#not one he can particularly be blamed for given when he was writing but certainly one that his deifiers can be blamed for

[anomalocariscanadensis]

@jiskblr re: this post:

i agree that there's a common view where merchants are evil because they're not productive, but you're somewhat wrong on the intellectual history side of things. Adam Smith believed the labor theory of value* and Marx's labor theory of value in Capital is largely derived from Smith's and Ricardo's (because he was responding to the dominant economic thought of his day). Marx's primary innovation afaik was his emphasis on the split between exchange-value/price and use-value/utility (which he views in its concrete, particular manifestations rather than as an abstract aggregatable quality, e.g. the use-value of a coat is it keeps you warm and dry).

i havent read Ricardo but if wikipedia is to be believed, Ricardo and Marx differ from Smith in that they attempt to actually count the full amount of labor embodied in commodities. on the other hand, Smith and Marx differ from Ricardo in that they believe laborers receive the full, fair price of their labor as wages (yes, Marx believes this**). in Marx and Smith, unlike Ricardo, the LTV is intended to be a description of actual price formation (on average, in equilibrium, modulo supply and demand, etc) rather than some moral ideal about what prices should be.

and Marx at least is very clear that transportation of goods is productive labor*** because it generates use-value by moving them from somewhere they're less useful to somewhere they're more useful (Capital vol 2 ch 6). i didn't make it through the whole Wealth of Nations but i assume Smith says something similar somewhere.

*Wealth of Nations vol 1 ch 5: "The real price of everything, what everything really costs to the man who wants to acquire it, is the toil and trouble of acquiring it...Labour was the first price, the original purchase-money that was paid for all things. It was not by gold or by silver, but by labour, that all the wealth of the world was originally purchased; and its value, to those who possess it, and who want to exchange it for some new productions, is precisely equal to the quantity of labour which it can enable them to purchase or command... At all times and places that is dear which it is difficult to come at, or which it costs much labour to acquire; and that cheap which is to be had easily, or with very little labour. Labour alone, therefore, never varying in its own value, is alone the ultimate and real standard by which the value of all commodities can at all times and places be estimated and compared. It is their real price; money is their nominal price only."

**This is one of the most common misunderstandings about Marx even among self-identified Marxists. This post is already long but the short version is, unlike Ricardo, he's not mad that workers aren't paid "fairly", but instead thinks "fairness" under the system means awful conditions for workers. I can go into more detail about how he theoretically justifies this if desired.

***Also probably worth noting that this is not a moral term. "Productive" to Marx means "producing value for capitalists". Domestic servants, for instance, are not productive laborers in this schema (despite obviously doing hard work with real utility) because their labor is purchased for its use-value directly as a form of consumption for the wealthy, rather than as a way to make money. Marx is more vague about administration, management, etc, but does make a point somewhere in Vol 1 of noting that these jobs are usually not done by the actual big capitalists, but rather by people hired for the specific purpose and paid wages like any other worker.

[talleyuh]

just finished the bear season 3 and there is such a collective cognitive dissonance from everywhere from the writing of the show all the way to the social media marketing.

i know i’m biased because i particularly like syd and carmy together, but this season was strange but in different ways than the last season was strange.

not only does carmy take a backseat as a protagonist about halfway through, he and syd have hardly any scenes together, but i think the show almost suffers for it. this season was certainly funnier than the last, but the neil and ted fak got old and old fast. it certainly doesn’t help that even though carmy has a new arc every season, but he doesn’t take the lessons he should’ve learned into how he should act going forward. it’s stunting his growth and now that we have three seasons to compare to one another, it’s only more apparent.

we’ve already talked about how funny characters are stronger than comic relief characters and that’s essentially what the faks are. i really liked neil’s more vulnerable moments where he got to be taken seriously but it’s hard to take him seriously when all of his screen time is him doing stupid shit. also the hauntings thing? it really was not that funny.

also the show is making such an active attempt to rewrite its own history and i don’t understand why. so many little details that connect moments from the past and present to make up who the characters are and yet it’s kind of being thrown out the window.

claire being described as carmy’s peace threw me for a loop because he felt out of place in his own relationship. i think we all know the clip of carmy’s late s2 panic attack where thinking of claire and him together makes it worse but now we are given so many more scenes of when he was happy? what narrative are they trying to spin here? was carmy genuinely in love with claire or mostly disinterested, because it can’t be both.

even claire doesn’t seem interested in being with carmy at this point, and who can blame her?

her presence was just kind of weird to me, because she didn’t really interact with the rest of the cast until the 9th episode. i think her brief hospital scenes were to flesh her out more, but it’s really just creating vulnerabilities and revealing the seams. and because she’s never really been developed as much as everyone else in the series, we’re left with more questions. who was that in her bed? why was she never fired for insane medical malpractice? what is any of this for?

also a lot of the lighting this season has changed. i saw one user (can’t remember who but their post was super interesting) mention how much warmer and inviting the scenes with syd are as opposed to the coolness and almost detachment the scenes with claire were. except we see carmy in cool lighting a lot more this season.

i also wanted to add where carmy gets overwhelmed in the finale, thoughts of claire coming in with a violin sting like a horror movie doesn’t add to the narrative that they keep telling us. that’s another thing i noticed. they tell us how great claire was even though their time together hindered him being involved with his passions and his coworkers, but they retcon things and add scenes of them happy and have carmy tell us how amazing she is but they barely cared to show us.

a huge theme in this show is family and responsibility. and the scene where neil fak said claire could be the one to take care of carmy and vice versa really rubbed me the wrong way. first of all, i think it kind of supports the idea of codependency which isn’t great but i could be reaching. second, carmy isn’t really equipped to take care of anyone and i think the way he interacts with his coworkers when he’s frustrated is proof of that.

don’t get me wrong, i thought this season was amazing television, christopher storer is a brilliant writer and director, joanna calo really should helm more episodes bc ice chips was actually a perfect episode, and ayo getting the opportunity to direct tina’s episode was so amazing and i really hope i see her name in more directorial projects in the near future. but i think we’re getting a little lost in the plot here and losing sight of what the heart of the show is. the literal restaurant. and logically some of the decisions made don’t exactly hold up and i would hate to see this show fumble.

it can’t be a coincidence that so much of the show’s marketing is tied to carmy and syd and i think efforts to trick the audience are actually making the show suffer. or the increasingly less subtle decisions in the editing in the few scenes of them together? are you really gonna gaslight a whole audience for the sake of a misdirect?

[bosbas]

Chapter 2: I didn't have it in myself to go with grace

series masterlist previous part || next part

pairing: colin bridgerton x enemy!fem!reader WC: 2.0k words

Warnings: period-typical gender roles, negative self-talk (Colin bby🥺🤏), a small part of the dialogue is in French

Summary: It took precisely two days in England for you to utterly despise Colin Bridgerton. It took him approximately twelve hours after that to hate you right back. But he doesn't care that you're the only person in the ton who doesn't like him. You're set to marry someone else anyway, right?

April 16, 1816 – And of course, one cannot forget to mention Lady Y/N Montclair, who looked like a vision in her emerald dress at the Danbury Ball last night. Her presence seemed to cast a spell over the gentlemen in attendance, and they were practically lining up to engage her in conversation. It was a sight to behold, watching them swoon over her. However, one can hardly blame them, given how effortlessly graceful she was. It appears Lady Montclair will have more than enough gentlemen to choose from this season…

Eloise scoffed and rolled her eyes, the newest Whistledown in hand as she sat on a couch in the tearoom. “My word, if she hadn’t been in Tuscany last season I would think Lady Montclair herself was Lady Whistledown! She’s only been here two days and she’s already been mentioned more than most of the ton.”

Benedict chuckled from his seat across the room, shooting a look at a disgruntled-looking Colin who was trying very hard to make it seem like he wasn’t listening to Eloise reading Whistledown’s account of the ball. 

“I’d wager that Colin is Whistledown, actually. I’m convinced after today’s column,” Benedict said teasingly, taking a bite out of an apple as he analyzed the sketch in front of him. 

“First of all, I don’t even write like Whistledown, which you would know if you read the letters I sent while I was in Greece,” Colin shot back, irritated. “And second, even if I were, I certainly would not have spent two full pages talking about Lady Montclair. I’m sure I have no idea why Whistledown thought she warranted such a large portion of the column today.” 

The words felt bitter and unpleasant in his mouth, and he regretted them instantly. He knew he sounded petulant, but he couldn’t help his defensive tone after last night. Eloise, catching onto Colin’s tone, cocked her head toward Benedict and raised an eyebrow in confusion.  

“She didn’t want to dance with him,” explained Benedict, sounding highly amused about what was one of the more embarrassing things to happen to Colin. 

Eloise burst out laughing. “No! A woman who didn’t want to dance with Colin? Something must be incredibly wrong in the world! How could she have said no to London’s golden boy? And on his first day back! Shall we call for a medic?”

Colin felt the blood rushing to his face and his cheeks warming, not particularly pleased to have to deal with his sister's teasing today. He knew he was being ridiculous, that much was clear. You were only one person who hadn’t wanted to dance with him. But you had just looked so beautiful, and the way your eyes had lit up when you laughed with your brother was so enchanting, that he fashioned himself half in love with you already. 

It was slightly gut-wrenching to know you didn't feel the same way. He must have done something, Colin reasoned. No one had ever not liked Colin simply because of who he was, and he was more than a little concerned that you seemed to be the first. 

Eloise had been joking, of course, when she called Colin London’s golden boy. But it wasn’t as much of a joke as he would have liked. Anthony was a viscount, and Benedict was a successful artist with a painting in the national gallery, but what did he have to offer? He was just aimlessly traveling the world, documenting his travels in a journal no one would ever read. His own family didn’t even read his letters, for Christ’s sake. He was a third son with no talents, and the only thing he could do was lean into his charm and good nature and hope that people liked him anyway. And he had been relatively successful thus far. Except for with you, it seemed.

Noting Colin’s uncharacteristic grim mood, Eloise briefly panicked, wondering if she had gone too far. With a far softer tone, she added, “Maybe her dance card was full, Colin. It doesn’t mean she didn’t want to dance.”

But Colin shook his head, placing his chin on his hand. “I highly doubt it.”

He knew better than to assume the best. He was remarkably skilled at reading people, but even without that, it had not been difficult to tell that you were full of contempt. For him or someone else, he couldn’t be completely sure, but the way you had been laughing and smiling with everyone except for him was a particularly useful hint. 

Before he could dwell further, Violet entered the tearoom. “We’ll be going to Hyde Park to promenade today, darlings.” It was far easier to coerce her children into doing her bidding when she didn’t give them a choice. 

Ignoring their grumbling, she left the room, calling out over her shoulder, “Be ready in one hour!” 

---

Colin had barely been at the park five minutes before he spotted you, and he drew in a sharp breath. God, it was infuriating. You were wearing a cream-colored dress, chatting pleasantly with your mother, and he wanted to scream. Of course, you looked completely breathtaking. It was exactly what he needed when he was already nervous about approaching you. 

During the carriage ride, he had decided to try to speak to you again. To be your friend, at the very least. Perhaps you did not want him as a suitor, but the thought of someone in the ton actively disliking him was nauseating. 

So, he steeled himself, staring longingly at you. Now was as good a time as any because, for some miraculous reason, there seemed to be no men hounding you at the moment. You had separated yourself from your family slightly, silently observing who he could only assume was one of your older sisters and her husband. 

He made his way over to you, hands fidgeting behind his back nervously. Swallowing down his fear, he cleared his throat as he approached you, a soft smile on his face. 

“Lady Montclair, it’s lovely to see you here today. I believe we may have gotten off on the wrong foot at the ball last night, and I wanted to offer an apology.” Your face was completely blank, not giving anything away, and Colin found himself a tad more nervous than he was when he first walked up to you. “Perhaps we could promenade?” he finished weakly. 

An apology? What on earth was Colin Bridgerton on about? There was no way he’d seen you in the hallway, right? 

“An apology, Mr. Bridgerton? Whatever for?” you asked carefully, not giving anything away. 

Colin cleared his throat awkwardly. He wasn’t quite sure himself, to be honest. “Well, I’m afraid I might have offended you by asking to dance so suddenly. It might have been a bit brash to ask for a dance without a proper introduction first.”

