#cinda speaks

[ilovejosukehigashikata]

About Other JOJOLands Translations

Dogpark and I started working together on translations over a year ago, when CDDH began. I've been aware of his history with Hi Wa Mata Noboru, the Jojo translation group that did most of JJL, since then. Dogpark sums up exactly what makes certain members of HWMN (not all of them!) bad actors when it comes to handling early leaks and, more importantly, other translations in this blog post. There's no excuse for the behavior HWMN has shown in the past towards Dogpark and its utter lack of acknowledgment even today. I have also personally seen some harassment from a member, but nothing on the same level.

Please do not take this as some outright call for people to stop reading HWMN. The more interpretations a work can have, the better it is for readers and the fanbase as a whole. But translation groups have a duty to properly handle the information they're given and to conduct themselves professionally. I hope that I'm succeeding in that task as the translator of We Need More Yankiis, and I hope that HWMN and its members improve their own behavior.

Professional behavior includes not releasing translations before the release date in Japan. This is not only something extremely frowned upon by the scanlation community, but also something that can cause major legal trouble. I strongly advise against reading any material that comes out before midnight JST, as groups releasing that early are unlikely to have quality in mind when going for such rushed releases.

[writingwenches]

Aemond x Peasant OC – Part 2

synopsis: our main character, Lyn finds herself propositioned in the most unexpected way. Aemond finally finds out the secret gift his mother's favorite lady, Cinda Lannister, has planned to celebrate the princess helaena's nameday

themes: classist!Aemond, spoiled prince boy Aemond, mc grew up in a westeros version of a nunnery, this is just the start of a larger “rewrite HOTD” type story. I posted this a few days ago, hated it, rewrote some of it, now its back lol

word count: ~5k

warnings: 18+ MDNI, no targcest, dark themes, masturbation, voyerisom, dub/con, mentions of sex work, character death, mentions of child death and pregnancy complications. medieval standards on "womanhood", virginity testing, let's all remember the true inspiration for handmaid's tale: human history~ i would never survive in this time period eventho not having a job and wearing pretty dresses sounds very very very very nice until its not

READ PART ONE HERE

Learn to Fly – Act One – Finale

Lyn did not have the same privilege to mourn like noble ladies did. The Lady Aeditya had an entire wardrobe of black cloth and robes, as a way to signify to all those who perceived her that there was something missing, something lost unable to be returned. Lowborns did not have the time to pass away, on their knees in front of the Seven, begging for retribution. 

Lyn was allowed her moments, standing alone at the simple gravestone behind the Motherhouse. Hanna had not made it a week past their last outing at Erenford’s Keep. Something to do with her heart, the Maesters had told them, so they didn’t have to worry about spreading. She was the only one to visit her grave after the burial, the others seemed to have moved on, just as she needed to. 

Lyn did not have the time to mourn, with one less mouth to feed, the Stepas would allow her to stay for a few more moons, but Lyn was sure her time here was at an end. 

Where would she go? What would she do? Hanna had been immensely more talented than Lyn as a servant, a nursemaid or a farmhand, and she still struggled to gain employment. Where was the hope for Lyn? 

—

Cinda had taken so long in her travels to Haronfall, Aemond was sure she was stalling for some reason. He sighed loudly, sitting across from her in the plush wheelhouse, decorated in Lannister reds. Cinda’s eyes remained closed and her breathing steady. Aemond was sure she was asleep.

He was sure he could have flown Vhagar to Essos and back by now, but Cinda had assured them they were only a few days away from their destination. After his strange greeting from the town’s patrons, Aemond was not sure why he was even going back. 

Well, perhaps there was one reason. 

The road was bumpy and Aemond could not stop his eyes from finding Cinda’s heaving chest, as she gently breathed as the uneven road shook her chest about, sending waves of skin to dance in front of his eye.

Aemond did not like to think of Cinda in his base moments, she was a lady and was to be respected. But, a forgettable peasant girl was something else entirely. 

His eye set itself on the cavern in the center of Cinda’s chest, her sapphire jewel fell in the place between her breasts. He imagined his hands wrenching the fabric away, freeing her tits for his own view. Aemond pictures palming them, as the road rocked him against his hands. His own hand went to himself, unlacing his britches under a heavy blanket, needed for the colder climate.

His dominant hand wrapped around his base, applying pressure that forced a sigh from him. Aemond’s sounds had not woken Cinda, so he resumed the tapestry being weaved in his head. 

The peasant girl’s face, thrown back, her mouth open in pleasure as her tits jumped before him, as she bounced on his cock. He had only seen the sight while searching for his brother in places he shouldn’t be, but Aemond finally understood his brother speaking of it so fondly now. Aemond pictured suckling at Lyn’s nipples, making her cry out and beg him for more. He hated that she did not know his name, he wanted to hear her scream it. To beg him. To stop. To start. To do anything he wanted. He wanted to put that damned peasant in her place, stripped naked, on her knees, and forced to lick his boots as he sat atop the iron throne.

His hips thrust themselves into his hand, as his freehand braced himself against the carriage wall. 

He watched Cinda’s eyes to make sure she remained asleep, he matched his trusts with the bouncing of her tits. Aemond was the prince, and he could have whatever he liked, at least in the safety of his own mind. Cinda was alseep, but if he wished he could pry her open and fill himself inside her. He could hear her scream, her voice so known to him for so long. It rang in his mind, the sounds of her happy and annoyed and pleased. He could practically feel her smiling against his lips. It was almost as clear as a memory that he made her say “I love you” when she reached her peak.

Aemond spent himself into a handkerchief, he could swear his eyes was open but he could see nothing besides the stars. 

Before he could catch his breath, the guard was called that they had arrived and Cinda stretched her arms awake, offering yet another stunning view of what Aemma would call disgraceful. 

“My sweet prince, are you well?” she asked, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

“It was only a dream,” he assured. 

—

The baskets carried on her back felt an extra heavy load the next market. It had been a few weeks since Hanna’s death, and Lyn had not found a single reason to be cheerful, the Septas made sure she knew her work was suffering. The baskets were poor craftsmanship, and she knew it. But, there was nothing left to do but try and peddle them away, so have enough coin to produce for the next market, and so on, forever, she supposed. 

The Septas, too, had felt the loss of Hanna, their charge. She had been with them since her own youth, and the old women were many things, but they weren’t cruel, the girls were only punished when it was deemed necessary, which even they admitted was more often than they’d like. They were doing it in the name of the gods, to frighten the thoughts that could lead a poor, unfamilied, woman astray. 

Lyn’s work had been sloppy. First, she had dropped a group of baskets in the street, for them to be trampled over by a too quickly passing carriage. Her largest basket was sold quickly, then piled high with soft delicate squash from the northern shores of The Bite. 

“I am so sorry, m’lord!” Lyn scrambled on the ground, her basket bursting from the weight, and the delicate vegetation plopped down into the wet mud. “This has never happened before, I assure you!” 

The gentle squash was bruised and irreplaceable. Lyn pushed the tears back into her eyes as the purple faced man shouted at his inconvenience. She was forced to offer the man the meager contents of her purse to save face. She would be going back to the Motherhouse with less coin than she left, and that was simply inaccessible. 

“You must be the saddest group of little–“ the Septas berated the small group of girls in her charge, each having faulted during the market day and needed reprimanding. 

The vision of Septa Glaedis had been whittled down to a pale point with her age, but her hearing was a sharp as ever, and she was not one to put up with foolishness. The rage that the old woman consumed with every crack of her back, or creak in her knee was felt by the younger girls. They dreaded every front of cold air, as they knew Septa Glaedis’s mood would ever sour. 

Lyn knew to watch her breathing around Septa Glaedis, not wanting to give off the impression of an annoyed or impatient sigh and face the wrath of her faithful switch, thinly carved with hymns about the virtues of obedience. 

