#i just love how there are so many tripes that have been done SO MANY TIMES in this fandom

[class-1b-bull]

Got any hcs of these goofy goobers embarrassing themselves in front of their class?

Not proofread we die like men

Awase - ive mentioned before that awase triped and fell down a staircase in front of komori but what i didnt mention is he has actually done this multiple times in front of different classmates (all on accident)

Sen - i think if he did do something embarrassing in public hed be the type to act like he ment to do it. And everyone just plays along. (Him falling face first into a thorn bush was strategic)

Kamakiri - when he was walking out of class too fast his school jacket got caught on something. He struggled to get it off without ripping the jacket for a few minutes before he just took off his jacket and left without it

Kuroiro - he keeps to himself because every time he opens his mouth there is a good chance he will say something embarrassing as hell. He has no filter when it comes to things like that lmao

Kendo - she once went to school with a really bad cold and ended up sleeping through most of her classes. It wouldn't have been that bad if she didn't scold rin for comming to class when he was sick the day before...

Kodai - if she did something embarrassing it would probably be small and simple like stumbling over her own feet or almost knocking something over or something like that.

Komori - she tried to show some of the girls an outfit she was working on but when they walked into her dorm room to see it on the mannequin, it fell apart completely because it wasn't secure enough. It was embarrassing because of how highly she spoke of her faulty dress

Shiozaki - there is no way she hasent gotten her hair tangled with something. Ya know when youre headphone wire gets caught on a door handle and it sends you flying backwards? She has done that with her hair more times than I can count.

Shishida - one time in chemistry class he mixed the wrong chemicals and made a massive explosion that made everyone in the school have to evacuate. (Only his lab partner knew it was him that did it and he wants things to stay that way.)

Shoda - every time he opens his mouth when talking to someone new he embarrasses himself. He will trip over his own words, say things he didnt mean to say and overall just word things terribly when meeting someone for the first time. (Its kinda sad to watch honestly)

Pony - as much as I love her she isn't the brightest, but she is confident. She has confidently shouted a completely wrong answer in class multiple times. It wouldent be that bad if she was only a little off but she has genuinely said that 27 was an answer to a history question.

Tsubaraba - he does so many embarrassing things in front of his class everyday so its impossible to list them all. Of of the classes personal favorites though is when he bit into a cattail (the water weed) and learned the seeds expand rapidly when touched the hard way.

Tetsutetsu - it was embarrassing for him to trip and fall flat on his face while running to class but it was even more embarrassing for him to start doing push ups to 'play it off' while his nose was bleeding.

Tokage - shes overall a pretty confident person, especially when she speaks. She was even confident when she horribly mispronounced a common word when talking with her classmates.

Manga - ya know that meme of the burger king employee doing the fnaf dance but getting cut off because someone walked it? Its essentially that. He was doing something stupid and embarrassing cuz he thought he was alone but when he turned around he saw some of his classmates just staring at him

Honenuki - he wasent embarrassed about falling asleep in class but he was embarrassed about the insane ammounts of drool that got all over his desk and himself

Bondo - i like to imagine he has an embarrassing laugh/ scream or something like that. Like his scream is hella high pitched compared to his deeper voice or when he laughs he snorts a lot or smthn like that. (Another reason hes so reserved is to avoid laughing/ screaming)

Monoma - he is a walking talking embarrassment for everyone around him yet he himself can not get embarrassed. No matter what he does I dont think he can get embarrassed (its kinda impressive honestly) however when he does something embarrassing (like the multiple times he teases class A) its always the rest of the class that suffers.

Reiko - ive mentioned that she uses her quirk to scare her classmates every now and then but she had to stop when she accidentally sent an object flying straight into vlad kings face. She was pretty embarrassed (especially since manga and Monoma couldn't stop snickering)

Rin - during the colder months he has to bring multiple jackets to class. When he doesn't he has to rely on his classmates waking him up from his hibernation every 5 minutes (which monoma and the others obviously tease him about, making the embarrassment a little worse)

Gif anime - neon genesis evangelion

[hattafan2593]

Helluva Boss: The Circus - Alternate Ending

So I noticed that a lot of people really don't like the way Stella is characterized in Season 2. I personally have no problem with her characterization - sometimes people are just assholes. No tragic backstory. No motive. And honestly, she's just so cartoonishly evil that I can't help but love to hate her. That said, I do see where people are coming from, and it does kind of downplay some of Stolas' flaws and portrays him more sympathetically than he actually is. While I do believe Stolas is sympathetic, and I want him to improve and grow as a person, it doesn't change the fact that his relationship with Blitzo is still mega toxic, that Stolas is a member of a privileged class with little knowledge or empathy for those below him, or that he spent the entire first season doing as he pleased with little to no regard for how his actions affected those around him, including his own family.

So, without further ado, here's my attempt at a more nuanced look at Stella and Stolas' relationship, via an alternate ending to Season 2, Episode 1 - The Circus. Enjoy.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

STELLA: The fuck are you doing?

STOLAS: Reflecting.

STELLA: Well, keep it down. Via's in her room, and I suspect she's trying to sleep. (Turns to walk back inside)

STOLAS: ...Why are you still here?

STELLA: (Stops, irritated) What?

STOLAS: Why are you still here? You leave with Via on weekends but then stay around the house despite everything.

STELLA: I live here, too, Stolas, last I checked. And unlike some people, I don't run away from my responsibilities.

STOLAS: Oh yes, I can see just how busy you've been. Between the shopping trips and gossiping with your girlfriends. Truly, how do you find the time to even breathe?

(Stella stomps over to Stolas, shoving a finger in his face)

STELLA: You have some fucking gall, speaking to me like that! After what you did-

STOLAS: I KNOW WHAT I DID!

(Stella steps back, stunned. Stolas runs a hand over his face.)

STOLAS: I would feel bad if I had hurt you, but we both know I didn't do that!

STELLA: You dare-

STOLAS: Oh, come on, Stella! There was never any love between us! You and I were arranged for one reason - to birth a precautionary heir to the Goetia family, nothing more!

STELLA: Yes, Stolas. I am perfectly aware of my status as a brood mare, thank you for reminding me.

STOLAS: (sighs) I tried, Stella. I know I was and am far from perfect but I did try, for so many years. To make things comfortable for us, to have this family, but it was never enough.

(Stella rolls her eyes and shakes her head. Stolas continues.)

STOLAS: The only reason I have endured your constant insults and cruelty is so that girl can have a normal life!

(Stella starts cackling)

STOLAS: What is so funny?

STELLA: Cruelty? You think what I've done is cruelty?

(Stolas puffs up in indignation, but starts backing away as Stella stomps up to him, getting in his face.)

STELLA: You spoiled, overgrown child! You don't know what cruelty is! And what's this tripe about "a normal life?" Normal? By Satan, have you always been this delusional?!

(Stella steps back, throws out her arms for emphasis.)

STELLA: Newsflash, husband! Octavia is a Goetia! She is never going to have a normal life! No matter how she acts or how she dresses, she will always have royal blood in her veins! Nothing you or I do will ever change that, and the denizens of Hell are certainly not going to let her forget it! Especially not after this latest spectacle of yours!

(Stolas' face becomes horrified - his eyes turn to pinpricks)

STOLAS: ...what?

STELLA: (exasperated) You were seen publicly, Stolas! In a goddamned sex club, with an imp! Did you really think word wouldn't spread?! (puts her hands on her hips) And who do you think has had to deal with the fallout of your little dalliances? Who do you think has to deal with the gossip, the rumors, the contempt? Here's a hint - it's not you!

(Stolas flinches back slightly.)

STELLA: (shaking her head, bitterly) Men like you and my brother are all the same. You do as you please with no thought or care to how your actions affect others. And meanwhile, women like me have to deal with fake sympathy and speculation from the masses over how we are such failures as wives that our husband find the company of peasants more appealing.

(Stolas is stunned silent. Stella turns away from him, her arms folded.)

STELLA: I don't expect you to love me, Stolas. Or even like me. But whether you like it or not, we are married. And at the bare minimum, I expect some modicum of respect as your wife.

(Stolas turns aways, gripping his arm. His face is full of guilt. But then he turns back, his face becoming blank.)

STOLAS: Respect goes both ways, Stella. And you'll have to forgive me if I can't respect someone who publically shames my performance in bed, or tries to have me assassinated, right in front of our child.

STELLA: Oh please, she had her headphones on. And it's not like it even worked. You're still here aren't you?

STOLAS: (bitterly) Sorry to disappoint you.

(Bitter silence.)

STOLAS: (sigh) ...Look, this...this isn't working. I cannot do this anymore.

STELLA: Meaning what?

STOLAS: I want a divorce. I do not want to be married to you anymore. I want out.

STELLA: (laughs bitterly) Of course. You realize that the Goetia family will not take this lying down? Andrealphus especially-

STOLAS: I don't care what your arrogant brother thinks.

STELLA: That much is obvious.

STOLAS: And as far as the Goetia are concerned, the only thing they care about is already 17.

STELLA: ...So that's it. We're done.

STOLAS: Yes. We're done.

STELLA: (deep breath) Fine. It's late. I will sleep in the guest room, and then we will both explain things to Octavia in the morning.

STOLAS: (nodding) That's fair.

(Stella turns to leave)

STOLAS: Stella...for what it's worth-

STELLA: Save it. The words of a traitorous embarrassment are worth nothing. You've fallen from what little grace you had. And I know you'll pay for it. You and that little plaything of yours.

STOLAS: Leave him out of this!

(Stella keeps walking.)

STOLAS: Stella! I mean it! Hate me if you must, but I will not let you threaten-

STELLA: It's not a threat, it's a fact. (turns around) You have made him part of this little game of yours. You have dragged him into the spotlight, Stolas. And sooner or later, he will be eaten alive.

(Stolas staggers back, his face a mask of rage and shock.)

STELLA: (suddenly very tired) I don't pretend to understand your feelings for that imp, but if you truly care for him at all...you will let him go.

(As Stella goes inside, Stolas' fist shake with rage and become sheathed in his magic. He turns, roaring, and slams his magic covered fist down on the balcony railing, causing it to crack and crumble slightly. Stolas then collapses on the ground, weeping.)

(Cut to Stella walking down a hallway. Her eyes are in shadow as her mouth contorts, a single tear forming and threatening to fall. Stella furiously scrubs it away, then straightens, her face a mask of cold regality. She continues down the hall.)

(End.)

[hummiscellanea]

lore post!!

infodumping under the cut

So Concorde (brooding one on the right) and Albu (left) live in this place called Hesti. (Or more specifically, they live in an outpost in the middle of nowhere on the farthest border of Hesti.) This post is about Hesti's economy. And I'm not talking about stock prices or gross domestic product; I mean economy in its most basic anthropological form: how food is acquired and distributed to a culture.

Hesti, climatically, geographically, in some ways socially, is a lot like Italy. But Hesti's shared dragon and human population makes things interesting. And by interesting I of course mean difficult.

How do you feed two hungry populations with limited land? Creatively. And with lots of olive oil.

Humans are omnivores, but I'm going to assume that you know what humans eat already. Hesti dragons are also omnivores, but, like dogs and cats, prefer meat. The problem is that meat is way too expensive to eat it exclusively. Not even the richest of noble families can afford to have a full portion of meat for every meal. The reason is that raising livestock requires a lot of land and a lot of feed. The math just doesn't work out; there's too much demand and not enough resources. Hesti has come up with many solutions to this problem.

First of all, they limit meat. Except for the most important religious festival days, they never eat a whole portion of meat cooked by itself. The meat is stretched out as far as it can go, lasting for multiple meals, thinned out with grain and starches. Stew is a very common way to do this. Sometimes the meat is "diluted" so much that it's more like a savory flavoring than anything. In Hesti, they never waste the meat. They'll use the good parts, obviously, but also the tripe/organs; they carefully preserve the leftover fat and grease (which they'll later use how we might use lard or butter); use the bones (to get at the marrow and also to make bone broth); they'll cook as much as they can along with the meat to transfer the meat flavor over; they will make broth. Sometimes, they will instead cook the meat, cut it into very thin slices/strips, and coat it liberally in salt, which acts as a preservative. The result resembles jerky and can be useful for journeys.

(If acquiring meat is this difficult an endeavor for dragons, it's nigh-impossible for humans. Beef is a lost cause, though humans can reliably manage to get chicken. The main thing they do is not to purchase meat at a market, but to hunt small game. Often, this requires the local noble's permission if she owns the forest.)

Second, they supplement. Grain is the main way: just as grain is a staple crop for humans, so it is for dragons in Hesti. They use flour for a wide variety of purposes, including as a thickening agent and to make bread. Both dragons and humans eat a lot of bread. The dragons don't really like bread very much, but they eat a lot of it. They make bread more palatable by dipping it in soup/broth, putting lard on it, or by drowning it in olive oil.

Those living near the coast (which is most of the Hesti population) will also eat fish, which they consider inferior to land-based meat. Fishing is a pretty big industry. Things like shellfish, oysters, freshwater fish, etc. are generally ignored by dragons, though humans eat them.

Eggs are an important part of their diet. Poultry is great, of course, but they found that they could get a lot more out of a hen by keeping it alive (and collecting its eggs) than by immediately slaughtering it. Chicken coops are everywhere in Hesti, from large egg-harvesting businesses to the backyards of peasant families. If there's a way to prepare and serve an egg, it's been done in Hesti. Most recipes involve at least one egg. They are inescapable.

