#brenna speaks

[yeahyouresocool]

i feel like i never see people talk about the album bad blood by bastille but it's so good,,,, like,,, do you like the person you've become...? eheu, eheu,... how am i gonna be an optimist about this..... the weight of living ! you are under the weight of living ! are you going to age with grace? i'll see you with your laughter lines,,,,

[breathe-2am]

The biggest april fool of today is that seven years of swim team goes away after getting out of the pool and for the next seven years being unable to take a deep breath bc my ribs didnt move.

Pray for me at this interview tomorrow.

[outrunningthedark]

Since Brenna is all about directing first responder shows (both halves of the 911verse, Chicago Fire and PD, FBI) I hope she gets a shot at The Rookie. I want to see what she’d do with Chenford now that they’re canon.

[chaosmadden]

the cinderella kids are something so personal to me actually

[the-feral-gremlin]

Grief lessons: the four plays by Euripides by Anne Carson // I know it’s a little late by Brenna Twohy // the unabridged journals of Sylvia Plath by Sylvia Plath // human acts by Han kang (translated by Deborah Smith)//Vive, Vive by Traci Brimhall// Speak by Laurie Halse Anderson.

[captain039]

PART 3 In plain sight

Aemond x niece!reader

Warnings: AOB, swearing, HOTD things, targcest, incest uncle/niece, tension, angst, smut, sexual things, reader is Rhaenyra’s daughter (specified brown hair), plus size reader, fat shaming, self esteem issues

Previous part <-

The dragon pit is tense when you land. Your dragon grumbling as she enters the pit and disappears from your sight. There’s guards outside waiting no doubt for you. You approach as a knight steps forward nods his head.

“Your room is set up princess” he says and you nod following him as he turns then walks and you follow. You keep your head down no doubt the word getting around quicker than an infection. You enter the room quickly what little things you bought in a pack on the desk. Gods what a mess.

A small knock comes and you tense before opening the door frowning when you see Lord Larys.

“Princess” he bows his head.

“May I come in?” He asks and you nod letting him inside.

“What can I do for you lord Larys?” You ask nervously rubbing your hands together.

“I did wonder how long it’d take for someone to recognise you” he smiles slightly and it leaves you a little uneasy.

“The prince regent took longer than expected” he shrugs slightly.

“My lord I don’t wish to talk about this” you cut the man off and he nods.

“Of course, to the issues at hand. I’m afraid your- the prince regent is thirsting for war” he says and you frown briefly at his lap of words.

“I’m aware” you say shoulders tense.

“I don’t know if there is truely a way to stop it without blood shed on either side” his explanation is slow and his avoidant eyes make you annoyed yet you try to keep your calm.

“Perhaps you could play a much greater part in this” he says looking to you again.

“I have played a part look where it got me” you gesture to the room probably your now prison.

“The king is on the mend, I’m trying my best to get him up quicker, but it’s going to take time with his wounds, and with the whispers of new dragon riders the prince regent doesn’t have as many dragons” you know all he says.

“Lord Larys speak plainly” you say.

“Distract him” the lord says and you frown.

“For the sake of us all” he mutters as hurried footsteps come closer and the door is opened. Aemond stands there brows frowning as he spots the lord.

“Lord Larys” Prince Aemond says his tone menacing.

“Prince Aemond” Lord Larys answers and leaves.

“Did our whisperer, whisper something to you?” Aemond asks closing the door behind him.

“No” you say simply.

“If you aren’t going to kill me-“ The alpha has the audacity to let out a small growl like noise.

“Uncle” you scoff lightly as he approaches.

“Such familiar titles” he says and you frown as he keeps his eye narrowed on you. He stands too close, but you don’t back down from the silent challenge of the alpha even if his scent fills your nose deliciously.

“Change out of those clothes” he says eye darting down to your servants outfit and you scoff quietly.

“Afraid to be seen with a servant my prince?” You talk back but he stays silent.

“What do you want from me?” You sigh and you watch his pupil dilate before a knock comes.

“Who is it?” Prince Aemond calls before you can.

“Servants My Prince” a presumed knight answers and the door opens. Three ladies walk in and you know them. Ilya a young woman with blonde long hair tied in a braid, Brenna a slightly older woman with brown short hair to her shoulders and Lyria, same age as Ilya with light brown hair in a bun.

“Your ladies in waiting princess” Prince Aemond says and you frown.

“I know these women” you say a little quieter.

“You did work with them” your uncle says matter of factly making you glare.

“You’ve been deceived I’m afraid, the princess of Dragon Stone has been hiding amongst you” the women stare in shock before they all bow slightly muttering soft ‘Princess’ as they do.

“Run her a bath, get her changed for dinner” Prince Aemond orders before he’s out the door without another word. You glare at the door and huff as Ilya goes to the bathing room area.

“Apologies” you say.

“No, it’s alright I understand” Brenna says a small smile on your face.

“I’m here on my own accord, as daughter of the true heir” you say slightly testing where their loyalty lies.

“Long live the Queen” they both say and you nod smiling a little.