You almost sagged in relief. Your reputation was safe. Though now you seemed irrationally angry, despising Colin for no apparent reason. However, it wasn’t in your nature to make nice with someone who viewed women simply as breeding stock.  

Curtly, you responded, “I can assure you, Mr. Bridgerton, that that did not offend me. Had we been properly introduced, my answer would have been the same.”

“Oh,” he said softly. 

You stared at him blankly, with no hint of warmth in your gaze. Sensing your hostility, he promptly turned away from you, returning to his family. Anger burned in his chest. What the hell was your problem with him? He’d barely spoken two words to you, and you had acted like he had offended your entire bloodline. 

When his anger subsided, Colin had a sobering thought. For the first time in his charmed life, someone simply did not care for him. And the worst part? He hadn’t even caused it. Colin, who prided himself on his charm and wit, found himself in the position of being disliked without cause. 

He suddenly felt very inadequate. It was a foreign feeling, and it settled quite uncomfortably in his chest. If you were determined to hate him, so be it. But to hate him without reason? That, Colin could not agree to.

If you insisted on casting him as the villain in your narrative, then he would play the role with ease. If you wanted a reason to dislike him, then a reason you would have.

You stared after Colin, eyes narrowed. His ability to act like a complete gentleman would have been impressive if it wasn’t so disturbing. 

“Ma grande,” your mother called, coming to your side (My dear). “Did I just see you being rude to Colin Bridgerton? He left fairly quickly,” she scolded gently. 

“Non, maman. Ne t'inquiète pas,” you assured (No, Mom. Don’t worry). Upon seeing her unimpressed look, you switched to English. “It was just a misunderstanding.”

“Well, you don’t seem to like him very much,” she observed.

You let out a nervous laugh, waving her comment away. “I don’t know him well enough to dislike him, maman!” 

You needed something to distract her from this line of questioning. Your mother knew you well enough to tell when you were lying, and she would be positively furious if she uncovered the real reason why you despised Mr. Bridgerton. 

Fortunately, a distraction arrived by the name of Lord Arthur Barlow. 

“Lord Barlow,” your mother called out excitedly. “Allow me the pleasure of introducing my daughter, Y/N Montclair.”

“Lady Montclair,” he smiled warmly, stretching his hand out to you. “A name as lovely as its bearer, I daresay.”

 “Lord Barlow,” you answered shyly, placing your hand in his. You felt your cheeks heating up as he kissed the back of your hand, and you were taken aback. This entirely charming man had disarmed you completely in a matter of seconds. 

"Lord Barlow, the Duke of Monmouth," your mother announced with a flourish, her eyes bright with approval at the budding acquaintance. "Shall we take a turn about the park? I would be delighted to chaperone."

Subtlety was not her specialty. Or perhaps not her priority. Though you couldn’t really be upset with her, given how good-looking the Duke was. He nodded graciously at your mother and placed your hand at the crook of his elbow, smiling down at you as you began to stroll. 

You were so enthralled you barely registered him speaking. “I hear you’ve got a knack for languages, Lady Montclair,” he remarked, prompting your attention.

“Yes, your Grace. I speak five languages, and read Sanskrit,” you answered dutifully. Such accomplishments were no small feat in the circles of the ton, and you knew it put you at an advantage in the marriage mart.

“Most impressive, indeed,” he answered, his gaze thoughtful. “My brother’s wife is from Prussia, and I’m sure she would love a chance to speak in her native tongue.”

The Duke's boldness caught you off guard, the suggestion of speaking with his sister-in-law a surprising turn. "Oh," you murmured, slightly taken aback by his directness.

 “And what else do you like to do?” asked Lord Barlow, smoothly transitioning the conversation. 

A well-prepared response rolled off your tongue, a practiced smile gracing your lips. “I am well-versed in needlepoint, and enjoy playing the pianoforte,” you smiled. It was what was expected of a young woman of your stature, after all.

Lord Barlow nodded appreciatively, seemingly satisfied with your answer. “And how do you find England? I’m certain you’re missing the Tuscan sun,” he said, pushing the conversation to lighter topics. 

The Duke's engaging manner, paired with the approval of your mother, had utterly charmed you. Engaged by his charisma and easy conversation, you found yourself giggling during your conversation, utterly captivated.

Unbeknownst to you, Colin Bridgerton observed

from afar, his gaze sharp with a mixture of irritation and something deeper brewing beneath the surface. Each laugh, each shared glance between you and the Duke, stoked the flames of his simmering displeasure.

—

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[sports-on-sundays]

Hello! Can you maybe write a clumsy reader x Lando Norris or Charles Leclerc??

Like how he gets worried about how she always gets injured such as accidentally burning herself or accidentally dropping a glass.

accident prone / CL16

Summary: Charles x clumsy!girlfriend!reader - Charles is usually pretty cool, but when it comes to you, he can be just a bit of a fussbudget. Who can blame him, though? You yourself have kind of got your head in the clouds most of the time.

Warnings: wrote this one in past tense because I felt like it, censored swearing, this one is honestly just really silly, blood, Charles being very protective

Requested?: Uh huh!

Author's Note: Thanks for another request. :)

Really, you were the paddock's big joke. And you didn't mind at all. Being Charles Leclerc's girlfriend, you hung around a lot. Especially since your boyfriend practically begged you to come to nearly every single Grand Prix. So, yeah. You were around a lot.

Which was why you were kind of the paddock's big joke. It wasn't like you were trying to be. It was like the way you were. Carlos told you that you were bringing it upon yourself. Maybe so, but you weren't trying to. It was just one too many clips of you tripping on air, walking into walls, dropping important things you were holding for someone, and the like. One time you were having a conversation with a few of the guys (because although obviously Charles was your man, you got along well with the other drivers) and when Max happened to say something particularly humorous, you sprayed the coffee you had been drinking out of your nose at the same time as dropping it. It splashed onto Lando's shoe. He, who was pretty annoyed (understandably so) had said something like, in a rather teasing, lighthearted tone, regardless, "My God, f*ck you, Y/n! My shoe! You're such a klutz!"

To that, you had stuck your tongue out at him and countered, "You're being over dramatic, rich boy! It's not like you can't easily buy yourself a new pair!"

While you admittedly were certainly pretty clumsy, you had a sharp mind. Still, you were humble enough to not mind being the grid's laughingstock. Everyone understood it was lighthearted.

Well, not everyone. There was one person who seemed to have issues with the whole thing. And it was your own boyfriend. Charles.

Referring to the story of spilling coffee on Lando's shoe again- as soon as you had finished with your comeback, suddenly Charles was next to you with his arm around your shoulder. He had been- well, not around. But somehow he must have heard and rushed to your side, because the look he had given Lando was honestly priceless as he asked the younger man, concerned, "What the hell did she do to make you say that to her?" He sounded so offended- more offended than you were yourself.

Lando had looked honestly nervous. "Max made her laugh so she spilled coffee on my shoe!"

"Mate, you're blaming it on me?" was Max's reaction, before looking at the imaginary watch on his wrist and saying, "Look at the time! Got to go."

"You know, just so happens, me too!" was what Lando said with a giggle, and the two had gone off. You were sure that as the two walked away together, they made fun of Charles and his little ways. But Charles wouldn't have minded. Because the only time Charles got defensive was when someone was bothering you.

Now, though, you were away from the paddock and racing. Now you were at home, thinking about all this as you smiled to yourself, standing next to the stove, waiting for the water for tea to boil. Charles was still in bed and had had an exhausting last weeks, so you thought he might like a little breakfast when he finally stirred.

Suddenly the tea kettle started squealing, and you quickly grabbed the it, hoping not to wake up your boyfriend in the other room. You started pouring the water in Charles' mug, and swore loudly when your hand bumped the kettle. You groaned. That's gonna leave a burn. You finished pouring the boiling water and ran your hand under lukewarm water as it steeped. You sighed, shaking your head, and very carefully, with shaky hands, put two pieces of bread in the toaster. Then you grabbed a glass and the orange juice from the fridge, but just as you were about to pour it, your hip bumped the counter and the glass slipped right out of your hand, shattering on the floor with a loud crash that made you flinch and grit your teeth. "For f*ck's sake!" you snapped, unable to hold it back. You sighed, reaching for the broom, but just then, a sleepy, disoriented Charles entered the room, with furrowed eyebrows and squinted eyes, still shirtless and wearing pajama pants. "Careful, love," you murmured. "Broken glass."

"Hmmm," he yawned, rubbing his eye. "What's going on? You okay, baby?"

"Yeah, I am," you started, starting to step around the glass pile to Charles, but wobbled and lost your balance, about to fall but- Charles, even having just woken up, caught you with a little chuckle. He helped you steady yourself and you sighed, shaking your head as you met him. "Anyway, yeah. I'm fine. I was... I feel bad. I was trying to make you some surprise breakfast, but... Clearly, I woke you up."

"Oh..." he smiled, naturally pulling you to him. "That's sweet..." Suddenly though, he saw your hand, and his brow grew concerned. He took your burnt hand, holding it up. "What's this?"

"Oh, uh," you giggled, glancing away. "Tea kettle."

"Hm. Looks like you had quite the-"

Suddenly you squeaked and flinched as the toaster popped behind you. You then broke out into laughing at yourself at being so frightened, and Charles teased, grabbing the broom, "Good thing you weren't holding a glass this time, huh? Babe, I really appreciate all this, really. But I'll clean up the glass and everything, and then I'll take my breakfast. Thanks, love."

You nodded, slowly leaving the kitchen, honestly feeling kind of bad. Really bad. You were trying to do something nice, and now he was in there, cleaning up your mess. No matter how many times he always told you it was okay, you were never fully convinced. Doesn't he get tired of me and my stupid little mistakes? Doesn't he get tired of always walking behind me and picking up the mess I leave?

When he came into the dining room with his breakfast, he thanked you wholeheartedly, gave you a damp cool rag for your burn, and got eating.

"Whoa, lovely, watch out," Charles said, suddenly grabbing your arm and pulling you closer to him, making you stumble a bit.

"What was that for, hm?" you frowned.

He smiled and somehow managed to say in the kindest way possible, "You were so busy looking up at the beautiful blue sky, you almost ran straight into that wall. What'cha daydreaming about?"

"Hmmm..." you glanced to his eyes, which in the bright lighting reflected just a slightly more grey version of the sky above. "You." You winked.

"How sweet," he smiled, gesturing to the Ferrari garage. Yes, you really were about to just walk right past it. Neither of you mentioned it, of course. As he left for his duties, though, he gave you a little wink and said, "Those high-heels are lovely, by the way. Just be careful." You clicked your tongue, but you knew he was right. Last time you wore heels at a Grand Prix, you ended up tripping over them and scraping both your knees. Charles had worriedly asked 'Are you alright?' so many times someone could have assumed you had just had a seizure or something instead of just tripping and falling. You had reassured him, as blood dripped down your legs, that you were just fine. He had rushed you back inside and made sure your legs got fixed up. For the rest of the weekend, you had hobbled around in sneakers and barely bent your legs because it hurt to bend the skin on your knees. It pretty much sucked, and fans on social media made fun of you almost as much as the other drivers on the grid, but you hadn't minded. The worst part was the pain- being made fun of was just fine. But of course it didn't go on for long, because Charles took whatever avenues that were necessary to put an end to people making fun of his girlfriend like that.

Charles had said after that whole thing something like, 'Y/n, you need to be more careful! You can't worry me like that, love!' which you found humorous, considering that over twenty weekends a year he went into basically a rocket ship and raced a bunch of other guys in other rocket ships, and made you worry sick. Either way, that was really the weekend when Charles' whole anxiety over your little accidents really started.

Before qualifying today, though, you made sure to catch Charles and give him a kiss, saying, "Don't crash."

He smiled gracefully and said back, "I won't. You don't crash, either, though."

You rolled your eyes with a little smile, gave him another kiss on the cheek, and he was off.

"Charlie! Nice job, dude!" you congratulated your boyfriend. You gave him a high five, and he gave you a hug. "Starting in a great position for tomorrow, love. Congrats!"

He chuckled. "Thanks, Y/n. I'm gonna go change. Be right back."

You nodded, and Charles walked off, but got caught in a conversation. When Carlos strolled in, you went to congratulate him as well, but of course.