She allowed her mind to wonder, as the Septa retold hymns and passages Lyn had heard countless times before. The skies were grey and usual, a pale haze that passed over the world. It was rare that they got singular clouds in the lands near the twins, Lyn enjoyed finding shapes in the cloud, animals, faces, foods she had heard tales of and longed to try. There was nothing to find anything today in the clouds, she had to stop herself mid sigh, not wanting to fan the flames of Septa Glaedis. 

Passers by did not stop the mind them, the group of girls and Septas. They were trained in their invisibility, as all good woman and servants should. At least that’s what Lyn had been told. No one would want to see her, she was a lowborn girl merchant, and that title was something Lyn had to fight tooth and nail for. Last winter half the fingers on her left hand were crushed by falling stones from a builded fence. The Septas were able to set and save her fingers functions, at least enough to continue her basket weaving. It was one thing she was able to pray thanks to the gods for saving her from.

Lyn completely forgot herself with her eyes passed over silver strands, just across the muddied street. Passing horses trotted by, but between them Lyn could be sure of what she say. 

It was him. Again. The liar prince, come back to town. He smirked as he watched her beratement, gaining joy from her misery. 

Lyn forgot herself and laughed. 

“Is something funny, girl?” Septa Glaedis asked, with a whip of her switch. 

Perhaps, for the first time since she was a babe, Lyn had not expected the swing of discipline as it sped across her cheek, striking her to the muddied ground. She could hear the bark of laughter from the boy across the street. 

“Septa Glaedis! I am sorry, I am!” Lyn called as the woman struck at the air until she found the girl’s back with a whip, the other girls prayed the old woman to stop. 

The elderly woman followed her ears and turned her gaze to the barks coming from across the street, pointing out her switch to dare anyone else to cross her. Aemond’s voice caught in his throat at the threat from the old crone. 

Half of Aemond’s parentage had their roots deep in the heart of Oldtown, the epicenter of gentlemanly knights and courtly love. A true man of the Reach would have rushed over and covered the poor girl with his cloak, defending her from the villainous woman who dared to touch something that was his.

But, Aemond was above such things. The girl on the ground, her marked face flecked with foul-smelling mud, was no lady. Ladies deserved the help from a noble prince, and the dogs could remain in the mud, used for nothing more than licking the dirt from his boots. Ignoring the tightening in his britches at every strike across her back, Aemond did not want her, or need her, he told himself as he meandered through the market stalls until he found a smith who’s work was acceptable enough to sharpen his blade.

Aemond had spent the entire bloodied day trotting around the disgusting Riverlands, in search of Cinda and her damned surprise. When he had awoken in his tents that morning, she had vanished. Her maids had informed him that she was fetching the princess’s surprise. He did not like secret keeping, and Cinda knew that about him, so she dared to keep as many secrets as possible from him. 

Besides the whispers around the markets regarding the Lannister camp contracted outside of town, Aemond did not find a whiff of Cinda. Surely, if one of these peasants had been charged with making a gift for his princess sister, they would have boasted about it to their countrymen?

Cinda returned to the camp that night with her lips tightly sealed, not even wishing to play one of her silly guessing game she was always so fond of, no matter how many times Aemond brought it up.

— 

It was too early to be awake, and Aemond could feel the distant pull of Vhagar, flying high above the mountains of the Vale and away from the cold, sinking hole of the Riverlands. He rolled himself around in bed, willing him to return to sleep while the sun still hid from view. 

He had never been one to indulge himself this often, but the countryside was boring a whole in his skull. He would surely lose his mind if they remained much longer. Today, he would force Cinda tell him of her plans. He was the Prince and he could have her locked up in the Eronford’s Keep for disobeying his orders. 

His idle hand loosely brushed itself against his manhood, hardened from the morning air. Aemond’s mind was giddy at the thought of Cinda’s arms retrained wide, her body chained to a dungeon wall. He could picture her in nothing less than her most elegant of crimson gowns, one of the newer designs of the Red Keep, hugging her curves with a neckline that hung low and snug, her breasts barely able to be contained by the fabric. 

Her face shifted, darkening into lips of purple hue, marks on her face that stretched over her rounded cheeks. He moaned into his touch as he reimagined the switch striking that cheek. He watched the pain in her eye and could hear her moan in pain as she was brought to the ground. Aemond imagined himself holding the switch and inflicting the pain onto her himself, the lowborn scum that deserved her place on the ground, prepared only to scrum the floor beneath his muddied feet. 

And she had smiled at him. Her eyes catch sight of him and she smiled at him. Her cheeks rose up as her lips formed around the air ready to say his name.

He wondered how else he could pull such a thing from her again as he trust into his hand. He pictured her spread on the floor of his tent, her skirts too short gaining him a perfect view of her calfs, a view he would indulge by tearing the fabric from her waiting skin. 

He was a prince, and she was his subject, his property. He had every right to send the lowborn to war or drag them into his beds. Aemond could do whatever he liked with the lowborn river girl, nothing more than a common whore. 

He would lick the darkened marks that covered her body until her reached to mouth. Her hair, in small plates across her back, was enough for him to fist, as he shoved himself into her lowly mouth. He imagined her choking on his length, spittle dripping down her neck in a way unbecoming of a proper lady. He made her beg, for something, for everything. He came in his hand and fell back asleep. 

Cinda tickled a feature against his eyes to wake him up to break their fast.

— 

Lyn had never rode in a cart before, at least not since she was too young to remember. The girls were all excited, the small group gathered by the Septas for a special job opportunity. The red banners embalmed with golden lions had set up camp just outside their halls, Lyn could just see their colors peaking above the horizon from their sleeping room. 

“I hear they are the richest house in the realm,” one girl said, as the camp came nearer into view. 

“I heard they have a castle made of pure gold!” another chimed in. 

“I hear they use slaves in their mines,” the last girl huffed, waggling her fingers at the ruby clad guards on duty as their cart passed into their protected camp. 

Lyn found herself amongst a group that she found odd. The same way she could have been described as striking, so could these other girls. Mismatched eyes, and hair with streaks of white, moles and marks and discolored skin, covering their bodies, just as her own bumped black marks covered Lyn’s. 

“Why us?” Lyn asked, pulling at a loose string of her skirt hem.

“We are the ugly ones,” the last girl who spoke of slaves shrugged, her face marked with redness and pinpoint scars. “These high born ladies are afraid that someone might best them at their own game, so I’d bet they are stacking their servants with hideous beasts, like us. To make themselves feel even more beautiful.” They all had a good laugh at that.

Whatever gained Lyn employment, at this point she did not mind. 

“Are we going to be servants to true high born ladies?” a girl asked, “The richest house in all the seven kingdoms, you said?” 

“I bet the kitchen scrubbers get better scraps than we ever did,” Lyn said, all the foods she could only picture in the clouds, would soon be in her grasp. Her mouth watered at the thought of the orange from her Liar Prince, the smell had not left her mind, every night as she tried to fall asleep, the sweetness mixed with the tang. It was unlike anything she ever experienced before. And now, she was about to gain the opportunity to experience something like that for the rest of her days? 

“We must,” the girls huddled together to discuss their new plan, “be on our best behavior. We must insist that we all gain employment this day. We are all skilled, we know our worth, and we can serve actual ladies and lords!” 

The grand room in the tent was larger than many houses made of wood and stone Lyn had witnessed. Her mouth hinged open as she looked around at the endless tapestries and sculptures that were past every layer deeper into the tented maze. 

“Lyn!” one of the girls hushed and prodded her hard in the side. “Close your mouth, stupid!” 

Lyn reminded herself why they were there, and straightened her back as high it would go, her shoulders back and her fists balled at her side, before peering at the other girls’ hands gently folded in front. 

She steadied her breathing, and couldn’t help but run her hands over the carved chairs, more fine than any in Erenford’s Keep. 