You bathe, the feeling odd of having someone who you worked with now cleaning your hands and nails. Your hair is brushed and braided before you’re adorned in a dark blue dress and some jewellery. You’re escorted down to the dining room, finding it strange you’re not the one serving. You sit at the table finding it oddly empty besides Helaena and her children and Aemond at the head of the table. Helaena glances to you briefly before going back to her food. It’s silent the whole way through dinner. Nobody speaks except for the children and their soft babbling as the servants help feed them. You don’t dare look at Aemond, finding yourself having simmering rage against him even more so now.

After dinner finishes you excuse yourself and follow the guard back to your room. You grab some parchment and a pen before you begin writing to your mother in quick lettering. You sigh scribbling the words out in annoyance before grabbing a new piece of parchment. A knock comes but you ignore it hoping whoever it was believed you were asleep. Only they didn’t, the door opened and you turned with a frown before you saw the prince. You huffed quietly turning back to your desk and dipping your quill in the inkwell.

“That’s no way to greet a prince” Aemond says voice teasing and you roll your eyes.

“You want to be swooned over and relished go to the silk streets” you sneer back sighing when you can’t find words for your mother. Gods she must be worried, maybe even thinks you’re dead.

“What are you writing?” He asks voice surprisingly softer.

“A letter, is there something you needed?” You say rushed hand shaking as you hold the quill. You feel like the days rushed back to you, everything that’s happened. You see splotches of inc on the paper and sigh a little. You stiffen though as you sense the prince alpha directly behind you.

“What are you struggling with?” He asks voice close to your ear but calm and smooth.

“Nothing you can help with” you snap. You feel like you’re begging to be executed with your rudeness to the prince regent of the realm. He hums hand on your bare shoulder making you jolt.

“Your scent reeks of anxiety’s” he says as you take small breaths trying to not melt into the warmth of his hand.

“That’s what happens when one has a day as I have” you mutter grabbing another sheet. He hums again hand moving to the back of your neck making you even more tense till you feel him gently massage. You can’t deny the instant reaction of your shoulders drooping a little more and your eyes closing. You breathe a little deeper cursing him silently but also enjoying it silently. This action should be banned from your biology as omega, the calm it brings.

“Write” he says softly and you snap out of the small trance you’re in.

“While the enemy looms over my shoulder?” You ask hearing him chuckle softly.

“I have to make sure you’re not writing anything to give our enemy information” he answers.

“Your enemy, my mother is not my enemy, my family is not my enemy, except you” you say blankly.

“Write omega” he repeats and you curse him silently. You write to your mother. Explaining why you left, what you planned to do, and now that you were living at the Red Keep unharmed. That Elea had flown here also on her own accord and that you were alive. Apparently whatever you writ was appropriate as you finished and sealed the letter. You doubt he would truely send it off anyway as you hand it back to the prince alpha. He hums, takes it and leaves the room without another word. Your whole body sags but you don’t get much time to breathe as your ladies in waiting dress you for bed.

[orionchildofhades]

thinking of all the times brennan let his players create insane and inane scenarios for his campaign in the middle of a fight or any serious situation, let them speak of the bit but brought them back to earth in the end. now he's seeing the direction they are moving forward and sprinting to get there first. I love that for him, love that for the player and seeing ally crying of shock is just a sight really

like really we go from neverafter's final battle 'thumbelina harvest Rosamunds organs while no one is watching' and Brenna answering with 'on xxx turns they do xxx' to nbsu's 'there are orphans on the plane in the middle of the race to go 5,000miles per hour' ans brennan answering 'yes, its their first lesson' like. please and thank you

[star-girlfriend]

teeth

sylvia plath poem for a birthday: who // brenna twohy little red riding hood adresses the next wolf // unknown // henry aarrestad uldalen caries // blythe baird if my body could speak // richard siken little beast // sean glatch caffeine, pt. 1 // clementine von radics desire // unknown // eric larocca things have gotten worse since we last spoke

[neonshrike]

✍ WIP Wednesday ✍

Tagged by @rhettsabbott and it's just another Brenna idea, with one of the skills she learned to impress her father (though she really doesn't have to 😭) and also a bit of Banner family lore. Special thanks to @superblizzardfire for sharing the "Bruce speaks Italian" headcanon with me!

“Buongiorno, Papa,” Brenna greeted in a slightly wavering voice, a little nervous to share what she’s been learning these past few months. Bruce turned to her, a little surprised by her unusual greeting and chuckled to himself. “Buongiorno, Brenna,” he answered, then decided to test her a little. “Come stai?” Brenna shrugged and sat down at the counter. “Bene.” Bruce sat next to her, a little amused at the exchange, he didn’t expect to hear her speak another language. “Da quanto tempo parli italiano?” he asked, he had never heard anything about this from her or Betty. Brenna thought for a moment, quickly piecing together the words and what she meant before he caught onto her confusion, but could only understand a couple. He immediately knew she was struggling to understand, but Bruce gave her an encouraging smile and patiently waited for her to answer. “Quattro… mese, I mean, mesi,” she answered, silently beating herself over her mistake. “I don’t think I can do this any longer,” she sighed, pushing her hair back. Bruce put a gentle hand on her shoulder, his proud smile never fading. “Bren, that was really good. You should have told me you were learning Italian, I would have been happy to help,” he replied, then let go of her. “Oh, your grandmother would be so proud like I am,” he said, his expression becoming more wistful as he mentioned his mother. Even though she died at such a young age, he kept learning the language she would teach him to stay connected with her, and it seemed like Brenna was doing the same. Brenna knew talking about her grandparents was always a tough subject, she tried to avoid it after she learned the truth about them. She sadly smiled, then came over to him and gave him a hug. Bruce gently hugged back, petting her hair. “We’re okay,” he reassured, letting her go.

