottish feeling in general I like "Bonny Glenn Shee", "Scottish Solder", "Skye Boat Song", "Loch Lomond" and "The Minstrel Boy". "Auld Lang Syne" of course, preferably the version from the Putumayo World Music Celtic Christmas CD. And Scottish dance-music in general.

Also the Scotland theme from an old horse-videogame's soundtrack - that's the only one for which I undertook the most dreadful venture of linking it on Youtube, because I don't know how to describe it otherwise.

Mayrose's song is "Love and Happiness" by Mark Knopfler and Emmylou Harris.

William and Dan make me think of Irish rebel- and military songs: "Whiskey in the jar", "Gentleman Soldier", "Inniskillen Dragoon", "Wild Rover". Alasdair will probably follow in their footsteps. With regard to the future, I might also mention "Done with Bonaparte" here (Mark Knopfler).

Two songs I associate with Andrew losing his son and Fiona fighting for hers are "I've been waiting for you" and "My Love my Life" both in the text-versions from Mamma Mia 2. It was in the cinemas when I wrote Season 2. Also "All that matters", again by Mark Knopfler.

Although there hasn't been a son lost in the war for quite a while, there's this song by Loreena McKennitt, which I think is called "Breaking the Sword". But that album was released with mixed up track-numbers, so I've still saved it as "A Hundred Wishes", which is also a good title.

For the present characters I don't actually have very strong music associations. For Matt maybe Mark Knopfler's "Get lucky" (the title may give a wrong impression, it's the wry assessment of life in it that reminds me of Matt). In general also "The times they are a-changing" (Simon&Garfunkel). That sums up the situation pretty accurately.

[zilabee]

Alf Bicknell, Beatles Chauffeur (and friend), 1964 to 1966:

“It's weird to explain. Even after I left them in 1966 and went back to working with captains of industry and on a cruise, I could never get those songs - all their tracks - out of my system. They'd become a part of me. To be there was the job of a lifetime.”

“It was exhausting. I remember waking some mornings and being filled with trepidation. Filled with the feeling that I couldn't do it, that I couldn't go on at this pace.”

“I ended up with George and this guy, who turned out to be an Italian prince. He offered to show us around Rome. So, together with this prince, his beautiful girlfriend, and George, I had one of the most wonderful of my times with the Beatles. He took us at dawn on this whirlwind tour of Rome. We ended up on some of the Seven Hills of Rome. We were in St Peters Square and all these wonderful places I'd only seen on picture postcards.”

All four had been fond of doodling in an effort to while away the boredom of touring. On this leg of the tour [in Japan] Alf noticed the sketches began to take on a darker tone. Perhaps a legacy of the touring treadmill, although the Beatles discovery of hallucinogenic substances may have coloured their doodles.

“I'm often asked what my favourite tracks are. I don't really know. I guess the two which I think are most poignant are Penny Lane and Strawberry Fields Forever. They make me really sad - I don't know why.”

After the Beatles visit with Elvis, he sent his own roadies round in a giant Cadillac limousine to take the Beatles' road crew out on the town:

“We were wined and dined and went round all these wonderful Hollywood clubs. One place was closing for the night but Elvis's people Sonny and Marty had them open up just for us. Vintage champagne and platters of delicious food duly arrived. Then the singer who had been performing that night came back on and did another set, singing just for the likes of yours truly. I've always thought what a wonderful gesture of Elvis to have remembered us, the humble roadies, this way.”

Re the airport in the Philippines:

“George Martin, in particular, has been documented as saying 'Stupidly Alf Bicknell raised his fists.' I always thought that was pretty rich coming from a guy hundreds of miles away, safely tucked away in a recording studio. Whereas here I was, surrounded by this baying mob, desperate to tear the Beatles to pieces. It was my job to protect them. And it was obvious that reasoned arguing wasn't the answer. You don't stand there and wait till one of the band is hit. It was a case of 'it's the first blow that counts'. ”

Alf decided to leave in 1966, at Candlestick Park when they announced they wouldn't be touring any more. He doesn't go into a lot of detail about why, he just says:

“It had been two years. A magical time, with me privy to one of the most exciting times in the last century. I'd been privileged to be along for the ride. But like the band, the repetition had sort of got to me.”

Ticket to Ride, by Alasdair Ferguson and Alf Bicknell

I'm going to stop now before I type out the entire book. But there are other nice bits in it still. At one point or another he drove each of them back to Liverpool and stayed with their families. He really likes Jim McCartney: "There was a great spiritual feeling about him." He seems to genuinely like everyone. There's a bit where he drives George and Pattie to the airport after their wedding, speeding to escape the press, but when he gets pulled over the officer just pretends to give him a ticket and then holds up the reporters for him. There are the standard bits where John is a bit of a dick, and other bits where he's soft and kind. There's a bit where Alf goes to a bullfight with Brian because no one else will. A bit where he talks about Paul putting on a terrible disguise and going out to look for grandfather clocks, and everyone in the shops pretending not to know who he is. There's a bit where he runs into George in the mid-seventies and they have a hug on the pavement.

(If you're wondering why the Beatles' chauffeur called his book Ticket To Ride, yes, I was also wondering. But he does have another book called 'Baby You Can Drive My Car', so that is why. From what I can work out it's a better version of this one - because honestly outside the quotes from Alf, which I'm assuming are true, this book is badly written to the extreme. It kind of tries to dramatise everything, like 'he sighed dramatically' etc, and is full of small careless mistakes like using passed where they mean past, not once but twice. Unfortunately the other book costs a little fortune, so this one is good enough for now.)