There were flowers, colors that Lyn had never seen in nature, just sitting across tables as the girls weaved single filed. Lyn imagined being charged with placing those flowers in their vases, gently packing them in finely sanded wooden boxes that smelled of ancient trees. 

She stepped out of line and breathed in deeply of their scent. “Lyn!” another girl barked, shoving her back in line, but first quickly smelling the blooms herself. They mouthed the gods name in vain, in an attempt to contain their excitement. 

Lyn wondered how they had gotten all of this here? Had they really been towing around wagons and carts filled with chairs and fine paintings and porcelain vases all across the Riverlands from the…west? Lyn had not bothered to wonder where these great Lion Lords were from. She was sure it was somewhere far past The Twins, and perhaps even across the seas.

If they had enough coin to traps across the countryside, with all of this racket in tow, surely they could hire all five of the girls brought before them. Never again would Lyn waste away a winter, pulling the work from her bare bones, with nothing but boiled potato skins for nourishment.

One girl motioned towards a small group of girl servants fussing over a plate of rainbow colored cakes. They were all beautiful, flawless and pure, but they were not small. Thick of self and well fed, it was clear. Lyn was sure that servants in their charge would have their promised breads and meats and maybe even cheese, and they would never run out. 

They would never know hungry again. 

The girls were wrangled to the main area of the giant tent fortress, contrasted for the pleasure of those at its heart. The chattering of nobles ended in whispers as the ugly girls were brought into the room. The sad lot of damaged girls had spent their life getting gawked at by others, but nothing compared to the stares of the lovely, etherial and simply perfect. Every single one of them. 

The women’s dresses were fine, made of different hues of red fabrics, with golden flecked thread sewn throughout the visage. Aeditya had a single gown with golden stitching along the neckline, and its was her most prized possession. It traveled in a tightly closed box, always in her possession, in case an appropriate occasion ever arose. Aeditya had allowed Hanna and Lyn to admire the craftsmanship on a few occasions. The thread was thick and intricately wrapped in golden floss, the gold wrapped thread alone could take a lifetime to master the art form, and these ladies had gold thread weaved through every piece of clothing. The main woman, seated upon a crimson plush throne, Lyn could see, had golden threads etched into her shift peaking above her tight neckline, and her perfectly curled hair glowed in the light, pure gold. 

Perhaps their castle was made of pure gold.

“Thank you for following my instructions so closely,” the woman’s voice pealed like a psalm, the sound was as if it too were wrapped in golden thread. “But, you really did not need to bring so many.” 

The girl’s form tightened, all standing shoulder to shoulder to be observed by the throng of beauty and grace. Lyn’s lips formed into a hard line, these people had so much coin, surely they could find use for five souls that were in desperate need of their kindness. She tried to wrack her brain for something to say, something to explain that they were all worthy of love and acceptance and a warm bed at night and…

In that moment, there had existed the road Lyn had been traveling on her entire life until it was ripped out from under her so suddenly, she almost fell to her knees with her own eyes locked on another’s…one. 

“What’s happening?” Lyn whispered, more to herself than to the other girls, wanting to confirm that what she was seeing was in the flesh. 

There he stood, his hands clasp behind his back, the same black leathers from the market the day before, eyepatch covering his eye. The Lair Prince. On the raised pedestal with all the other noble ladies all wrapped in golden threads.

“You only need had bring one. I can see her from here,” Cinda said, her arms outstretched.

“Lyn,” one of the girls bumped her shoulder to retch her eyes away from his. Lyn nearly jumped from her skin as the woman raised from her seat and made her way straight towards her. 

“I am sorry!” Lyn could find no other words than to apologize, for sure the lady was about to strike her down for some unknown transgression. The lady was coming for her.

“My niece! Lynora, I have finally found you after all these years!” 

“No, no,” Lyn was not entirely sure what she had just heard, but she could feel the other girl’s hands being wrenched away from her as they were ushered off. “No, wait please!–“ They disappeared behind the curtains, their arms grasped by armored men. Lyn was alone. With these people. 

“My sweet, sweet Lynora. I really is you, my darling.” The golden haired woman’s hands were on Lyn’s face, cupping her cheeks. 

“No, I– m’lady, I am just Lyn, I am nothing–“ she tried to explain, offering another low bow to show that she really was sorry for all the confusion, her hands braced in front of her to keep the woman away. 

An elder woman appeared, and something was handed to the fine golden haired lady. “We have been searching for such a long time,” she said, as she admired the beautiful art held in her hand. 

Lyn’s eyes fell on a stretch, fine work, but lightened with age. The face of a babe, made larger than life, she was sure, peppered with black marks across the face. 

Her own black marks.

“No,” Lyn said, pushing it away. “You are mistaken, I am no one–“ 

“My younger brother, Tybolt Lannister, was married to the Lady Sophae Mullendore,” Cinda explained. “Lady Sophae died after giving birth to a babe, the Lady Lynora Lannister, and Tybolt remarried the Lady Tyshara Payne, you see,” the lady tried to rush over the innards, to get to the important parts. “The babe was sent back to live with the Mullendores in the Reach, but…the babe was lost! Until now, I knew that we could find you again. I just knew it.” 

“M’lady…” Lyn said, or perhaps Lynora said.

“You are my family, call me Cinda!” Cinda held onto both of her arms. “And I shall never leave you again.” 

It had been something that Lyn had dreamed of since she was old enough to want, every girl she had ever known had longed and wished for the same thing. Tears etched themselves down her cheeks, as she looked at the sketch of the babe once more, of the sketch of herself. 

“My family?” she asked, her hands wrapped themselves around Cinda’s own. Lyn laughed as she allowed herself to be dragged into a deep hug. 

“You will be Lady to Princess Helaena Targaryen, and you will marry a rich lord, and birth scores and scores of his children!” 

Lyn could hear Adityas cries from somewhere deep inside. She tried to pull away, but was unable to move.

“No, I’m sorry m’lady, I don’t–,” Lyn was not heard. 

“Of course, there is a matter of your virtue. Maester?” Cinda’s arms held her in place, and a man came forward. “Not to say I don’t trust the Septas, but one can never be sure.”

Lyn’s face was cradled once again, against her struggle, Cinda wiped a falling tear down her cheek. “Sweet girl, my girl, my lovely Lynora,” Cinda cooed. 

“You are free now,” the lady nodded, “Free from the burden of want, the need for desire, you thoughts need no longer be just your own, and you can finally rest easy from making every decision by yourself, never again must you worry about what you will eat, or where you will go. By the grace of the gods, your path has been chosen for you. You will be the Lady to Princess Helaena Targaryen, and you will marry a rich lord and have scores and scores of his babes, as is expected of you now. What you want is no longer of consequence.” Cinda embraced her, in her new found freedom. Lyn could hear Aeditya’s screams echoing from somewhere deep inside her. “Now, Maester.”

Aemond stood motionless, his mouth open and his eye wanting to look away, but he did not allow himself. The prince had prided himself for his quickness of thinking in battle, but at this point he was not quite sure what was happening around him.

Cinda had promised him the end to their game, and now the peasant woman who haunted his dreams was being bent over and–

“Stop–“ Aemond called, one stepped forward but nothing more. He couldn’t stop it. How could he? This was Cinda Lannister, on a mission for the Queen, his mother. 

He saw the tears peppering the girl’s eyes as she watched his inaction. Aemond’s eye fell in shame.

He was not sure how long it was before he swallowed his courage and stepped down from his pedestal. Cinda had forgotten the girl and was conversing with the Septas and Maesters about her care, and Lyn was left with her arms wrapped around herself, trying to become small. 

Aemond wrapped his cloak around her, not knowing what else to do. 

“What’s happening?” she asked, taking the cloak into her wringing hands. 

“You are…coming with us,” he answered, after some time. 