Tagging @captastra @socially-awkward-skeleton @shellibisshe @risingsh0t @inafieldofdaisies @rainwingmarvel7 @the-lastcall @spaceratprodigy @teamhawkeye @confidentandgood @cptcassian @thedeadthree @bokatan @chadillacboseman and anyone else who wants to share!

[yeahyouresocool]

i saw chappell roan tonight!!!

[thatapostateboy]

wonderstruck

Pairing: Brenna Lavellan x Cremisius 'Krem' Acclasi

Word Count: 3239

Listening Suggestion: Enchanting - Taylor Swift

Synopsis: in which Krem meets Lavellan, but does not put two and two together

Warnings: Very brief description of battle

Crossposted: Here on AO3

Haven was bloody cold.

He had dressed for winter, and yet the cold was finding a way to seep into his bones. He could usually handle the weather, if he was fighting or travelling, keeping his blood pumping. But he had been stood outside of the Haven Chantry for what had felt like an age, having arrived on horseback a little past dawn, trying to find someone of authority to speak to. But he had either been brushed off or straight up ignored.

Perhaps they had assumed he was there to make trouble; couldn’t be too careful when you were part of an organisation that some considered heretical.  

Either that or the entire Inquisition were not morning people.

“Are you alright, soldier?”

He turned to see an elven woman behind him, dressed in the traditional furs and leathers of a Dalish hunter, with vallaslin on her face to confirm his assumption. Her grey eyes met his, and even in the low light of morning, he was struck by how they shone like silver.

Her eyebrows rose a little, as though hinting that she was waiting on a response, and he realised that he had been staring for beat of a moment too long.

“Oh I-” he cleared his throat, straightening up his posture, remembering why he was here, “I’ve been trying to find someone to speak to. My name is Lieutenant Cremisius Aclassi, I represent a mercenary company looking to aid the Inquisition.”

A soft smile passed over her face, “I believe most of the leadership is in a meeting presently, but I’d be happy to pass on a message if you can give me the details.”

He began to explain about the Chargers, answering her questions about their credentials, Bull’s leadership style, even their cost, relaxing the more he went on. Selling the Chargers was second nature, their work spoke for itself, and she asked the right questions of a prospective client. She wrote down no details, but he had no doubt in his mind that she would remember everything he said. She listened with rapt attention, grey eyes watching him intently as he spoke.

She was a beautiful young woman, her elven figure shorter than his own, muscles clearly toned from use of the bow she carried, but a subtle femininity to her that softened her edges, her dark hair long and braided off of her face, a few wildflowers twisted into it. He noticed a few scars scattered across her skin, some older, some much fresher; signs of more recent battle wounds. Whatever her role was within the Inquisition, she was clearly no stranger to a fight.

Once he had finished his pitch, she nodded him towards the centre of the village where people had begun to queue up for breakfast, “It seems you’ve had a long journey, lieutenant. Take a rest by the fire, get something to eat. I’ll pass along a message to those in charge and come find you once they have reached a decision.”

“Thank you. What about you?”

“What about me?” her eyebrows raised a little.

He glanced towards the porridge that was now being ladled out to those waiting and back to her, “Won’t you miss breakfast if you await their outcome?”

She let out a soft breath, a look of surprise in her expression, “I’ve already eaten, I’ve not quite acclimatised to human cooking as yet. But you’re very sweet to worry.”

He laughed a little at that, mostly to cover the warmth in his cheeks as she called him sweet, “Very well then.”

“I’ll be back soon.”

He watched her go as she headed back inside the Chantry, an odd stirring settling into his chest. He shook his head to himself and turned to go find some food, now was not the time to be thinking with anything other than his stomach or his head.

~*~*~

It was a short while later that she returned, finding him having finished his breakfast and wandered further into the village to investigate more about the Inquisition that he had found himself determined to work for. He had heard about the work they were doing, knew in his heart that the Chargers could be of assistance, and seeing it in person only strengthened his resolve.

“Lieutenant!” she called to him, joining him where he was watching some of the soldiers training, “How was breakfast?”

“Not the worst porridge I’ve eaten by a long shot,” he admitted, “But it’s a far cry from a Dalish recipe.”

“You know Dalish cooking?”

“A member of our company was born into a Dalish clan, she’s made us a few things she remembers from her childhood when it’s her turn to cook.”

“Your group truly is full of surprises,” she said with a smile before she straightened up her form a little, as though remembering why she was actually there, “The Herald apologises for not coming to meet you in person, but she said she would be happy to meet your group. Business will take her to the Storm Coast in the next few days.”