You could feel it in slow motion. You foot getting caught, your other foot stepping forward, the force of gravity pulling you down, down-

You suddenly squealed though when unfamiliar arms caught you. After a second of disorientation, you realized it had been Carlos, who was now saying, "Holy sh*t, Y/n. You could've cracked your skull. Every day life with you is more dangerous than the life of being a Formula One driv-"

Suddenly, though, Mr. Protect Y/n At All Costs (Charles Leclerc), grabbed your hand, pulling you to him, away from Carlos, and said, "What the hell, you okay?"

"Uh, yeah," you said, honestly just embarrassed, glancing to Carlos.

"Sorry, Charles, I didn't want her to crack her skull," Carlos said after Charles sent him a nasty look. "You should be thanking me." Carlos gave his teammate a playful shove on the shoulder and walked away.

"Why don't you sit down and wait for me?" was Charles' suggestion.

"Right."

That night as you drove to the hotel, went inside, got ready for bed, and had a little snack, you didn't speak a word to Charles, and anytime he tried to talk, you didn't have much to say back to him.

Finally, as you finished your little snack, Charles sat down next to you, taking both your hands in his, saying gently and completely seriously, "Y/n, clearly something is wrong. Please know that you can tell me. Was it something that happened today? Did someone bother you? Was it what happened with Carlos?"

"No, no, Charles, they're fine," you murmured, sipping your water. "What Carlos did is fine, too. Good." You tried to show a little lighthearted smile, but maybe it just came off as seeming sarcastic as you said, "I mean, thank God for Carlos. Otherwise I might be in the hospital with a cracked open head, right?"

Charles, as expected, didn't buy it, and took your hands in both of his, saying earnestly with big, worried eyes, "You can tell me what's bothering you, Y/n. I want to help you."

Your jaw clenched as you murmured, "That's just it, Charles. That's the problem."

"What is?" he asked, looking so seriously and utterly confused, it might have been funny if it had been in another situation. "That I want to help you?!"

"No," you shook your head, looking down. "That I need your help. I feel so bad. I'm always messing things up- breaking stuff, hurting myself, being all jumpy. And along with everything else you have to worry about, you feel like you need to worry about me, too. You're just always there, looking out for me and fixing all my dumb mistakes. It's so stupid- but my clumsiness is actually becoming a problem. I don't even care if drivers or the internet make fun of me. It's just, like... you're so protective of me and it's because I can't stay on my two own f*cking feet. I mean, that must be so hard for you- don't you get exasperated with me? I mean I'm fine on my own. But oh my God, I feel like a little kid! You had to tell me not to run into a f*cking wall! A wall! I don't know, Charles... Aren't you sick of me? Aren't I a burden to you?"

The look Charles gave you was probably a mixture of confusion, sympathy, love, and exasperation. Which was a very strange mix, for a very strange expression, before he said, "You aren't a burden to me at all, Y/n... Babe, I love helping you. And, okay, we all have those days when there's a lot on our minds and we do stupid things. You make it seem like everyday there's another thing. There's not. Maybe three times a week you do something a little silly. But I know you. When you're nervous, your head is kind of in the clouds, and you trip up. Literally. On race weekends, you do. And the other thing you always do..." He hesitated, before getting more serious, saying quieter, "Sometimes I think you try so hard to please me, and you get nervous."

You stare, eyes wide. Because you hadn't even realized it, but he was right.

"You don't have to worry about that," he continued gently. "You already please me, without trying. Because I love you and you're gorgeous. You're right that you can take care of yourself, but I like being there for you. I like helping you out, okay?" He leaned in and gently planted a kiss on your cheek. "Besides, I think you being a little accident prone is cute."

"Accident prone and cute, huh?" You looked up, a soft smile appearing on your face and a little giggle in your voice as you leaned closer to him, relief rushing though you, and giving him a cheek kiss back. "I like that."

[ingravinoveritas]

So came I came across this repost from Al that a fan posted yesterday to which she reposted and to have her say and ad I much I can see she trying to defend ms with the radio getting his name wrong it a common thing for poor ms and I don't think this personally was the guys fault and I think they was reading from a script which I think most radio presenters have I think.

But the thing I noticed also was yes she was trying to defend her parter but also seems complaining that she and the children have to endure listening to the station in the car all the time and that like a another red flag like they literally have nothing in common and I'm still wondering why they still together. Cos I've noticed since michael been London he seems alot happier and heathly cos he closer to his best friend and beaming also. Can we have him stay permanently in London and not go bk to Wales in May.

What ur thoughts on this repost for Al I would to hear

(Grouping these together for ease of answering.)

I had this sent to me a little while ago and I'm...well, it takes a lot to floor me these days, especially in this fandom, but...I think this did it. Because there is so much going on here, and almost none of it is good.

On the surface, I know this very much looks like AL defending Michael, but I do not think that's what this was about at all. I think she saw BBC Radio 6 tagged in the original tweet and saw an opportunity to gain attention due to the proximity of a high-profile account. The way she did it, however, was by making something related to Michael about her. Again. And again, the wording of this retweet takes it from AL defending him to something else entirely.

Saying that she has to "endure" Michael listening to this radio show in the car is just a terrible look, as if listening to something he enjoys is so unbearably awful, and that she only puts up with because she's stuck in a car with him. It feels like she's literally complaining about Michael under the pretense of defending him, and I don't know how she (or anyone else) thinks this is okay.

The thing is, the whole "Martin Sheen" thing has become a running joke precisely because Michael has been dealing with this not just for his whole career, but his entire life. It's something he has frequently talked about, and I can imagine that it has been challenging on so many levels, but Michael also knows that Martin Sheen has been in the business for 60 years, and more than that, he is also a fan of Martin's. He's even talked about being introduced to him at a party years ago (I can't remember by whom, but Michael described the person as saying "Mr. President, meet Mr. Prime Minister"--referring to Martin and Michael's roles in The West Wing and The Queen, respectively).

So yes, the overarching point is that Michael doesn't blame Martin Sheen for these repeated mix-ups, and actually respects him as an actor and person. And when he has felt annoyed about this happening (as he did in 2020 when an ITV announcer called him the wrong name prior to a new episode of Quiz), Michael has had no problem calling it out himself on his own social media. Which speaks to your point @thetardisisblueandroseistoo about her trying to speak on Michael's behalf, and again doing a miserable job of it.

Also, what Michael hasn't done--and I suspect would be horrified at Anna doing--is go after the hosts of a show that he just appeared on yesterday. Particularly a show with hosts he is a tremendous fan of, as he spent a good portion of his appearance gushing about them and how much he enjoys listening to the show. I think he would more than understand the one host making this mistake--given his age and how much more embedded Martin Sheen is in pop culture--and would certainly exercise a lot more graciousness than to write a nasty tweet like the one AL did above.

That's the best way I can describe it: Shades of what we saw in the Insta story from last week, with that same self-aggrandizing, passive-aggressive (and now also kind of bitter) tone. There are a hundred other ways she could have responded to this, yet what she chose was to get in a dig at Michael, plus QT a fan tweet so that it could be misconstrued as her yelling at the fan. And again, in the cases where Michael has called out announcers or others for getting his name wrong, it's because he felt he deserved to have his name said correctly. In this case, however, it seems that AL wants the presenter to get Michael's name right because not doing so is an inconvenience to her.

Those were my impressions of AL's tweet, at any rate. All I can say is that from my perspective, if this was her attempting to defend Michael, it could not have been more backhanded. Glad to hear from my followers as well about your thoughts on this. Thanks for writing in! x

[zahri-melitor]

Is Zdarksy’s Batman run actually bad, or is it just messy?

I actually like Zdarsky's current Batman run and don't think 'bad' or 'messy' are actually the right words to characterise it at all.

There's a tendency when a writer gets handed one of the Big Name Titles (Batman, Detective Comics, Superman, Action Comics, Tom King's currently attempting it over in Wonder Woman) to want to produce a Genre Defining, Intellectual Run on the the title. I don't entirely blame it on Jeph Loeb and Hush, but it's undoubtedly become a lot more common since Hush sold approximately one squillion copies and has never been out of print since 2003.

Writers want to make their mark on the title and so they get caught up in interrogating Bruce's psyche rather than focusing on writing entertaining stories based in Gotham characters.

(This is also why I suggest if you want a fun Scott Snyder Batman run you read Gates of Gotham or All Star Batman rather than his Batman run, because he's trying less hard to write his Great Batman Graphic Novels and more focused on telling a good story).

At the moment we have both Chip Zdarsky and Ram V focused on writing Great Defining Batman Runs, rather than what is more common to happen, which is one of the writers on Tec or Batman is trying this and the other is focused on writing entertaining Gotham stories. Ram V's is, from all accounts, probably the one of the two that is going to end up entering The Canon.

However I certainly see more people talking about Zdarsky's run, probably because it's the more accessible of the two to pick up casually for for a run.

What ALSO doesn't help is that Ram V. is currently writing a Barbatos-based run and Zdarsky is writing a Zur-En-Arrh-based run (extremely generalised), as they're two overlapping Basic Batman Plots about forces controlling Bruce.

Why I think people are currently complaining about Zdarsky's run:-

It's based around an interrogation of Zur-En-Arrh Batman. ZEA is probably one of the least liked 'Bruce has crossed the line and is trying to be All Batman, All the Time' plots around here, because it revolves around a concept essentially invented by Grant Morrison, and people on tumblr don't like Grant Morrison's Batman.

Zdarsky is writing about Joker. People on tumblr don't like Joker and think he's overused.

Zdarsky's run has leaned quite heavily into multiversal concepts so far, but what he's looking at is different depictions of Batman The Character across different media adaptions, particularly older adaptions, and what they have to say about the central truth of Batman The Character. He's picking blokey and reddit-popular sort of titles to reference, not tumblr-popular ones.

The primary character in the run is Bruce. The secondary character in the run is Tim. Every other Bat character who passes through the run is brought in to serve a purpose to the narrative, using an aspect of their personality, and if you're a fan of another character, the fact that they're appearing as a side character or an obstacle in the story can be annoying, as the story isn't focused on the thing you cherish most about your blorbo.

I think everyone is busy blaming every aspect of the plot of Gotham War they don't like on Zdarsky, despite the fact it was written by a trio: I don't see Tini Howard or Matthew Rosenberg catching nearly as much flack for Gotham War, even as aspects of the event were pretty clearly steered by them (The Selina parts of the plot were obviously Howard. The Jason parts of the plot including the conditioning look pretty clearly to be a Rosenberg requested part of the story, given he had been consistently writing most of the published Jason content for the last 3 years).

Really, I think at its base it's that Zdarsky is digging into an aspect of the Batman mythos that tumblr doesn't particularly like, and that Zdarsky's main focus in terms of characters are Bruce and Tim. It's fashionable to complain that Tim's getting love and support by a writer for a whole lot of fanon rather than canon related reasons, PLUS Zdarsky is using the wider Gotham cast sparingly and only when he specifically wants them to work within the narrative he's telling.

Plus, it's pretty clear to my eye that Zdarsky's favourite Batman eras are about 1995-2009, and that's shaping some of his choices of characterisation using long term aspects of characters. He's a Brubaker-Rucka and a Morrison-Nicieza fan, people. He likes O'Neil era events and Batfamily writing from Gotham Knights and Bruce Wayne: Murderer/Fugitive.

[m1ckeyb3rry]

Hurricanes / Hummingbirds: I

Series Synopsis: As the years go by, you find that it is incredibly difficult to survive wars and fight storms, especially when the only thing you have by way of a cursed technique is the blessing of a tiny bird.

Chapter Synopsis: You meet your new classmates at Tokyo Jujutsu Tech.

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Hajime Kashimo x Female Reader; slight Kento Nanami x Female Reader; slight Satoru Gojo x Female Reader

Chapter Word Count: 5.6k

Content Warnings: swearing, enemies/rivals to lovers, character death, canon-typical violence, angst, gore, original characters included

A/N: i become obsessed with kashimo -> i discover there is no content for him -> i write my own fic -> he doesn't even show up until like chapter 8. go figure.

“They say I was born with a hummingbird in place of my heart,” you said, staring at the ground and clasping your hand over your chest. “But that’s not possible, of course.”