“I don’t want to,” she said, as if it was the most well known fact in the world. “Don’t make me, you…you said you were a prince? You were telling true? Don’t let them take me!” 

He hushed her, they couldn’t hear her speak such things. “I can not, she is…” he was a just young boy when he looked at Cinda. “On the mission from the Queen, I can not interfere…”

“You can help me,” Lyn tried to plead. “You– you can help me escape, out the back of the tents…”

“They will find you,” he shook his head. He had found her. Plain as day, in the crowded market. “There is nowhere to go.” 

“You said you have a dragon!” she hissed.

“I do, but–“

Lyn allowed the cloak to fall. She did not wish to speak anymore. She did not wish to stand anymore. She did not wish to wish anymore. 

When she turned, Aemond grabbed her arm to stop her. He didn’t know what to say, he wracked his brain and he could only think of their time at the lake. 

“There was a witness to our…your friend, I could send a message,” he tried to find something that could help her. 

“She’s dead,” Lyn said, as she was whisked away by her new family into her new future.

a/n: don’t worry, Lyn will get plenty of revenge on these rich folks. #eattherich. thanks all for reading! I am so excited to have gotten to the story's "twist"~ I know it's not going to be everyone's favorite, but it's going to be a fun journey and a more relatable perspective to enjoy the ~royal~ highborn life of the red keep. As always, comments, questions, requests, are all open~ Don't hesitate to reach out, I'll gush back at you LOL

tags: @fallout-girl219 (sorry for the double tag, I hated what I posted earlier this week. So, I'm going to chop up all the side quests into their own posts LOL)

[lumpyorganelle]

Heartbreak & losses quotes pt.2

Ah, merciless Love, is there any length to which you cannot force the human heart to go?” ― Virgil, The Aeneid

“How starved you must have been that my heart became a meal for your ego.” ― Amanda Torroni

“every loss, every mistake, was seared into her soul, creating a different kind of tattoo, one made from rage and abandonment, heart break and tears” ― Kami Garcia and Margaret Stohl

“He started to estrange her… And they became strangers Who knew each other's heart, So broken as they drifted apart.” ― Ana Claudia Antunes, Pierrot & Columbine

“Did the destruction of one dream leave a vacuum that required filling with another? Is a broken heart more vulnerable?” ― Cinda Williams Chima, The Exiled Queen

“Thoughts are as simple as the process…a message from the soul; conveyed through the heart; received in the mind” ― Jeremy Aldana

“She ached so badly to be held it felt like a sickness had invaded her muscles and bones. As usual, her own arms provided little comfort.” ― Helen Hoang, The Kiss Quotient

“When the heart is down and the soul is heavy, the eyes can only speak the language of tears” ― Ikechukwu Izuakor

“Then I feel I have given away my whole soul to someone who treats it as if it were a flower to put in his coat, a bit of decoration to charm his vanity, an ornament for a summer's day.” ― Oscar Wilde, The Picture of Dorian Gray

“A faint cry; I can't figure out if it's mine or if it's echoing the other half of my broken heart—the one beating in his chest.” ― Aura Biru, We Are Everyone

“There has to be a whole other level of pain when your soul gets ripped in half.” ― Karen M. McManus, One of Us Is Back

“Those words created in my heart and stomach a physical effect so sickening, so painful, that I have never since doubted that these vibrational frequencies traveling upon air can land a knock-out punch more excruciating than any fist or weapon.” ― Erin Zelinka, On Love and Travel: A Memoir

“My wounded heart, too burdened by scars, struggles even to fathom the concept of love, let alone embrace its gentle touch.” ― Paulo Coelho, The Alchemist

“An Ocean full of thoughts, a broken heart, and a tragic shore of insane storms. I am trapped in a body that is not my own, a world that's too alien for my soul and an evil wounding my heart.” ― Sapppho Khizar

“When stranded in a desert, and you’re dying of thirst, a mirage is the cruelest trick the mind can play. And when you are a stranger among regular folks, and you’re in search of love, a disillusioned or misguided heart is the cruelest thing.” ― Soroosh Shahrivar, Tajrish

“That was the end of the integrity of their love. The succeeding days were a shambles of falseness and hypocrisy, mingled with her tears and moments of animal passion to which she abandoned herself with a greed made indecent by the hollowness of their days.” ― Ian Fleming, Casino Royale

“…my father explained to me in a hushed tone that in times of extreme stress or trauma, humans of all ages will resort back to the fetal position, because it is an instinctual way to protect all our vital organs and because it reminds us of the safest place we all began, thee womb.” ― Lucy Keating, Dreamology

“This was just the world. You trusted people, you loved them, you offered them the dignity of your time and the intimacy of your thoughts and the fraility of your hope and they either accepted it and cared for it or they rejected it and destroyed it and in the end, none of it was up to you. This was just what you got. Heartbreak was inevitable. Disappointment assured.” ― Olivie Blake, The Atlas Paradox

“Being of heart resists no hurt, they savor poison like fine wine. The benevolent takes no notice of betrayal, while the somnolent just moan and whine.” ― Abhijit Naskar, Yarasistan: My Wounds, My Crown

“How can I be reasonable? To me our love was everything and you were my whole life. It is not very pleasant to realize that to you it was only an episode.” ― W. Somerset Maugham, The Painted Veil

[chibi-pix]

So, we've seen me draw Ginger and Zandee in uniform and Cinda and Krik before the uniforms. And, if it wasn't clear, my intentions are hopes for working with Vehicle Voltron eventually in the Blind Twinverse AU. So, let's throw in a few more characters.

On top we have Lisa and Modoc, with new ideas. The idea is that Modoc is hard of hearing or deaf (not fully sure yet) and doesn't speak much out of choice. But he does sign. Lisa is a good friend of his and signs and translates for him. And fresh new ideas for her, I think she is the child of deaf parents. So even before meeting Modoc, she could sign and this helps after they meet. Modoc also utilizes specialized hearing aids, either from the Garrison in general or designed by Sam Holt later on, to help Modoc further. As a bonus, Chip and Matt also sign; they taught themselves so as to "whisper" around Pidge since she can't see. Ultimately, they end up teaching Cinda when she notices and is curious.

On the bottom we have Jeff and Shannon. And honestly? I feel like Jeff just threw in that "with all due respect" as a courtesy and to perhaps get out of a bit of trouble. But these lads' openness of respect isn't really their. But they speak their minds, Jeff especially. I have no new ideas for them at the moment, though.

Also, these two shots are not connected. They weren't even started at the same time. They just ended up being continued and finished together.

Anyway! I hope y'all enjoy this one! Until next time!

[grimmmviewing]

S1E20: “Happily Ever Aftermath”—A/B+ (Watched 7/10/24)

This is a very solid episode of Grimm, in terms of meeting my admittedly subjective wants for the show: It’s dark, but not excessively so; it makes good use of the adaptational premise to twist a recognizable fairytale story in a solid-enough way that balances genuine creativity with a bit of goofiness or campiness or cringe; while it doesn’t outright avoid the serialized narrative (focusing on the thread of Nick’s parents’ deaths again), it feels like those elements exist more in the background/vaguely “in between” the other stuff, making the priority the Cinderella adaptation. Assuming true “monster of the week” episodes are not an option, this might be the best alternative. The ongoing story advances marginally, taking up comparatively little of the runtime.

Speaking very (very) generally, the initial premise of this adaptation isn’t exactly novel—We’re seeing what comes after the “happily ever after,” which is probably the most obvious starting point for a subversive take on one of these stories. The particulars are a bit more interesting, though, like how we open with a “Bernard Aidikoff” being outed as a Bernie Madoff-style crook. I had a note questioning if this depiction was in bad taste given the recency (at the time of airing) of the real-world scandal, but it’s not a thread I’m too interested in since this is just Grimm doing what comic books and other series like Law and Order have done plenty of times before: giving a real person a close-enough fake name in a way that’s kind of cute, as they try to “rip” material from “the headlines.”