Fruits and vegetables are also a part of their diet, and goes as you would expect. They do also ferment their fruits: their favorite is fermented grapes. They love their wine, and they make plenty of it. Hesti's countryside is well-endowed with vineyards.

One thing Hesti dragons won't consume is dairy. Since they're not mammals, they're lactose intolerant. While the human population loves their milk, cheese, and cream, the dragons find it all off-putting.

[lunnybunny12]

Sandor Clegane X reader (Rory)

MODERN AU

A/N: This is a modern AU based off of this headcanon. 

Word count: 2036

Warnings: Swearing, alcohol, mentions of death

Master List

As an Infantry Soldier, Sandor served in the field, working to defend his country against any threats on the ground. He'd capture, destroy, and deter enemy forces, assist in reconnaissance, and help mobilize troops and weaponry to support the mission as the ground combat force. He'd seen good people get murdered, shot, hanged, killed. People with families to get back to and friends who would miss them. Sandor had neither, and yet he was allowed to return.

He took a large gulp of his drink and looked at his surroundings. Sandor had been to the bar many times before and the familiar hum of other patrons as they'd pull frothing glasses of beer to their lips was there like always. He heard the occasional clicks from the back where the pool-tables were placed. The smell of alcohol, snow and pine-scented air freshener drifted through the air as you dragged a damp rag across the bar.

"Oi Barkeep. Beer." Sandor called, fiddling some change from his pocket.

"Keys first, Dogface. Then you can drink," You retorted, not moving from your place at the bar. (Dogface- A nick-name for Infantrymen because they sleep in "Pup-tents" and hide in "dugouts")

Sandor sighed in annoyance and paused to look at you. It hadn't been the first time you had told him this, he never understood why but he knew full well that you weren't joking with him.

"Again?"

"Yes, again. now hand them over."

He begrudgingly did as he was told and slid the car keys across the bar, avoiding your outstretched hand completely. You snatched them away and placed them in your pocket, with a fake glare.

"Good boy. They'll be in the same place when you come to pick them up tomorrow." You said popping of the cap of a beer and sliding it towards him and going back to cleaning the bar.

"You're lucky you're one of the few people I can stand in this town" He grumbled.

"Oh I feel so honoured" you joked and rolled your eyes.

Since there were other customers to attend to you couldn't talk long, but it's not like he'd say much to you anyway. The community he had found himself in was quite tight-knit. Everyone knew everyone and it was tricky to not run into someone who had something to talk about. Sandor however was a very quiet individual who often kept to himself making him stand out to many of the residents.

As the night continued and other staff started their shifts, Sandor found himself looking at you from time to time. He watched you collect glasses, chat to customers, tell jokes and take orders. He found himself doing it allot recently and he didn't understand why. At some points, he had even begun te eavesdrop on your conversations since he had nothing better to do.

"Ah (y/n) hows Rory? Heard the lad had an accident" A customer asked as you took their order.

Sandor's ears pricked up. He'd never heard of a Rory before at least not from you, and from what he knew there wasn't a Rory in the village.

"Yeah, the silly thing fell down the stairs and hurt his leg. He's upstairs having a lie-down. he should be up and about in a few days though," You chuckled.

You had changed so much since he was dragged off to the army. You weren't a crazy teenager anymore but a grown woman, with a proper paying job and a life outside of work. Yet you were still the same when it came to your personality: humerus, silly, carefree, cheerful and stupid... my god were you stupid, you had to have been to be his friend.

"Right, consider me.. clocked out" You smiled to yourself and looked at Sandor.

"Why do you need to clock out? You own the bloody place." Sandor said.

"Yes, but its this new fangled technology thing that Mr Ray insisted I use, and you know what he's like. 'His town his rules.' Plus it helps me keep tabs on whos working."

"At least you understand half of the tripe you just said." Sandor joked taking another sip of his drink.

You rolled your eyes and patted his shoulder as you headed towards the door. "Goodnight everyone!" You yelled earning a cheer of goodnights.

Everything was different when Sandor went away. One day he was there and the next he wasn't, no warning, just a letter that said that he had been accepted into the army and to not expect him back for a long time, that was if he came back at all.

When he did eventually return he had also changed. His personality remained the same, as you expected but he had changed physically. He was taller, broader and stronger and his hair had been cut making his burn a more prominent feature.

If it was up to you, you would've stayed away from him but since yours was the only bar in town, he would come for a drink. Out of politeness you talked to him and sent the occasional harmless jab his way and in return he was civil. You were still angry that he hadn't said goodbye but you still cared, you must have done to take his keys.

It was misty that morning. All mornings were misty since the Autumn season rolled around. You loved Autumn. You loved the feeling of the wind rushing past your face and how the leaves crunched beneath your boots. Your favourite place to walk was at the park and since Rory had stopped limping around your apartment, you thought the park was a good idea.

Rory was a large thing. The hound was easily half your height when stood on all fours and towered above you when on his hind. In his youth, he would have been jet black and full of energy but as he aged, the fur around his snout and paws had dimmed to a light grey and he had mellowed out.

As you walked along the wet grass a sudden yelp bit through the air.

"Someone get their fucking dog!"

You immediately ran to the voice to see Sandor, on the ground with your dog licking his face.

"Rory! come here. You silly thing" you laughed as you latched the lead onto the dog's collar and pulled him away from Sandor.

The man looked awful. His hair was a mess and he was covered in dirt. The shirt he wore was the same as the day prior and he seemed half asleep.

"Were you sleeping in the bush?"

"Oh yes, I'm fine thanks for asking" Sandor huffed as he pulled himself off of the grass.

He was in a mood and in all honesty, you would be too if you were sleeping in a bush.

"What kind of dog is that? Looks like a living mop"

"He's a wolfhound and I can guarantee he's cleaner than you."

"Well, you try and stay clean when you've been sleeping in the park for 5 days," Sandor growled, dusting off some leaves from his pants.

"5 days?" you asked. "You've been sleeping here for 5 DAYS! What happened to your apartment?"

"No money to pay for an apartment."

"What about your job?"

"Why do you care?" Sandor asked, bending down to grab the blanket that was hidden in the shrubbery. He was about to walk away until you stood in front of him with a serious look.

"I care because we were friends once and I'll be dumbed if I let my friend sleep in the cold. So I will ask again... What about your job?"

The look Sandor gave you wasn't out of shock or surprise. It was a look of familiarity. A look of relaxed friendliness that you hadn't seen since before he left.

Sandor sighed and scratched his neck. " My job fired me a few weeks ago. Said that 'I have talents that could be useful elsewhere.'"

"They fired you without reason?"

"I stacked boxes (Y/n) and that's all I did."

"Load of cunts," you sighed. "Right you're coming home with me, you're gonna get a shower and we can talk about a job later."

"I didn't ask for your help."

"No, but you're getting it anyway. Follow me Dogface."

A month had passed since then and things once again changed.

You gave Sandor a job at the bar more suited to his skillset and became the security. The town was a tourist hotspot in the summer months and you would get the occasional rowdy bunch that you nor the rest of the residents liked to deal with. In the other months, Sandor would just hang around, help with any shipments that required heavy lifting and occasionally cover for a staff member. Since you couldn't have him sleeping in his car or in a bush you gave him the spare room in your apartment and when he could afford it he insisted on paying rent and wouldnt take no for an answer.

One day when Sandor came back from his shift, he was met with you, laying on the couch with Rory draped over you with his head on your chest. Rory had done this more than once and you thought it was adorable, whether it was to protect you or because he was cold you didn't know but it was adorable just the same.

"You look comfortable," Sandor said slipping off his shoes at the door.

"Oh, I am. Very much so. I was in the mood for cuddles and since you weren't here Rory stepped up" you joked, petting the sleeping dog.

At the corner of your eye, you saw Sandor's demeanour change. He straightened his posture and took a sharp breath in.

"You alright?

"I'm fine. move your legs." Sandor said sitting on the couch beside you as he leaned to grab the tv remote.

He had been doing that a lot. Whenever you joked about ding something a couple would do, he would shy away or close himself off and to be honest you were only half-joking. It why you were so upset when he left without a word of warning. You liked him but if he liked you was a different story.

"You jealous?" You asked

"Jealous?" Sandor chuffed. "Of Rory? Nah. You wouldn't go for an old dog like him"

"I like old dogs. They have more charm and personality than the younger ones." You answered as you ran your fingers through Rory's fur and kissed him on the head.

Sandor sighed and continued to look at the TV. He looked so handsome to you, he always did. Sure he was rough around the edges but its what drew you to him in the first place.

"I like you too, you know."

"What?" Sandor laughed and looked a you. He thought you were joking like you usually did but by the look on your face, you weren't.

By that point Rory had jumped off of the couch to get some water, allowing you to sit properly.

"I like you, Dogface."

"In what way?"

"In a romantic way... since before you left" a second of silence cut between you when you started laughing at yourself. Like a real laugh. "I don't know why I'm telling you this, it's not like you feel the same anyways."

"How do you know I don't like ya?"

"Look at me, Sandor. The only men in my life  are you, the customers and my dog, I'm not exactly a noble-born am I? Just a daft bar made"

You stood up and walked to the fridge to grab a few beers.

"I like a daft bar made. They're way more entertaining than the smart ones."

"Very funny" you said handing him a bottle and sitting back on the couch with a huff.

"I also like my bar made: brave, and strong, and funny. With... a nice dog and a home of her own. Look, I like you too. I like being around you. I...I like your face."

You laughed and shuffled closer to him and leant your head on his shoulder.

"Cute" you mumbled and leant up to kiss his cheek. " I like your face too"

[thegoldendemon]

@warwaged - Irelia

     Ah, the Blossom Festival.

    How many years has it been since it was moved from Zhyun?

    Navori yabak gelée is frankly tasteless compared to a proper bone broth from outside Kaijn City, but he digresses. There are lanterns everywhere to celebrate the incoming equinox, where many believe the spirits of flowering plants wake from winter’s hibernation to dance and sing and in our world, bloom. The Placidium is aglow tonight, but there are signs of concern amidst the revelry, if you care to look. As though some are bracing for something, but for what?

    Khada Jhin is here.

    “Yagami! Not a sight for sore eyes! Finally decided it’s warm enough to come out of hiding, did you?” exclaims someone who is certain Jhin knows their name and might even consider them a colleague, but on either account doesn’t. “The Blossom Festival is going to be lovely this year.”

    They are correct in that assessment, at least. Jhin says sparingly, “Of that, I have little doubt. No news from the borderlands?”

    “What can I say? The vastaya are hardened. They’ll let me paint them, true, and maybe exchange some clay pots, but that last attack by the Order of Shadows has the whole area on edge. I had arrows pointed at me just last month, you know.”

    Shame, laments Jhin. I wouldn’t have missed.

    Thankfully the not-colleague has their eyes torn away from them by the sight of a rather prodigious woman, to who they then depart from Jhin with a pat on the back—he disguises his disgust at having been touched excellently—to heckle, hopefully for the rest of the evening. He’s left with a bottle of Ionian spirits the label of which he doesn’t care to read before having told a lantern lighter to keep it as he trudges onward to the Meeting of Winds.

    He’s not here for any of these people, after all. He’s here for her. The Captain of the Guard.

    Xan Irelia.

    The Golden Demon appears to have become something of a renewed talking point in peacetime Ionia, much to Jhin’s amusement. His benefactors have helpfully informed him that they have heard that conventions on the matter of himself are now going all the way to the Placidium, the Guard included. Though Ionia has greatly changed since what it was before Noxus, the failings of polite society are eternal—if the Golden Demon won’t work in their image of Ionia, then he must be dealt with. Potentially permanently.

    Oh, but Khada Jhin’s just shaking in his boots.

    That’s the problem with these pompadours and politicians. Jhin accepts his benefactors because they engender chaos, and chaos engenders drama. Art cannot exist without drama. If the Brotherhood had their way, they’d use Jhin as a cudgel against their enemies until he was done with the task, because Jhin never leaves a good work unfinished. Then they’d seek to dispose of him before anyone would know the truth of who might consort with the Golden Demon so willingly. Tripe!

    Then again, they must have rather smart when he had sent their messenger back to them with more heads than legs.

    Jhin is at the Meeting of Winds now and he spots her, speaking to another guardsman before the latter is sent off. If it’s true that the Captain of the Guard has agreed to try and find the Golden Demon for the Placidium court, then far be it from Khada Jhin to not give her the show of a lifetime.

    He smiles.

    “Xan Irelia,” greets Jhin, stopping to the side of her. “Yagami Hiro. You may remember me when the court had me paint the inside murals. You were much to busy for a chat, I recall. Busy work ahead of you still?” He indicates the leaving guardsman, before slipping his hand into his tunic.

    Inside, silver. Rife for a blade. But there’s no need for that, just yet.

    “Dealing with the court on a daily basis must be excruciating. I could never. Had enough trouble dealing with their unwanted ‘suggestions’ behind my back while I was working then. I wasn’t able to ask—did you enjoy the mural?”

    It was all faces.

    “Despite all the bothering, I do think highly of it.”

[mamabearcatfanfics]

A little Christmas Elf told me there was a delay on @lavendertwilight89‘s IYBC Secret Santa gift, so I decided to write just a little something. She already has the whole fic, but I’ll be releasing it here on tumblr in two parts. Just a little something soft and sweet, partially inspired by something that happened between myself and my husband when we were only just together and still working each other out, and also by one of her chosen prompts. So, without further ado, here’s Part One of Song and Dance Man.