He nodded, “That’s good to hear.”

“Will you be staying to travel there with the Herald?”

“I should be heading back as soon as possible, let the Chief know to expect the Herald, make sure he hasn’t gotten himself into too much trouble whilst I’ve been gone.”

“That’s understandable, though the Herald asked me to let you know that if you require any supplies to ensure that you had them.”

“A most generous offer, though I think I’ll be okay. I brought plenty of provisions for the return trip.”

“Well, there is one thing for you to take with you. See to your horse and I’ll find you before you go.”

They parted once again, and true to her word, she returned as he was leading his mount from the stable, who had been fed and watered without want for any gold in exchange. The horsemaster had simply told him that the Inquisition looked after their own.

“Here,” she said, handing a bundle out to him, “For the road.”

He took it from her, feeling the warmth of the contents through the linen wrapping. He pulled on the string holding it together, the sweet smell wafting from within. Inside were half a dozen sweet buns, covered with a sticky glaze.

“Honey cakes,” she clarified, “They just finished cooking.”

“They smell incredible. What’s in these?”

“Well, the trick is-” she met his eyes, a grin spreading across her face, “If things work out between your boss and the Herald, I’ll tell you the secret ingredient when you come back to Haven.”

He gave a nod and a soft laugh, “I’ll hold you to that.”

“I wish you safe travels, Lieutenant.”

“Thank you, for everything… my apologies, I never got your name.”

“No, you didn’t. Something else I’ll tell you when you come back to Haven.”

He chuckled, “Very well.” He took her gloved hand, and her form stiffened for a brief moment before he brushed a kiss against the leather on the back on her hand, “Until we meet again.”

He noted the flush in her cheeks before she returned his warm smile, “Until we meet again.”

~*~*~

“Krem, is that a pack of baked goods?”

He had been back with the Chargers for less than an hour, finally taking a well-earned rest from his journey to enjoy one of the honey cakes away from the main part of their campsite, having no intention of sharing this gift with them, until a familiar horned shadow had loomed over him.

“Sure is, Chief,” he responded.

“Did you swing into the city on the way here? Where did you get those?”

“Haven.”

“You found cakes in Haven?”

“I didn’t steal them, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“Well I’ve never seen you buy them either, so what’s...” he glanced at his lieutenant’s face, and the subtle hint of the flush in his cheeks, “Someone gave them to you. The question is if they’re as sweet on you as you are on them.”

Krem didn’t even bother to hide his growing smile at that point, “She was just being kind, but she was...”

“Yeah?”

“Possibly the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met.”

“Atta’ boy,” Bull clapped a hand to his back, taking a seat beside him, “So, c’mon, tell me about her.”

“She was elven, Dalish by the look of her tattoos and that hunting gear they wear-”

“The tight leather wraps, I’m familiar,” he nodded.

“She was the first person to actually stop and speak to me. I told her about the Chargers, she said she’d make sure the Herald got the message. She came and found me again before I could leave, said the Herald would love to come meet us and she gave me these for the road. She made them herself.”

“Well, damn. Even if things don’t work out with the Herald, we should swing by Haven when we’re next out that way.”

“We don’t-”

“Hey, it’s not every day my right-hand man meets an enchanting woman that captures his heart. Now, finish those up before Skinner spots them and tries to shiv you for them.”

He snorted a laugh, the warmth in his cheeks at the thought of meeting that young woman again still making itself known, “Yes, Chief.”

~*~*~

The fight had been a bloody disaster from the start.

They had been tracking the Tevinter mages along the coastline since his return from Haven, but one wrong move had left them fenced in; the sea on one side, a cliff face on the other, encroaching waves of Venatori, all whilst trying to fight on a pebble beach in a thunderstorm.

His heavy armour didn’t fare well against the salt spray of the seawater, nor the loose stone underfoot, breathing heavily under his helm as he knocked down mage after mage with his hammer, trying to hold the line to protect their ranged fighters.

Somewhere to the side of him he could hear Bull’s familiar battle roar as he cut down another Venatori, followed by a string of curses as another group of mages appeared on the periphery.

There was a hum of magic cast over them, a wavering barrier, and he gave a call of thanks to Dalish, who didn’t even give the obligatory protest of not being a mage, but warned that she couldn’t keep this up much longer.

They were all near spent, he could see it in the way Grim’s shoulder sagged under the weight of his shield as he blocked an incoming spell, or how Skinner’s usually deadly blows had grown sloppy, desperate.

Bull gave a bellowing call of encouragement to them all, receiving an exhausted but determined, “Horns up!” in response from his company.

They could do this. They had gotten out of worse fights than this. They could-

His foot slid out from under him as the pebbles shifted, distracting him for a split second long enough that he didn’t defend against the spell coming his way, knocking him clean on his back, head ringing as he hit the ground hard, vision swimming from the pain and the rain now thundering into his face through the slit in his visor.

Eyes silver like starlight. White wildflowers stark against dark hair. The warmth of freshly baked goods. He didn’t know her name yet.

With a groan of pain, he hauled himself to his feet, hefting his hammer onto his shoulder, tensing himself to bring it crashing down into the sternum of the approaching mage. Yet before he could make his move, an arrow whistled past his ear, sinking into the jugular of the ‘vint, felling him in a single shot.