“Certainly not.” The man you were speaking to was tall and stocky, with close-cropped hair and the sort of aged, lined face that made him seem exhausted beyond his years. The pursing of his lips was the only deviation from a normal expression he deigned to show, his dark eyes trained on you kept carefully blank, his forehead smooth from any unnatural furrows.

“Well. At any rate, that's what they believed, so that’s why they sent me here,” you said.

“Do you have a cursed technique?” he said. He was a blunt person, this man, evidently seeing no purpose in dancing around subjects and instead preferring to get straight to the point. You shrugged in response.

“I wouldn’t know,” you said.

“That means you likely don’t,” he said, clicking his tongue in disappointment and then crossing his burly forearms across his wide chest. The man was built like a mountain, and you felt so fragile in front of him, as if he could smash you with one step. “At least you can see those ghastly little things.”

“Yes,” you said, pleased to have done at least this one thing right. “Yes, I can!”

“Very good. Then there should be no issues with you enrolling,” he said. “There’s two other first years; you should get along with them well enough.”

“Only two?” you said before you could stop yourself. “Isn’t that — I mean, I’d heard that Japan was the seat of cursed energy, so shouldn’t there be more?”

The man snorted. “You’re an optimistic girl. Sorcerers are a minority no matter where in the world you are. There really are only two. Three, if you’re counted.”

“I see,” you said. “And, um, will you be my teacher?”

“Next year,” he said, his hand roughly thumping down on your shoulder in what was likely meant to be a comforting gesture. “For now, you’re stuck with Hinode.”

“Hinode?” you said. The man let out a long-suffering sigh.

“Kaito Hinode, that insufferable being. He’s the first-year teacher for Tokyo,” he said.

“Oh,” you said. Though you barely knew the man, you had been hoping for the sense of familiarity he would bring. Alone in a place where you recognized no one, at least the man would be someone you could look to as a sort of constant, a variable you somewhat understood. “Thank you…?”

His eyes widened. “Ah. I forgot to introduce myself; forgive me, it’s only that I knew your name already, so I assumed you would know mine. Of course, you’d have no reason to, and I don’t blame you for being confused. I am Masamichi Yaga, the second-year teacher at Tokyo Jujutsu Tech.”

“Thank you, then, Yaga, sir,” you said, swallowing and bowing your head. “I am very grateful for all of the help you’ve given me.”

“It wasn’t ‘help.’ I was just doing my job,” he said. “The higher ups sent me to get you, so you can thank them.”

“Why did they go to such lengths for me?” you said. He actually laughed at the question, and you were sufficiently put-out by his amusement.

“It wasn’t because they particularly cared about you. They’re just desperate for fresh blood. More bodies in the eternal war against curses, you see?” he said.

“That makes sense,” you allowed. After all, if you only had two other classmates, then certainly there was a dearth of people who had the aptitude for sorcery, meaning the higher ups would naturally do as much as they could to foster any available talent, no matter how meager.

“Don’t take it to heart,” Yaga said. “That’s how it is in this world. Anyways, I’ll show you to your dorm room and you can unpack your things. One of your peers will come by tomorrow morning to take you to your classes.”

“Thank you, sir,” you said. He gave you a look out of the corner of his eye as you began to walk.

“You are surprisingly grateful for a girl yanked out of a spoiled life and thrown into a world full of monsters,” he said.

“A spoiled life?” you said. “I guess it could seem that way.”

“Was it not?” he said. You thought back to your time at home, and you frowned slightly, ducking closer to Yaga’s shadow to conceal yourself.

“It was fine. They treated me as well as they knew how to,” you said. Yaga’s severe features softened almost imperceptibly, and he slowed so that you could keep up with him easily.

“That’s the most we can ask for, isn’t it?” he said. Despite his words, you could sense the distaste rolling off of him in waves, wrapping around you like a thorny blanket warding off the old thoughts. Your frown slipped away, replaced with a small smile at the fact that there was even just this one person in the world who cared about what had happened to you.

Your room was small and neat, but it was your own, which made it more than enough. You didn’t have very many possessions, so unpacking your things and hanging up your few photographs did not take very long. There were uniforms already hanging in your closet, the fabrics of which were smooth and liquidy under your fingers, all of them dark-colored like shadows and likely already tailored to fit you.

You thought it might take a while for you to fall asleep, but almost as soon as your cheek touched against the cool silk of your pillowcase, the sun was rising in the east once more. The thought of staying in your bed was tempting, but any pleasure you’d derive from lazing about would likely be canceled out by the shame of one of your new classmates catching you in such a position. So, with a heavy yawn that sent blood rushing to your head, you kicked your blankets off of your legs and resolved to get ready for the day.

The bleary daylight struggling through the curtains was just enough for you to see by, so you did not bother with switching the lamps on — anyways, the dimness was better for your eyes to adjust to. If you had to feel around a little bit, well, that was the price you would pay for comfort.

The daily tasks of washing your face and brushing your teeth and fiddling with your hair were a comfortable routine that you were able to settle into rather mindlessly. Whether here or at home, the act of putting toothpaste on a brush was the same, and you were lulled into a state of relaxation as you milled about, even humming to yourself in a rare fit of joy.

By the time there was a knock on your door, you were completely ready and sitting at your desk, writing a letter you would likely never send. You sprang to your feet and straightened your clothes one last time before opening it, trying your best to seem composed despite your curiosity about who had come to get you.

He was the most dour looking boy you had ever seen in all of your years of living, his very posture radiating exhaustion and gloom. There were heavy bags under his brown eyes, and his blond hair fell limply in his face, parted neatly above his left eyebrow though it was. Though upon closer inspection he really did seem to be your age, some quality of his made it appear as though he was eons your elder. Perhaps it was the permanent scowl, or perhaps the disheartened hunch of his shoulders, as if he were burdened by the weight of many centuries.

“I’m Kento Nanami,” he said. His voice was a dull, deep monotone, exactly what you had expected from him. “Hinode told me to pick you up. You’re the new first year?”

“Yes,” you said, offering him your hand to shake. He raised an eyebrow but took it without hesitation, his grip firm and assured. “Y/N L/N. Oh, I know it’s polite to refer to people by their last names here, but I’d prefer if you just called me Y/N. It’s what I’m used to, you see, since that’s how it’s done where I’m from.”

“Sure,” he said. “As long as you continue to call me Nanami.”

“Yes, I will definitely do that,” you said, having already planned on doing so and seeing no point in irritating him on your first meeting. He seemed to be the stricter sort, a very by-the-book sort of person, and if he really was to be one of your only two classmates, then it would not do for him to think you a boor upon first impressions.

“Thanks,” he said. “Did you eat breakfast? No? You wouldn’t have. We’ll be late for class if we stop by the dining hall, so…here, have this.”

He fished a granola bar out of his pocket and handed it to you delicately. It was lumpy and misshapen, but the wrapper was intact if not wrinkled, so with a shrug, you ripped it open and took a bite.

“Thank you,” you said once you had finished the entire thing and your hunger had been staved off for the moment. “You didn’t have to give that to me.”

He gave you an odd look. “It was a mushed up granola bar from my pocket. I don’t know how much gratitude it really warrants, but I guess you’re welcome?”

“I would’ve been hungry until lunch without it,” you explained. “So I’d say it warrants at least a little gratitude.”

Nanami wilted, his already glum countenance greying even more at your words. You furrowed your brow, hoping you had not offended him, but all he did was open the black bag he was carrying and produce a sandwich for you.

“Sorry,” he muttered. “You can have it.”

“Ah, what is that?” you said.

“A sandwich? Do they not have those where you’re from?” he said.

“Of course they have sandwiches where I’m from. I mean, why are you giving it to me?” you said. He pouted and looked away.

“I thought you’d be a lot more annoying,” he said. “But I guess you’re pretty nice. Sorry for not getting you early enough for you to be able to have breakfast.”

“It’s alright,” you said. “Is this yours? I don’t want to take it if you’ll be hungry without it.”

“No, it’s actually something one of the older students made for me,” he said, rubbing the back of the neck. “I don’t really trust him, though, so I wasn’t really planning on eating it.”

“So you gave it to me?” you said with a snort. You hadn’t tasted anything strange in the sandwich, so you didn’t feel alarmed in continuing to eat it, but it remained that there was some humor in Nanami not trusting the sandwich enough to eat yet letting you do so without remorse.

“It’s not like that!” he said. “Er, well, you see, it’s not that the older student would do anything bad to the sandwich — rather, he would think that me eating it would amount to a declaration of friendship, and as I’ve vowed to stay far away from him, that’d be somewhat inconvenient.”

“I get it,” you said. “Is this older student some kind of a criminal?”

“No,” Nanami said.

“A bully?”

“Hm, not necessarily. At least, he’s never seriously cruel, though he does joke around quite a bit.”

“Um…exceptionally stupid?”

“He’s decently smart.”

“Then why do you dislike him so much?” you said, completely befuddled now. Nanami scowled fiercely, crossing his arms and sticking his nose haughtily in the air.

“He’s fucking annoying, that’s why!” he said, and though by all rights he should’ve sounded whiny just then, his voice remained at that same blank pitch. “He might be strong, but don’t be fooled, Y/N, he and that best friend of his are so incredibly immature it’s actually laughable. You’d do well to stay away from them.”

“I will try my best,” you said. You were all but forced to trust Nanami on this one, since you didn’t know anyone else who could confirm or deny his opinion, but you weren’t too disappointed by that. He seemed to be the unbiased sort, and despite the fact that he had almost made you survive the entire morning on nothing more than a single granola bar, you sensed you could trust him a little. “Though the sandwich was admittedly really very good.”

“Don’t tell him you think so,” Nanami warned you. “He’s that kind of guy.”

“Hm?” you said. “What kind of guy?”

“The kind that’s good at everything without trying and consequently has an ego the size of Tokyo,” he said, shaking his head. “I don’t want to imagine what he’d be like if he heard that you liked his cooking.”

“I’ll pretend like I thought the sandwich was horrible should we meet,” you promised.

“Smart plan,” he said, pausing as you reached the entrance to a classroom and giving you an intense stare. It was almost frightening, seeing the lifeless Nanami glare at you, and you shrank back. “Listen. Our teacher, he’s a little strange, alright? So just — just ignore it. He’s as strong as he is ridiculous, so if you know what’s good for you, you’ll go along with whatever he says!”

“Um, okay,” you said, all sorts of thoughts brewing in your mind. What manner of person could prompt such a reaction from Nanami? Was your teacher a sadist? Did he really enjoy torturing his poor students? Should you be afraid? Even Yaga had called him an insufferable being, so maybe you’d do well to be cautious.

There were two people in the room. One was a dark haired boy with large, innocent brown eyes sitting at a desk and cheering on the other, who was chugging a bottle neatly labelled bleach. The man drinking had curly black hair and thick brows, which were furrowed over beetle-bright eyes. With a satisfied sigh, he slammed the bottle on the desk, leading the boy to whoop in excitement.

“Congratulations, Hinode, sir! That’s a new record!” he said. Hinode — as in your teacher, Kaito Hinode — high-fived the boy, the smack resounding through the room like thunder. Nanami scoffed under his breath at the display, quiet enough that only you could hear, and then he cleared his throat.

“Hinode, sir, I’ve brought the new student. Her name is Y/N L/N,” he said. Hinode and the other boy turned to look at you and Nanami before turning back to one another and squealing in unison.

“Aww! Nanami is with a woman!”

“Aren’t they sweet together, Haibara? Aren’t they?”

“Yes, yes!”

“What are they talking about?” you said. Nanami rolled his eyes.

“You can just feel free to pretend like they’re not talking at all. You’ll find it a lot easier to respect Hinode if you do,” he said.

“By the way, was he really drinking bleach earlier?” you said, motioning towards the now-empty bottle. Nanami slapped his palm against his forehead.

“He’s like an alcoholic,” he said. “Hinode, sir, you should stop drinking so much. You don’t need any excess cursed energy right now, so what was the reason for wasting perfectly good bleach like that?”

“I’ll have you know that Haibara here was timing me to see how fast I could drain the bottle,” he said. “The faster I can drink on missions, the faster I can react, right? So it’s for research purposes!”