Or read the entire story on AO3

🎵

Inuyasha walked out of his small kitchen, carrying a large mug of hot chocolate with extra marshmallows and a plate of chocolate chip cookies on a tray. He put it down on the coffee table in front of his girlfriend, stooping to drop a kiss on the top of her head, then snorted as she tried to nudge him aside so she could see the show she was currently watching. He didn’t know which one it was – they all seemed to blend into one another, and he did his best to block out the singing. Why was there always singing?

“Another one?” he teased, blocking her view even more. “You mean you haven’t watched every single musical on Netflix already? What’s this one called?”

“Singing in the Rain”, Kagome said testily. “And it doesn’t matter how many times I watch them, they make me feel better”, she said, trying to lean sideways. “C’mon, Inuyasha, move!”

Finally relenting at the pouting face looking up at him, he moved out of the way.

“Alright little storm cloud, you win.”

Kagome huffed at him, and he chuckled at her as he walked over to his desk, and picked up his headphones, grateful that the swelling crescendo of violins would soon be drowned out by the much more soothing sounds of screaming and gunfire from his paused game. He glanced back over to the TV as he sat down in front of his monitor.

“That guy looks constipated”, he commented. “How do you even watch this tripe?”

Kagome turned to glare at him over the back of the sofa, a cushion hugged to her stomach to help keep the hot water bottle in place.

“This is not tripe, and Don isn’t constipated!” she hissed. “He’s feeling! He’s in love with Kathy, but he has to act like he’s in love with Lina on screen”.

“That doesn’t mean he needs to torture me by singing and dancing about it”, Inuyasha muttered. “How are you meant to take any of this seriously, when they suddenly just burst into song about their innermost feelings? It’s utterly ridiculous. I don’t get how you can love musicals so much.”

“Is that what you really think?” she said quietly, the tone of her voice sounding brittle in comparison to the cheerful music playing in the background.

Inuyasha lowered his headphones, ears suddenly twitching with trepidation. He wasn’t always the best at reading a room, but he could definitely feel the tension in this one.

Their relationship was only new, but already Kagome seemed like a permanent fixture in his life. She was bubbly and kind, her tiny frame usually draped in the brightest coloured clothing she could find, and she always seemed to be singing or laughing. She reminded him sometimes of a sweet little canary, his own bright eyed and inquisitive songbird, with her happy go lucky mentality and readiness to try new things. She was everything he wasn’t.

They’d only met by chance, both of them stuck waiting in the Emergency Room at the local hospital, him waiting for his friend Miroku to get patched up after coming off his bike, and her waiting to get her wrist x-rayed after an accident with a set at the theatre where she worked. They’d chatted, or rather Kagome had, and he’d watched her, somehow mesmerised by this tiny human that was unruffled by his obviously hanyou features.

When Sango had appeared to pick up her bruised and scraped boyfriend, he’d decided to stay with Kagome, not liking the idea of leaving her there to wait all alone. Eventually she’d been x-rayed, poked and prodded, with Inuyasha tagging along at her request, finally triumphantly emerging from the hospital with her wrist strapped for a sprain. By then, the idea of her travelling home alone on public transport in the dark was abhorrent to him, so he’d driven her home. Somehow, she’d managed to get his number from him, and added herself into the paltry number of contacts on his phone.

When she’d texted a few days later to invite him out for a drink to say thank you, to his own surprise he’d eagerly accepted, and before he’d known it, they were inseparable. Early morning texts and late night phone conversations progressed to in person talks and late night kisses, until one night instead of accepting his reluctant good night, she’d launched herself at him and asked him to stay and take her to bed.

He’d hardly been able to look Kagome’s flatmate Shiori in the eye the next morning at breakfast, because they hadn’t exactly been discreet with the noise levels, with Kagome delighted to discover that youkai stamina extended to the bedroom. Shiori had teasingly remarked that his second task as Kagome’s boyfriend should be to buy her flatmate some decent earplugs. Kagome had found it hilarious, him, not so much.

Kagome now had two drawers in his dresser for clothes, a makeup bag and toothbrush in his bathroom, and an extra hook on the back of his door for her jacket. She hardly ever slept at her apartment now, only going back to do washing and visit Shiori.

It still shook him that Kagome actually cared for him, showed an interest in what he did. And the sex. They were starting to ease off a little now, but for the first few weeks, they were at it like rabbits, christening every room in his apartment, nearly every flat surface, and even some of the vertical ones. The sex was fucking amazing; she was so passionate, so eager, so utterly beautiful. It was like going from starvation rations to an all you could eat buffet, and he took full advantage of their mutual eagerness to explore each other’s bodies. He didn’t think he’d ever get enough of her.

But their relationship wasn’t just built just on that. They laughed with each other, teased each other, helped each other. He hardly knew the person he was becoming since he’d met Kagome, but the change was…good.

Even though it was early in the relationship, she’d already told him she loved him. At three months, this was the longest time he’d ever been with anyone and even though he was pretty sure he loved her too, he wasn’t quite comfortable saying that to her out loud yet. She understood. At least he’d done his best to try and show her how he felt, and she seemed happy with that. Miroku and Sango loved her too, and she’d slotted into their lives like she’d always been there. He’d never felt so happy.

But right now, the look she was giving him was not a happy one. She seemed almost on the verge of tears. Kagome had warned him early on that she did get emotional just before her period and that some months were worse than others. He’d felt a little embarrassed by her candid remark, never having been in a relationship long enough for that kind of information to be shared. But so far everything had been okay.

Today hadn’t been great though. She had been out of sorts ever since she’d woken up this morning, feeling exhausted, achy and irritable, and he’d done his best to not take anything she said to heart and try and do little things to comfort her, knowing it wasn’t really her talking but her hormones. She’d smelt a little different, even though she wasn’t bleeding yet, but nothing concerning.

But right now, she was beginning to worry him – her heart rate was speeding up and her scent hinted at extreme agitation, similar to a fight or flight response. This was new. Should he remind her that she’d told him she got emotional just before her period and that she needed to calm down? Some deep seated sense of self-preservation made him realise that wasn’t a good idea.  

“Kagome”, he said uncertainly, trying to work out what the safest approach was, not wanting to upset her even more. “Are you okay?”

“What if we’ve been fooling ourselves Inuyasha.”

“Huh?”

“I mean, look at us,” she said, gesturing from Inuyasha’s faded Soundgarden t-shirt and ripped black jeans to her heart patterned leggings and hot pink t-shirt which proudly proclaimed she was Fuelled by Theatre and Coffee. “We couldn’t be more different.”

“But”, spluttered Inuyasha, his heart suddenly beating faster at the dangerous direction the conversation was taking. “Different is good! Yes, we like different things, but that shouldn’t matter!” Kagome’s bottom lip quivered.

“It might not matter tomorrow, or next week, or the week after that, but sooner or later, it would. That’s what you said last night.” Her breathing was picking up now, ragged gasps with a scent of tears.

“What?!”

“You said it’s important to find someone who shares your goals and your interests and fits into your life.”

“Kagome, I was talking about my asshole brother, and how he and Kagura aren’t on the same page about having kids! I wasn’t talking about us!”

“You just said musicals are utterly ridiculous”, she burst out, standing suddenly and letting the cushion and hot water bottle fall to the floor with a sad flop. “And just in case you’ve forgotten Inuyasha, I am a stage manager for a theatre company. Which means by default that you think I’m ridiculous.” A fat tear rolled down her cheek, quickly followed by another, and her distress was the only thing stopping him from snarling that the only thing ridiculous was this conversation. This wasn’t like her at all, and he needed to keep calm.

“Hey, hey, c’mon, I never meant that”, said Inuyasha softly as he stood, trying his best to de-escalate the situation. “I know your job is important to you, and just how much you love it.” Kagome continued on as if she hadn’t heard him, her voice breaking as tears streamed down her cheeks.

“You’ve never once shown an interest in anything that I’ve done at work. Never come to any of the shows I’ve been involved in”, she sniffed, and Inuyasha’s heart sank, made heavy with sudden guilt.

That was true. Kagome had listened to him rant about his work as a software test analyst, had shown interest in the games he played when he relaxed, had even made a WOW character and tried going on a raid with him when it was clearly not her thing. But she’d thrown herself into it, just like everything else she did, laughing at herself when she made mistakes, just happy to spend time with him sharing something he loved. He hadn’t done anything like that for her, hadn’t even noticed. That needed to change.

Kagome began gathering her things in a haphazard fashion, stuffing them in her backpack.

“Baby, don’t”, he said, trying to reach out to hug her. “Don’t leave when you’re upset. I promise we’re going to be better – I’m going to get better. I’m still learning how to be good at this. Please?”

She dodged his outstretched arms. “Don’t baby me”, she hissed, her tone venomous. “Sometimes I wonder if you’re even trying to get to know me. Do you even care at all? Or are you just in this for the sex?”

Inuyasha looked stricken. “Kagome…” His arms dropped to his sides.

Her eyes widened at his broken expression, her hands shaking as she reached tentatively towards him, then pulled herself back.

“I... I can’t do this right now”, she sobbed, pushing herself away. “I’m going home!”

And then the door slammed, and Inuyasha was left standing in the middle of his apartment, the untouched plate of cookies, cooling hot chocolate and water bottle the only evidence that Kagome had been there.

A man danced happily on his TV in the background, splashing around in rain puddles like it was the best thing ever. He plonked himself down on his sofa and picked up the cushion that Kagome had been hugging only moments before, burying his nose in it.

“What the fuck?” he whispered into the pillow. “What the actual fuck?!”

He didn’t know how serious this was, but it felt bad. She’d only been gone for seconds and already his life felt emptier. He felt sick, like he was going to vomit. He needed to fix it and fast. Because there was no way that he was going to lose Kagome over something like this.

Part Two

[just-the-hiddles]

Writer’s Spotlight | Wrathkitty

Hello my peeps, today I am featuring that talent and wonder that is @wrathkitty​. The person who reintroduced me to my love of Q.  If you know, you know.  I share her crush on Luke Skywalker as a teenager (for me specifically Return of the Jedi Luke in the black.)

Check out their works here on Ao3 and FF.net

What are other names you want people to call you?

Kat.

How long have you been writing fic?

Since I was in middle school, but I didn't start posting anything online until 2013.

What fandoms and/or ships do you write?

MCU Loki, Star Trek: TNG, Portal, and one random Star Wars fic about Kylo Ren and a passive aggressive barista 

How did you get started writing fic?

I had a crush on Luke Skywalker when I was 13. It was total author insert, wish fulfillment Mary Sue tripe. We all have to start somewhere, I guess. 

Story Recommendations

Which of your stories are your favorite?

You’ve Got Sucker’s Luck and Hello, My Dear.

Which story are you most proud of ?

Sucker’s Luck

Which of your stories do you think is the most underrated?

Sucker’s Luck.  There was a request to insert a laugh-crying emoji.  I will grant that request. 😂

Someone is new to read your stories, which story/stories should the read first?

Probably my kid Loki/Thor fic, just because it's funny. (This would be To My Brother Thor, Whom Slept With)

Which story did you do the most research for?

My Portal story - Come Downstairs and Say Hello. I spent many, many hours reading walkthroughs and poring over transcripts to make everything as close to canon as possible.

Which story was the easiest to write?

So far? My ST: TNG story! No idea why it's been so easy (relatively speaking), but I'm not arguing, either. (This would be Hello, My Dear).

The Writing Process

What is your favorite part of writing?

Writing dialogue, and editing. (QueryShark.com, which is run by an IRL literary agent, has been a huge resource for me re: writing techniques and dos/don'ts -- I have a weird love for picking my own writing apart, and some of her suggestions just gave me even more ammunition on ways to punch things up.)

What is your least favorite part?

Plot development!!!!!!!

Describe your style in 1 to 2 sentences.

Heavy on character development, sarcasm and angst, with a healthy dose of humor to balance out the feeeeeeeeeeeels.

Who are some of your writing idols and/or influences?

Robin McKinley, Tamora Pierce

What programs do you use to write and/or edit?

MS Word and Word Mobile

.Are you a plotter or a pantser?

More of a pantser, but writing an actual outline was the thing that has stopped SL from going completely off the rails...

Do you write RPF?

No.

Who is your favorite character to write and why?

Nick Fury. OMG. He has done it all, seen it all, and simultaneously DGAF while giving all the fucks.

What do you think are your writing strengths?

Character development, and writing dialogue.

What do you struggle with?

Plot. I'm terrible at it. The medication I take for depression has the side effect of inhibiting creativity and slows the writing process down something awful. The other thing I REALLY suck at is not getting hung up emotionally over lack of reader engagement. But no amount of psychotropic medication will cure that!

Favorite Trope?

Canon character falling for feisty OC, apparently!

Favorite word to use?

How bout favorite word to MIS-use - "alight." I have to go back and fix some egregious misuses of it in SL!

What is the best piece of writing advice you have heard?

Not actual advice but a lesson learned from my 9th grade English teacher, who taught me the value in letting someone slaughter my work. This got me out of the ditch years later when I had written myself into a corner 3/4 of the way through my Portal fic -- a reader left a comment complaining I was delving into crackfic territory. Once I got out of my snit, I realized they were right, reworked the chapter completely, and was able to finish the story. Chell and Wheatley would probably still be stuck in a game of Jeopardy! if it hadn't been for that one review. 

What would you say to a new fanfic writer starting out?