He turned, looking to thank one of Skinner’s skirmishers, but instead saw a figure sliding down the cliff face towards them, bow in hand, firing another arrow as they went, taking down another approaching soldier. He lifted the visor of his helm, wiping the rain from his eyes and saw the elven woman from Haven approaching him.

“Nice hammer, lieutenant,” she flashed him a smile then ran past him, throwing herself into the fray firing arrow after arrow.

Other members of the Inquisition soon joined them, having taken a more stable route down the cliff face; an elven mage, the Seeker and a man in the armour of a Grey Warden. It was more than enough to tip the fight in their favour, finishing off the final Venatori on the beach.

As he allowed himself a few breaths to recover, he couldn’t help but admire the elven rogue, watching her move gracefully across the battlefield, light enough on her feet that the pebbles barely shifted under her movements, unperturbed by the storm that raged around them; a true Dalish hunter.

Hells, if nothing else worked out with the Inquisition, she would make an incredible addition to the Chargers.

He set to his post-battle routine, checking on the others, ensuring the throat-cutters were getting to work at the Chief’s orders, though he kept half an eye on the group from the Inquisition as they began talking to Bull. He saw him beginning to talk to the elven woman alone and he felt a knot in his stomach.

He trusted Bull with his life, but the thought of him saying anything at all untoward her in an attempt to aid his love life had him wandering over, determined to interrupt so that he could make sure that Bull finalised their contract with no damned distractions.

“The, uh, the throat-cutters are all done, Chief,” he said as he approached, “Stitches is looking after the wounded.”

Bull looked between him and the elf, and he could tell he was holding back a shit eating grin.

“I assume you remember my lieutenant, Cremisius Aclassi.”

Krem met her eyes as she smiled at him, and he nodded, “It’s good to see you again, I-”

“Krem, this is Brenna of Clan Lavellan,” Bull cut him off, an inordinate amount of glee in his eye, “She’s the Herald of Andraste.”

Shit.

“Y-Your Worship,” he fully bowed his head, partially out of respect, mostly to hide the look of horror on his face.

“Oh!” she said, surprised, “There’s really no need for any of that.”

“Get everyone up together, Krem, we’re headed out,” Bull told him, “We just got hired.”

Of fucking course.

~*~*~

“Buy her a drink,” Bull insisted.

It had been a few weeks since they had joined the Inquisition formally. Bull had begun travelling at the Herald’s side, leaving him to lead the Chargers. They had been travelling around the Hinterlands for the most part, aiding with relief efforts, clearing bandit camps, but during the pockets of time between assignments, he found himself in Haven, avoiding the Herald of Andraste.

It would be easier that way, he could move on from his stupid bloody crush, and pretend that he wasn’t pining for the woman who had physically walked out of the Fade and potentially held the fate of the world in her hands.

And yet, despite his efforts, she was bloody everywhere.

He was running the Chargers through some training drills in the snowy fields outside Haven, only for her to go hurtling past, bow in hand, calling out a greeting before she disappeared off into the woods, returning later to call for some help to carry her goods, having hunted down some wild druffalo for meat and furs to keep members of the Inquisition fed and warm. He had gone to her without thought, and followed her back to the village, arms laden with furs, heart hammering in his chest as she laughed and joked with him.

He had volunteered for a night watch, determined to help out around Haven whenever he was there, and as he stood shivering in the cold, regretting not bringing his warmer cloak with him from his tent, he suddenly found a steaming cup of tea held out in front of him, the Herald telling him that it was a special Dalish blend designed to warm the body on winter nights. It was herbal, but he couldn’t ignore the sweetness of the honey that she had clearly mixed into it to detract from the bitterness. He had thanked her, and hoped she thought the blush in his cheeks was simply from the cold.

Even when he had been stationed out in the Hinterlands, the Chargers making quick work of some bandits that had been hassling refugees, there she was, brining supplies to the smallfolk, talking to a young girl about her vallaslin as the curious child asked questions, not shunning her away as some would. There was a patience to her, a kindness that he was surprised still endured after everything that had happened in the last few weeks to her. Even if members of the Chantry still doubted her innocence, still claimed she was responsible for the destruction of the Conclave, called her a heretic, there was no doubt in him that she was a hero. Not for the mark on her hand, or the title that had been thrust upon her, but for who she was at heart.  

And now, once again, here she was, sitting a few tables away in the tavern in Haven, close enough to hear her laughter as she conversed with Dorian and Varric. Her dark hair was loose around her shoulders for once, looking more at ease than she had in a while.

He sighed, “She’s the Herald of Andraste, Chief, she’s not going to want to drink with some common mercenary.”

“Hey now, the Chargers are no common band of mercs, and you’re a damn fine soldier, any woman would be lucky to have a drink with you,” Bull said, “Besides, she’s not exactly been one for airs and graces, you know she doesn’t give a shit about the title. If anything, she probably needs someone to treat her like a regular woman again.”

He watched her bid goodnight to her friends, even flashing him a warm smile when she caught his eye, then headed outside.