The Aidikoff/Madoff thing more or less sets the tone for the handling of the Cinderella material as well—Arthur (our prince character, who lost a disastrous amount of money through Aidikoff) says at one point, “I can’t go to [my wife’s] stepmother.” It’s such a perfect line and reading of that line, because of the obviousness. It’s very awkward, but so is the way that his wife is named Lu-cinda or how she has a god-father. Seeing the pieces fall into place this way is a lot of fun. Later in the episode, when Arthur, Lucinda, and the godfather, Spencer, are being interrogated by Nick and Hank about their possible involvement in the stepmother’s murder, Arthur also delivers a succinct summary of the adapted version of the Cinderella ball and choosing her (equivalent) over the stepsisters. It’s very cute, and while Hank asking Arthur if he had any kind of sexual relationship with the stepsisters dirties it up, that’s just another kind of adorable. It’s Grimm doing its Thing. It walks a thin line between being unwatchably silly and just clever enough, and that’s probably a harder tone to write for than it might seem.

How the show’s Wesen focus fits into the original fairytale is both a strength and a notable weakness: Spencer, Lucinda, and (presumably) Lucinda’s late father and mother are all Wesen; however, the stepmother and sisters are not. This particular Wesen is another of the evil-coded ones as well, and it turns out that Lucinda is actually a proper spoiled monster with “no conscience,” to quote Spencer, while he’s always watched over her to keep her from acting on her worst impulses. We find out relatively early that Spencer is a Wesen, but the show waits to reveal Lucinda is one as well, building tension and uncertainty about exactly how the story is going to go. Even then, it’s still uncertain for a time precisely how the blame falls—which one murdered the stepmother and how in cahoots they might or might not be.

(Side note: I usually find Grimm’s horror elements pretty fleeting and weak, but the scene in the stepmother’s bedroom where she hears something and then looks under the bed and gets jump-scared by a bat creature did startle me. Something about the lighting actually felt a bit oppressive this time. Similarly, much later, the reveal of Lucinda already inside her remaining stepsister’s house similarly Got me. This might just be luck, in part, but my sense of the first of these two instances was still that it felt a bit more deliberately scary in a way that the show usually isn’t.)

In terms of the twist’s weakness, I think part of that feeling comes from the fact that “just” flipping the script (to say that, “Actually, Cinderella was the mean one”) doesn’t feel wildly original—more like the obvious route for subversion. I thought the idea of Spencer alone being a Wesen and choosing to attach himself to a human girl as a magical protector, while closer to just the “original” story, could have been an interesting angle for Grimm specifically to explore in its world. His friendship with Lucinda’s father is the reason given in the episode, though the fact that they were both Wesen makes it less interesting and less “unnatural.” Similarly, I think the idea of a mixed Wesen-human household is also very intriguing and might have been explored more. We get some vague allusions to how Lucinda tormented her stepsisters, but the concept is one that could have been further plumbed. Like, what was it like for the sisters to grow up in the same house with an evil Wesen? We can fill in the gaps, but it feels like there’s pathos being left on the table.

With Spencer and Lucinda, the show is once again poking at the question of what is and isn’t immutable about Wesen breeding, even if it isn’t acknowledged like it was in “Leave it to Beavers.” Lucinda seems to be more or less exactly what you’d expect from a Murciélago, while Spencer clearly isn’t. Him dying along with Lucinda is very convenient since it means that the show doesn’t have to reckon with how he revealed his true nature, verbally, to Hank and then used his supernatural screeching to shatter the window of his interrogation room and escape the station to go after Lucinda. I did absolutely love how his confession to the murder of the stepmother and one stepsister just casually reveals to Hank things that Nick has been keeping from him all season. This ends up being a ploy to get Hank out of the room, but when Spencer launched into it, to Nick’s obvious discomfort, I had to smile.

I found a similar joy in the Grimm tool Nick uses in this episode—a goofy little crank-powered sound gun with a stand. It’s nice to have a more obviously fantastical prop like this, and it ends up being very useful for maintaining secrecy in the end as well since Nick gives it up to the cops as (supposedly) the weapon used to achieve the otherwise unexplainable murders. Yes, the story technically, truly ends with the new dangling thread of another man involved in the killing of the elder Burkhardts, but there’s still a pleasant overall sense of tidiness.

[ammiemarie]

Bygone Era Cocktails

I had a dream last night where I was in the late 1960s or early 1970s. I was surrounded by members of my husband's family, all of whom were deceased. No living person was there.

I was in a home with a large open-concept living space. There was a seating area with a living room, a bar in the middle of the room, and an area where there was a dining table. The entire room was decked out in pre-1970 furniture and decor.

I think the home was owned by his grandfather.

His grandfather, Royal, was rather blunt, impolite, and controlling towards those around him. He was constantly talking about himself, his ambitions, or recalling stories of his life. He passed away in 1998.

His dad, Gary, was in his early 20's. He almost looked like a member of The Beatles. He didn't speak much, but he sat next to his grandfather on the couch while we were talking in their living room.

His aunt, Cinda, was standing next to a tall wall of vinyl records, holding an old fashioned glass with some sort of liquor on the rocks.

There were other relatives, like grandparents, great-grandparents, great-great grandparents, and other distant relatives.

I heard an older woman speak calmly behind me as I sat at the bar. I turned around, and smile as we made eye contact. I turned back around to my glass, and woke up.

[postguiltypleasures]

My Peak TV Journey *Only Murders in the Building*

I had a hard time getting started writing about the third season of Only Murders in the Building. I liked it. I definitely intend to watch the upcoming fourth season. I love the show’s love of theater and in someways that made it a better season than the previous two which focused on podcasting and co-op politics. It’s also greatcoat they found a way for Tina Fey’s character Cinda Canning to cause tension about the future without any flash forwards the way the first season did. Keep the regular jumping around in time to flashbacks while new information is revealed is for the best. 

The second season ended with flash forward to a supposed murder of a character never seen before in the midst of the opening performance of a Broadway play. The play is directed by lead character Oliver Putnam (Martin Short), who had been unemployed for years, and it co-stars another lead character Charles-Haden Savage (Steve Martin), who it turns out, does not to get along with costar, a movie star trying out the stage named Ben Glenroy, played by Paul Rudd. They go on stage to begin the play, only for Ben to fall down, presumably dead, with blood coming out of his mouth. 

For the time between the second season finale and the third season premiere seemed that for once, Oliver, Charles and Mabel (Selena Gomez) would be investigating a murder in a different building. The third season premiere did something of a double fake out. First they reveal that Ben survived his mysterious collapse. For a few minutes we wonder if this season will be investigating an attempted murder. There are other tensions going on including how Charles is already pretty miserable in the production, Mabel wants to get back to podcasting but does not have as subject, and Oliver is romantically interested in Loretta, one of the other cast members played by Meryl Streep. While the characters wonder about how Ben’s near death almost put them on different paths, there is the second fake out, where Ben’s actual dead body is discovered in a scene reminiscent of Claude Chabrol’s Le Boucher, though more violent and less disturbing than in that film. 

The show’s creators said that Mabel would have the most changed storyline, but I didn’t really see it. She had similar plot points to previous seasons, complete with new love interest with an ambiguous connection to the case. She’s still worried about being directionless, and this is heightened by the fact that she must leave the apartment she’s been living in. It was owned by her aunt, she was staying in it to renovate it, and now it’s sold. Mabel doesn’t even have any of the paperwork needed to be approved for a lease, which is kind of relatable. The most surprising aspect of Mabel’s plot was that she got the role of the stand in for people who actually liked Ben Glenroy, his fans. It kind of puts her at odds with Oliver and Charles, leading them to an even later start than usual at making the podcast from which the tv series takes its. (This also meant that the podcasts fans are not part of this season. While I like the actors who play they fans, I didn’t miss the characters.) 