[heartfullofleeches]

One time I got REALLY drunk bc I was feeling sad and I'm pretty sure I saw an angel in the corner of my room, who started to tell me how bad drinking was and how I should stop it immediately. I never saw him again bc that shit scared me a FUCKING lot so I started to regulate how much I drink, but I feel like Alasdair is the type to present himself when you aren't completely conscious and just lecture the SHIT out of you, you won't remember a lot from it but OH BOY will that FUCKING SCARE YOU

(sleep paralysis angel)

Your vision is shrouded in a field of white; sleep deprived mind trying to grasp the anomaly unfolding before you. Within a cloud of golden light, you could make out wings protruding from inside like tendrils; eyes along their length peering down at your smaller form. As it spoke, you felt your consciousness slipping away into the blanket of its loving, comforting tone; a single message engraved into your mind.

"Drink more water."

[needcake]

Day 3: rebuild

Engport | G | 600 words

@engportevents

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Obituary, 19th of March, 1979:

It is with profound sadness that the family of George Kirkland announces his passing after prolonged illness, at the age of 89. Mr. Kirkland is survived by his five children and loving wife.

The funeral service will be held at South London Crematorium, Rowan Road at 12pm on Sunday 25th March. All are welcome to attend. Please make any charitable donations to The British Heart Foundation.

-

Job posting, 22nd of June, 1979:

Caretaker for elderly widow

Requirements: experience in the position, fluent English. Desirable: good conversationalist, knows how to play bridge. 10£/hour. Details by phone: 020-35844783

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Ad, 4th of May, 1982:

The Flying Cod

GRAND OPENING

Join the Kirkland brothers in the grand opening of The Flying Cod

On Saturday, May 8th - 9577 Mill Lane London

Free chips until stocks run out!

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News excerpt, 14th of January, 1983:

The police could not determine who started the fire, but from eye-witness accounts it is believed that the owners of the establishment had a disagreement and that it escalated throughout the night, resulting in an all-out brawl. Luckily, they were able to evacuate the premises before the fire reached the second story of the building, but medical teams reported two wounded from the fight.

Neither Mr. Kirkland could be reached for comment.

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Ad, 28th of March, 1983:

The Flying Cod II

RE-INAUGURATION

Join the Kirkland brothers once more to celebrate the re-inauguration of our favorite pub!

On Saturday, April 2nd - 9577 Mill Lane London

No free chips

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Job posting, 12th of April, 1983:

Bar manager

Requirements: being fucking good at your job, not being an arsehole. Availability to start right away. Details by phone: 020-35844783

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Job posting, 13th of April, 1983:

Bartender

Requirements: not being an idiot, ability to serve drinks and keep glasses clean without breaking them, can’t be that fucking hard. Availability to start right away. Details by phone: 020-35844783

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News excerpt, 27th of April, 1983:

The owners of the pub, Arthur and Alasdair Kirkland, were taken by the police to the station after the fight, where they will have to answer for charges of Actual Bodily Harm (ABH) and Assault On A Police Constable In The Execution Of His Or Her Duty. Both Mr. Kirkland and Mr. Kirkland’s lawyers advised their clients to give no comment to this newspaper.

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Obituary, 29th of April, 1983:

It is with profound sadness that the family of Áine Kirkland announces her passing, at the age of 86. Mrs. Kirkland is survived by her five children.

The funeral service will be held at South London Crematorium, Rowan Road at 12pm on Thursday 5th May. All are welcome to attend. Please make any charitable donations to The British Heart Foundation.

-

Sales posting, 12th of May, 1983:

Pub glassware and kitchenware for sale. Details by phone: 020-35844783

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Headline, 7th of August, 1983:

Former Pub Owner Hit By Double-Decker Bus

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Job posting, 12nd of August, 1983:

Caretaker for snobbish brother

Requirements: experience in the position, the patience of a saint. Desirable: good looking bloke with a Portuguese accent, knows how to play bridge. 12£/hour. Details by phone: 020-35844783

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News excerpt, 23rd of October, 1983:

A neighbor approached our reporter to say that she has filed a complaint against the noise with the building manager: “They are at it every night, my cats are traumatized!”

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Ad, 21st of December, 1983:

The Flying Cod III

RE-INAUGURATION – THE LAST ONE!

Join us to celebrate the final re-inauguration of our favorite pub!

On Christmas Day, December 25th - 9577 Mill Lane London

Free fish and chips until 8p.m.

Drag shows on Tuesdays!

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[blairstales]

Running Water in Scottish Folklore

There are many sacred springs said to have different types of supernatural powers in Scotland, but even just a regular stream had many uses in folklore. One of these uses is protection from evil creatures, spirits, fairies, or ghosts.

What this meant is that if you are being chased by a supernatural evil, all you had to do was jump over a stream of running water. Like a wall, that water would prevent the creature from getting to you.

This is why some stories feature a fairy trying to convince a human to cross a stream to be on the same side as the fairy. In other stories, the fairy is trying to catch a human before they can get to the water.

For example, in one of the most popular stories of a Nuckelavee, a man manages to get away from the frightening creature by jumping a stream.

“Tammie saw his opportunity, and ran with all his might; and sore need had he to run, for Nuckelavee had turned and was galloping after him, and bellowing with a sound like the roaring of the sea. In front of Tammie lay a rivulet, through which the surplus water of the loch found its way to the sea, and Tammie knew, if he could only cross the running water, he was safe; so he strained every nerve. As he reached the near bank another clutch was made at him by the long arms. Tammie made a desperate spring and reached the other side, leaving his bonnet in the monster’s clutches. Nuckelavee gave a wild unearthly yell of disappointed rage as Tammie fell senseless on the safe side of the water.” Scottish Fairy and Folk Tales by Sir walter Scott(1893)

English: Scottish fairy tale “Nuckelavee”. Caption: Tammie felt the wind of nuckelavee’s clutches. Source: Scottish Fairy and Folk Tales

How exactly the water works can change slightly depending on the area or the story.