“Krem,” Bull’s tone turned a little more serious, “You don’t let a woman like that get away. Take a chance.”

Fuck it.

He slammed back the rest of his drink, and got to his feet, earning a hefty pat on the back from the Chief before he followed her out into the cool night air.

She was quicker than him, light on her feet as always, headed away from the tavern. He followed her for a few paces, opening his mouth to call to her, but he stopped in his tracks when he saw someone else approach her.

It was the elf, the one who had been with her at the Coast, the one who travelled diligently at her side, Solas. The Herald smile at him, wide eyed in the moonlight, her hand gently squeezing one of his as they spoke before she let go, a flush in her cheeks.

Oh.

They turned, clearly headed somewhere together, and she spotted him.

“Are you alright, Krem?” she asked.

“Y-Yes, Your Worship,” he nodded quickly, “Just getting some air. You have a pleasant evening.”

“You as well,” she said, “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” he replied softly, waiting until she and Solas were out of sight to rest his head against the side of the tavern, letting out a hard breath that clouded on the air.

Idiot.

[fanged-cotl]

Narinder and Lamb have a talk about mourning death

Note: I am not a writer, so if this is out of character or sounds lame that's why. Also the colored names are just something i'm trying out lol.

Narinder is desensitized to death. in his eyes, it's just moving a person from the living world to his former domain. He thinks he is above the nature of grieving a death.

Shortly after Brenna (the cow spouse) joined Finnegan (the rabbit spouse) in the afterlife, he is insensitive to Lamb's grief.

He tells Lamb how the lives of mortals will come to and end, and there is no point getting attached. It does not matter if their lives are extended or if they're revived. Resurrection is new and imperfect. The aging process will take mortals eventually. Grief is futile for a god.

Lamb turns the situation back at him.

(continuation via dialogue below)

Lamb: "Narinder I'm not stupid, I know you mourn the deaths of your siblings."

Narinder: "I dont-..... I have regrets about the way things turned out, that is all."

Lamb: "Despite my feelings about the bishops... your grief is valid. They were your family. I know you miss Aym and Baal from time to time, don't think I can't notice these things."

Narinder: "Aym and Baal were my students that is all- I do not- I told you to stop reading my mind Lamb." His frustration grows.

Lamb: "Sorry- It's a bad habit. But you shouldn't be so critical of my feelings. I don't appreciate that." Lamb gently grabs Narinder's hand. "It is okay to miss people that you've loved, Nari."

Narinder: "...."

Lamb: "Everyone Greives. Why don't we support each other through these feelings? Like me and Lycan."

Narinder, speaking quieter: "And what would these methods be like...?"

Lamb hugs Narinder. He takes a moment to blink in surprise and then embrace Lamb back.

Lamb: "I'm here for you Narinder, you know that."

Narinder: "........... Lamb... I.... I did not mean to hurt you..."

Lamb sighs. "...its alright..." He will learn not to bottle his feelings eventually, I hope. They think to themselves.

[minne-cerbinna]

I'm playing TW1 again and I have thoughts about this tiny little sequence in the Chapter 2 quest "Memories of a Blade", which amounts to the only mention of Coën in the game.

When undertaking this quest, Geralt is investigating the origin of the silver sword he was given to slay a cockatrice; he mistakenly believes that it might be Berengar's sword since he knows the other witcher to have been in the area. A conversation with Thaler, from whom the sword was confiscated by the guard, will lead him eventually to speak to the Gardener outside St. Lebioda's hospital in Vizima. This man used to be a mercenary under Pretty Kitty, but has since retired and works as a gardener, and had lost the silver sword at dice poker. When interacted with, he will begin any conversation with "Look how they grow!", referring to the plants in his garden. The player can then initiate the quest dialogue with option one, "I'm more interested in silver swords".

GERALT: I'm more interested in silver swords.

GARDENER: I knew one of you would come by eventually.

GERALT: You lost it playing dice?

GARDENER: I was sure I'd win. Beware, the sharp one plays well.

GERALT: Where did you get this sword?

GARDENER: Five years ago, there was a battle near Brenna. When the dust had settled, our men had beaten the Nilfgaardians. We ceased to call ourselves an imperial province that day.

GERALT: You captured the sword during the battle?

GARDENER: Yes, it was witcher Cöen's [sic]. A strapping fellow and a rare breed. Not very talkative, mind you.

GERALT: Like most of us.

GARDENER: I gave my word the sword would find another witcher. As he lay dying, he mumbled about teeth and destiny. Then he laughed -- at his own death.

GERALT: Yet you lost it gambling?

GARDENER: I kept it hidden for five years. I lost hope I'd ever run into another witcher. Miss Shani knew Cöen [sic]. She works at the hospital.

GERALT: Thanks.

GARDENER: Good luck on the path!

The quest will lead you to speak with Shani, then Zoltan, but neither will provide further information on Coën, aside from Shani mentioning that he died on her operating table -- Shani's dialogue is to provide her backstory as a medic at Brenna and to mention Rusty, and Zoltan simply assesses the quality of the blade to ensure that it is a witcher blade of good workmanship. It has no further significance to Geralt, who, without his memory, has no idea who Coën is and has more pressing matters to deal with than to look into the past of a man who died five years ago (according to the somewhat off-kilter game timeline, anyway). But it's the only mention of Coën in the games, and I find that it's a very interesting way to manifest his presence.