“Sure,” Nanami said. “Whatever you say, sir. Now, you really should introduce yourself to Y/N before continuing to scare her.”

“Right! Y/N, my name is Kaito Hinode and I’ll be your teacher while you’re a first year at the Tokyo campus of Jujutsu Tech. My cursed technique involves drinking poison to boost my cursed energy reserves, which is why I was drinking that bleach just now,” he said.

“Oh, alright,” you said, relieved that he wasn’t the sort of person to just drink bleach for the humor of it.

“And I’m Yu Haibara! I’m your other classmate!” the boy said.

“It’s nice to meet you, Haibara. Please call me Y/N,” you said. He saluted.

“Will do! And it’s nice to meet you as well. I’m so excited to have another classmate!” he said. His cheer was contagious, and you could not help but beam, matching his energy with some of your own.

“Do the both of you have innate techniques?” you said. After hearing about Hinode’s technique, you were invested in learning more about the different ways that sorcery could manifest in a person, and there was no better place to start than the two boys you would spend the next few years learning with.

“I do,” Nanami said. “I forcibly create a weak spot at the ratio point of seven and three.”

You blinked. “Huh?”

“It’s relatively simple,” he said, picking up a piece of chalk and drawing something faintly resembling a whale before dividing it up into ten equal pieces and circling one of the divisions. “See this? Seven and three. If I strike at this spot, the effects are devastating.”

“It’s much easier to see it drawn out compared to when you explained it with words,” you admitted sheepishly. He did not quite smile, but the corners of his mouth twitched upwards in approval.

“I don’t have a technique,” Haibara said with a dramatic sigh. “I just reinforce my body with cursed energy and fight hand to hand. It works well enough.”

“More than well enough, since you’ve made it so far,” Hinode said. “I won’t have any of my pupils putting themselves down — you’re definitely not weak just because you lack a technique.”

“That’s true, sir, thank you. What about you, Y/N? Do you have a technique?” Haibara said. You shrugged and then shook your head.

“I don’t think I do, which, according to Yaga, means I don’t. We’re similar in that sense, Haibara,” you said. Hinode squinted at you incredulously.

“Did he really tell you you don’t have a technique?” he said. “It’s obvious you do.”

“Really?” you said. Though you had not been sad about lacking an innate technique, it was nice to hear that Hinode believed you had one. Like a validation, almost, a proof that there was a reason you had been sent to learn sorcery.

“Hummingbird’s Blessing,” he said. “It’s only manifested once in recorded history, and even that was centuries ago, so I don’t blame him for not recognizing it, but it is a technique.”

“How do you know about it, then?” you said. Hinode winced.

“You’ll think I’m a nerd, but the truth is that drinking poison enhances my perception and my memory, both of which came into play in this. One: I had just read a book about extinct techniques the other day, and Hummingbird’s Blessing was briefly mentioned in it. Two: my temporarily enhanced senses allowed me to see the signs of your technique relatively quickly,” he said.

“I guess that checks out,” you said. “What does Hummingbird’s Blessing do? Is it a good technique?”

Hinode pursed his lips. “Well, uh…the book just said that it allows you to borrow the strength of the hummingbird.”

“What does that mean? It’s not like hummingbirds are particularly strong. Actually, I’d even go so far as to call them weak,” you said.

“Right,” Hinode said awkwardly. “It’s okay! Plenty of people with substandard techniques learn to use things like cursed tools to make up for their shortcomings. For example, there’s a sorcerer named Mei Mei who’s so fearsome with just her battle axe that she rarely even uses her technique when fighting, and she’s still one of the strongest sorcerers in the current era.”

“Yeah, plus don’t forget about Kusakabe!” Haibara chimed in. “He doesn’t even have an innate technique, but he’s going to become a grade one sorcerer soon. It’s possible to be strong without having a special grade technique.”

“Exactly,” Hinode said.

“I guess it’s better than having nothing at all,” you said.

“That’s the spirit,” Nanami said boredly, though this was likely easier for him to say as he had an actually effective technique and therefore would not have to work as hard as you and Haibara would to be strong.

“Say! Let’s let that be our first lesson, then,” Hinode said. He must’ve picked up on the way your hopes had surged and then been quashed, and was now doing whatever he could to cheer you up. “Come on, you three. Let’s go to the cursed tools warehouse.”

“Ugh,” Nanami said. “What a hike.”

“Y/N can’t start training if she doesn’t have a weapon of her own,” Hinode explained.

“Do you think I can stock up on stuff, too?” Haibara said, already ten steps ahead of the rest of you. “I know I prefer my fists, but still, it would be good to have a dagger or two at hand, don’t you think? Right, right, Hinode, sir?”

“Yes, sure, if you find something you like and which the Big Three Sorcerer Families won’t throw a fit over you taking, you can have it,” Hinode said. Haibara pumped his fist in the air.

“Alright! Y/N, this is going to be so fun. Think of it like a huge shopping trip!” he said, waiting for you to catch up to him and then throwing a companionable arm around your shoulder.

“I’m very excited,” you said genuinely. “Say, what did Hinode mean when he said you couldn’t take anything that the Big Three Sorcerer Families would be upset about? Who are they?”

“I forgot you weren’t from around here, so of course you wouldn’t know who they are,” Haibara said, his arm dropping back to his side as he frowned in thought. “They run jujutsu society, essentially. Gojo, Kamo, and Zenin: they’re the most powerful, both in terms of technique and influence, so what they say goes. Most of the cursed tools in the warehouse were found by them, so they belong to them until a sorcerer comes along to use them.”

“They’re fine with random people using their weapons?” you said. “If I was that powerful, I wouldn’t want anyone touching my stuff.”

Haibara chuckled. “You underestimate quite how much ‘stuff’ they’ve got stockpiled. Most of the tools never see the light of the day, even with sorcerers combing through the warehouse at leisure. As long as their stronger weapons are left alone, they don’t care that much, although all of the tools from the warehouse have the condition that they must be returned to the warehouse upon the user’s death.”

“That makes sense,” you said, shuddering at the morbid provision. “It probably only benefits them for more sorcerers to be competent at their jobs.”

“Exactly,” Haibara said. “It’s so cool that I get to teach you about all of this stuff. I feel like a tour guide. Am I doing well?”

“You’ve been very helpful so far,” you assured him.

“Thanks! But enough of my talking. What was it like where you went to school before?” he said. You thought back to your old life, which seemed so far away now that it might as well have belonged to a different girl entirely.

“It was nice,” you said. “Normal. I was friends with people who couldn’t even see curses. I didn’t know anything about sorcery; well, to be fair, I still only barely do. Outside of Japan, there’s very few people that actually understand how curses and techniques and all work, and there are no well-defined governing bodies, so misinformation runs rampant. But regardless, I was the daughter of a wealthy man and a beautiful woman, which meant things came easily to me and people liked me very much. That is to say, my schooling and life were entirely mundane.”

“You speak in the past tense,” Haibara said. He was far more perceptive than you had pegged him for, and you smiled bitterly.

“I’ve always been able to see the curses, of course, but when I was younger, it was explained away as me being a little girl with an overactive imagination. Actually, believe it or not, it was seen as something endearing about me,” you said.

“Did that change or something?” Haibara said. “Wait. That was a dumb question. Of course it did.”

“Yes, it did change. As I grew older and older, it became less and less excusable for me to speak up about what I saw. I learned to keep my mouth shut, but it wasn’t enough — my parents always feared me, were always wary around me, treated me like some monster that they had the misfortune of housing. Their final straw was when I was nearly hit by a car because I had run into the road trying to avoid a curse swiping at me. They took me to the nearest sorcerer; he told me I had a hummingbird in place of my heart, which I guess was probably his attempt at describing Hummingbird’s Blessing, and advised me to be sent to Japan. My parents were grateful that there was a reason that their daughter was such a freak. They didn’t question the man telling them to send me to another country. They just…they just did it,” you said.

Haibara’s face scrunched in sympathy. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you said. “I don’t blame them. If I was in their shoes, I likely would’ve done the same. It’s hard to be brave about things you can’t understand. Considering that, they were good to me.”

“If you say so,” he said, though he clearly didn’t agree. His attention shifted, and his demeanor abruptly switched as he brightened and pointed at the door you had finally reached. “We’re here!”

“Step aside, Haibara,” Hinode said. “Let me unlock it.”

Haibara rocked back and forth on his heels in anticipation; it was a comical sight, especially next to Nanami, whose shoulders were slumped in defeat as he dejectedly kicked the toe of his left boot against the ground. He had been reluctant to go from the start, and it seemed he had not gotten any happier about the visit during the walk there.

The door creaked as it opened, leading into a vast, cavern-like room stacked with shelves upon shelves of weapons and tools. Some radiated power, while others seemed almost innocuous and harmless, but there was no doubt that all of them possessed at least a modicum of cursed energy. You understood now what Haibara had meant when he said that the Big Three Sorcerer Families didn’t care about a couple of their cursed tools being shared with random sorcerers — in fact, you doubted they would even notice if one or two dozen went missing.

“I know it can seem intimidating, but just close your eyes and trust your cursed energy to find whatever is best for you. It’s an old-fashioned way of doing things, but there’s nothing wrong with going back to the basics; after all, this way, your ego is removed from the picture entirely,” Hinode continued.

“How do I do that?” you said.

“Trust your cursed energy?” he said. You nodded. “It’s the same as feeling your pulse. You aren’t aware of it until you think about it, are you? That’s why you haven’t been able to sense the flow until now. It’ll take some time for you to be able to really harness and use it for anything meaningful, but finding a weapon is rudimentary enough.”

It wasn’t that specific of advice, but you found it was enough. When you really concentrated on trying to feel your cursed energy, you suddenly were unable to escape it. It was everywhere, swirling around you, flitting between your fingers, perching on your limbs, preening at your neck. Hinode was right in that you could not actually direct it to do anything, but you were aware of it now, which, according to your teacher, was sufficient for the moment.

With your eyes screwed tightly shut, you inched through the warehouse. Your cursed energy seemed indifferent to every single tool you passed, and it must have been at least five minutes of walking at a snail’s pace before something finally happened.

You weren’t sure what weapon had sparked the change, but whatever it was, your cursed energy sang in recognition, spiking and aching for the cursed tool, which was on the shelf directly to your left. Reaching out your hands, you felt about until you grasped the cold metal of what could only be a sword. Opening your eyes when you did so, you pulled it out into the light, your cursed energy settling and fading back into the depths of your consciousness, something that you only thought about when reminded to.

It was a sword, as you had assumed. The hilt was made of ivory, the crossguard a warm silver with intricate floral designs made of enamel inlaid into it. The long, slender blade was white and iridescent with cursed energy that sparked when you touched it. The scabbard beside it was rich, dark wood, mounted in gold that was inlaid with the same enamel flower motifs as the crossguard, though on an even finer scale, the patterns more detailed and the colors even brighter.

“It’s so beautiful,” you breathed. You had never thought you would describe a sword with such an adjective, but there was really no other word for it. It was beautiful, as much a work of art as a weapon for battle.

“Special Grade Cursed Tool, Sword of Syrinx,” Hinode said with a laugh. “You have expensive taste.”

“It's a special grade?” you said, almost dropping it.

“At one point, it must’ve deserved the designation, I’m sure. See, it belonged to some sorcerer from the Edo period who supposedly imbued their cursed technique into it while it was being forged, so theoretically it should be a very powerful tool — hence the ranking. However, either that sorcerer was exceptionally weak or no one’s come around that’s managed to really utilize the sword properly, because so far, it’s never been to anyone’s tastes for anything more than tasteful decoration,” he explained.

Your grip tightened around the hilt. “I want it.”

“Are you sure? It’s not a weapon that’ll hold your hand. I mean, no weapon will literally hold your hand — if you’re incompetent, you’re incompetent — but some weapons are easier to use for beginners than others. The Sword of Syrinx, however, has proven useless even in the hands of trained swordsmen such as Atsuya Kusakabe. Do you really think you will be the one to prove it wrong?” Hinode said carefully.

His words were convincing, but something about the Sword of Syrinx called out to you, a mournful humming of energy that begged for you to keep it at your side. It remained, too, that your own cursed energy hadn’t reacted to any of the numerous other weapons in the warehouse, and that had to count for something.