For example, some believed the direction of the water mattered.

“This, particularly southward-running water, is holy, and cannot be passed by evil spirits.” A Encyclopedia of Fairies by Katharine Briggs (Published in 1976)

In “The Water-horse in Bracadale,” a water horse is chasing a young girl, who manages to make it to a stream. The story specifies that the water only gained power by the call of a rooster.

"Over the stream leapt the terror- stricken maiden, just as the cock began to crow in Balgowan, the Smith’s Hamlet. Now, this cock’s crowing meant the saving of the girl’s life, since it acted as a spell on the enraged water-horse, who thus was hindered from crossing the stream. In this wise the maiden escaped to her home but the water-horse cried after her : "DuilicJi c, duilich e, alltan! Sad it is, sad it is, streamlet ! ” And to this day the little stream flowing by the church of Bracadale goes by the name of the Alltan Duilich, the Difficult Streamlet. The Water-horse in Bracadale. " The Peat-Fire Flame: Folk-Tales and Traditions of the Highlands and Islands by Alasdair Alpin MacGregor (1937)

Most often, however, you will come across stories where it is any running water that can protect you.

One interesting addition to the folklore is that it is only creatures or ghosts with evil intent that can not cross the streams. This explains why certain fairies that live in running water could also be blocked by it.

“Some authorities hold that the good folk are not averse to crossing running water . It is only a wicked class of them whose powers are blunted by traversing flowing streams .” Folk Lore in Lowland Scotland by Evelyn Blantyre Simpson (1908)

BONUS HISTORIC AUDIO RECORDINGS

(link) People believed that if there was running water between a person and a ghost or evil spirit he would be safe. They also believed that water from the place where three burns met would cure ailments.

(link) Annie Johnston explains that this song was composed by a fairy woman. She was trying to entice a herdsman to cross a river and come into a fairy hill. She could not cross water.

[hetagrammy]

Writing interactions between Molly and Alasdair in my Asoiaf AU makes me so sad, why do I do this to myself.

[senditothemoonn]

UKFR PLS 💜

Gives nose/forehead kisses: Fran obviously 💖 although I can see Artie giving him lil pecks when he's sad or tired - just coming to engulf Fran in his arms and press his lips against his worried lil forehead. Of course, the odd soft lil nose kiss first thing in the morning, that’s also adorable.

Gets jealous the most: Arthur. Like I said, he's an insecure, anxious lil guy and I imagine Fran is constantly reassuring him. That's not to say Francis doesn't get jealous either, I just think that while Arthur sees anyone as a threat, Francis will be really intimidated by certain people in particular. Like those he sees acting particularly soft with Arthur - he thought he was the only one who got to be soft with that grumpy little gremlin ! >:’(

Takes care of on sick days: overworking RT Chan strikes again 😩 like take a break before Fran forces you to take a break.

Drags the other person out into the water on beach day: do I even need to say? The image of Arthur clad in T-shirt and knee length swimming trunks reluctantly being dragged towards the sea by Fran all sunny smiles is SO clear in my mind. Perhaps I need to draw this...

Brings the other lunch at work: Francis. But I also think that Arthur would bring some form of takeaway to Fran because he knows he won't eat otherwise. Like just bringing him a sandwich and coffee from Pret and then he does the James Acaster bit like 'I like to manger un sandwich' and Francis rolls his eyes but he laughs anyway and please they are so CUTE.

Tries to start role-playing in bed: we all know they'd both be into the nastiest freak shit, but honestly I'm not sure who would initiate it. I can imagine, in the heat of the moment, Francis being like 'choke me' and Arthur obliges with suspicious vigour and later they're both like 👀👀

Embarrassingly drunk dancer: Arthur, it's always gonna be RT. And I think his dancing gets progressively worse with every drink he has ajsjsjs

Cheesy disco moves that would make even your grandpa look cool.

Why is this guy forcing his boyfriend to foxtrot in the middle of a club?

Oh dear lord he's twerking.

Firmly believes in couples costumes: ofc I think Fran is the queen of dressing up (I mean he's out every Saturday night in the club in full drag) and Arthur thinks dressing up is for kids. But once Fran gets him into it, he adores it. Like this is the man who goes to battle reenactments in historically accurate chainmail. He may pretend to be above it on Halloween, but this man loves dressing up and he needs to admit that so he can have the fun he deserves by dressing up like an evil wizard and scaring children.

Breaks the expensive gift rule during Christmas: I think they both would. Francis would initially (he can't help it, he is a man of expensive taste) and since Arthur has come to expect this, he will also go all out and try to outdo Francis. Only these 2 could turn gift giving into a competition.

Makes the other eat breakfast: they are the type of couple that has to force each other out of bed in the morning. It's more like brunch at that point and it's basically just Francis telling Arthur to at least bring a slice of toast with his flask of tea on the way out and Arthur reminding Francis he needs something besides a cup of coffee and a cigarette.

Remembers anniversaries: neither of them are good at this so maybe they've just given up. Equally, they have to plan anything months in advance if they want to do something on a special occasion because I think they're both a little scatterbrained. Fran because that's just who he is and Arthur because this man is so stressed. Seriously, someone get him some help.