Ao3 is a much easier platform to use than FF.net, and tumblr is a great way to get your work out there, if that's something you're interested in doing. Also, use tags.

What is a random bit of research you have not managed to work into a fic yet?

I want to involve the Very Large Array (in NM) into one of my stories at some point.

What is your favorite random detail from one of your stories?

From by "To My Brother, Thor" story, where Loki and Thor are playing martyr and Loki is burning Thor at the stake -- it's based on my mom and aunt doing the same thing when they were kids, like all good little Catholic children do...

Any goals or WIPs you want to share?

My long term goal is to turn SL into an original work. Fingers crossed, I just need to finish the damn thing first! 

This or That

fluff AND angst

smut AND fluff

reader insert AND OC

one shot or series

canon divergent or AU

Pepsi or Coke (hot chocolate)

coffee or tea

sweet or savory

Check them out peeps!!.  Until next week!!

[hoonphobe]

the relationship of tutor and fighter and why they’re not just some lust filled couple.

this shit is about to be super messy so don’t mind my shit explainations.

tutor and fighter are a gay couple from the series why r u, which is a thai bl.

their relationship consists of many intimate and erotic moments such as multiple make out sessions, a few “sex” scenes, and cute cuddling mantras. this caused many people watching the show to assume that they are the “fan service” couple, or that they’re just extremely horny and add no emotion to the show.

however, that is so utterly wrong.

let’s actually take the time to think about their dynamics and why their relationship is the way it is. once you understand, their relationship is very beautiful, but also somewhat sad at first.

firstly, let’s talk about their personalities.

tutor is a man who is often known to want to keep others happy and disregard his own feelings, he is an extremely hard worker, he’s stubborn, he’s petty, but he’s also a goofball that likes to tease people and have fun (especially while at the beach).

now fighter is a man who is stubborn, petty, loves to tease people, he’s also a goofball that loves affection, he’s pretty shy and doesn’t like sharing his feelings, but he often doesn’t let himself be happy.

their personalities are actually quite similar if you look at them. they’re two people who despite not like being pushed around, are super emotional when vulnerable. this dynamic creates the “tug-of-war” effect in their relationship.

for example; when fighter first kissed tutor because tutor was saying he liked men. tutor had figured out that fighter had been hiding his sexuality, so when he went to confront fighter about it, it put fighter in a vulnerable situation. he didn’t appreciate being put on the spot like that, so instead of reasonably settling the issue, he decided to act on impulse in kiss tutor to “prove” that he was winning their “fight”. which of course caused tutor to freak out leaving them yelling at each other because the other refused to own up to anything.

this dynamic happens during their 18+ scenes as well, but i won’t go into detail about such.

either way, this tug-of-war battle that they have going on carries out through their whole relationship. it dials down when their at peak happiness, but overall it’s still there. this dynamic causes for their emotions and actions to be a bit more impulsive and agressive. it makes their scenes more intimate and intense because there is so much emotion built up in them since they’re both stubborn at heart and refuse to open up fully to one another. (they do eventually but damn does it take forever😭)

now, that we’ve covered the personality aspect, now it’s on to the main conflict of their whole relationship.

tutor and fighter’s relationship is solely about (at least from what i picked up) them finally living for themselves instead of other people.

both men have constantly had to live for others and hardly got to make decisions for themselves. tutor had to work hard shifts and hours to pay back his father’s debt and he always tried to make sure that no one worried about him and thag they were happy (ex: hwahwa). he always disregarded his own feelings and always did things for others even if they were an inconvenience for him. while fighter was being controlled by his father for most of his life. he couldn’t decide who to date, where to work, nor how he wanted his future to be. he lived his life feeling like he had to always do what his father said and impress him rather than doing what he wanted or what made him happy.

however, when the two found each other, they finally found something worth being selfish for.

when they first started exploring their relationship, everything was done in secret. for fighter it was because he didn’t want anyone (mainly his father) to find out that he was into men because he was scared to disappoint him. while tutor, also somewhat having the feeling of getting judged, was worried about how others would feel seeing them together, like hwahwa would be upset that he’s dating her ex/love. or also that he’s feel selfish wasting time on a relationship rather than supporting his family and keeping others happy.

all the times where they made out, teased each other, etc. weren’t shown to please the audience with bl content, it was to show their longing of breaking boundaries. to show how much they craved doing what they wanted to do without the approval of others.

their relationship allowed them to break those boundaries. the day they decided to take a chance on what they had (the rooftop scene and right after that) they looked the happiest they had ever been since the beginning of the series. they were no longer holding their true selves back. they were doing something for themselves. and their trip to the beach just amplified that by 100.

their sex scene wasn’t just an 18+ scene to amp up the atmosphere of the show, it was shown to solidify that they were willing to be selfish for one another, that they were ready to say “fuck it” to those that don’t agree with their choices and to those doubts they have about if what they’re doing is right.

of course when they came back, they were still worried about what would happen, but they had decided to slowly start opening up to others about their relationship. however, all that went downhill when that photo got leaked.

at first they were still doing alright. they decided together to tell hwahwa about their relationship without trying to worry about how’d she’d react, which went well lol. but the second fighter’s dad found out, and went right back to controlling his son, all hell broke lose.

tutor curled right back up into his ball of doubt. he went back to trying to please everyone. he let fighter’s father take away his confidence and the first grasp at freedom he had. breaking up with fighter caused tutor so much pain because he once again went back to where he started rather than fighting for himself. he let his mental and physical state worsen and he eventually just lost it.

the whole time tutor had been hurting, fighter had been too, but he hadn’t lost his confidence because for the first time he was doing something that made him happy and he wasn’t going to just let it go away. when him and tutor had their fight outside, you could see fighter wanted to keep fighting for them despite not knowing what happened, but tutor couldn’t. he was tired of being selfish for himself because the second he did it all burned down. he just wanted all the pain he got from breaking his boundaries to stop and he thought going back to square one was the way to do it.

although tutor gave up, fighter never did and constantly kept trying to understand what happened to them. he wanted his happiness back. but tutor refused to tell him because he was once again trying to please the wrong people. this then leads to the trigger warning scene.

fighter had been hurting so deeply about the situation with tutor because he felt like he had did something wrong. he almost went down the same hole as tutor and was willing to change himself to get tutor back. but he never did, he continued to fight for his happiness, just in the wrong ways.

since their time at the beach was the only true happiness fighter had felt they had together, he assumed that sex was the only way to get tutor back. tutor obviously not invested at all feels hopeless because he’s thinking about the consequences that their relationship caused. he just wants things to go back to normal hence why he tried everything he can to get fighter to stop loving him and forget about him. and although it does get fighter off tutor’s back for a bit, it doesn’t stop fighter from fighting.

they have their reunion moment, and tutor lets himself be vulnerable for a bit, allowing himself to be selfish a moment even if it hurts him later because of all he’s put himself through. only to later bring himself right back. and whilst this is happening, fighter is once again fighting for himself and getting his life back by not allowing his father to control him anymore.

and when they go back to the beach, and fighter tells tutor about what he did and why he didn’t tell him about his father, tutor realizes that he should’ve fought for himself. that he, like fighter, doesn’t live to please others.

their whole relationship was based of this tripe that you need to live for yourself and not for others. so the reason why they had the amount of scenes they did was because they wouldn’t allow themselves at first to freely do as they pleased so once again, a lot of their pent up emotions were let out through actions rather than words.

they weren’t just extremely horny.

[naanima]

Joy of Life (庆余年) - Cdrama Rec!!!!

Joy of Life (庆余年) is a Chinese television series based on the novel Qing Yunian (庆余年) by Mao Ni (who has written several popular series). The story is a transmigration series! Yes, a transmigration series. The tv series in the first few mins set up the premise, what if a modern person is sent to ancient China (feudal area) with modern beliefs and morals.

Our main character (Zhang Ruoyun whom I have watched a tonne of series I would normally not watch for) is transmigrated to an alternative universe ancient China in the body of an infant called Fan Xian who is being protected from being assassinated. Yes, people are trying to kill a new born because of his mother. Fan Xian is saved by Wuzhu, the blind folded martial artist who is all protecting Fan Xian, killing anyone who tries to kill Fan Xian, and picking fights. I love Wuzhu, he is one of my favs in the book and show full of awesome characters.

Wuzhu takes Fan Xian to the kid’s grandmother. Fan Xian is the son of the Imperial Secretariat Fan Jian. Fan Xian grows up in an estate with his grandmother, and protected by Wuzhu. At the age of eighteen, Fan Xian is recalled to the capital by his father due to Fan Xian’s impending political marriage with a princess. The princess happens to the illegitimate daughter of the Grand Princess who is in control of the inner treasury or underwear. If Fan Xian was to successfully marry the princess he would become the person in control of the inner treasury, which makes him an extremely popular among all sort of court officials and the Crown Princess and the Second Prince. And hence start Fan Xian’s troubles; assassination attempts, political pitfalls, the princes courting of his power, the Grand Princess’ plans, the emperor’s interests and so much more.

Here ends the basic summary. Now why you should watch this.

The PACING and script of this show is amazing. We can all admit that 95% of Chinese television shows suffer from pacing issues. JoL does not have that problem at all, the script is tight and fast, and actually follows logic. The script is written by Wang Juan, he who write amazing scripts. So, it is fucking great that he has kept up the excellent record of great scripts.

The cast is amazing – I love Zhang Ruoyun, I have watched so much crap for Zhang Ruoyun and have never regretted. Even when the production he is in is mediocre I can still accept it. But beyond zry, the young cast are all excellent, many of them with years of experience in theatre or smaller roles. The older cast are full award winning actors, and let me tell you, there is nothing like watching three old dudes talk and just being drawn in by the ACTING. The sheer amazing master class acting.  

The characters – YOU WILL LOVE OR AT THE VERY LEAST BE ENTERTAINED BY EVERY CHARACTER. Fan Xian, our main lead who likes to troll others, is super smart, and just want to live a life of peace and comfort. But what is better than Fan Xian is when he is surrounded by a host of people who often smacks him down for when he is being too much of a smug little shit. Fan Xian’s family are so supportive and hilarious in their own way; there is his stone faced father who loves him dearly, his younger sister who is eager and trust him 100%, his younger brother who only wants to make money not to use it but just because he likes money, his stepmother who isn’t the smartest but once she accepted him would stand in front of him and an incoming army. THEY ARE JUST SUCH A GOOD FAMILY.

There is the Emperor, who is both amazing and fucking terrifying. Here you have an emperor who is in complete control of his empire, and one is forever questioning his motives. The Grand Princess who is playing games, the Crown Prince who always seem a tad behind, and the Second Prince who eats, reads books, and likes to clear out sections of town to eat and wait in peace. They are all amazing and fucking terrifying in their own way.

There is a whole host characters; men, women, old and young, and they are so interesting and even the bad guys you feel sorry for because in many cases they are making decisions based on their environment. And I haven’t even touched on Fan Xian’s helpers, his fiancé (SO ADORABLE).

And yeah, Xiao Zhan is in it, but it is minor role, and I’m not going to say anymore in fear of spoilers.

Other things of awesome:

The action sequences are decent, better than a lot of other tripe that was released this year.

Makeup is not over the top, most of the women are white as snow, but at least still looks human. Yes, Chinese people do have tan.

I like the costumes, they are actually functional. I know a lot has been made about the ugle hair and headpieces in this show, but honestly not any worse than a lot of the other historical stuff.

It is HILARIOUS. I cannot say how funny some of this shit is. I laughed so hard.

Fan Xian’s mother. You don’t see her, but almost person of a certain age and in power has opinions of memories of her and because of her they want to protect Fan Xian.

The POLITICS!!! AHHHH! I LOVE IT! And it really highlights the many various powers in play in an Imperial court. There isn’t just two sides, there is about a hundred sides with different and shifting alliances.

The WOMEN and relationships. Look, I hate about 99% of het romances in c-drama because people become fucking idiots when they fall in love. It is trying and so annoying. Nobody here is dumb about love, yes, Fan Xian loves Wan’er (his fiancé) but he won’t sacrifice ignore wrongs done or doing the right thing just because he is in love. Every woman in this show is different and unique and I fucking love it.

How every person have their own story, just because you are the designated bad guy doesn’t mean there is no good in you. There are several characters in this show that has done horrible horrible things and yet I still felt something when they died. It is good storytelling.

LOOK, PEOPLE. I hardly rec things, I scream about stuff I like, but I rarely make an actual rec post on the things I watch or read because a lot of time they are things I personally find fun but I wouldn’t waste the time writing a rec post. But GODS, WATCH THIS SHOW. It is honestly my top 2019 show, and I for one cannot wait for season 2.

The English subs are on youtube.

Join me so we can scream together.

[weshallc]

Happy St. Andrew’s Day. 🏴󠁧󠁢󠁳󠁣󠁴󠁿

Thank you so much to everyone who has been reading Bonfire Night! I haven’t put it on the usual fic sites as I knew I would mess about, and Tumblr folk are a patient bunch. I am going to rejig it so it stretches from Bonfire Night to Christmas (probably New Year at this rate) looking back over 2020.

Thank you for the lovely comments and support from @h4t08 @fourteen-teacups @thatginchygal  @bbcshipper @roguesnitch @lovetheturners and new regular @aimee-jessica and @olafur-neal

I really don’t know what I have been doing with my time apart from washing my hands, measuring distances of 2 metres, sewing masks, swearing at the news, collecting Scotch egg and pasty recipes and building a pantry to hoard all my Brexshit preparation supplies.