“It was meant for me,” you said, with more conviction than you had ever said anything in your life. “I will use it.”

“Pretty sword, Y/N, are you going to take it?” Haibara said, appearing from behind a shelf, haphazardly balancing stacks of knives in both of his hands. He peered at the sword and then at you, blinking owlishly without care for the precarious situation of what he was holding.

“Be careful with those!” Nanami barked at him before turning to you and raising his eyebrows when he saw the sword in your hands. “The Sword of Syrinx? You’re more ambitious than I realized.”

“It’s not like that. I’m not trying to prove anything. I just…like it,” you said.

“That’s all well and good, but will the clans give up a special grade item to a first year student?” he said. “I mean, sure, the Sword of Syrinx is pretty useless, but it is still a special grade, and you’re an untested sorcerer who — no offense — has shown no indication that you’ll actually be able to wield it.”

“I think Y/N will be able to fight with it,” Haibara defended. You weren’t sure what you had done to earn his loyalty already, but you were immensely grateful for it.

“Ordinarily, that would be a problem, but if she’s really set on using it, then I think things will work out for the better. She’ll have to convince the current owner to let her have it, but I doubt it’ll take very much effort. After all, he’s very, ah, accessible,” Hinode said, smirking just the tiniest bit.

“You don’t mean to say —” Nanami broke off, face pale with horror.

“Say what?” you said politely.

“The owner of that sword is the older student I was talking about earlier,” he said. “The annoying one.”

“The one that made the sandwich!” you said, picking up who he was referring to almost instantly.

“Yes, him. You’ll have to convince him to let you have it,” he said.

“Okay, but why does it even belong to him?” you said. “Why does he have more of a claim to it than I do if we’re both just regular students?”

“The difference is that you are comparatively a normal person, and he is one of the strongest sorcerers alive,” Hinode said. “As well as one of the most highly respected. It’s not that his personality is all too dignified and worthy of admiration; rather, your upperclassman who currently owns the Sword of Syrinx — and who I’m sure Nanami has warned you to stay away from — is none other than the scion and sole representative of the Gojo clan, Satoru.”

[lochblocknroll]

"𝚃𝚘 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚞𝚊𝚐𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚐𝚛𝚊𝚖 𝚒𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚎𝚗𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚏𝚊𝚒𝚕𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚊𝚝 𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚝 𝚝𝚎𝚗 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎𝚜." - 𝖣𝗈𝖼𝗍𝗈𝗋 𝖩𝗈𝖺𝗇𝗇 𝖥𝗈𝗅𝗌𝗐𝗂𝗌, 𝖫𝗈𝖼𝗁'𝗌 𝗉𝗈𝗌𝗍𝗀𝗋𝖺𝖽𝗎𝖺𝗍𝖾 𝖺𝖽𝗏𝗂𝗌𝗈𝗋

Introductions were not what Loch would list as one of his strengths. Communication in general was perhaps not on that list at all. He certainly wasn't in the habit of throwing 'able to talk to sentient bags of meat' onto his resume, not when his ability to talk to the incomprehensible vastness of cyberspace was there instead.

Of course, putting off the introduction was not going to make it go away, much to Loch's chagrin. He let anyone go before him that seemed eager enough to get their name out and their foot into whatever doors they were trying to force open. It was like sitting in the middle of The Thing, waiting to see which test might drag the impossible creature forward. Though, if any of these people were a cryptid, Loch knew, it would make this entire horse and pony show mean something. He had had his hopes set on that particularly sour-faced man being some kind of Roswell Grey, but that hope was dashed the longer this took and the other remained exactly as stone-faced as he had when they had gotten there.

That woman, Loch thought with a glance, could be a Flatwoods Monster, though she certainly was lacking that impressive collar that so defined her kind. He'd have to see if it was misplaced or, as one of his friends had claimed, it was actually a biological defense mechanism, like the frills of Dilophosaurus. It didn't seem practical, but neither did a horse with bat-wings and that certainly seemed common enough... Gods he was bored. Perhaps—

The sudden tug of all eyes on him pulled Loch from his thoughts and he cleared his throat awkwardly, shuffling in his seat and crossing one leg before uncrossing them and crossing it the other way. Why, in the name of the Flying Spaghetti Monster did he decide to sit in what amounted to the center of the room? He hadn't felt the urge to stand and brood in a corner like some of the others, but now Loch swore every hair on his body was standing upright as an unpleasantly large number of eyeballs fixed themselves upon him.

"Well, going off of this very unpleasant attention," Loch starts, going to stand before aborting the motion halfway through and sitting back down, "it's probably my turn. My name's Loch, Doctor Loch if you want to be an ass. If you're my abuelita, I'm Doctor Matias Rojas, but I don't see her here so I'm just going to stick with Loch. I really wasn't listening to the format here, so fuck it! I'll freeball it."

He paused, taking a breath and holding it for a few seconds before letting it out. This was already a disaster, but the only way out was through and he wasn't about to end up a red shirt this early in his job. "Like I said, I'm Loch. I got hired by the Foundation and their Sincere Comrades and Partners probably... A month ago? Time's been weird lately, which I blame completely on those interdimensional Bigfoots that have to be around here somewhere. I work predominantly in tech, mainly computers and software, but given the state of this place, the details will probably go over your heads, so I'll stick to that."

He paused, thinking for a moment as his hands tapped out a one-two rhythm on his legs. "I've got a cannibalistic fish named Hannibal the muscle heads made me leave behind and a severe tech withdrawal. If anyone ends up needing me, I'll be handwriting the most pointless codes I can. But, I'm sure we're all going to get along great! Oh, also, cryptid stories. Please regale me with your best ones. I might end up writing a book or some shit about them one day when I run out of code ideas."

[dolphin1812]

The atmospheric aspects of this chapter are really impressive; the combination of the full moon, the constant threat of being shot, and the awareness of the destroyed villages around Waterloo that are never mentioned in the context of the battle is at once spooky, tragic, and suspenseful.

As is usual when Hugo writes about Thénardier, I feel conflicted. On the one hand, Thénardier truly is despicable, so criticism of him is justified. On the other, Hugo slips into dehumanizing language that feels inflected with classism. Take this section, for instance:

“Every army has a rear-guard, and it is that which must be blamed. Bat-like creatures, half brigands and lackeys; all the sorts of vespertillos that that twilight called war engenders; wearers of uniforms, who take no part in the fighting; pretended invalids; formidable limpers; interloping sutlers, trotting along in little carts, sometimes accompanied by their wives, and stealing things which they sell again; beggars offering themselves as guides to officers; soldiers’ servants; marauders; armies on the march in days gone by,—we are not speaking of the present,—dragged all this behind them, so that in the special language they are called “stragglers.” No army, no nation, was responsible for those beings [ . . . ]”

The people doing these acts are defined either as definitively inhuman - as “bat-like creatures” - or as what they are/pretend to be (”half brigands,” “pretended invalids,” “beggars”). Not only that, they’re outside of any “army” or “nation,” further othering them (and sidestepping the issue of actual soldiers doing this, even though Hugo is aware that they do). While we know that Thénardier specifically is simply a horrible person (from his treatment of Cosette), it’s not too difficult to imagine someone else doing this out of genuine need. Given the risks of death for those following armies (Hugo says that Wellington orders that anyone caught robbing should be shot), it is precisely the most desperate who are likely to take that risk. It’s understandable that Hugo focuses on characters who’ve committed “sympathetic” crimes: Valjean is a thief, but he stole food to feed his sister’s children; Fantine’s prostitution is less sympathetic in and of itself from the perspective of a 19th-century audience, but it’s framed as a sacrifice for Cosette, which ultimately keeps her in the sympathetic role of “mother.” A large section of his readership (and who he was aiming to convince with his work) was the bourgeoisie, and he had to be attentive to the risks he was taking in justifying different acts that would be classed as immoral. Robbing the dead is certainly up there as far as reprehensible acts go, but it’s still frustrating to see Hugo neglect to extend some care to these people. Even worse, he says that “discipline” is the only thing that could change them, which feels particularly bourgeois and is so out of place in a novel about the power of compassion. As much as I hate Thénardier, the issue with this depiction is that (1), dehumanizing language is risky in general, and (2), Hugo extends this to a class of people, almost inadvertently villainizing groups within the lower classes.

I also find Pontmercy’s interaction with Thénardier so sad. Of course, it’s upsetting that he thinks he saved him when he really was just robbing him, but the extent to which he’s worn out is tangible? For instance, when Thénardier says that the English have won, Pontmercy doesn’t even react; he automatically goes to the next matter, which is compensating Thénardier. As an officer, we can assume he was dedicated to the Bonapartist cause; it’s even the first thing he asks about when he regains consciousness. The fact that he doesn’t even have the energy to mourn this defeat, then, is crushing in itself.

[taelonsamada]

Tidbit Tuesday - I Think My Neighbour’s A Mobster…

@darlincollins tagged me in this, which is fortuitous timing since I’ve been recently possessed by an idea for a new original story, and have been writing almost feverishly for it LOL I blame @dominimoonbeam for this as her wonderful story Don’t Run has put me in the mood for mobsters. But my brain went, “Okay, but what if mobster ROMANTIC COMEDY???”

Which has resulted in me writing what has so far become a fucking adorable story about a woman who moves into a new apartment building and has some concerns about her very polite next door neighbour and the odd things he gets up to… (and yes I know this is supposed to be TIDBIT Tuesday, but this was the smallest part I could pull out that made sense on its own LOL)