Brings up having kids first: I see Arthur being similar to Alasdair in that, even if it sucked at times, he looks back on his childhood with fondness and part of it is because he had such a big family and I think he wants to recreate that with Francis. He wants to be a dad 🥺

Kills the bugs: Arthur ajsjd the spider fiend.

First to define them as a couple: I think they would get off to a rocky start no matter the au but once they've settled, I think that Arthur would be kind of shy and anxious about speaking too soon and Francis would recognise that and voice what they were both thinking. (That they are in love 💗)

Who hides their guilty pleasures longer: Arthur. This man is riddled with shame and anxiety.

Snorts while laughing: Fran ✨

[ashes-writing-corner]

In the Heart of Winter

Chapter 1

The ride was meant to be mostly quiet, at least she hoped. In a small, confined carriage surrounded by family, Siobhan Lorcain felt foreign. Across from her was her mother, Queen Neassa of the Ruling House Lorcain.

Ever present in her crown and veil, Queen Neassa was a noble yet sad sight to behold. She held herself well, back straight and tall with her shoulders back. Her mourning however only seemed to add to Neassa's noble appearance. She had worn only black for the past twenty-five years, since the end of the War of Man and Magic. Ever since she lost her beloved husband, Alasdair Lorcain. The throne of Iorera was, for the time being at least, only hers because of her marriage and her season currently reigning. But soon, the Autumn Throne would pass to one of her children, though right now it was impossible to say which of them.

Siobhan faintly remembered her mother in happier times, as the princess had only been five at the time of the war's end. Her mother's hair had been so much longer back then, and Neassa had taught Siobhan to braid it by making it a game. After losing Alasdair however, she had cut her hair to her shoulders. Nowadays she kept it curled and did it herself early in the morning to avoid even her ladies in waiting getting a glance of her. Her eyes were once a bright and shining gold color, but faintly behind the veil Siobhan thought them a dull bronze. Grief had taken the light from her mother, leaving hardly anything but a strict and dutiful queen.

Siobhan had only seen her light again briefly when her younger brother Seoras was born. Poor Seoras never really recalled seeing hus mother happy, and from what Siobhan observed, Seoras was never happy either. At least never truly.

Seoras had seemingly inherited his mother's grief. He was the youngest of the four Lorcain children, only twenty five, and born within the same month Iorera lost its king and Lord of Autumn. He was rather short, like Neassa, with her dark red locks to match. His eyes were bright gold despite their constant dull and uninterested expression. Gold, as their father's had been. He had a small mouth that also didn't express much, which clashed with his somewhat sharp nose. His ears were also small, the pointed tips of them barely seen through his thick and crimson mane. He had taken a liking to hats when he was younger, and was hardly ever seen without one. For the journey today, he of course wore his favorite, a very tiny orange tip hat with a black hand around it. On his shoulder looking out the window was Rónán, a pygmy sized construct with a purple blobby body and a mini pumpkin head carved from a tiny jack o lantern. Half of the time, the construct spoke for the young prince, unless he had something important to say.

The construct turned and looked at the surrounding royals.

"Hey" he said, his voice high and scratchy, "are we there yet?".

Aislinn Lorcain, the oldest of the four Autumn siblings, looked up from the book she was reading.

"Does it look like we're there, little beast?" She asked in return.

Aislinn was nearly the exact image of their mother in her younger years. Some even believed Aislinn to be the most beautiful elf in all of Iorera. Like most Autumn elves, and especially within House Lorcain, she had beautiful long red hair that shone like copper in the light. Like her mother, Aislinn held herself with great pride and regality. At eighty-two years and seven feet tall, Aislinn would be a prize for any lucky elf in Iorera. Making her even more desirable was her taming of Teárlag, a rare unicorn. He was a beast everyone had sought, but only allowed himself to be claimed and ridden by Aislinn.

It struck Siobhan as odd, however, that her sister had their father the longest and yet hardly talked about him. Whenever she attempted to being up the lost king, Aislinn would tell Siobhan to leave old things in the past, and to not upset their still mourning mother. It was as though Aislinn strove to forget about him, and it left a sour taste in Siobhan's mouth, a poor opinion in her mind.

"Aislinn, be nice" Seoc Lorcain, the older son, spoke out.

Seoc was Siobhan's favorite sibling. The second oldest of the Lorcain children, Seoc was very much identical to his father. Without his glasses, Seoc Lorcain was just like Alasdair in portraits. Despite his poor eyesight, Seoc was very good with a bow, his most proved weapon. He kept his long crimson neat in a bun with a few loose strands on the sides. His round glasses were rimmed in strong, lightweight steel, and he kept them neat and clean. Seoc didn't like the idea of contacts, partly due to the idea of something in his eye making him uncomfortable. That combined with Aislinn telling him a story as a child where someone got their contacts melted into their eyes assured that he would never get them.

An icy feeling settled over the Lorcain carriage. The years following Alasdair's death hadn't been kind to them. Neassa looked at her two oldest.

"None of this, especially not today. This is the most important day of your lives, and the lives of our subjects. We must set a proper example".

"And who's to say what's proper?" Siobhan spoke out.

"Siobhan Lorcain don't you dare start this" the veiled queen turned her attention to her younger daughter.

"I still think it's nonsense. It's not fair that we don't get to choose who we marry or what kingdom we go to" the princess scoffed.

"It is our responsibility to maintain the balance of the seasons, as well as the balance of power between the Four Great Houses. That has been our duty since-"

"Since the rebellion. I know the histories, mother" Siobhan sighed.

"We won our freedom. This is the price of that freedom, Siobhan".

"A price that you aren't paying".

"Siobhan!" Aislinn hissed her sister's name, "mama's done all she could for us".