Enough about me, so as it’s St. Andrew’s Day I thought I might give this another spin. 

BERNS NIGHT (Revisited, just for fun)

Call the Midwife AU (Crown Jewels/Paddy and Bernie/Poplar-on-Tweaven)

CHAPTER ONE: FAIR FA’ YOUR HONEST, SONSIE FACE

“Fair fa' your honest, sonsie face, Great chieftain o' the pudding-race! Aboon them a' ye tak your place, Painch, tripe, or thairm : Weel are ye wordy o'a grace As lang's my arm.”  Address to a Haggis by Robert Burns 1786.

“Will You Reconize me? Call My Name or Walk On By.” Don’t You (Forget About Me). Simple Minds 1985.

Monday 25th January 2016

“His knife see rustic Labour dight, An' cut you up wi' ready sleight, Trenching your gushing entrails bright, Like ony ditch; And then, O what a glorious sight, Warm-reekin', rich!”

The room was swept in darkness apart from the light of the wolf moon and the north star penetrating the cold window panes. All eyes were facing towards a wooden table and the elderly man stood behind it. He was in his 60s and wiry, small for a man, but with a silver mess of what once must have been a bonnie head of fire red hair. The body may have looked weak, but the intensity in his bright blue eyes cut through the dimly lit surroundings.

As he spoke again, his voice filled the room, cutting through the anticipating silence. It was a voice that could take a knife and slice right through a soul. The knife in his hand in turn sliced through the offering in front of its high priest. Years of performing the same action with such a passion resulted in precision. The faithful entranced by the spectacle all gasped as one as the incision was violently made. No one daring to speak. Suddenly the trance was lost as artificial light rudely brought everyone back to the present with a blast of the pipes.

“All done then, Reverend Mannion? Can I serve the Haggis now? Don’t want it getting cold now, do we, not at £15 a head.”

“Aye, Violet, the ceremony is over. It’s time for eating and drinking, something the bard would have approved of, rightly so.”

The kilted clergyman winked at an auburn-haired girl in the crowd and tipped his whisky tumbler toward her. She raised her own glass and winked back. Her companion at her table was much taller with dark hair styled in a tidy no-nonsense bob.

The tall one leaned toward the small one and asked, “If it’s already dead, why does he have to kill it?”

“What?”

“The Haggis if it’s already dead, why does he have to kill it?”

Her friend opened her mouth to speak, but she saw a tender hand take hold of Chummy’s arm and explain it was all just ceremony, it was tradition.

“Like all that malarkey at our passing out parade, the day we got our badge. That wasn’t about police work, was it? It’s just tradition.  It’s what the English do well.”

He had been doing really well up until then, but a golden raised eyebrow made him alter his stance. “It is what us Brits do best.”

The raised eyebrow whispered to the police constable. ”Peter, Chummy really doesn’t think a haggis is a real animal, does she?”

He was not the sort of man that would turn heads, but he had a kindness in his eyes and an openness in his face she thought some would see as attractive. If only Camilla wasn’t his superior, and they didn’t work such long hours together, what might have been?

She knew her friend well and sensed more queries would follow. Not sure as a Scot brought up on Tweavenside and now living in London she could provide satisfying answers. Picking up their empty glasses and heading to the bar was a strange sort of refuge for a vicar's daughter and inner-city missionary.

There was a queue, well sort of a queue. In London a queue was made up of people standing in an orderly line and the person who had been stood the longest getting served first. In Poplar-on-Tweaven it resembled more of a rugby scrum and the person who shouted the loudest being ignored, Anyone who called the barmaid by name was bunked up the order. She wasn’t familiar with busy bars, but she was bright enough to work out the system.

“Val, when yer ready hen.” The request came from someone not sure that was their own voice they had just heard yelling those words.

All her life she had been immersed in the wonders of the Bible and was still amazed at how so many miracles had been performed. She had heard all the CPR arguments regarding resurrections and all that, and was still not convinced. But, she now knew how Moses had parted the Red Sea, he had known the barmaid’s name was Valerie.

“What can I get you, chick?”

“Here! I was first.” A grumpy voice struck up.

“Oh Al, you are always first. Let me serve this lass and then I will sort you out”

“Promises, promises.”

“Yeah in your dreams, pal.”

She was starting to feel uncomfortable she hadn’t meant to jump the queue. Maybe she should go back to the table and let Peter get the drinks. A man’s voice interrupted her thoughts, it was quieter than Al’s but held an authority. It wasn’t a Tweavenside accent, but it had a northern softness.

“You serve our impatient friend Valerie, I will see to this young lady.” Then turning to his new customer, “What can I get you, pet”

“Erm a whisky and lemonade and erm a pint, please.”

“Which whisky and a pint of?”

She wasn’t sure; she nudged her bottom onto a vacant stool for security.

“Are you with the law?” The tall bartender nodded towards Chummy and Peter,

“Yes, yes, I am.”

“OK, so that’s a Grouse and diet lemonade, just a dash and a pint of Buckles Best and for you?”

He stepped back a minute. “Your Reverend Wilf’s daughter?”

“Yes, I am.” Bernie suddenly felt more sure of herself. She was never completely certain of who she was when back in Poplar.

“Bernadette?” The stranger was grinning now, his brown eyes glinting under the harsh bar spotlights, or were they green?

“Well, that’s my Sunday name most people call me Bernie, even Dad.”

“Well, since I’ve never seen you in here on a Sunday or any other day. I will call you Bernie. I am Patrick Turner, most people call me Paddy, a few Doc.”

“Oh no, you won’t have seen me here on a Sunday or any other day. I live in London now and before that, well, I am not a big drinker.”

“What can I get you then?” asked Paddy loitering near the coke and lemonade pumps.

“A gin and tonic please, better make it a double it’s quite busy, save me coming back.”

Paddy smiled. “Premium gin?”

“Yes.”

While the optic was emptying into the glass, he asked, “You must have known this old place when Evie ran it?”

“Yes, I know Evie and J..Jenny”

“Oh yes. Jen was here when the wife and I took over she was a great help. We get a text every now and again, doing well for herself now, all loved up.” He winked at her as he ended the sentence, causing her to panic slightly.

“I was sorry to hear about your loss.” She wished she hadn’t said it.

Val had seemed to deal with ten customers to Paddy’s one, and now there was just the two of them alone at the bar. He looked at her in a sort of a non-direct, sort of direct way. Under that infuriating fringe she wanted to reach out and push back.

“Loss is as much a part of love as is healing,” he replied with a hint of melancholy, but without irony.

She was stunned and tried to find a corresponding Bible verse, but she drew a blank.

She focused on what was real and what was present. Her dad had taught her to do that. What was in front of her at this precise moment was a glass of gin and ice and a twist of lime. He was now unscrewing a bottle of Mediterranean slimline tonic.

She yelped, “No!” as he lay the bottle alongside the glass.

“Sorry most people add the tonic to the gin and I cannae bear it drowned.”

“Wouldn't dream of it, surely that would be very presumptuous of me.”

“Aye well, most people I've met are very presumptuous.”

“Maybe you have spent too much time in London. if you don't mind me saying, Bernie.”

“Well, to be fair, we don’t spend a lot of time sitting on stools and propping up bars in my part of London.”

“More's the pity.”

“Can I bother you for a...”

Paddy popped a black straw into her tumbler.

“I will make sure when you come home next time none of my staff will be presumptuous.”

“Oh, I doubt you will remember me, Paddy. I only come up to see my Da. I can't imagine you will be seeing much of me in the future, hardly likely that I would ever be considered a regular.”

“Now who is being presumptuous?”

Bernie went to put the straw between her lips but paused, realizing the stranger was still watching her. She suddenly felt uncomfortable. As heat rose in her cheeks. She suddenly felt awkward on the stool, squirming to find some sort of comfortable position. The stranger smiled in a way she could not understand; it wasn’t smug or suggestive, but as if there were sharing a joke, but she wasn’t sure what the joke was.

She hopped off her seat, for a brief moment realizing her arse was in the air and prayed he had altered his gaze. Focusing anywhere but behind the bar, she grabbed her glass and bottle in one hand, put the whisky against her elbow and waist, the pint in her other hand, turned and swiftly moved toward her thirsty friends.

Shelagh Bernadette Mannion don’t you dare look back and see if he is watching you he is recently widowed with a son, Da said. He is, what do they call them now, a bloomer or something like that. God has shown you his path for you and it certainly does not include the Crown Inn, Poplar-on-Tweaven.

He is still watching me, I can feel it.

[waywardodysseys]

Untouched - Part One

Pairing: Ezra x virgin female reader

Warnings: sexual tension, cussing

Requested?: Yes from this ask - Gods! Wish I've found your blog sooner... I LOVE the way you write! You deserve all the best things, hope ya know that. I've been having a hard time for so long now, and your writings make me go all giggly and happy... Anyways, would you ever be willing to write a virgin and inexperienced reader x Din or Ezra ? A oneshot maybe or even a mini series. I'd die for that!! But I don't want to make you uncomfortable or anything.

Author’s note: right now I am looking at this as a 3 part mini series

~   ~   ~

You’re working on the station’s data system when your name is called over the PA.

“Tech Y/F/N Y/L/N. Please report to the bridge.”

You sigh and put down your tools. You’ll be back for them. No one else comes down here except you.

You make your way down a long metal corridor, past the docking bay and med clinic. You climb the steps up to the bridge where the captain turns and smiles. Her white hair is short, and her blue-green eyes sparkle under all the light.

“I need you to go down to Jade,” the captain remarks in her light English accent.

Jade was the name they were calling the green moon which was just beyond the red planet.

“Why? I’m no digger. I do tech.” You reply.

“You’re the only one who hasn’t been down on a mining mission. Everyone needs to go.”

“I’m no digger.” You repeat.

“I know you are tech Y/N. There are others aboard who can handle it while you’re away.”

“Who are you placing me with?” You ask, curious.

“Ezra.”

You swallow. Your heart rate increases. Not him. “Why him? People say he’s a bit off the books. Does things his own way.” You shake your head. “I don’t think him, and I would be a good match. A good team.”

“He’s experienced. You’ll be fine.”

You rub your inner wrist. You’re nervous, anxious. You don’t want to go down to Jade. Well part of you wanted too but part of you wish it wasn’t with Ezra. You had a crush on the man since the first day abroad the station. He would smile at you, talk to you but you kept your distance, stayed focus on work.

“You leave tomorrow.” The captain’s voice cuts through the quietness.

“Tomorrow.” You repeat.

“Ezra will be double checking the departure routine. You should join him.” The captain stops outside the docking bay.

You had been wrapped up in your own thoughts you hadn’t realized you had moved your feet, walking beside the captain towards the docking bay.

“Right,” you say as you look between the docking bay door and the captain.

The captain touches your shoulder lightly. “You’ll be fine Y/N.”

You smile weakly and nod before the captain turns away and heads back towards the bridge. You look at the circular docking day as your heart continue beating rapidly inside of your chest.

You can do this, you think, you must do this.

You press on the keypad and the circular door opens in the middle. The top half goes up, the other half goes down. You walk into the docking bay. The smell of oil and gas are prominent as you hear drills and torches working on metal.

You look around and find Ezra.

He shies of being six feet tall. His hair is short and brown, and he has just a small patch of blond hair on his right side. You take in his long neck and wonder how many women have placed their head against it and inhaled his scent, licked his skin.

Oh, god, you think, this is a bad idea.

He’s holding a clipboard in one hand as his eyes skim the list. He looks up and sees you, smiles. “Y/N.”

Your heart quickens just a beat and smile. “Ezra.”

“Captain says you’re joining me.”

“I am.”

“Good. You’ll be fine. You’ll have me as your guide.”

“This will be my first time from the station.” You say lightly.

Ezra raises his eyebrows, “I thought everyone on the station has gone on some type of dig on Jade.”

You purse your lips. “Not me. I do the tech on the station. All the tech.”

Ezra smiles, “we won’t be gone long. I’m sure they’ll survive without you.”

-------

The next day you and Ezra are descending in the pod, heading towards the alien green moon.

You’re strapped in your seat as your heart beats fast. You’re still unsure about this, still unsure about spending time with Ezra. You wonder if he’s going to do his own thing down on the moon or teach you how things should be done correctly, when the fuel gauge begins blaring.

“What is it?” Ezra asks.

“Fuel gauge. We’re losing fuel at a high quantity.” You reply.

“Fuck,” Ezra hisses. “I double checked everything before we departed. Fuel’s full.”

“It’s indicating a leak.”

“Tripe fuck!” Ezra shouts.

The pod makes it through the atmosphere of the moon and continues on its projected path to the landing site.

After the pod lands safely and in one piece, both of you scramble out of your seats, hook up cords and the oxygen tubes to one another then don your helmets and head out into the atmosphere of the alien moon.

You find the compartment of the fuel tank and unlatch it. Liquid spills out onto the ground.

Ezra sighs angrily from behind you, “fuck times infinity.”

“I’m sure it can be fixed.” You say as you look it over.

“We don’t have any fuel!” Ezra barks.

You knew that, you were just trying to ease him.

“I know Ezra. Just calm down before you waste our oxygen,” you say lightly.

Ezra looks at you, “why aren’t you freaked out?”

You stand and look at him, “I am freaked out. But I don’t need to show it because you’re obviously doing that! Goddamn! This is why I didn’t want to come down here especially with you.”

Ezra glares at you. “What does that mean?”

