look i get bton has set up some seeds (ba dum tiss?) that polin will be the pairing in the Featherington Family to have a male heir first (and it's popular in the fandom as an endgame for them) and thus will inherit the estate but
consider the following:
they find out about it and go 'ahahahah NOPE' and thus become co-conspirators to get Pru or Phillipa preggo before them. because with inheriting the estate. . .what they really inherit is the debt. and neither of them are eager for that anytime soon
so one storyline is that they're on a mission to get Prudence there first so they're always out here making very thinly veiled insinuations at PruDank and make up excuses and schemes so they're alone with each other. Penelope takes the lead for this particular side of the scheme, but they're definitely in kahoots. like Colin will lead Dankworth to places and Penelope will do the same for Prudence and whoops, look at that, what a good time for the two of you to make an heir and Penelope's there in Prudence's ear like it should be you, you're the oldest, it's your right, wouldn't you want to lord it over Phillipa forever? like the devil on her shoulder and constantly hyping her sister up because please, god, don't let it be her, she doesn't want it to be her, she is a grand total of 19 years old and she wants to fuck her husband consequence free, and she can't do this chastity shit, it's not reasonable, so Prudence, time to hop on that horse! let's up and at 'em, sis
and the other is Colin coming to Albion like 'soooooooo. . .I have to ask. . .how have you managed it?' and he's like 'managed what?' 'to be married for two years and not have a baby. I mean, I'm a newly married man and I'd like to. . .enjoy my wife before we start a family. I have to know your secret' and Albion is just there going 'huh? what secret? we've just being doing it normal?' so Colin's very concerned like 'oh no, what if i've offended him? what if they can't have kids???' and Albion and him keep talking until it becomes clear that, wait, hang on, what do you mean by normal and it finally comes out that the reason Phillipa always seems like she's got a stick up her bum is because she does so he's like 'oh fuck, oh no, oh no no no, i can't be the one to inform him that's not the way to make a baby' ala: 'you are putting it in the right place?' and he's white as a ghost like 'so very sorry, i think i left my cat on the stove, i have to go'
and Colin and Penelope come together at the end of all their schemes like 'well. . .there goes Plan A. . .and B. . .and C through G' as Penelope frantically wonders if she can get Gen to pull Prudence aside and Colin is contemplating which of his brothers he can bribe enough to have the 'So, women have multiple holes' discussion w/' Albion because he refuses to be the one to do it
meanwhile, Portia is out here making potions to try to get one of her daughters to have a baby because thus far, she's batting 0 for 3, and Polin's schemes somehow always end up in direct opposition to her schemes, thus canceling out each time
tell me that wouldn't be the funniest shit you've ever watched on this show
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I'm now at the portion of CQL that overlaps with the volumes of the novel that I read last summer, and for all the nonsense brought by the combination of CQL's adaptation changes + reluctance to fully commit to them, I really and truly do prefer these iterations of the characters, especially WWX. I just watched the episode where JC catches him in Qinghe, and it had me chewing on the walls! The show's chronological storytelling let us see their relationship's intensity and tragic deterioration, and it delivers on making this confrontation EXTREMELY FRAUGHT for both of them. JC unleashes 16 years of unprocessed grief and anger as WWX tries his damnedest to avoid it, and the shadow of JYL's death looms over both of them. Even though the dialogue in the novel is nearly identical, the mutual urgency isn't there; JYL is never mentioned (beyond JC reminding WWX that he is the reason JL's parents are dead), and WWX himself has no emotional response whatsoever to any of it, save for an offhand mention that he was nostalgic for the Lotus Pier of his childhood. JC might as well be having an argument with an imaginary WWX in the shower. There's zero tension there. Information has to be revealed and withheld differently with the non-chronological story structure, of course, but there are ways to hint at a character being impacted by and reacting to past experiences without saying outright what those experiences are, and that is simply Not Happening sufficiently for me with anything involving WWX's platonic and familial relationships in the novel. And if you wanted more on the relationships between characters who aren't WWX? lol good luck!