"I'm not saying she hasn't. But really how are any of the heads of houses paying for this? Just how necessary is this?".

"Highly! One of us is possibly going to be the next ruler of Iorera, setting the example for the next one thousand years. This is huge. And I find your attitude disrespectful" Aislinn told her.

"Eh...we feel bad for the poor sap that's gotte go to Zaigary" Rónán added his own thoughts in, "the Winter Kingdom kinda sucks from what we've read".

"Mind your manners, Rónán. One of the Eronen children will be our future king or queen" Neassa told him.

"Poor kid" Rónán chuckled.

"Okay I really think we all just need to chill" Seoc stepped in as mediator, "Siobhan, i get it, you don't like this. I think we can all agree it's not the best life, and we didn't choose it. But mother's also right. We've been waiting and training for this all our lives. We aren't doing this for us, it's not about us. It's not for our own good, but for the good of all. Kings and queens are servants to the people they rule first and foremost".

"Thank you, Seoc" Neassa gently touched his knee in support and looked at Siobhan, "we must do what is best for the people of Iorera. This is the price of our freedom: This responsibility we owe our people and our continent. Even your father understood the cost".

"Yes and it cost him his life..." Siobhan wanted to say but stayed quiet.

Seoras glanced at his sister sympathetically. He seemed to understand her best even without speaking. Siobhan smiled slightly back at her brother, grateful that someone else agreed this was nonsense. A part of Siobhan pondered that the price of freedom was far too high, but she crushed that thought as their carriage and entourage came to a stop.

The structure before them was ancient. The Sanctum of the Seasons was said to be the oldest structure in Iorera, possibly dating back to even before the Rule of the Fae. It was damaged a little during the War of Man and Magic, but the king's sacrifice ensured that all things magic would still stand and no where was magic more prominent than the Sanctum of the Seasons. Efforts had been made to restore the Sanctum, but it would've required rebuilding the entire thing. The structure was fashioned after a temple, the outside lined with tall columns that were covered in moss and ivy. Inside was a single dimly light room with a large black cauldron in it. Here all of their fates, and the future of Iorera, would be decided. There was a sudden, certain heaviness in the air.

Neassa stepped out first, followed by Aislinn, Seoc, Siobhan, and lastly Seoras with Rónán still on his shoulder.

"So this is the Sanctum of the Seasons huh?" Rónán asked, "Well then...talk about a fixer upper...".

The comment got a laugh from Siobhan, but an icy glare from her mother made it die in her throat.

"Hush, all of you" Neassa looked at them, "now is the time for your paths to be chosen. Now you serve Iorera in the truest sense".

Reblogs, likes, and comments are welcome! Thank you ^.^

[historia-vitae-magistras]

I read your matt getting scurvyfied fic and oofff my heart 🥺. He is so precious, and arthur finally throwing him a bone lol and trying to get him to take care of himself. whats going on in arthurs head in that moment when he realises matt is really not well? does he feel guilty or upset or just like c'mon boy theres no need for that :/

Ahhhh, that is the "Arthur getting his head out of his ass" fic. When the treaty of 1782 was signed, Matthew was returned North after spending most of the war being dragged around by Arthur because he was not trusted to be loyal (for a good reason, he did save Alfred's life at the expense of British blood and treasure more than once.) Quebec City and Montreal became bases for mostly Scottish-funded expeditions of French and Indigenous (often mixed) fur trappers, and Matthew was more or less left to his own devices. Alasdair gave him the job of keeping track of what came in and out of the port with the family accounts. The world lived much closer to nature back then, the grain supply was heavily dependent on the weather, and there were many lean years in the first decades after the British handover. 'Spring fever' comes from the scurvy that sets in at the end of winter before things grow properly. It's just how the world was.

These are all things Arthur is accustomed to, things he accounted for with Alfred most years, making sure he had a good year-long supply of everything he needed. No one really did that for Matt. Things in Europe are changing fast; Arthur is furious with Alfred and suspicious of Matt, and the breakneck speed of events leaves Matt in the dust; getting along mostly all right but not exactly a priority. And this visit... it's Arthur taking his head out of his ass. He's been at sea for a long time, has weathered the post-Amrev slump, he's emerging from the damage, and it's kind of a realization of "oh, fuck, I should probably make sure the second one's still alive."

It's not really guilt. Everyone's lives are like that back then. Maybe a grimace because it wouldn't have to be like this if he paid attention. But there's affection more than anything. Matt sucked it up and didn't complain even when it was apparent what rough shape he and the entire province were in. Matt offered what he had, didn't ask, and didn't throw a fit. There's something profoundly fucked up in how much Arthur approves of that, but he does very much approve. And Matthew was very happy to see him. A quarter starved, clearly suffering, a touch delirious with a real conversation, and mostly drunk on half a glass of small cider, he's not being nervous and traumatized. Things Arthur has usually interpreted as Matt being a French sort of sullen and ungrateful. Instead, Matt's more himself. He's chatty, asking questions, affectionate, attentive, and curious.

Acquiring some oranges and some food is something Arthur can actually do for the boy. He's a shit father on the emotional side of things and moreover a reluctant parent with Matt. But something like scurvy? That, he's an expert in, seawolf that he is. Feeding the little French welp is something he can do, a solution to a problem he's comfortable with. Matthew isn't very much like Alasdair or Francis at all, and Arthur is a little surprised that he cares as much as he does. The sad wet noodle child is pleasant, much to his surprise (even if it's the third time they've done this), and maybe Arthur should take an interest. Matt's biggest problem in life (that he doesn't cause himself) is the inability of others to separate him from Francis when he's little and Alfred when he's older. When finally Arthur's able to, they get along like a house on fire.