I think it is reasonable to tie Coën quite closely to his sword on a symbolic level, if one considers his appearance in the novels where he not only trains with Ciri, but his prowess with a sword is unrivaled even by the other witchers to the point where she believes that he may be the best swordsman in the world. Additionally, the fact that he fought at Brenna at all means that he offered his sword in the service of the Northern Kingdoms, and when he dies, he is identified by his peers as a "master swordsman" rather than as a witcher, despite the fact that they know of his nature. As such, Coën's sword is a very important possession for him to leave behind.

And from there, there is a connection to Lambert, left unsaid. To go beyond the simple fact that Coën was Lambert's friend, someone dearly loved who was close enough with Lambert and his family to get on with the other wolves and stay a winter at Kaer Morhen, the importance lies with the sword. As with any witcher, Coën wouldn't have much in the way of worldly possessions to bequeath onto someone else in the event of his prophecied death. But he does have his swords, which are established as symbolically important to him. A steel sword could be taken up by any warrior capable enough to use it, but a silver sword belongs in the hands of a witcher, and that is what Coën asked for on his deathbed, for his silver sword to be given to another witcher. While it's very possible that this is meant in a general way, that he just wanted any other witcher to take it up, to avoid the sword being wasted, broken, or dismantled for its composite parts, it also strikes me as possible that he could have intended it for a specific witcher.

Lambert is one of the instructors for Ciri when she's first learning the swordplay and acrobatics associated with being a witcher. Lambert is the one in the first game to provide the instructional descriptions of the Fighting Styles for Geralt to regain his swordplay competencies after losing his memories. And there is another bit of dialogue in TW3 that really emphasises both Lambert's connection to Vesemir, the swordmaster of Kaer Morhen, and the idea of swords as inheritance, as a manifestation of closeness:

LAMBERT: Knew the old man couldn't live forever. Huh, even told Eskel that when it came time, I'd get his sword. Fits my hand perfectly, you know.

Which is a heartbreaking notion in and of itself upon which I could expostulate, the symbolism there in the fraught relationship between Lambert and his father figure reduced to something as simple as a hilt that fits two hands perfectly. But if this is the inheritance that Lambert wants, it makes it all the more pertinent that Coën desperately wanted his silver sword to make it into the hands of another witcher. Lambert, the son of a swordmaster, wants to take on a sword as a memento of someone he has lost, and Coën, the master swordsman, left his sword behind. Even if Lambert were not the specific intended target of the sword, he would have possibly or even likely known Coën well enough to fulfill his wishes, whatever they might be.

And yet Coën's sword never makes it home or into the hands of someone who would value it, like Lambert would, this last memory of his dear friend. Geralt makes use of the sword during his time in Vizima, and then it is lost, replaced by the gifted Aerondight. And so Coën is lost with it, never mentioned again.

[mightyflamethrower]

The Red Tie Brigade, as I heard one conservative writer call them, show up each day at the courthouse in Manhattan and speak up to show support for former President Trump. Trump is under a gag order that prevents him from talking about the trial, especially the judge, the judge's Democrat fundraising daughter, and the jury members. 

So, the Republican politicians come from Washington and speak out to the press about the hush money trial going on. Trump can't so they do. It is a clever way to handle an unconstitutional gag order. 

Each day it is a group of men wearing dark suits and red ties, obviously coordinated, and a few women. The groups are mostly men, though. Donald Trump is a master marketer and this play by the Trump campaign is very effective. It shows support for Trump and it shows party unity. 

For example, here is a photo of some of the Trump supporters on Thursday.

A few politicians, such as Texas Attorney General Ken Paxton and Senator Rick Scott, showed up as the trial went into its first days. Senator Tim Scott came to support Trump. Trump's son Eric is a regular presence. Various Trump staffers show up, too. The interesting part has been the parade of current Republican senators and members of the House who show up. 

Senators J.D. Vance and Tommy Tuberville began this week's parade of Trump supporters. On Monday both of them spoke to the reporters outside the courthouse. New York Rep. Nicole Malliotakis, Alabama Attorney General Steve Marshall, and Iowa Attorney General Brenna Bird were with them. 

“Does any reasonable, sensible person believe anything that Michael Cohen says?” Vance told reporters outside of the criminal courthouse moments before Tuberville panned Cohen’s testimony as “an acting scene” and said he was a “serial liar.”

One day a group of those who are rumored to be on Trump's short list of potential running mates showed up. Among them were Vivek Ramaswamy, Governor Doug Burgam, and Rep. Byron Donalds. 

“The sooner that this scam trial can be concluded, the sooner that the president can get back to getting out campaigning and talking to the American people about the issues that matter to them,” Burgum told reporters as he bashed Cohen as a “serial perjurer.” Burgum later told CNN’s Kaitlan Collins that he was there “completely as a volunteer,” and “because I care about the future of this country and where it’s going.” Ramaswamy said, “I learned a lot from being in there in person. It is one of the most depressing places I have been in my life, but it is fitting because the only thing more depressing than the environment of that courtroom is what’s actually happening in there.”