More than the second season, the third one seems haunted by Charles’s season one love interest Jan also being the season’s killer. Both Charles’s romance with Joy (Andrea Martin) and Oliver’s with Loretta have shadows over them because of that, leading to some understandable self sabotage. How can any of them trust their romantic instincts after what seemed like a good thing between Charles and Jan? I also really wish we got to see Charles and Joy together more, because I really like Andrea Martin, and I think I like her character here better than the one on Evil. Oliver and Loretta are pretty appealing, making one forget what an odd pairing Martin Short and Meryl Streep would be anywhere else.

Generally speaking, there were fewer appearances from the reoccurring characters in the building this season. Last season’s sub plot about the new co-op board president’s plans for the building didn’t come up at all, and I wanted an update. However, this season finally an episode from Uma’s point of view. As someone who always enjoys seeing the great Jackie Hoffman I appreciated it, especially the reveal of her kleptomania,  Also enjoyed her in the audience for the opening night of Death Rattle Dazzle, the now musical version of Oliver’s directorial efforts.

Everything about Death Rattle, a supposedly old fashioned, but obtuse murder mystery becoming the musical was absurd Death Rattle Dazzle. No one with any experience in theater would believe it. But that’s part of what makes it a comedy. Anyway, they didn’t want strong parallels between the play and the series, in a way that a less non-sensical play might invite. I haven’t been a theater person as an adult, so I am not sure if the series created the concept of the White Room, or it is a real thing amongst theater people. I loved the White Room, and not just for the chance to see Steve Martin make ridiculous, blissed out faces. I liked it for the sense of the one’s mental safe space is also what prevents one from growing. After the season aired I found articles in both Vulture and The Ringer about how the show is kind of nightmarish under the humor. Neither article mentioned the White Room, but I think the feel its existence, and how it scares people who see someone else in it, is an encapsulation of the uneasy tone that the writers of these articles are discussing. 

[alysseaallyn]

Woman Into Wolf

"The invisible worm Does thy life destroy"

Chapter Four – Jeopardy Surface After Babe left, there was still one mission to accomplish so important she couldn’t even wait for that longed-for cup of coffee. She dialed Bish’s number.To her considerable relief, Cinda answered. “Hi, Persey here. Hope I didn’t wake you up. Just checking to see if you’re still speaking to me.” Jarod’s parties usually took a full day of recovery. Possibly…

[aardvaark]

omitb s2e8 spoilers ahead

okay again the episode only gave us a little information, albeit more than last episode, in regards to the actual murders.

i was right about kreps being glitter guy!! win for the audience! still i’m super confused abt the rest of it, AND i thought someone would die during the blackout, so, not a total win lmao.

i don’t think kreps is the actual killer, he’s just the glitter guy. like i’ve said before, glitter guy is the texter person, but the texter person isn’t necessarily the killer. they just knew to tell our podcasters to leave. who else would know that? the police who got the call to come and busted into mabel’s appt. plus, over text, glitter guy said he was a cop, which they took to mean detective williams - but he never actually claimed to be williams. perhaps he wasn’t trying to trick them at all. but if so, what is his motive? and why in the world would he care whether they got out of the arconia?

we heard sirens from the rooftop on the night bunny died BEFORE mabel actually found her. and i don’t think mabel called the police, she was still in shock when they came in. unless bunny managed to call them herself (you’d think they’d have found evidence of that, her phone in her hand or something) then i would kinda like to know how the police even knew where to go.

the sneeze!! uh oh!! i was rooting for howard to have someone… but now he may well be bunny’s killer, or at least he freaked lucy out in the walls. why was he there? what does he know? i think if he’s not bunny’s killer (possibly too early to reveal that anyway so that might be a mislead), he may have been involved in swapping the original painting over for the fake one.

about the painting: we still don’t know what where the real one is. i have a feeling that the painting and the reason charles’ dad was arrested and all that will be the plot of the next episode, unless it’s directly tied to bunny’s death, because that really needs to be explored.

what does the sixth street killer detail have to do with anything?? confused. maybe kreps’ "past" that was lightly touched on was that he couldn’t solve that case. maybe the sixth street killer is the same guy who killed bunny. maybe marv is just weird and we should disregard it… (notice i saved this point for sixth bc it’s the sixth street killer lol)

no one has yet elaborated on what poppy said about knowing where cinda cannings "bodies are buried". what did cinda do? it could be relevant to the murders (killing to make a murder for a new season of her show), it could be relevant to the painting (maybe she’s thinking of making a heist podcast and branching out from murder podcasts) or it could be totally unrelated to all that. i don’t care which, i’d just very much like to know!

my guesses in summary: kreps isn’t the killer despite being glitter guy, and howard’s potential bf might not have killed bunny but instead was involved in swapping the Savage painting with its fake (a heist!).

[child-of-iris]

I think I’ve said this before but god I hate it when you I read a book/watch a show/movie or something and there’s like no online fandom little to no fan works to enjoy and your just left sitting angrily in the corner searching desperately for something to satisfy the need for ✨the thing✨

[ilovejosukehigashikata]

CDDH novel confirmed to have content cut from manga

"Ultra Jump's June issue is now on sale! It includes the final chapter of Demonic Heartbreak with the first page in color! The third tankobon will be coming out on 6/19, and the original novel by Kadono-sensei will also release on the same day.

There are a lot of episodes in the novel that were cut from the manga for reasons such as length, so I hope you can enjoy both versions together!"

Now I'm definitely going to be translating this! Overall, I'm honestly super disappointed with CDDH (50 page essay on that later), but hopefully the novel fixes some of the issues I have with it. On another note, since the novel's official English name is Crazy Heartbreakers, I'm going to be calling it that to distinguish from CDDH.

As for Chapter 16 of the manga, the final chapter should be coming out sometime today or tomorrow! Thanks for your support!

[writingwenches]

MaesterList

summary – In courts through history, all over the world, women played an important part of building the culture *tongue pop* I was inspired by the lack of courtly women in the HOTD universe, so I added a few dozen and the game of thrones began. Instead of a Fix-It Fic approach, I went with a more "explain it" direction regarding the overall plot related to the show.

House of the Dragon Explain-it Universe

Freedom From – Aemond x Peasant OC; Mixed-Race OC; status – ACT ONE complete

summary: Prince Aemond finds himself in the northern Riverlands on a quest to fetch a gift for his sister. The local Peasantry do not believe him a real prince, and enjoys the lack of responsibility…until he learns that one of the peasants will soon be joining him in the Red Keep. series found here

Aemma Velaryion – Rhaenyra's Religious Team Green Daughter; status – more to come!

I started off wanting to write a version of Rhaenyra's daughter that was staunchly Team Green, and I ended up creating a nightmare monster. I love her so much. Part One

Aegon, Aemond, Daeron — teenage brotherly bonding; status: idk lol

Aegon’s new favorite hobby has taken him away from his training, and the punishment calls for a field trip, and the only way for real men to travel is on horseback rip it’s silly, it’s dumb, I hate/love it lol

Original Character Directory

Princess Aemma Velaryon – Rhaenyra's eldest daughter. She is angry, and sad, and everything in between. Currently a ward of Queen Alicent. [aesthetic inspiration – Hozier singing "Take Me to Church" at the Victoria Secret Fashion Show]

Lyn – the main POV character we see the world through. Grew up as a lowborn peasant, in the backwoods of the Riverlands. She is living in a horror story. Have you ever dreamed of being a princess? Of having a family of untold wealth and power? To have everyone in the realm know your name? To truly have everything you've ever wanted? Be careful what you wish for, you might just get it.