[thathetaliablogg]

NEO NEO! BABE! SO I'M WALKING HOME FROM THE GYM, RIGHT? AND I CAN'T BE LEFT ALONE W MY THOUGHTS BECAUSE I MAKE ANGSTY SHIT UP WHEN I'M ALONE

Anyway, I'm walking and this very sad song starts playing and all I can think is this:

So those angsty aus i sent you last week, add this one to the pile, and to your Stalker/obsessive Francis au

When Francis and Arthur are young, Arthur can no longer keep his feelings a secret anymore and proclaims his love for Francis

Unfortunately Francis does not return the feelings and rather than gently and kindly let Arthur know he does not feel the same, he lashes out (because they are young and Francis feels Arthur ruined their friendship with his stupid feelings)

Francis moves on from Arthur and befriends Antonio and Gilbert. Ignores every attempt of Arthur trying to reach out and mend their friendship

Time moves on (this can be Nationverse if you want but its more humanverse) and one day when Francis and Alasdair are hanging out for old times sake, Francis nonchalantly asks about Arthur's whereabouts since it's been a long time since he has spoken with his old friend

"And what is Arthur doing these days?"

Alasdair gives him a weird look, since he hasn't asked about his little brother since they split and has changed the conversation every time the other has been brought up.

"I'm not so sure to be honest, i haven't seen him since he moved out with his fiancé"

And all time seems to stop

"his what?"

"Fiancé. They got engaged last year, i think they're getting married in two months. I'm not sure, I haven't read the invitation properly"

Fiancé, wedding, his arthur was getting married, and he hadn't received an invitation.

"of course you didn't get invited, you two haven't talked since you dumped him when you were kids. He's not yours" Alasdair growls

And Francis realizes he spoke outloud

Francis doesn't see Arthur until a week before the supposed wedding and, oh

His Arthur, the child who followed him around as kids, the little boy with lanky arms and a pimply face, the little boy who he would always gight with and pull at each other's hair, was no longer a little boy. He was a man, grown and pretty.

He was so pretty, it was almost painful.

And he was hanging off the arm of a tall, tan skinned man with long hair. For all that he looked like a brute (and something he couldn't quite place, he looked familiar), he was looking so tenderly and lovingly at Arthur. HIS Arthur.

They looked happy, they looked in love. And something dark twisted in Francis'stomach. He didn't realize until much later that his nails had dug into the palm of his hand so hard he cut himself.

Francis will deny he is stalking, but it is exactly what he is doing.

The night before the wedding, a few of Arthur's friends (people he doesn't know) and his brothers take him out to drink for his last night as a bachelor.

He hides in the back, ignoring the people who approach him and rejecting the drinks he is offered. After a few hours, Arthur seems to excuse himself and goes to where the bathrooms are. Francis follows.

When Arthur finishes washing his hands, he looks up and sees Francis standing behind him in the mirror

"Francis?" He asks confused, he didn't remember seeing him at all that night. He had excused himself after a few uncomfortable moments when he felt the creeping feeling of someone looking at him

"hello mon petite lapin" Francis says

"what are you doing here? I haven't seen you in ... well, i haven't seen you in a long time"

"I heard you were getting married" Francis blurts

Arthur blinks, not expecting Francis to say that, "who told you that?" He asks

"Alasdair mentioned a few months back when i went to see him"

"ah."

"are you?"

"yes, I am, tomorrow actually."

Arthur smiles as he thinks of his to-be husband, who was likely having his own bachelor party with his friends and brother.

Francis does not like that smile. And all the emotions he had been pushing back for months, all the anger, all the sorrow, he had lost his Arthur. This could be his-

"You can't marry him!" Francis says

Arthur's smile falls, "Wha-"

"you can't marry him Arthur. He doesn't deserve you"

It had been so long since Francis had been on the other end of Arthur's frowns, his glares. Except this look was icy, cold, and directed towards him

"doesn't deserve me? You don't even know him!"

" i don't need to know him to know you don't belong to him!"

"belo- what are you going on about?! Who are you to decide who i belong to and who i don't like I'm an object to pass around"

Arthur was getting angry, and this wasn't going how Francis was hoping. He had imagined Arthur smiling and agreeing with Francis, and later they would both head back to Francis place and he would be-

Arthur barely had time to blink as Francis' teary face got too close and soon he was being held tightly in the other's arms. It was painful, especially with how tightly Francis was squeezing him

"You're supposed to be all mine, okay?! Arthur don't you understand? You're all mine! " He is crying

The Frenchman's hold tightened even more on the smaller man, making it almost impossible for Arthur to breathe

"Francis," Arthur strained, "you're scaring me" his voice is shaky

The other only sobs louder, "you were put here just for me, okay?! You were made for me!"

Arthur realizes he is alone, no one will help him get out of this, and he panics

"Francis, let go" he says in a monotoned voice

Francis only shakes his head, and continues to hold Arthur in his iron grip

"Francis, you're hurting me, let go" his arms are trapped to his sides, he can't push the other away

"no, arthur you can't marry that man, you're mine!"

"you're the one who left Francis, you're the one who pushed me away when we were kids"

"i was a fool!"

"it's too late Francis, I'm getting married tomorrow and there is nothing you can do to stop it"

"no! I won't allow it!"

Arthur begins to struggle, frees his arms and begins to push at Francis, tries to pull his arms off his waist, vut the other won't budge

"Fucks sake, Francis! Let me go!"