“Nothing,” you say as you turn away.

Ezra grabs your arm, “Y/N.”

“Nothing,” you hiss as you yank your arm from his grasp.

Minutes later you two are lugging out supplies from the pod and setting up a tent about 30 feet from the pod. You’re quiet, Ezra’s quiet but he’s seething with anger now you and he are stranded on this alien moon.

-------

It’s been months since you and Ezra have been stranded on the alien moon.

There are times you two are fine with one another, then there are times you can’t stand to be in the same vicinity with one another.

Majority of the days are spent digging, sometimes Ezra goes off alone while you try to fix the tech and coms because those busted and shorted one day.

Ezra had been angry and punched some of the controls while he was inside the pod.

“Great Ezra,” you had barked when he had seen what he did, “now we’ll never leave.”

Ezra had shrugged and walked away from you.

And now since you two had been on this moon together for too long, Ezra can’t control himself any longer. He wants you; he needs you.

He wants to kiss your mouth, see how soft your lips are. He wants his hands to travel your body, to see if your skin is delicate. He wants to be inside of you, to see if you’re as tight as imagines when he jerks off when he’s alone.

Ezra watches as you walk into the tent and begin unhooking yourself. He stands as you remove your helmet and walks over to you.

You turn and face him. You take a step back and look at him.

“Ezra,” your voice is airy and filled curiosity.

Ezra cups your cheeks and brushes his mouth against yours.

He inwardly moans. They are soft like he imagined.

You feel Ezra remove his hands from your cheeks and then wrap his arms around you, pulling you up against him.

Ezra begins pushing down your spacesuit.

Yes, your mind screams. But wait, he doesn’t know you’re...

You pull back breathlessly, “Ezra.”

“Y/N.” He presses his forehead against yours. “I want you; I need you.”

You had been with this man for months. Were you ready to give him yourself? Were you wanting Ezra to be your first?

You had heard him on rare occasions in the middle of the night moaning your name. You would sneak a peek over at his bunk. See his hand moving up and down under the sheet. He was getting off to you, not another woman. It was you he was getting off too.

But he needed to know. He deserved to know.

You look into those deep, dark brown eyes of his. You cup his cheek.

“I do want you Ezra. I need you too.”

Ezra kisses you again and pushes your spacesuit further down your body.

You pull back and look at Ezra. “I need to tell you something.”

Ezra raises his eyebrows. “What?”

You swallow as your heart quickens. “I’m a virgin.”

Tags: @pascalisthepunkest​, @kaelyn-lobrutto24​, @jokersdoll​, @knight-of-heart44​, @mandadl0rian​, @random066​, @earl-01​, @caitlincat-95​, @longitud-de-onda​, @cosmo-bear​

[irandrura]

The Elder Scrolls - a disclaimer and rant

I am going to make some posts about The Elder Scrolls, and in particular, its background, setting, and characters. That means that a disclaimer is probably necessary.

Here’s the tl;dr version: yes, I know about the lore. Please trust me when I say that I was really super into it about a decade and a half ago, and I’ve kept an eye on it since. I have read the Michael Kirkbride forum posts. I have read C0DA, The Seven Fights of the Aldudagga, Sermon Zero, the Loveletter from the Fifth Era, and so on. I know the forum roleplays like The Trial of Vivec. I know that Ayrenn is really a time-travelling mining robot from outer space. I think all the stuff I just referenced varies widely in quality, opinions quite reasonably differ on it, and it’s frequently at odds with what’s actually depicted in the games, but at any rate, I promise that I know it.

So when I go on and talk about Psijics – I know, all right? I know. I am choosing to engage with the setting on a level that focuses more on characters, human stories, and, well, the narratives of the games. The TES apocrypha is interesting, but of limited relevance to the things I’m interested in. There are many valid ways to enjoy TES. Okay?

Now, the longer part:

If you haven’t played TES, and… actually, scratch that, for like 90% of people who’ve played TES, none of the above needed to be said. The thing is, when you play a TES game, it is a fairly straightforward elves-and-wizards-and-dragons fantasy setting in the D&D mould. Indeed, the earliest versions of it, back in the 90s, were based on a D&D campaign. So there’s relatively little surprising about it, and “it’s like D&D” will carry you most of the way towards understanding it.

However, TES games are also renowned for containing lots of in-game books you can read, which are often some of the most striking and evocative parts of the games. These are supplemented by a large library of apocrypha: often unofficial material, posted by developers (and ex-developers) on the internet. The most infamous of these writers is Michael Kirkbride, who has some… very unusual tastes and interests, but there are a range of other names as well. In any case, the result is that TES has an ‘expanded universe’ composed of these non-canonical writings. Often canonical texts in-game hint at some of this vast, unofficial hinterland, and sometimes ideas invented in the apocrypha sneak back into the games themselves.

Further, the apocrypha often hints at what seems to be a very different setting to the one directly experienced in the games: one that’s less about warriors and wizards and adventure and more one about divine magic, transcendence, myth, and meaning. The descriptions often seem to be somewhat at odds. This can best be demonstrated with some examples.

For instance, here is Michael Kirkbride’s description of a High Elf warship, written before any game had depicted the High Elf homeland:

Made of crystal and solidified sunlight, with wings though they do not fly, and prows that elongate into swirling Sun-Birds, and gem-encrusted mini-trebuchets fit for sailing which fire pure aetheric fire, and banners, banners, banners, listing their ancestors all the way back to the Dawn.

This is Old Mary at Water.

 You will immediately notice two things. The first is that this sounds really cool. Some of it you need some context to parse (the old elven homeland is called ‘Aldmeris’, hence ‘Old Mary’ as a mocking nickname given by its foes; the High Elves believe that they are literally, genealogically descended from the spirits that created the world at the Dawn), but even so, man, that warship sounds awesome. This Kirkbride guy can write. The second thing, though, is that it is extremely unclear what any of this even means. Given that descriptions… what does this ship look like? Try to picture it! What the heck does ‘crystal and solidified sunlight’ look like? How exactly does a trebuchet throw fire? What?

You might then go on to play a video game where the High Elves are taking part in a war to conquer the continent. If you’re like me, you’re probably keen to see one of these fabled warships. But then it turns out that in-game, High Elf ships look… like this. Or like this.

(Indeed, the High Elves are often a good example of this. An earlier written text, in a pamphlet enclosed with the video game Redguard, described the elven capital of Alinor as “made from glass or insect wings” or “a hypnotic swirl of ramparts and impossibly high towers, designed to catch the light of the sun and break it into its component colours”. Needless to say, should you visit it in a game, it does not look like that.)

After a while, you start to notice that there is very little connection between the world implied by the apocrypha and the world experienced in the games. Kirkbride says that the “closest mythical model” for the ancient knight Pelinal “would be Gilgamesh, with a dash of T-800 thrown in, and a full-serving of brain-fracture slaughterhouse antinomial Kill(3) functions stuck in his hand or head”, and says “Pelinal was and is an insane collective swarmfoam war-fractal from the future”. Indeed in Kirkbride’s descriptions Pelinal seems to have been an ultraviolent schizophrenic who led a wild, genocidal band of anti-elven warriors, was very definitely gay, and who had only a red, gaping hole where his heart ought to be (which in turn is a reference to the missing heart of the creator-trickster deity Lorkhan, whom Pelinal was in part a mortal incarnation of). You might find that really cool or you might find it banal, but there’s no denying that it’s extremely different to the Pelinal whose ghost you can meet in-game. The apocryphal Pelinal is a mad butcher whose closest mythic model, contra Kirkbride, actually seems to be Achilles; the game Pelinal is a straightforwardly sympathetic chivalric knight. This is complicated somewhat by the in-game books being written by Kirkbride and therefore being gonzo bananas insane, so the ‘canon’, such as it is, is unclear – but at any rate it is impossible to deny that there’s an incongruity.

I could go on with examples for a long time. I haven’t even mentioned the most famous – the 1st edition PGE description of Cyrodiil compared to what it actually looks like in Oblivion – or more recent ones, like the gulf between Alduin the mythic dragon who will consume the world and indeed time itself in its terrible jaws and the frankly quite underwhelming beastie you fight in Skyrim. The point I’m making is that there are effectively two TES settings: one relatively down-to-earth, immersive, and depicted in great detail in the video games, and one that’s this absurd mash-up of magic and science fiction and whatever psychedelics Michael Kirkbride has been taking this week.

I write this long disclaimer because it has been my experience discussing TES in the past that people who are mostly interested in the former – in the relatively grounded setting experience in the games – sometimes run into an elitist attitude from people who are interested in the latter. Sometimes fans of the apocrypha can come on much too strong, or gatekeep the idea of being a fan of ‘TES lore’. Any sentence that starts with “actually, in the lore…” is practically guaranteed to go on to be awful.

My point is not that the apocryphal TES is bad. As I hinted above, in my opinion its quality varies extremely widely: there are things that Kirkbride has written that I think are pretty cool (I unironically love the Aldudagga) and there are things he’s written that I think are indulgent tripe (C0DA stands out). Ultimately it’s all about what you enjoy, and I would never try to tell anyone that they shouldn’t have fun reading or speculating about or debating the zaniness of some of these texts. Indeed, as far as online fandoms and video game fan fiction goes, TES probably has the most fruitful ‘expanded universe’ that I’ve ever seen, and I think that’s wonderful. Kirkbride himself has said that “it’s really all interactive fiction, and that should mean something to everyone” and “TES should be Open Source”, which is a position I wholeheartedly endorse – and does a lot to take the edges off some of the worse things he’s said.

Rather, my point is that everyone should enjoy what they feel most interested in, or most able to enjoy. Further, I argue that there is absolutely nothing wrong – and for that matter absolutely nothing less intelligent or less intellectual – about a person preferring to engage with the version of TES most clearly depicted in the video games. Part of this might be defensiveness on my part, because in my opinion what TES has always done best is a nuanced depiction of cultural conflict: this is particularly the case in Morrowind and Skyrim, and ESO’s better expansions tend to deal in this area as well. As such I take relatively little interest in the metaphysical content of much of the apocrypha. For me, Shor, say, is most interesting as the protagonist of several conflicting cultural narratives, rather than as a metaphysical essence.

I would also argue that the most recent game content has taken a good approach by going out of its way to legitimise a range of possible approaches to the setting. The latest chapter of ESO, Greymoor, includes a system where the player can dig up ancient artifacts, and a number of NPC scholars will comment on them for you. This allows the game to indicate in-character scholarly disagreement over issues fans have previously debated. One item shows disagreement over whether the mythical character Morihaus was literally a bull, or a minotaur, or whether he was a human allegorically referred to as a bull. Another one points to disagreement over the possibility of magical spaceships: apocryphal materials have referred to ‘Sunbirds of Alinor’, ‘Reman Mananauts’, etc., as sorts of magical astronauts, but that seems so ridiculous given what we’ve seen in the games as to be easily discounted. I like items like this in-game because they seem to say to players, “It’s okay to disagree over questions like this – no one is doing TES wrong.”

That said, I am reasonably positive that I’m in the minority here, because I am in the camp that usually says that legends exaggerate, and so Morihaus probably wasn’t a bull and magical spaceships don’t exist. This is not a popular position. My reason, of course, is that I think tales are more likely to grow in the telling rather than shrink, and I have a dozen of what I think are hard-to-deny examples of this happening in TES (e.g. heroic narratives of the War of Betony are very different to the grubby reality you uncover in Daggerfall, or Tiber Septim is almost certainly from Alcaire rather than Atmora). However, this means that I openly take an opposite methodology to Michael Kirkbride. Kirkbride was once asked by a forum poster whether some in-game writings are exaggerated. His reply was: “I prefer, "It is very possible, as is the case throughout this magical world, that some of the exaggerated claims made about some subjects pale in comparison to the Monkey Truth. ZOMGWTFGIANTFEATHEREDFLUTYRANTS."”

Needless to say, I find this implausible, and it means that, for example, I interpret the Remanada as an obvious piece of propaganda, inventing a story about Alessia’s ghost in order to retroactively explain why Reman, probably born the son of a hill chieftain with zero connection to the previous dynasty, really has imperial blood. This is a very different but in my opinion more historically plausible take than Kirkbride’s, who has a naked thirteen year old Reman standing atop his harem and slaughtering recalcitrant followers.

I’m not saying that my approach is objectively correct. It’s all fiction – and as Kirkbride said, TES is open source. The only thing that matters is what you the reader, player, or interpreter find the most interesting. For me, that means generally favouring what is seen in the games over the developer apocrypha, which I can take or leave.

At any rate.

I’m going to go on and make some more fannish posts about stuff in ESO that I liked.

Just… if it’s relevant, be aware that I am familiar with the zany stuff. Some of it I like, a lot of it I don’t like, and I feel no obligation to use it if I don’t like it.

There. Disclaimer over.

[diddlesanddoodles]

DEAD WALLS RISE - CH 5

ATTENTION: This chapter occurs during the events of ch 47 of Dumpling and therefore contains spoilers. If you have not not read that chapter or have not caught up to that point, this will not make much sense and I strongly urge you to wait until you are caught up before continuing with this chapter.   

The fear was always the first thing to hit. Like a gust of wind, it swept him away until all he could perceive of the world was a small pinprick of light and the only sound was his own breathing and the only physical sensation was the frantic beating of his own heart. He never heard Nenani call his name or felt her hand on his shoulder. He did not notice when Keral pulled him bodily from his seat and carried him from the great hall. Perhaps that was better. He may have died from embarrassment right then and there if he had possessed enough presence of mind to understand.