She generally has no idea what is going on in this game of thrones. She can not yet read, she grew up thinking the Freys at The Twins were Lord Paramount of the Riverlands. The targtowers/courtly ladies have convinced her that Lord Larys Strong is the father of Rhaenyra’s bastards rip

Team Red

Lady Cinda Lannister – Younger Sister to Lord Jason Lannister, Lady of Coin for the Red Keep, First Lady of Honor to Queen Alicent. Childhood crush of Aemond Targaryen. Her age is described as "almost too old to bare children." Aemond has proposed to her on numerous occasions through his youth (and beyond) and she has refused him every time. (Lady of Coin makes sure the cooks/servants have the coin they need to perform their job, a “lower” job, fit only for a women, because it requires speaking to servants lol)

Lady Cordelia Lannister – Younger niece of Lady Cinda Lannister, by way of an elder brother. Both Cordelia's parents passed when she was younger, as has been living as a ward of Cinda, in the Red Keep, most of her life. She is supposed to be a friend to Princess Aemma, but she finds the princess extremely tiring. She has never had to make a decision for herself, and doesn't know if she will ever be able to. She doesn't want the life planned out for her...but what other choice does she have? Her age is described as "almost too young to bare children."

Team Reach

Lady Ivyanne Tyrell – engaged to Aemond Targaryen on numerous occasions against her will, trapped in the Red Keep, living in a horror story. Aemond Targaryen’s number one hater, a sword lesbian. The only child to Lord and Lady Tyrell, there is a rumor she was caldron made. She would rather die than marry a man, and her parents seem to think removing a few fingers could make her see reason. They were wrong. If she is to die, she will die free. On again, off again with Helaena. What started as a way to annoy her nemesis, Aemond, Ivy sometimes finds herself dreaming of the princess. Ivy believes that Lyn MUST marry Aemond, if she has any hope to be free of him. (Face inspo: masc Kirsten Stewart in a dress)

Lady Oletta Redwyne – the heir to The Arbor, a dragon pit is currently being constructed on the island, mentally engaged to Aegon Targaryen since the age of three, has shaped her entire personality around him, there is no option other than Aegon. There is a small chance she is poising him. (Face inspo: Havana Rose Liu)

Lady Alarie Mullendore – first cousin to Lyn, the fashion influencer of the Seven Kingdoms, runs her own business designing and making dresses for ladies at court. Uses fashion as a backstabbing method. Her hair is big because it’s full of secrets.

Lady Tatsu 🏳️‍⚧️ – A Nobleperson from Nososs, a place ruled by dragon lords long ago, but they all died out. Legendary fighter, “dancing master” to Lady Ivyanne. Living as a trans woman in King’s Landing. Maesters are fascinated by Nososs, but most refuse to speak with her for close-minded reasons. Wants to go home more than anything else in the world, but knows she’ll never be able to (unless…)

more characters coming soon...

Original Location/House Directory

Nososs – geography based on Japan, on the other side of the known world, pre-Dawn society, former dragon lords, noble pilgrims

Tropicos – continent southwest of the Reach, destroyed during Aegon's Conquest, home to strange and hostile terrain, cursed from chemical poisoning, based on where i grew up, more info coming soon.

House Stone – Inspired by Mongolian culture, the Newest House of the Seven Kingdoms, sworn as loyal vessels to House Stark, and named a noble house by King Viserys I Targaryen after their economic rise from the sale of ice.

My requests are always open for original locations/house content! If you want to send geographic or cultural inspiration, I can make an OC house/country based on them~

Old Valyria Original Lore

Vaestal Virgins – Old Valyrian Goddess of Luck, Dragonfire, Virgins and Dragondreams // Inspired by the Vestal Virgins of Ancient city of Rome

[daenrys]

new omitb episode changes everything! spoilers for episode 9 ahead

i have a lot of thoughts i want to put down before the finale in regards to what i think may be the endgame of the season- but i think it’s most interesting to examine the possible outcomes thru the lens of recurring elements throughout the season. our strongest theme of s2 is that of parenthood, specifically fatherhood. charles’s father is intrinsically linked with the past, oliver is grappling with the he fact that he may not be (or, spoilers, is not) the biological father of his own son, and we had an episode where mabel grapples with her past relationship with her father and how that shaped her. we even see this to an extent with some more minor characters- theo and teddy’s relationship is explored a lot, and while this is motherhood not fatherhood, detective williams is a new mother. and of course, lucy is both estranged-ish from her mother and rekindling a relationship with her former stepdad! a LOT of key characters are grappling with a parent/child relationship, which leads me to believe this theme will culminate in the killer’s motivation being directly tied to this. i’m very curious to see how this will conclude in regards to lucy. i think it’s very possible that the killer is possibly the child of rose and charles’s father. and speaking of rose-

the next recurring motif, is that of people not being who they seem. oliver not being will’s father is an easy example, as is of course Rose being rose and NOT bunny’s mother. and finally, again SPOILERS! we learn at the end of episode 9 that poppy is actually becky butler. so, again, i think this motif will conclude in the killer being someone not who they seem.

we have had a lot of clues pointing at different people, and i honestly have no idea what’s going to happen… but i am going to lock in my guess that howard is the killer. i think. listen, i can’t think of any clues hinting at it but i’m not very good with clues- what i am good with, and i am very good at guessing twists because of it, is understanding narrative and so whenever a scene is seemingly in a mystery story for no reason… i get suspicious. the whole romantic subplot with him and episode 8 seems to be functionless; it was sweet, and there was the too-obvious sneeze clue pointing to jonathan, but otherwise it served no real purpose and for that reason i think it’s howard. he also was the one who sent our gang after nina early on, so i don’t think it would be coming out of nowhere. and maybe him talking to the therapist resident about his crush was a scheme somehow, i don’t know. i don’t think it’s cinda, though it isn’t impossible i think that’s a misdirect. she’s a criminal certainly, but i don’t think she’s the killer. anyways, despite me having a guess, i still really have no idea lol. i’m only like 20% confident, i anticipate being surprised! which is exciting.

there are also a lot of elements that i think remain unconcluded, and which i think will either come to a head in the finale next week, or find a way to be included in future seasons- such as Jan’s presence in Charles romantic life, and that Joy woman who was flirty with oliver in a few episodes, but i don’t think either of those will be, like, tied to the mystery. could the sixth avenue slasher come back? it’s not impossible! we simply don’t know!

i am very excited for the finale but sad this season will be over. i don’t watch a ton of tv anymore but this show has such wonderful cozy mystery vibes and tight writing and is just so immersive, i already want season 3! i’m sure my guess will be totally wrong, but i’m also sure whoever it is will be satisfying, and i am excited to find out!!!

[night-bluesky]

OK OK OK I HAVE QUESTIONS™️ ON THE FINALE

Spoilers ahead!

(Duh)

Who left the note on Jans door?

Who texted our main guys?

Did Mabel get a text too?

How did Cinda end up there with recording equipment? That’s literally so suspicious that she was there before police.

Some of the fans literally smiled at the trio??? Hello?? They literally just got accused of murder???

Speaking of, Oscar didn’t really look too shocked. Why?

Why was Bunny wearing omitb merch?

Why was she stabbed with a knitting needle? I’m pretty sure Mabels choice of weapon wasn’t well known.

And most importantly, who was Jan’s first kill because Tim Kono certain wasn’t.

[witch-hazels-musings]

🌸 Hey Hazel, question time. What are your favourite works of literature, and would you say they have influenced how you yourself write?

(also as I sit here, at the time of day where the shop is quiet and there's no workload, your blog is a blessing honestly) 🌸

hey love! 

wow you always ask such insightful questions, mmm -

so i’d say that two of the biggest influencers of my writing are J.R.R. Tolkien (he describes scenery so well T.T), and Edgar Rice Burroughs (his sentence structure really speaks to me) 

I would say they influenced me the most and I draw a lot of inspiration in my writing style from ERB while my love for scenery description and descriptive narrative because of Tolkien 

some of my all time favorite works of literature are:

“Lanval” by Marie de France

“Nightfall” by Isaac Asimov

The Seven Realms Series by Cinda Williams Chima (so many of her books actually) 

a loooot of manga lol 

(my sister is more of the reader - once i got into video games my book reading died down lol) 

[sweetteaanddragons]

The Warrior Heir

When writing a crossover with another fandom, it is generally a good idea to pick a fandom that people are reasonably familiar with.