There is shouting, there is a scuffle and it takes four people to pull Francis off of Arthur

At one point when Arthur had tried to free himself, someone had walked in and ran for help

"Arthur, you can't!"

But Arthur is holding a hand to his left eye while the other he is holding some paper towels to his nose. He was bleeding. During the scuffle he had managed to hit the other

"That's enough, Francis" Alasdair hides his brother from Francis' view

"Alasdair, he is making a mistake!"

"I said," the Scotsman's voice booms in the bathroom, silencing all the chattering, "that's enough"

Someone drives Francis home, and waiting for him is Antonio and Gilbert

"I know you wanted to attend the wedding tomorrow and you're your brother's best man, but unless you find someone to keep an eye on him, make sure he doesn't leave"

"wha-"

"Francis, i say this because we have been friends for years, don't make me do something i will not regret. If you go anywhere near my brother again, i will make you regret it for the rest of your life."

Alasdair does not spare him a second more and walks back to the car waiting for him

"what did you do that I had to leave my brother's bachelor party so early!" Antonio asks

"i had to stop him. I have to stop him! He is making a mistake!"

"Who?" Gilbert asks

"Arthur! He is getting married tomorrow! He is making a mistake!"

"Arthur? Arthur Kirkland?"

And time stops, Francis looks at his friend, why was he here?

"why are you here? Why are both of you here?"

"Alasdair cal-"

"How does he know you?"

"I-"

"how do you know Arthur's name?"

Antonio's face is serious, but he says nothing. Gilbert doesn't seem to have anything to say either

"Toni, how did you know to meet us here?" Francis asks, he stalks closer to Antonio

"Arthur's friend, he knew I was out but he called and told me there was a problem and Arthur was hurt. They knew we were friends and asked me to come meet you here"

"why would they know we were friends? How do you even know Arthur?"

"... my brother"

João Morriera was Antonio's older, half brother. Francis had never met him, had only seen pictures of him and Antonio as kids

And Francis' stomach dropped, the pieces of the puzzle were falling into place. The man who he saw Arthur with, he had only ever seen his pictures as a kid, but it wasn't hard to age the man up

I know you wanted to attend the wedding tomorrow and you're your brother's best man, but unless you find someone to keep an eye on him, make sure he doesn't leave

"and, why does your brother know Arthur?"

"..."

"Answer me!"

Antonio jerks slightly, but he straightens up and glares at his friend

"João is Arthur's fiancé. The man he is marrying tomorrow"

The world begins to spin and Francis staggers backwards slightly, pushing at Gilbert's hand that steadies him

No, no no no, this can't be happening! Arthur couldn't be marrying that man!

"Antonio, your brother can't marry him!"

"Francis-"

"He can't! Arthur is mine!"

"No he is not! They are getting married tomorrow, the sooner you accept that, the better! " Gilbert, who had been quiet the whole time, says as he pushes himself between the two men. "Francis, you lost your chance"

Tears begin to form and sting at Francis eyes, "Non, non! He's mi-"

Antonio shoves past Gilbert and pushes Francis back, making him stumble and fall

"No, he is not." Antonio's voice is dark and firm, " and you better get that through your head, because i will not be missing my brother's wedding because I'm not babysitting you tomorrow! "

Francis sobs, falling on his back

Gilbert and Antonio don't end up finding someone to look after him, but they don't stick around either.

Antonio leaves him with a warning, that he will regret stepping one foot outside of the house and attempting to follow them. He takes Francis' car keys just in case

Francis sits in his apartment, it is dark and he stares blankly at nothing

Even if he wanted to (he really does), he can't stop the wedding, he doesn't know where the ceremony will be held, nor does he know where it will be hosted.

He doesn't get better, he won't stop

He follows Arthur around, tries to make Arthur see that they belong together, begs him on his knees to leave João and be with him. He shows up to their home, and has been caught trying to break in.

Alasdair keeps true to his promise, and so does Antonio. But no amount of threats or bruises stop him.

Not even the restraining orders

He does not give up

You see, back when Arthur had first confessed, they were both too young, and Francis had thought, had hoped, that Arthur would still love him when they both grew.

Had not known that when he had pushed Arthur away, the other's feeling would completely disappear. Had expected Arthur, who had been prickly as a child and friendless, would be alone until Francis was ready to begin something serious.

Francis had wanted Arthur back then, but had wanted the other to mature and grow. Wanted the other to be his. Because he was his!

He did not count on Arthur making friends with the american and his canadian brother. With that Japanese kid in his advanced calculus class.

And to not fall in love with the Portuguese brute he had met in college. The one said friends had pushed for him to accept to go out with.

Something in Francis snapped the day Alasdair told him Arthur was getting married

The realization that he had lost the one good thing from his childhood because he had pushed it away.

And Francis could not allow it. Wouldn't allow it.

But his mother and sister are worried and have talked about how they should move back to France.

And he heard that Arthur will be moving to Portugal. Something about a job offering but he knows, he knows deep down that the other is just trying to take Arthur away, trying to separate them even more.

They all are. That must be it!

Francis can't allow that

But it doesn't go according to plan. His plan; was to get rid of João, and take Arthur away. Maybe the US, maybe somewhere in Greece or even Russia. Somewhere nobody would try to separate them

João's motorbike, the brakes are tampered with. And Francis did not know that sometimes his Arthur would sit behind the other when they went for rides.

João can't stop the motorcycle. By sheer luck they run into green lights, but luck doesn't last forever

Arthur, who had been crying and screaming, holding on tightly to his husband as the other swerved passing cars and tried to stop the motorcycle, saw the semi before João did. And the light was red. And that was the last thing he saw before they collided

Arthur dies upon impact. João hours later from the brain hemorrhage.