“Remember what Yaesha told ye,” Keral’s voice said, penetrating the thick fog of his mind. “Just breathe. Slower now, lad. In and out.” He could feel more than hear Keral’s own breathing and he slowed his to match the ranger’s. “That’s it. Come on back now, lad.”

He felt Keral’s large fingers lightly tapping the side of his head, just enough to jerk him back to attention and ever so slowly the world came back into focus and he was no longer in the great hall, but a side garden and sitting on a stone bench. The night air bit at his face and he felt the cold stone under him, the chill seeping into the fabric of his pants and onto his skin. Keral was kneeling down in front of him and peering into his face, green eyes studying his own blue ones. “Back with me yet?”

He nodded mutely and Keral stood to take a seat on the bench beside him. “Scared the lass pretty good. Don’t think she’s ever seen one of yer fits before.”

Jae didn’t respond, feeling shamed and mortified.

“Go on and tell me what set ye off.”

His hands were clenched hard enough to hurt and he could feel the muscles in his neck and shoulders pull tight. “…you know what.”

Keral did not reply right away. Instead, he reached behind his back to pull out his pipe and a small pouch of tobacco. He stuffed the bowl and just as he struck a match, he said, “Tell me anyway.”

“I can’t…I’m not…why would he…?” He could almost feel the fit trying to begin afresh and he steadied his breathing again, trying to keep it at bay. When he was sure it had passed, he ran his fingers through his hair, gripping fistfuls of it and staring at the pitted stone under him. “I can’t do this Keral.”  

The larger man beside him took a moment to puffed idly at his pipe, plumes of grey smoke drifting upwards to obscure the stars peeking down at them from the open courtyard.

“And why not?” he asked.

“I’m not a prince,” Jae replied exasperated. “I can’t…do all that stuff.”

With a short huff of a laugh, the ranger shook his head. “Yer a fuckin’ idiot, you know that boy?”

With a growl, Jae punched Keral’s thigh hard, and shot back, “Dammit, I’m being serious!”

“So am I,” Keral grunted. He leaned over just enough to pin Jae with one eye. “Just what do ye think yev been this whole time? Hm?”

“…an idiot, like you said. A spoiled idiot. A brat,” Jae replied lowly. “I don’t want to be a prince. I only…” A long pause. “I just wanted…so badly for…for Warren…to see me like I saw him.”

Keral shook his head. “Thought you two figured that mess out weeks ago.”

“…I thought so, but…” Jae sighed. “Nothing’s changed.”

“Not followin’ ye.”

Jae felt like his chest was gonna rupture and his eyes burned with frustrated tears. In a low voice, he choked out, “…I’m not his son, Keral.”

“Bullshit ye ain’t!” Keral snapped, glowering down at him. The degree of vehemence from him was enough to startle Jae and he shook his head.  

“…I can’t be.”

Keral leaned down further, enough to cast Jae in shadow. “And who th’fuck says?”

He couldn’t meet the ranger’s critical gaze. “…you heard them in there.”

“Since when did ye give a right shit about what Eldherst and Tendle thought of ye?”

How Jae wished he had some snarky quip to throw back, anything to offer distraction, but all he had was what he knew was true but was too scared to admit to himself. Let alone aloud. The lords were right. He wasn’t Warren’s son and never could be. He’d been fooling himself all this time, playing at make believe. A fallacy they could continue within the castle where Warren’s power could shield him, but beyond the walls of the keep…

…the world would never let him be Warren’s son.  

“Because even if all that load ‘a tripe were true,” Keral continued, poking Jae’s shoulder with the butt of his pipe. “Why would Warren wanna adopt ye if didn’t mean nothin’ to him?”

Jae was silent. He didn’t want to start crying in front of Keral.    

“It ain’t about makin’ ye a prince fer the hell of it. It’s about makin’ ye his son. In the eyes of the law. All that other nonsense is just a consequence of yer Dad being a King. Ain’t like he’s puttin’ ye in the line of succession.”

“But still…”

Keral shifted again and rose to his feet to stand in front of the bench. He planted both hands on either side of Jae to loom above him, his pipe clenched in his teeth. In a quiet voice, he said, “Warren loves ye lad. Been takin’ care of ye all these years hasn’t he?”

“…yes.”

“And ye think of ‘im like yer Dad, don’t ye?”

“…y-yes,” Jae said, his words shuttering.

“Then why question it?”

“…I don’t want to cause him any problems,” Jae admitted and Keral laughed, the sound of it loud in his ears. He removed his pipe and sat it down onto the bench.

“Far too late fer that, Pup. Yer ‘a walkin’ disaster.”

Jae almost smiled. It had been years since Keral had called him that. Like so many of those employed at the castle, he had taken to calling him brat; a nickname Jae had rightly earned not long after hitting puberty. Somehow, with Keral using his first nickname for him made Jae feel a little better. It was almost a term of endearment.

“Me being an embarrassment as his ward is one thing,” Jae said. “But as his son…it’s a little harder to ignore. Or forgive.”

“If Rosanna of fuckin’ Ibronia could manage to accept ye,” Keral said flatly. “Why the fuck can’t ye accept yerself? Of course yer gonna make mistakes. Yer still a damn kid. Ye still have a few years left of ye bumblin’ around in the dark before ye figure out how to light a damn match.”

Jae raised his head to meet Keral’s gaze and squinted at him in confusion. “…what?”

“Ye still have a lot to learn,” Keral translated. “They call ‘em growin’ pains fer a reason. Fer some, it’s more painful than fer others.” A pause. “Ever stop and think there was a reason fer Warren makin’ ye Assistant Steward?”  

“To keep me out of trouble,” Jae replied with a shrug. “What else?”

“Well, yeah. That’s what happens when ye have a kid too smart fer his own good and with too much liberty as his disposal. But it ain’t only that. He gave ye responsibilities because he knew ye’d be able to handle it. And ye have. We both know Donal wasn’t always yer biggest fan, but somehow ye managed to wiggle yerself into his good graces. That’s gotta be worth something. Been tryin’ to do that fer almost twenty years, still haven’t managed it myself.”

“I just sit around and take notes or deliver messages for him and…I don’t really do anything. I just…watch.”

“And listen. Ever stop to think that maybe that was the point? Ye learn from watchin’. Hell, Pup, yer a damn sponge when it comes to all that shit. Ye’v got a decent head fer politics after watchin’ Warren all these years. And he knows it. Yer more ready fer this than yer willin’ to give yerself credit fer.”  

“Doesn’t feel like it,” said the human, running a hand through his hair. “How the hell does it make sense to make me a prince? I’m not even Vhasshalan. And did you see some of their faces? Some of them were and still are Baynor supporters.” He pulled his knees up to his chest and rested his chin down onto them. “Probably wishing the fucker did eat me…”

“Well he didn’t. And Warren’s makin’ ye a prince. So the only thing ye should be asking yerself is what do ye do now. Sittin’ and mopin’ about it ain’t doin ye any favors. Never has. All the time yer spend on the roof, what has it ever done fer ye? Eh? Not a damn thing. Warren wants to make ye his son officially. Not just some vague understandin’ between yerselves. That should tell ye all ye need to know, Pup.”

“…what if I can’t do it, though?”

“Ye ain’t scared of not being able to do it. Yer scared of disappointing yer Dad.”

Jae hung his head. “…because I’m a coward.”

“Now I’ve known plenty of cowards in my time. And there’s plenty ‘a things I could call ye,” Keral said. He laid his hand against Jae’s back, fingers curling around his shoulders. “But a coward ain’t one of ‘em.”

“I’m scared…all the time. And there doesn’t even need to be anything wrong. How does that not make me a coward? I freeze up and have these fits and I have to drink that disgusting tea just to have a chance to function and I…I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“I know exactly what’s wrong with ye,” Keral told him seriously, green eyes seeming to bore holes through him. “It’s called surviving a war. Survivor’s guilt.”

“What?” Jae asked.

“What yer feelin’. S’called survivor’s guilt. Saw it plenty during my own deployment. Men comin’ back from battle without half their company. Wonderin’ why the fella next to him was dead and he wasn’t. Same as you. Ye’ve had it fer years. Since we found ye out in the moor.” He paused. “All yer family and friends never left that pond. But ye did. And ye’ve let that guilt fester inside ye and it comes out in yer nightmares and in these fits ‘a yers.”

Every muscle in his body felt tense and unyielding. He hated what Keral was saying and wished he would stop. He was too tired to do this now. He didn’t want to…

“Ye never talk about ‘em. Yer folks,” Keral said quietly. Gently. “Don’t know a thing about ‘em. ‘Cept yer Dad’s name and trade. Never hear ya speak about yer Mum.”

“It hurts too much. Even now,” Jae said, already feeling the tears dripping down his chin. “If I try to remember her face…”

“Ye never dealt with all that pain of losin’ ‘em. As young as ye were when ye did. Now yer panickin’ that yet might be losing Warren. In a different way. But losin’ ‘im all the same. ‘Cept this time no one’s takin’ anythin’ from ye, Pup. Yer takin’ it from yerself.”

Finally, Jae broke. His shoulders began to shake as a racking sob bubbled up from his throat. For several minutes, he just cried and let all the hurt and fear and regret and guilt pour out of himself. When finally, he had no more to give, he quieted. Sniffling and in a thick voice, he mumbled, “I’m such an idiot…”

Keral laughed. “Oh, ye don’t need to tell me that, lad. Known it fer years.”

Jae raised his head to glare at the ranger. “…Anyone ever tell you that your pep talks suck?”

“All the time,” he said with a satisfied grin. He patted Jae on the back and motioned for him to stand. “Come on now. Enough sulkin’. On yer feet.”

His legs and arms felt twice as heavy and his temples throbbed. Gods did he need a drink. He wobbled on his feet, but once he’d steadied himself, Jae looked back at Keral expectantly. The ranger crouched back down so he and Jae were on the same level and was regarding him with a serious expression.

“Yer a smart boy, Jae,” he said, laying his arms onto bench and leaning forward. “And Warren adores ye. It’s true that it’s no small thing fer ye to be adopted by the King of Vhasshal. Ain’t sayin’ yer gonna have an easy time of it. But fer what’s it’s worth, I think yer gonna be pretty damn good at it.”

For a moment, Jae simply stared at the ranger, emotions swirling inside of him, before he dropped his gaze to stare at his feet for several moments. He took a step and then another and pressed his head against Keral’s shoulder. He sniffed, trying to keep himself from falling into tears again. A large hand came to rest against his back, rubbing lightly.

“Oi,” Keral said gently, a smile in his tone. “Don’t be gettin’ yer snot all over my good jerkin now. S’the only one I got.”

Despite the roiling emotions inside him, Jae laughed. “I’ll get you a new one. Princes get allowances don’t they?”

Keral chuckled. “That’d be a question fer yer Dad.”

Before Jae could speak, from within the great hall, they heard a horrible shriek and he jumped in” surprise. “What the –?”

Keral was on his feet, looking towards the large stained glass windows and listening. There was another shriek from inside and then many voices all at once calling out in shock or surprise. The lone lantern near the other end of the garden began to glow.

“Well, fuck...” Keral growled. He turned towards one corner of the garden where two guards were standing post, both staring dumbly at the lantern, and he called out to them, “Guards to the hall!”

The two guards started, looking at Keral and then seeming to recall themselves, took up their swords and called out behind them, ostensibly to more guards, “All guards to the hall!”

There were several calling answers and in a matter of mere moments, guards from all over seemed to be spilling from corridors and breezeways and into the small garden and then into the hall. From the red of their leather armor, Jae could see a spot of black fighting against the tide of so many bodies.  

“Donal!” Keral called out to the man as he struggled to get through. “What in the seven hells is goin’ on in there?”

“Keral!” Donal said, waving at him and struggling to catch his breath as he broke free of the throng. “Get Master Jae to safety! The Smoke Mage, he’s in the hall.”

“What?” Keral asked.

Donal scowled at the ranger. “Didn’t you hear me, dammit? Your King’s orders are to get Master Jae to safety! Now man, damn you!”

Before Jae had a moment to say anything, Keral grabbed him up and was running.

“Wait! What about everyone else?” Jae asked, gripping the fabric of Keral’s jerkin. “Warren is still inside. And Nenani!”

“Warren said to get ye to safety and that’s what I’m gonna do,” Keral told him.

“But –!”

“No arguing with me now,” Keral barked. “My big ol’ speech is gonna be nothin’ but a waste of time if that fucker gets his hands on ye again.”

He took a side corridor and slipped down a flight of stone steps. Near the bottom was an old and unassuming wooden door and Keral went inside. He sat Jae down onto his feet before ruffling inside his back pouch for his matches. He struck one and lit a candle sitting on a broken stool off to the side.

“You’ll stay here till it’s safe,” Keral said as he grabbed a folded blanket from the shelf and setting it on the floor near the back wall. “Just keep quiet till I get back, here me?”

“But what about –?”

“No arguing with me I said,” Keral snapped. “Trust me to do my job, Pup. Stay here and stay quiet.”

Jae nodded. “O-okay.”

Keral rose to his feet and pulled the door closed as he slipped out. There in the dark, Jae listened to beating of his own heart before making his way over to the folded blanket and sitting down. Rubbing his still splinted arm, Jae could not help but worry for everyone inside the hall. He thought of Warren and tried to convince himself that the guards would never allow anything to happen to the King.