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The first thing he noticed properly was not the sudden impossible change in location, or the unnaturally colored light drenching the mountain, or the partially reconstructed temple above his head, or the anguished screams from all around, or the feeling of utter wrongness seeping into his bones, but the streaks of red on the stone pavement. He couldn't fully figure out what they were, or why they had such a strange shape, or what were the small dark scraps near them, or from where they could have come; but something about them made his face pale and his blood freeze.
A sudden sense of vertigo struck him, and he lowered almost to his knees to keep himself steady. A sudden sense of vertigo struck him, and he lowered almost to his knees to keep himself steady. A sudden sense of vertigo struck him, and he lowered almost to his knees to keep himself steady.
Then finally he broke out of that repeating moment, and looked up. An amiable smile greeted him before the shattering sky.
"Good morning, Warden Ingo," it said with a powerful, gentle voice that cracked the ground somewhere far, too far away.
It didn't sound nearly as human as it should have been.
It was morning, or at least it had been when the smile had spoken. Now rains of five months past were falling backwards out of the earth and into red clouds, and it was at once evening and dawn together, and night and dusk and afternoon all stuck in a gruesome thing that gave him a headache.
In horrid confusion he found himself unsure of where he was.
His only landmark in the all consuming spiraling were the red streaks of red on the stone pavement.
"Let me apologize," the powerful, gentle voice said. The amiable smile from which it came curled in a wide curve, dulcet in shape yet sharp enough to almost sever his head right there and then. "Your presence here was a mistake. An honest accident."
The grey eye looked at him with pity.
A black hole was emerging. He could see it everywhere at once, larger and smaller, in different moments of its growth: one second it had already swallowed him, the next it was a microscopic speck, the next it was a serpentine beast coiling around what should have once been a human body.
The serpentine beast looked at him with burning eyes, as red as the streaks of red on the stone pavement.
It dawned on him, in a constantly repeating minute, what those streaks were; and in the constantly repeating minute, he cried, or screamed, or froze, or puked, or trembled, or asked why.
The grey eye remained blind and deaf to his anguish.
"Unfortunately, we have not had the means to fix this until now," the powerful, gentle voice said as it rolled out of the amiable smile.
Something was wrong.
Down to the atoms that composed his body, he felt it.
Something was wrong.
Down to the atoms that composed his body, he felt it.
Something was wrong.
The serpentine beast opened its rotting wings wider, blood red bones peaking through the dark lunging slowly towards him.
"Be not afraid," said the powerful, gentle voice as the grey eye looked at him and gifted him an amiable smile so sharp it cut him in half. "Our plan always meant to help you, too, in the end. You won't even notice this unfairness took place."
He watched, feeling his limbs be torn apart at the joints painlessly, like a ragdoll methodically pulled until its seams rip, a hand lay graceful and calm on what should have been a human chest.
The grey eye looked at him without seeing, triumphant, with an amiable smile and a powerful, gentle voice drowning the very world it was collapsing within itself in the way a misguided parent drowns their child in a wine bath, spurred by teachings of a false prophet.
"I am a very just god, after all."
"You good?"
He blinked.
Then he blinked again.
He turned: "Huh?"
His brother looked at him blankly, maybe a little concerned. The station buzzed outside the door.
"You stood up," his brother said. "Blacked out for a bit. Are you ok?"
"Ah." he replied, and tilted a bit when he went to touch his forehead: "I think I might have had a dizzy spell, a moment of vertigo."
"Do you want some water?"
"No, it's nothing to worry about. Give me just a moment."
He sat back down, rubbing the bridge of his nose with his eyes shut for a few seconds.
Then he stood back up.
"Are you ok?"
"Yes, I feel much better already. Let's go now - better to avoid delays."
He closed the door behind himself.
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