I decided to throw that right out the window because I really wanted to write this, and when it comes to fan fiction, that’s reason enough, even if this turns out to be of interest solely to myself.

So! This is a crossover that puts the characters of The Silmarillion in the world of The Wizard Heir by Cinda Williams Chima. If you haven’t read that, and still want to read this, here’s what you need to know:

There are two kinds of people: The Weir, who have magic, and the Anaweir, who don’t, and who generally have no idea that the Weir exist.

The Weir can be divided into five categories:

Wizards, who are far more powerful than all the rest of the Weir, and who thus, in the true spirit of the more cynical side of human history, seized control and immediately began using the other Weir as slaves. They are divided into two political factions - The Red Rose and the White Rose.

Sorcerers, who create powerful magic artifacts.

Seers, who can see the future, which is theoretically great, except they’re almost always really bad at it.

Enchanters! Who are unnaturally beautiful, unnaturally appealing, and unnaturally persuasive.

And warriors, who arguably get the worst end of the lot, because they can do cool stuff like fight inhumanly well and throw around fireballs and gusts of wind, but they ALSO get thrown into huge gladiator battles to the death until this whole subset of Weir is almost extinct because wizards decided proxy fights were a better way to handle things than huge wars that threatened to destroy the continent. 

If both your parents are a wizard, and all their parents were wizards as far back as anyone can remember, you will certainly be a wizard. If your dad’s a wizard, and your mom’s an enchanter, it’s a coin flip what you’ll turn out to be, and so on.

Now, for anyone who hasn’t stopped reading yet: On to the actual story!

Finwe is a wizard from a long line of wizards. He’s highly positioned among the White Rose party and widely feared for his power. Miriel is - not. 

To be specific, Miriel is a sorcerer. A sorcerer of remarkable power, certainly, but a sorcerer nonetheless. 

That Finwe would dally with her is nothing exceptional; that he married her is scandalous. 

Officially, she dies in childbirth. Unofficially, most people are certain that someone in Finwe’s own party poisoned her just to end the embarrassment. 

If the child had been a wizard, that would have mostly been the end of it, save of course for the gossip. A tidbit this juicy wouldn’t be forgotten for centuries. 

Feanor is not a wizard. He is a sorcerer like his mother, and Finwe still stubbornly refuses to do the sensible thing and get rid of him, either through the Trade or through . . . quieter means. 

Instead, he keeps the child and protects him as vigilantly as a dragon guarding his last remaining treasure. Attempts to convince him otherwise slowly taper off for two reasons: 

One, Finwe remains a wizard of remarkable power, and while his temper is slower than many wizards, once it is roused, he makes a terrifying enemy. 

And two, because keeping Feanor turns out not to be such a terrible investment after all. Feanor is a prodigy. 

Once, a long time ago, all sorcerers had possessed remarkable talent. These days, most are reduced to creating cheap trinkets. 

 Feanor creates items that seem more befitting a legend, and he doesn’t stop doing it. The Silmarils may gain the most fame, but nothing he makes can be dismissed. 

All of these, of course, are given directly to his father, whose armory is starting to look almost as impressive as his native power. 

People stop wondering what Finwe was thinking and start wondering how he knew this was going to happen. 

(Finwe didn’t know. Finwe doesn’t particularly care, except for the fact that people have stopped trying to kill his son. Now they keep trying to kidnap him which is not exactly good, but it’s at least marginally better.) 

Feanor knows exactly how much scorn his father endured for his sake, and he is fiercely, entirely devoted to him. He can’t imagine anything his father could do that he wouldn’t support with all of his being. 

He thinks this right up until his father decides to remarry. 

Indis is beautiful, gracious, and charming. 

She is also a wizard from a lineage even more impeccable than his father’s. 

Feanor hates her with every ounce of his being. 

She’s always very kind to him, but Feanor knows better than to trust that. Lots of people are kind to him. Almost all of them want something from his father, and Indis wants the biggest prize of all. 

But his father marries her despite his protests, and Feanor is careful to walk warily around her after that. 

(He will not eat if Indis gets to the table first. He does not trust food that has been left under her hands unguarded.)

 In a last ditch effort to stop the wedding, he’d gone to consult the best Seer he could find. If she could see something terrible - if she could convince his father - 

Nerdanel can see nothing but vague trouble, and there is always trouble. That will not be enough to convince his father. But he is fascinated by the stones she casts. They are intricately carved, and she confesses that she made them herself. Feanor works more with metal than stone, but he is questioning that decision now, and he returns to her again and again. 

Admittedly, it is not due entirely to his interest in her stonework. 

Nerdanel is hesitant to marry him. She does not want to come more to the attention of the wizards than she already is, but Feanor convinces her that his father can protect her. 

They discover Nerdanel is with child shortly before Indis announces she is also.

Feanor is ecstatic that he has a child on the way. He is also terrified. 

What if his father loves him less now that he has a proper, wizarding child on the way? What if his father cannot protect his child?

 What will his child be?

 Maitimo, it turns out, is a wizard. 

Feanor doesn’t know whether to cheer or scream. Finwe is delighted, and his delight is both welcome and painful. Indis’s congratulations are both entirely sincere and rather insulting. Nolofinwe, of course, is also a wizard, but there was never any doubt about that. 

His son is going to outlive him. His son is going to join the caste of the most vicious, backstabbing, brutal people he knows, excepting, of course, his father. 

His son is going to be safe. 

When Nerdanel gets pregnant again, he doesn’t know what to hope for. Another wizard, forever safe from being sold into torment? A sorcerer he can teach everything to? A seer that, so long as he is not too powerful, might be safely ignored? 

Makalaure, it turns out, is an enchanter. 

Feanor hadn’t even known that was on the table. Nerdanel seems bewildered by his confusion. 

“It’s not like my people were all seers,” she says. “My mother always told me that my father was a sorcerer. I suppose one of his parents might have been an enchanter.” 

She does not speak of what happened to her father. Feanor knows better than to press. 

An enchanter is - Well, an enchanter is the opposite of safe. They are the second most sought after prey for the trade, and what they are used for when they are caught does not bear imagining. 

“You will have to protect your brother,” he tells Maitimo every night, even though his eldest is still too young to properly understand. “You have to.”

Maitimo always nods with solemnity beyond his years, and Feanor can only pray he remembers this. 

He isn’t sure if he’s just imagining the speculative look in Indis’s eyes when she looks at the baby. 

The third time Nerdanel gets pregnant he hopes desperately it is not another enchanter. He loves Makalaure - loves him desperately, and he wouldn’t change him for the world, but he wishes desperately he could change the world for Makalaure. If he has to feel this way on behalf of two children, he thinks he will explode. 

Their third son is not an enchanter. 

He’s a warrior. 

The second Feanor knows, bone deep horror sinks into him. Nerdanel is clutching the baby like someone is already trying to rip him out of her hands to dump him onto the killing fields. 

For a desperate, mindless, moment, Feanor sincerely considers killing the midwife. She is the only one who knows. If they can hide this - 

But there is no hiding this. Not for long. 

Feanor does not kill the midwife. Instead, he pours gold into her hands and begs her to keep it quiet, just for the night. 

It will hold her for now. It will not hold her long. 

He trusts his father. He does. 

He does not trust that his father will be able to hold back the entirety of the White Rose, which has grown increasingly more desperate for warriors. 

By morning, he suspects the midwife will have broken her promise. 

By morning, Feanor and all his family are long gone.