He thought of Nenani.

Pushing himself back against the wall, he drew his knees up to his chest and watched for a moment as the candle’s warm glow sent the shadows around the room dancing. He felt another panicked wave begin to take hold deep inside and he pressed his forehead to his knees and began to breath. Deep even breathes. Like he had been taught.  

One…

Two…

Three...

[elk-ambrose-scott-writing]

Top Five “Overrated” Classic books

*Disclaimer: I’m an opinionated bitch, but these are value judgements on the books (and the racist ass authors), not the people who like them* 

Genre: Garbage Gothic Tragedy

Author: Emily Bronte

Year Published: 1847

Plot in 20 Words or Less: A rich family adopts an orphan, love drama ensues, and nobody has a good time

Problematic-o-matic: Slurs against Romani people/travelers, romanticizing of abusive & toxic relationships 

Why (I think) it’s Over-rated: 

This book pushed some buttons for me. I’m a survivor of domestic violence, and Heathcliffe’s behaviour was so shitty and abusive that if I wasn’t reading it for school I would have set the whole book on fire.

Cathy was also toxic too, but Heathcliffe took it all the way to eleven. 

I wished the teachers would have trigger-warned us, and I kind of hate the prick for not doing that, don’t think I don’t see you Mr. A, you dickhead 

Beyond that, I didn’t like a single character in this book. Nobody. Not a one. Half of the characters were barely developed, and the ones that were developed were so unlikable that I hated them as much as they seemed to hate each other. 

I also thought the pacing wasn’t great, though that might be due to the differences in novels then and now.

Still, I thought this book was over-rated because all the characters sucked ass and I hated reading the book because of it.

Genre: Nonsense Science fiction, dystopia

Author: George Orwell

Year Published: 1949

Plot in 20 Words or Less: Big brother is watching you, and he’ll torture you if you hurt his feelings

Problematic-o-matic: Orwell was a grumpy old man who hated LGBTQ people, women, vegetarians (why), people who wear sandals (?) and communists. Didn’t appear to be racist though, so that’s...good. 

Why it’s Over-rated: 

This book had a lot of hype.  And I read it, and I hated it. 

I thought the pacing was terrible, and that there was a whole lot of talking, then a cringey, over the top saccharine romance (bleck) and then torture. 

That is terrible pacing. The whole story just grinds to a halt so Winston and Julia could fall in instalove. Ugh. Even now, instalove is a trope that’ll make me DNF unless it’s done expertly. This was not done expertly. 

My husband has argued with me that the point of the romance was to point out how the totalitarian state doesn’t allow love to exist and turns people against each other, but the fact remains that it was boring and dumb. 

Also, the ending is anti-climactic and a big let down. There, I said it.

Genre: Tripe Science Fiction

Author: Aldous Huxley

Year Published: 1932

Plot in 20 Words or Less: In a drugged up caste based society, a vacation goes horribly wrong

Problematic-o-matic: This book is ableist and racist. Like, so fucking racist, holy shit. Also, Aldous Huxley was racist, and may have been a plagiarist. (more in the link below)

Why it’s Over-rated:

This is one that made me hella uncomfortable. 

I’ll be honest, folkx, the racism in this book took me right out of the story. You see all these people defending it, but white people need to be quiet in this instance and listen to what the people being hurt by this work are saying.

And the idea of free love, but only if it’s hetero, rubbed me the wrong way too. Free love means free for everyone, baby. 

The writing itself is fine, but for one thing; characterization.

I found the characters really hard to like; even John, who was probably the most likeable character, was a total asshole by the end. Lenina was just...there. You could have replaced her with a lamp and it wouldn’t have changed much. Bernard was so, so annoying. Helmholtz was probably the only character I didn’t want to see kicked in the balls by a donkey, and he was barely in the book. 

So TL;DR: this book is so goddamn racist, and everyone sucks.

Genre: A goddamn mess Adventure/Mythology

Author: Homer (the boring one, not the yellow one)

Year Published: 8th Century BC, translated into English in 1488 (and the world was worse for it)

Plot in 20 Words or Less: Supposed smart guy gets lost for ten years, doesn’t listen to directions, and gets all his friends killed

Problematic-o-matic: Racist against cyclopes, I guess? The Ancient Greeks general distaste towards women?

Why it’s Over-rated: 

This one is petty, but Odysseus SUCKS and the book is BORING.

Sure, he’s smart and stuff, but apparently not smart enough to find his way back to his house and keep his men alive. 

My dog found it’s way back to our house when I was a kid, and that dog wasn’t very smart. Odysseus can’t do what a dog can do, and that’s really sad. 

Also, while his wife is waiting for him, staying celibate, despite all the suitors coming after her, Odysseus goes off and bones Circe and stays with her on her island. 

Which is funny, because my ex was like “oh, he was looking out for his bros and keeping this crazy woman happy” and then he cheated on me, because he thinks irony is something you use to press your clothes. 

After that point I wanted the book to end with Odysseus being eaten by a pack of wild boars and then shit out on the front lawn of his stupid castle in Ithaca. I bet his castle was ugly too. 

This book would have been better if Homer Simpson wrote it.

Genre: Dumpster fire Coming of age fiction

Author: J. D. Salinger

Year Published: 1951

Plot in 20 Words or Less: Teenage boy whines for way too many pages and almost gets shot by a pimp

Problematic-o-matic: J. D. Salinger was an abusive dick, and this book got banned at one point. And serial killers like it. So that’s...cool. 

Why it’s Over-rated: 

Holden Caufield is a whiny douche.

This book is so goddamn boring and the best part about it is that it’s short. 

The only controversy is that Holden Caufield is an asshole, and acts like a self-centered prick and talks about sex and stuff, which by today’s standards is really, really tame. 

He’s pretty realistic to a lot of teenagers; he thinks he’s the smartest, the best, that he sees through all the bullshit and he knows the right way for everything. 

But I also read this book as a teenager, and like Holden, I also had depression. I thought his portrayal was insulting on both fronts. He was incapable of seeing beyond his own world-view, and he acted like a jerk to people, even when they were nice to him. Not all people with depression are nice, but this wasn’t just not being nice, this was going out of his way to be negative to everyone around him.

I just wanted to grab the kid, smack him, and tell him to stop moping around and go spend more time with his sister.

Read the Full Post Here and Argue with Me about Books: https://elkascott.wordpress.com/2021/02/19/el-listicle-my-top-5-overrated-classic-novels/

[adalwclf]

there are some eyes can eat you

There are some eyes can eat you. In the deepest hours of night, a young boy skulks along the paling of his family’s bailey, the soft glow of stars reflected on its frost-printed grounds. His name is Adalwolf and he remembers the first pair of eyes he saw like that. Holding the parcel close to his chest, he thinks about his father down in the tomb and knows he’ll have to return the blade someday. A drystorm lightning slashes a distant sky. A god stumbles loudly in its horizonal clouds. The guard at the entrance to the bailey is asleep, just as promised. Adalwolf says a small prayer for his mother and his new wife and his little brothers and sister as he steps out through the gate, and he wonders if this is the last time that he’ll ever see them again.

People say that the darkness of the Arlwich Highlands is distinct from the other provinces. There is a forlorn backdrop of baying beasts sounding off from the countryside. Adalwolf knows the way.

His family’s lands squat in a humble swale, crisscrossed and quartered off by a thousand streams and riverbeds worried with waterfingers. Where there is not water, though, the muskeg is creeped with moss and devil’s matchstick and gray reindeer lichen lighting up the ground across the valley. Great tors are harassed with rock tripe. White-dotted ramalina staggers an overhanging inselberg, its bluff-shelter the one he and his father had frequently used for hunting. Adalwolf narrowly avoids losing his boots in the mire; he follows no road.

His father’s eyes were once dark as coal, unpaled even by age. He remembers how he felt beneath them, like his whole life had been mapped out in the span of one moment; in a blink and a smile that enslaved him to their ideas. His father had come at everything like a smith would: he had been six when his father began breaking him down to base form, unwinding flesh from bones and bones from something else beneath it all. The father saw a kind of iron that could be crafted into any tool and would never break if you forged it right, and he might have done a good job, had he not died during the boy’s eleventh year, that unfinished wad of half-shaped iron still by the fire where he left it.

Adalwolf comes to the edge of the great wald that surrounds the southern edge of their territory. He knows the path to the stone, but he’s never walked it like this. The moon has gone out tonight as if fearful what its light might show. He slips between the skeletons of dead elms and the noble pine. Methusala’s beards weep from the trees, thin and ghostly like apparitions setting the woods a-glow. Take a left at the witch’s ladder hung from skytouched oak. Stand in the fairy ring and follow Wounded Khyagfaeld. Don’t look back, don’t ever look back. Before he knows it, the forest has enveloped him in its majesty, in its total, infinite embrace.

He has never known true fear until this day. The woods are greedy, and do not let you go. They swallow the song of the moor frog. The song of the bubbling bog. There is only the quiet, now, the occasional crack of a falling tree branch, the hungriness of the darkness, and the unmistakable pair of footsteps behind him. He clings to the parcel.

His mother wanted him to be everything his father was not. Adalwolf feels sad thinking about this, because he knows he’s making things worse. How many uncles and aunts and brothers and daughters has she had to watch march off to war like toy soldiers? The system was built to last a thousand generations. It won’t bend or break, she says. To save him, she tried to crawl inside him as gentle as falling snow. Love can have its own ways of biting, though; he still has the scars left by those eyes.

But I am in here, he tells himself, and he is. Between the cracks that others have made, there is that atavistic egg inside him: the notion of a self.

There is a story in the Bärlanshire of an old shoemaker that lives in these woods. A half-giant in some versions, he was miraculously tall so that when he came to visit the ancient Longhouse King of the Bärvolk, he had to stoop low through the doorway of the great hall. The king had commissioned him to craft him a pair of boots that would allow him to march for days on end without tire, and he knew that the old shoemaker was the best cobbler south of the Horn. He’s trying to remember how the story ends when he comes to the clearing where he’d met with His Völva countless times before to learn of their people’s history and their treatises with the old things. She is an ageless woman, His Völva. Beautiful like the great wyrm: imposing, regal, and deadly to man. Her smile cunning. Her hair dark like his own, except tonight she is wearing the head of a black wolf. Her eyes the eyes of god.

There are some eyes can eat you. Run.

But he doesn’t run. He walks closer, full of nothing but trust for what would be the architect of his own undoing. And great new beginning. He has been here before, he thinks, but not like this. He doesn’t see the signs. Closer and she’ll eat you. She doesn’t want to, but she can’t help it. It’s what grown-ups do.

There’s a smell in the air. Plates wreathe the glade in the faint glow and smoke of burning coals and offerings. It feels hard in the throat. He drinks from the warm bowl that wasn’t in his hands before. The bundle with his father’s sword is now cradled in the crook of His Völva’s arm like a swaddled babe. He doesn’t remember giving it to her. She is beckoning him closer and Adalwolf thinks for a moment that she looks quite sad like people do when they come to the end of a long journey that they hoped would never end. He moves closer. His head feels heavy and everything around him is breathing and moving at the corner of his eyes like a great many itinerants had come to witness this event.

For years, he will try to correlate the following. A wolf skulks out from the underbrush to settle around His Völva’s legs. It bears its chin up to her, but Adalwolf can see it watching him from the eye that faces him. It is his own eye staring back. His Völva winds her hand into the scruff of the beast’s mane and draws him further upwards and he swears he sees the wolf grin before she cuts its throat. One clean stroke, the way northerners do on fiddles. There is no sound as the wolf collapses in the snow. Maybe it was something he ate. Maybe he’d slept in. He tries to wake up.

Her hand is coated in the gore of nations and she is unblinking. He hears her whisper something in a cracked tongue. She says, “I don’t want to die,” but there are greater things at work here and they are both too small. She is trembling as she drags her hand down the front of his face. The smell of blood is everywhere. The world turns upside down. He sees Ada standing in the doorway of his room with that grin like sunlight. “Today’s the day,” she is saying. And then there is a silhouette behind her of something that cannot exist, and she is gone. Her skin peeled back as clean as petals, disembowelled in the snow. This is not a memory. Between fingers, he sees His Völva standing there in the woods still, singing what sounds like a hymn, but in no tongue he’s ever heard. The earth shakes beneath his feet. Darkness. He is seven and his father is helping him out of his boots, untwining them with the care he showed everything he ever did: if it’s worth doing, it’s worth doing right. He bubbles up to the surface again for breath and now His Völva is on her knees and he is cradled in her great arms like an enormous infant, and he feels unusually small and safe, she like some universal mother. She is sobbing, his name on her breath, her strong arms keeping him buoyed up for a moment longer. He stands beneath his mother’s scowl, not at him, but at something inside of him, something he’d never noticed before. Later, she is stalking the board floor of their great hall, pacing until the early hours of morning, cursing in whispers. He sees her between the slats in the wooden walls, but he can’t hear the words. She looks very tired. She’s aged so much these last three years. There’s a white light at the end of certain tunnels and you are told never to go to them, that they are the entrances to new wombs, but it doesn’t work like that. When you see them, you cannot look away and your feet guide you to them. Adalwolf is like this now. Behind his pacing mother, the frame begins to split open, a crack in the world, in his mind, and an endless white beyond. He wills it open and it begins to tear apart at its seams, it envelopes everything in its hideous emptiness. And just before the world dissolves, he remembers how the story with the shoemaker ends.

And then he has his first blackout.