An investigation is being held when they realize that the brakes were snipped rather than an unfortunate accident.

Both Alasdair and Antonio tell the detectives it was Francis for sure. They mourn their brothers, but they know, deep down it was him

Francis, who was not aware of what he had caused, breaks down and confesses when the police take him in for questioning

"he was supposed to be mine, if he had just left that brute of a man and been with me, he would not have died!

"The other was supposed to die! He took him from me! It's all his fault! Why did he take Arthur with him?! He was supposed to die, not Arthur!"

Francis spends the rest of his days staring at the same four walls, kept under careful watch. His arms are strapped in a straight jacket to prevent him from committing suicide

"He is waiting for me! I have to get to him!"

He had long since lost his friends, and what little of a relationship he had with his sister. Only his mother visits him until she dies

He thinks that maybe, in another life, him and Arthur might have been together, will be together.

He's not crazy, he isn't

He just needs to try again, in the next life.

~Izzy

[This got longer than i expected it to, holy shit! Haha, enjoy the angst!]

CHRIST THIS ONE GETS DARK WOW

But honestly it's GOOD!!! I would maybe have a different ending personally but idk what that ending would be tbh?!? We kind of had the same idea with having Arthur being in a relationship with João though... I think especially in this au it would drive Francis nuts seeing Arthur go with someone who treats him right because Francis thinks he can do better - but he's too mentally unstable and doesn't see that at all. I like the idea of Francis being perfectly normal and then one thing just makes him snap.

[echotrinityme]

Henry is a demon rupert is a demon hunter, he was ordered by his boss to hunt down a demon named henry, rupert thought the name henry was weird for a demon name since most demons he met had names like lucifer, damien, alasdair etc. demons were really to hunt down for rupert, except for henry, henry was much smarter and a pain in the ass for rupert to catch him, rupert was never able to catch him

“Aww is someone having fun?” Henry would always joke around with the hunter he liked to piss him off on purpose,

“Why bother catching me? Im smarter than you hunter” of course henry was also very flirty with rupert too making rupert blush, having feelings for a demon was wrong rupert has to catch this demon even if that means killing him

“I am done playing your games demon!”

“And I am done of you killing innocent demons for no reason!”

“You’re not innocent, you’re all blood thirsty monsters!”

“Is that what your boss told you? God you’re sad”

This was getting ridiculous, this demon sure can run fast, faster than rupert at least

“You’re a pain in the ass!”

“And you’re a murderer, so that makes the two of us”

Rupert has never gave up trying to catch this demon, one night henry pins the hunter against the wall

“Hello there handsome~”

Rupert couldn’t see without his flashlight in the night but he could recognize the voice

“G-Get off me!”

“Nope~”

~nsfw up ahead lol~

The demon started to kiss up the hunter’s neck, rupert was panting heavily as he feels the demon kissing and sucking on his neck

“S-Stop, this isn’t right, humans and monsters aren’t supposed to be in love, this is forbidden”

“And who is gonna stop us?”

Rupert knew this was wrong, but for some reason he couldn’t push the demon away from him

Rupert felt henry go down on his knees and he can feel his pants being unzipped as the demon starts to give him a blowjob, rupert gasped softly as he feels the demon’s warm tongue around his cock

*gasps* Forbidden Love... One of my weaknesses...

[dustedmagazine]

Comet Gain — The Misfit Jukebox (Tapete)

Photo by Phil Bower

The Misfit Jukebox by Comet Gain

Over the past year Comet Gain founder David Christian has been releasing digital only collections of the band’s archive of outtakes, demos, live tracks, covers and rarities on Bandcamp. The Misfit Jukebox compiles 17 tracks on vinyl and CD for the first time and is a pure delight for fans and a great place to start for anyone into noisy, scruffy indie guitar music. From noisy wig-outs to acoustic balladry via inspired covers, alternative versions of old favorites and unreleased songs, this a record packed with uncut gems that span the years and many incarnations of a band whose relative obscurity continues to confound.

At the center is Christian, heart on his sleeve, pocket stuffed with a dog-eared copy of “The Outsider,” one hand clutching a box of obscure 7” singles, the other gesticulating enthusiastically to musings on art, love, literature and the redemptive joys of music. In many ways Comet Gain are the platonic idea of band as gang and like other odd English evangelistic gang leaders like Kevin Rowland and Pete Wylie, Christian finds a like-minded cohort whose members come and go while the essence remains. 

“He stayed in the joints with his own kind/The incurables/The boys who felt the itch to discover something” And we’re away, “The Weekend Dreams (Doble Vida Version)” comes on in a tumble of guitars and clattering drums chasing Christian’s rush of bittersweet romantic idealism, a glorious messy rush of a song all the better for the rough edges. A buoyant cover of the Would-Be-Goods’ “Pinstripe Rebel,” the Velvet Underground wig-out of “Herbert Huncke Part 3�� (has ever a subject, band and performance fitted so well?), Sarah Bleach’s vocals on “Only Happy When I’m Sad” with an Aztec Camera like guitar solo, a lovely acoustic demo of “The Fists in the Pocket” and previously unreleased “Your Just Lonely” and “When?!” with The Clientele’s Alasdair MacLean and Lupe Núñez-Fernández on vocals are all revelations. The release of these songs alone make The Misfit Jukebox essential. 

If you haven’t had the pleasure, I envy your first listen and if you think a collection of outtakes and demos might be an odd place to start, The Misfit Jukebox has enough energy, inspiration and musical goodness to convince you that Comet Gain need to be part of your life. 

Andrew Forell