The most notable supporter to make the trip from Washington was Speaker Mike Johnson. It's not a surprise that he supports Trump but the speaker coming to Manhattan and speaking to reporters was a big endorsement.

Johnson told reporters, “I called President Trump and told him I wanted to be here myself to call out what is a travesty of justice, and I think everybody around the country can see that. President Trump is a friend and I wanted to be here to support him.”

Trump values loyalty and this is a way for some to curry favor. He acknowledged those who are showing up for him.

“I do have a lot of surrogates, and they are speaking very beautifully, and they come from all over Washington, and they’re highly respected,” Trump told media. “And they think this is the biggest scam they’ve ever seen.”

Mitt Romney pooh-poohed the show of support, because, we're talking about Trump. And fellow Never Trump Republican Lisa Murkowski said it is ridiculous. 

Sen. Mitt Romney told reporters he thought it was difficult to watch what’s happening with the surrogates. “I think it’s a little demeaning to show up in front of a courthouse, and particularly one where we’re talking about an allegation of paying a porn star,” said Romney. “There’s a level of dignity and decorum that you expect to people who are running for the highest station in the land,” said Romney. “And going out and prostrating themselves in front of the public to try and apparently curry favor with the person who’s our nominee — it’s a little embarrassing.” “Do we have something to do around here other than watch a stupid porn trial?” said Murkowski.

Who thinks if the tables were turned and those two were involved in a sham trial, they'd want colleagues to show up for them? Trump Derangement always comes into play. 

The trial continues on Monday. There were no court proceedings on Friday that required Trump to be in the courtroom. He was able to go to his son Barron's high school graduation. Then he was the featured speaker at a fundraiser in Minnesota for the Republican Party. 

[mac-lilly]

BTTMW2 Recap - Day 1:

Sorry if you are following me and were there too. Now you have to endure this again.

JATP / JATP cast:

I overheard Kenny saying that there was sth planned for today's panel. However, the panel didn't happen because the boys were too busy. Hopefully tomorrow. Also I can't say that's 100% true. I might have heard him wrong.

Jeremy confirmed that this was the first reunion for all four of them although he did meet Madison once in New York shortly after they filmed JATP

This cast is so incredibly nice. I thought the photos or the M&G would be awkward. But they weren't.

However it was kinda awkward/hilarious seeing Charlie and Owen's moms constantly supervising them all day. Even during the photos and the party. Charlie acting like a little child and yelling for her when he wanted to leave the party was a bonus

Fun fact: Carolynn did not know that there's a Disneyland in Paris 🤣

Even though he didn't get the role in the One Piece live action adaptation that he auditioned for, Jeremy still watches One Piece. His favorite anime is Attack on Titan. According to Carolynn, Jeremy watching anime is a regular Sunday morning thing.

For my last JATP group photo, Owen suddenly greeted me in German and I was completely confused. (Either he overheard me speaking German or Jeremy told him cause I had my 1 on 1 with him before)

JUKE DANCE WITH A LITTLE BOY ON CHARLIE'S SHOULDERS!!!

Charlie was signing autographs until 9pm and then went straight to the party. He really wanted to make sure all got an autograph 🥺

Miscellanous:

Board games with the Descendants cast turned into 30 minutes of playing Jenga. I've never seen such an high tower before. It was so much fun!

Brenna called my party outfit gorgeous after I almost ran her over. (I know, she just wants to be nice but still ... 😊😍)

DreamIt has zero organisational skills. This con is such a mess. But the cast and the nice people make it worth it

The cake:

[jawanaka]

Glynnis aep Loernach

I've never been much of a fan off Gwent, either in The Witcher III or as a separate game (and some of the story content they've put out has...choices made). But I like mining it for not-actually-OC's, like this one here.

From the wiki:

She loved every soldier like a son. She cried for each one. Glynnis aep Loernach was a young officer within the Ard Feainn, a cavalry division within Nilfgaardian Army. It is unknown if she took part in the Battle of Brenna, where her unit was defeated.

From an upcoming chapter of The Sins of Fathers:

“Have you seen the terrain south of the lake? Open land largely, good cavalry country. They try that we’ll cut them to pieces,” Brigadier Glynnis aep Loernach was a tall and pale woman, her black hair falling down her back in multiple tight braids, her accent betraying the highlands of Mag Turga.

“Risk? Were either of you at Brenna?” Neither man responded. Morvran, who also had not been anywhere near said battle, also didn’t speak. “Because that’s what happened at Brenna. Someone fucked up the reconnaissance and the whole army got slaughtered.”

“I know,” she sighed, “General I’m not looking for revenge on any nordlings. I’m only looking to make sure that when we have to go up there, and we will have to go up there, as many as possible will come back alive.”

“So do I.”

“I know general. That’s why it pleased me to find you in command. We all know of general Voorhis, the man who likes to win without fighting.”

Morvran smiled faintly, “Were it so easy.”

“You and the empress will find a way general. Till then, we hold the line.”