Tagging @glassbearclock @sollucets @sealriously-sealrious and @lovelylonerliterature and anyone else who wants to!!

~~~~~

“…I didn’t think people still brought their neighbours meals,” he admitted, and she couldn’t help smiling giddily at that low rumbling voice, shrugging her shoulders with a sheepish laugh.

“Yeah, I know, it’s kind of out of practice, but like I said, my grandmother was very particular about us showing our manners and being good neighbours. She’d have preferred I bring you a pie, but people can be picky about pie flavours, whereas it’s really hard to find someone who’ll turn down a chocolate chunk cookie. They’re out there, I’m sure, but I’ve yet to meet one!”

His mouth curved in that same grin he’d given Mrs. Neilson, and Eliza felt her stomach flip about, her own smile growing in response.

“I’m certainly not one of them,” he assured, rubbing his hand on his pants for a moment before extending it to take the tray from her. She blinked at the sight of scars along his knuckles, and a particularly long slice that ran along the heel of his palm, but smiled and handed the platter over.

“Don’t rush over returning the platter, I’ve got plenty of them.”

“If these taste half as good as they smell, you’ll have it back by tomorrow cause they’ll be gone,” he warned, grinning at her in a way that had her giggling instinctively.

“Well, knowing me, I’ll have more baking done in no time, so if your sweet tooth is ever bothering you, just come knock on my door!” She smiled as he gave a strange look, one she couldn’t quite figure out, but he nodded as he pulled the tray into the apartment, setting it aside out of sight before offering his hand to her.

“I’ll keep that in mind. Welcome to the building.” Her smile was broad as she shook his hand, fascinated with the calluses and scars she could feel as she did so.

“Thank you very much, I’ll see you around!” With another happy laugh and a sheepish smile, she turned and trotted back to her own apartment. Appearing every bit the cheerful, happy neighbour until her door closed.

The instant she was out of sight, she collapsed back against the door, burying her face into her hands and groaning loudly. What the hell, she’d been giggling like a damn school girl at him the entire time!! She was a grown woman, what in the fuck? How did he have such an affect on her so easily?? She’d gone over there to make up for acting like a moron in the halls, and she’d ended up painting herself as the silly, ditzy neighbour!

A thought occurred to her that had her pausing before she groaned and tugged at her hair, grumbling loudly as she stalked over to her coffee machine.

She hadn’t even gotten his name!

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Carver shut the door and snapped all the locks closed, staring intently at the plate of cookies that sat on the table beside his front door. Humming thoughtfully as he peeled back the plastic and picked one of them up.

When was the last time he’d had a homemade cookie?

Bracing his free hand on his hip, he continued staring at the cookie as he walked slowly back into his living room, a pensive look on his face.

“You know… I think that’s the first time in my life I’ve ever seen a neighbour bring over an introductory meal,” he mused in a thoughtful tone. “You see it happen all the time on tv, but I thought that was just a thing people made up. I didn’t think anyone in real life would actually do it.”

Turning the cookie over, he shifted his stare to the man tied to the chair that was centered in the middle of his living room, laughing gently. “I mean, you heard that whole conversation, right? I know your head’s likely pounding, but you had to have heard that, she was quite the talker. She’s a vast improvement over the last neighbour, that’s for sure.”

Carver leaned forward, smirking as the bloodied man in the chair cringed away from him in response. Waving the cookie near his face. “Seriously, smell that. Isn’t that fucking delicious? And she made these specifically for me. Do you know how long it’s been since someone made me a meal? I mean me, personally. Family dinners don’t count.”

Walking away a few paces, the plastic that covered the floor crinkling with his steps, Carver hummed again. “I was a bit irritated over having someone move in on this floor with me, cause it means I’m gonna have to be a lot more careful. But if she makes stuff like this on the regular?”

He bit into the cookie and instantly groaned, leaning back against his kitchen counter and cursing as he chewed. “What the fuck, that’s so fucking good!” Staring down at the cookie, he shook his head, taking another couple bites. “Shit, I’m gonna get fat.”

Finishing the cookie off, he huffed, wiping his hands off on his pants before walking back over to the bound man, picking up the tenderizing hammer he’d set aside before answering the door. “Okay, so we’re gonna have to wrap this up real fast, cause those are delicious, and I’m gonna want more while they’re still warm. So you’re gonna start talking right fucking now. Cooperate, and I might even give you one of those cookies.”

He paused, glancing over and eyeing the tray for a moment before looking back at the trembling man. “…but it has to be really good information.”

[chiropteracupola]

fic writer meme

tagged by @sanguinarysanguinity — thank you, this was an interesting one to ponder!

ao3 name: chiroptera_in_the_cupola

fandoms: as writing and interest generally goes, I think the major players currently are and have been Treasure Island, Hornblower, Flight of the Heron, and [one look at the work-in-progress spreadsheet later] uh, I guess Sharpe as well at the moment :]

I do like to pick up other things for a small thing or two, and plan to continue doing so, but I think those first three are the ones that have really captured my interest in a way that supports sustained writing, altho' we'll see how things shake out as time goes on.

number of works: 56, which is really quite a few for only a bit more than two years of actually posting work on ao3!

work I spent the most time on: 'well met, my dear one' went through revisions and periods of abandonment for nearly two years. it was one of the very first Treasure Island fics that I began, but needed to be entirely begun over again from scratch at one point, and so took rather a while even though it's not all that long.

works I spent the least time on: 'make my bed where the bodies lie', 'the king shall dress in gold', and 'the way was carved in ice' were all written in about four or five hours each. it's always lucky when inspiration strikes like that and can carry me all the way through a story in one go, but less lucky for any other things I might have planned on doing that day!

longest fic: 'Nane Shall Ken Where He Is Gane', or, as I've more frequently called it, the Wormsfic — and that's only a third of it so far! oh boy!

shortest fic: 'who's to blame', the very shortest of a series of a few very tiny little micro-fics done as part of a prompt game some years ago.

most hits: 'as in a mirror dimly', my one fic for The Mummy — hm, I think I'd say that that one is mostly on account of the movie itself being a much more well-known thing than many of the other areas I more frequently write in, altho' the central relationship is. shall I simply say unpopular.

most kudos: oddly enough, 'here in your arms is cured', my first Kidnapped fic — hopefully I will someday finish more, that they may be similarly well received!

total word count: 90,380

favorite work of my own: this is one question I can't really answer — a lot of stories are my favorites for very different reasons! but I'll take this space to mention 'Shaking Off Our Shadows', which, since it's for rather an obscure book, I've not discussed much, but I am nonetheless very proud of, among my recent work. Reading The Wolf and the Watchman left me feeling very cold and grimy and sad, and I'm very pleased with the results of attempting to spin a happier ending (and a not-entirely-joking beach vacation) for Cardell and Winge.

fic you want to rewrite / expand on: I've actually already done a rewrite of one that I felt particularly needed a second take with time (that being 'sleep in it slowly (if you can)' / 'Midwinter Thaw', my pair of winter-at-Graçay Hornblower fics) and am in the process of working on another — both of the fics getting done over in this way were written fairly quickly and mostly while I was sick, which left them with some oddnesses that I'm enjoying getting to smooth out in the later versions. and both of these also do happen to be things that I'd like more fic about in general, so I might as well write myself what I'd like to read. some of my earlier Treasure Island fic also could probably do with a revision, since I've grown a lot as a writer (and also as a Person!) in these few years, but that'd take time I don't really feel inclined to use for that right now.

when it comes to expansion and sequels and such, I'd really love to write more in the same continuity as my most recent Sharpe fic (giving the Chosen Men the Monstrous Regiment treatment certainly deserves more time than I've given it thus far!) and I've got a great many more Flintlock Fortress tales in the works as well.

share a bit of a wip or story idea you are planning on:

“Whatever it is is clever — my snares are sprung, but there’s nothing there.” “That’s a man done it then.” “No, there’s only paw-prints, no boot-marks at all. And big ones, too.” He spread his hand to indicate the size, fingers splayed nearly to their full extension. “There’s nothing got paws as big as that, Dan,” said Cooper, with a little less conviction than he’d aimed for.

here's another chunk of my Ladyhawke AU for Sharpe, which has been taking up quite a bit of space in the old braincase these past few days. hopefully I shall manage to make it to the actual meat of the plot soon, altho' I'm also enjoying the sort of shenaniganerous Lads' Miserable Camping Trip of it all thus far!

and hm, I see a lot of the usual suspects have been tagged already — @dxppercxdxver, @kigiom, @bishakespeares, @baronetcoins, @phoenixflames12, would you like to give this game a go?

[ashplayz]

Interviews with ✨the 4 town boys✨ girlfriends 💞

(I've had these aus for a while, so I might as well post them)

My AU ⭐

Warnings: Mentions of bad relationships, mentions of body insecurities, Y/n starving herself. Mentions of anxiety. Aaron T's Y/n is trans. Gender not Specified. Reference to assault and PTSD. And family trauma.. Jessie's y/n is a part of the Ling family *there is not a red panda emoji but you get the point*

🗼Robaire's Girl🗼

-Interviewer..

"So Y/n, you and Robaire have always seemed like the perfect couple, makes one wonder how you two met in the first place?)

-Y/n..

"Well I can't argue there. I really couldn't have hoped for a more amazing boyfriend. As for how we met, some people have speculated it was during the infamous 'Panda apocalypse' but we had actually met before then. I went to a 4 town concert in Toledo, before they came to Toronto, it was my home town for some time until I moved to Toronto. That first time I had gone to their concert I happened to have a backstage pass, and Robiare was the member I was most eager to talk to. We really hit it off enough so that he had given me a VIP pass to their next concert in Toronto. Which unfortunately meant that I was in the front row were all the 'panda madness' happened, but Robiare stormed in and saved me like a true 'prince Charming' After that the two of us got a lot closer but I still didn't try to pursue him romantically.. Simply because he was well a pop star and I was just me. Although I do know that if he was here right now he'd chide me about thinking less about myself.. At the time I ended up falling into a relationship with a bad man, he had hurt me and just as before Robiare came sweeping in to save me. Thanks to him that horrible man is behind bars now, And as an added perk our feelings for each other happened to surface at that time. He had felt the same way about me but didn't pursue me because he thought I only saw him as a friend. But in the end everything worked out and he and I have been happily dating for almost 3 years now.." 😊

🕊Tae Young's girl🕊

-Interviewer..

"So tell me Y/n, you and Tae certainly seem like the most adorable couple. makes people wonder what the story behind the two of you is."

-Y/n..

"Well.. As some people may know I'm one of the lyric writers for 4 town, but that's actually not how Tae and I met. You see my therapist had recommended that I take on fostering doves as a way to ease my anxiety, witch at the time was cripplingly bad but Tae has really helped me to live with it. When I met Tae in the foster doves program I was immediately love stuck but my anxiety prevented me from doing anything about it. Eventually Tae found out I was a songwriter, one that had not yet been discovered so he took it upon himself to get me decoverd and his way of doing this was the rest of his band. I didn't know about this so when I found out first hand I was definitely shell shocked. Every member had told me how amazingly talented I was in song writing and especially Tae. They had convinced me to be a songwriter for them. And I have to admit it was a bit overwhelming at the time but I felt like there was nothing I couldn't do with Tae cheering me on. And now that we're dating I've learned just how much truth that holds. 😌

😎Aaron Z's girl😎

-Interviewer..

"So y/n there has been some whispers about you and Z's relationship . We were hoping you could set that record straight."

-Y/n..

"Yes, I've heard these whispers and as nasty as some of them can be I can't say I blame them because what had happened before me and Z started dating i'm not particularly proud of.. As most people know I'm one of the back up dancers for 4 town so that's how me and Z met. As most people also know Z could be described as Stoic but in reality he's really just shy and nervous. I caught feelings for Z pretty quickly but with how sheltered he can be it really seemed like he didn't really care much for me which I assumed was over the thing I was most insecure about. My weight.. It's something I've been insecure about my whole life and so I did what no one should ever feel like they should do, I tried to change myself so people. Him in particular would like me.. Dieting wasn't working so eventually I did something truly awful.. I starved myself.. And that's the reason as to why the whispers get so nasty because people think I was just doing it for attention while in reality I was just doing it for acceptance.. I ended up dropping before the weight did and Z was the first person to my side.. He told me that it was stupid to try to change myself to get him to like me because he liked me for who I was.. I still struggle with my body image and how straining feelings inferior can be but Z is always there to remind me to be myself because there's no one he'd rather have by his side.. 😁

😝Aaron T's girl😝

-Interviewer..

"So Y/n was it, I certainly hope I'm getting that right I would hate to be insensitive.. The fans want to know what brought you and T together seeing as you two seem to be complete opposites."

-Y/n..

"Yes. Y/n is correct, don't worry. And yeah me and T are what you would call 'complete opposites' especially considering I don't like pizza and he would be content eating it for every meal. What brought us together was T walking into my dojo. He got the bright idea to try martial arts and he stole my thunder in the process. I was the highest black belt in that Dojo and he was a fast learner, so as you can probably guess we didn't exactly get along. We were caught in a winner takes all battle from the start but even then don't think I didn't notice the way he did his 'googo eyes' at me. If I wasn't so focused on winning I would have found it adorable how he was smitten for me. But what truly brought us together was the fact he didn't look at me differently. Gender identity has been something I've struggled with my whole life and people have always judged me for not being the person I 'should be' but he was the first person to see me for who I am, he didn't care that I was trans and in fact he helped me to finally fully commit to the person I wanted to be. And for that I could never put into words how much I love him for that. But. Don't get me wrong, in the end of our little competition I still won. 😉

🌟Jessie's girl🌟

-Interviewer..

"So Y/n. There's been a lot of buzz surrounding you and Jessie's relationship we were hoping to find out what actually happened from the source"

-Y/n..

"Yes, I suppose it's time to set the wreckord straight. Buckle up because this is a bit of a long story.. As you can clearly see, I'm a part of the ling family. Yes the famously Chaotic 'panda family' and while I love my family I have a rather complicated history with them.. You see when I was younger I trusted someone I shouldn't have and they took advantage of me.. Hurt me.. So I.. Turned to the one person I thought would always be there.. My mother.. And as pretty much everyone knows how destructive her panda is.. She couldn't handle her emotions upon finding out what happened to me.. And she took her anger out on the closest thing to her.. Me.. She lost it for a split second and well.. Gave me this scar.. I left after that.. And I never wanted to return.. Due to the trauma of.. Everything that happened to me.. My panda side is always showing. Whether it be my ears or sometimes my tail.. One day I decided that I needed to overcome my fears and I decided that going to a concert was a good way to do that.. You know how the members of 4 town reach out to people in the crowd when doing their angel bit well. I happened to be the one Jessie reached for.. And I almost took his hand.. Only to be reminded of the one who had hurt me.. And then that's when my mother showed up.. As the same monster I remembered her as..i wanted to do what I've always done.. Run away.. But when they needed people to sing from their hearts in order to save her.. I didn't hesitate to pick up a mic.. And 4 town did the same thing; they were my backup singers.. After that I still couldn't forgive my mother.. So when 4 town asked me to join them.. I saw it as a way to get away from her.. But overtime Jessie made me realize that even if I can't forgive her she's still my mom.. They are still my family.. So thanks to him I've made amends with them and I'm there to help my little sister navigate through womanhood. As for how me and Jessie got together. As soon as I won his kids over.. I also won over his heart 💘 and ever since he's been there to help me battle with my PTSD no matter how difficult it may be sometimes he's always there and I am so grateful 🥲

[noxianwilled]

✒️ + Cassiopeia uwu

send me ✒️ + a ship (romantic or not!), and i will write a meta about it.

— @vixtionary

Without any official ages or interactions or anything, this is purely speculation based on how I see it ofc but here we go!

I see Katarina and Cassiopeia as being close in age (1 or 2 years apart) — so there was very little room for Kat to grow used to being an only child before she had siblings, and I don't think that sort of jealousy was ever a factor. While Soreana obviously favoring the younger may, at times, have made the eldest sour as a child, I do think Katarina wasn't ever one to blame her siblings or turn her frustrations on them for her parents' behavior, so I don't think this would have had a huge impact in her relationship with Cass.

Kat's bio suggests she had... an unconventional childhood, to say the least. "So it was that Katarina’s childhood—if it can be called such—had little room for kindness or rest. She spent every waking moment honing herself into the ultimate weapon, testing her endurance, her dexterity, her tolerance for pain." Based on that, I think most of her time was filled with assassin training, which definitely led to some distance from her sister, who instead took after their mother.

Still, they were together since they were basically babies. They definitely had a bond, and honestly I think it was perhaps the most normal thing about Katarina's childhood. Cassiopeia was her closest (possibly only? until Talon?) friend as a child, because she wasn't given the room to care for relationships and connections and playing or whatever, she was already being made into a weapon. But at home, with her sister, there would be a little bit of room for that.

They're very different in personality, but Katarina had genuine love for her sister. I think their relationship was fairly typical in that they could be getting along in one moment and fighting the next then getting along again the next; like most siblings, they likely fought over stupid stuff (though i tend to see them arguing and pulling hair more than. really fighting, since Cass wasn't trained like she was and Kat would pull her punches a little — actual physical fighting, messy and without rules, was likely more reserved for Talon).

Katarina was, nevertheless, a very caring older sister. They'd have played together as children, braided each other's hair, stayed up late talking and giggling until they fell asleep. She'd have been there to look after her baby sister and kick the ass of anyone who harmed her in any way. She'd have been there to listen to Cassiopeia no matter how trivial her concerns may seem to others. And especially when they move to Shurima I figure that may have brought them particularly closer, as they went to an entirely foreign place and sticking to those you know and love is a very natural response at first.

But as they grew older, I think their differences were not only more apparent, they were also capitalized on by their parents in a way that certainly made them more dire. I don't think what we see of Marcus in the comic changes that previous characterization — his feelings for Soreana could be sincere, he could have acted on what he believed best for the empire (and house Du Couteau) by supporting Swain, he could have come to regret it later with the dismantling of nobility and the attack on his wife being somehow connected to Swain — and the division within their household would still be somewhat obvious. Soreana had her own secret agenda, and she was grooming Cassiopeia to follow in her footsteps, much like Marcus had his own, less secret, goals and to an extent prepared Katarina to be like him.

So I don't think the gap between them was created when Marcus left Shurima with Katarina, it only widened with that and as Cass became more involved with the Black Rose. She knew her mother kept it a secret from the rest of the family, and it became her secret too. I think it'd have been easier for her, as a teenager, to keep that secret from her sister by letting that natural distancing happen than by lying to her face (though I have no doubt she could have done it; Katarina was easily deceived by those she loves precisely because she didn't expect falseness from them). Soreana, too, probably had no interest in Cass keeping Kat close. Which is to say, after Kat leaves with Marcus, I don't think there'd have been an effort from the younger sister to reach out to the eldest, at least not for a time.

Time enough for Katarina to be sent to her first mission, fail due to her own pride and need to prove herself, and their father to disown her and have Talon try to kill her. Considering Kat eventually made with her brother, I can see her eventually trying to reach out to Cassiopeia. She loves her siblings and, again, wouldn't want her issues with their parents to get in the way of that. But I also think there's a huge divide between them, and Cassiopeia was raised to be politically inclined. Associating with her disgraced sister when the public stance was that the family renounced her likely wouldn't have been a wise move in that sense, regardless of how she felt about Katarina.

Kat would see the way it is and drop it and not try to reach out again. She wouldn't even be entirely resentful because Cass could be unwilling to reconnect for a number of reasons, not the least because Kat would have rejected her connection to the Du Couteaus just as actively as she was rejected. She wouldn't have wanted to talk to them or see any of them for a considerable amount of time. So she made her part in breaking up their bond, too.

The last time they saw each other in person, they were teenagers. Any contact after that was short-lived, and Katarina has no idea what her sister has been up to, much less of her transformation. All she knows is Cassiopeia remains in Shurima with their mother. Learning of Soreana's ties to the Black Rose, she certainly expects Cass is also involved by then — which makes her no less an enemy than the rest of the family.

I do think she loved her sister (I wouldn't say loves because she doesn't know the person Cassiopeia grew up to be, not really), I think she misses her still, and I think, much as is the case with Talon, she'd like to believe there's salvation for Cass — that she can still find a better path, that they don't have to be enemies. As always, though, Katarina would put the empire before family. If it came to it, for Noxus, she'd kill Cassiopeia too. And at this point Katarina is only waiting for when her sister will resurface to get her shot at trying to kill her.

[nowis-scales]

Rating: Mature Audiences

General Warnings: Brief mentions of self-Harm and suicide, no explicit mentions or descriptions of specific acts

Fandoms: Fire Emblem IF/Fire Emblem Fates

Additional Tags: Revelation Route, Childhood Abandonment, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder — PTSD, Family Drama, Angst with a Happy Ending, Therapy, Post-Canon, World Building, Character Death, No Deeprealms

Chapter Word Count: 6,266 words

Chapter Summary: When Corrin is summoned to a meeting with Kagero, she knows it can be nothing but bad news.

[Read it on AO3.]

“Still water runs deep.”

That was Xander’s favourite phrase when she was a child growing up in the Northern Fortress. Any time she had any question about something seemingly normal being complicated, or challenging, or just not what she thought, it was always that phrase he fell back to. 

At the time, she wondered if he ever grew tired of saying it. It seemed to apply to so many situations, one would think that it would come more easily than it did. Common sense status would even be reasonable in this circumstance, but it just never seemed to catch on. Even with her, she supposes. Repeatedly believing in the goodness of others often meant that she would get caught in that snare trap like a rabbit. She would do well to remember that. 

And she does, when a mere three days after the pilfering of Ryoma’s journals, Kagero asks her to come to an evening’s meeting. 

“To discuss Lord Ryoma’s well-being,” is the way she phrases it. Corrin may have been a little naïve by most people’s standards, but even she could see that was a problem from a mile away. 

Or maybe she was just paranoid. She had been a bit, as of late. 

The days had brought hours of almost non-stop reading. Of the journals she received from Hinoka, she’s managed to make her way through about one and half – and has found herself still no closer to her father. When she began, she told herself that her neglect of the paperwork for Valla’s reintroduction was being done for its benefit, given that she was preventing another Anankos. However, she found that the further her reading went on without result, the more guilty she began to feel.

It certainly didn’t help that the contents of Ryoma’s teenage mind were… much more disturbing than she expected.

Some of it was normal. Writing about training, about studies, about dreams, memories with siblings, people he’d had crushes on. She might even say that these stories dominated his writings. However, the more she read on, the more she found herself picking up some harmful patterns in his behaviour. Not just for others, but for himself as well. Every few entries, or perhaps even in the midst of seemingly normal ones, there would be these deep, mournful paragraphs expressing serious anxieties, regret, and guilt that Corrin could barely begin to wrap her head around. 

The responsibility of it at all is what struck her as most peculiar and difficult to explain. 

Accountability for anything he did was often tough to get out of him in real life. Stubbornness runs in Masahide blood by Ryoma’s own admission, and even then, he is known to be more stubborn than just about anyone else. Self-righteousness is something that she knows Ryoma is no stranger to as well, given the conflict with Nohr, but the journals present a completely different side of him. The amount of accountability he takes is startling, particularly because it is for things that he could not possibly be responsible for. 

Queen Ikona’s death is his fault. She took her life when he was nine. In a fit of rage at Sumeragi, she confessed that she never wanted Ryoma or any of their other children, and he’d overheard. When she begged for his forgiveness, he was too hurt to grant it — so when she ended things, he took all of the blame. He compared being loved by her to being loved like a doll, but still it was his fault. Hinoka had scorned their mother’s apology just the same, but he never breathed a word of blame to her. She was six and didn’t know any better, he wrote. Like a nine year old should know of his mother’s intentions to kill herself and be able to stop it.

King Sumeragi’s death is also his fault, as is Corrin’s kidnapping. Ten years old and still grieving the traumatic death of his mother, Ryoma blames himself for not acting when the enemy attacked them. He thinks himself to have been jealous of her charisma, to have seen the glint of something he could not be in her, and to have let her go because of that. 

And even more tragically, he thinks that Sumeragi died simply because he dared to love his son without conditions. 

The rest of the journals, after expressing these thoughts, are littered with what can only be described as legitimate terror over the idea that something else will come to touch the family he has left. He describes it as a curse from the gods, some sort of divine justice that even he cannot find a reason for. All he can seem to think about is how to protect and destroy his relationships, going around in a circle of pushing everyone away and then begging to be loved, desperate to preserve those he cares for, but so starved of affection that he cannot stay away. 

He plays it off as aloofness, devotion, and hotheadedness, and while Corrin would never say that those aren’t truly who he is, how often are these traits hiding the fear that lurks underneath? 

Still water runs deep, indeed. 

Only having these books has been enough to set her on edge, but now knowing this additional forbidden knowledge, Corrin only finds herself feeling more upset. Though she has little need to hide her doings from Lilith, she still leaps at every opportunity to hide the books, and ends up all too stiff when trying to talk with her normally. Besides, the excuses about not feeling great after her spat with Ryoma will only get her so far. Eventually, Lilith will clue in. 

Of course, she is getting ahead of herself there – such a thing will only happen in the event that Kagero’s request is not Hinoka’s plan exploding in their faces.

______________________________________________________________

It is late afternoon when she finally entertains Kagero’s summons. The ninja had simply asked the princess to come whenever she was available; no specific times were required. Yet when she enters the quarters the staff have prepared for their use, it seems as if her arrival is perfectly timed, for there are already a collection of other people sitting in the room. 

Hinoka, Takumi, Azura, Hinata, and Setsuna are all crowded around a low table, trying and failing to not look terrified. Azura is staring at her cup of tea, Hinata at his lap, Setsuna at nothing, and Hinoka and Takumi at each other. As for Kagero, she is standing at the head of the table, with her sharp eyes boring into Corrin. Ninjas never betray their secrets in their faces, yet Corrin finds herself searching Kagero for any inkling of emotion anyway. She needs to know how badly they’ve screwed up. Seeing everyone here is all she needs to know that she will spend this meeting fighting for her life. 

“Thank you for joining us, Lady Corrin.” Kagero says in a calm, flat voice. Her face offers no pleasure beyond an eyebrow twitch that gives off more annoyance than anything, but she doesn’t sound particularly upset to see Corrin. 

That’s how they get you, she remembers Kaze telling her once. Of the three ninjas, he was the only one who would ever let her in on any of their tricks. Being the retainers to the future king, Kagero and Saizo had to be much more tight-lipped. She can see that Kagero is unwilling to slack on that even now. 

“Of course,” she replies, doing a soft curtsy out of habit (before realizing that it looks quite silly in a kimono). “Is there somewhere in particular you would like me to sit?” 

In Nohr, there would be a chair or something cementing her position, but in Hoshido, she could easily ask one of her siblings to scooch over. Nonetheless, in Kagero’s reply, she makes it clear that she does not want her to do so. She extends an arm out as if to say that she should be seated at the other end of the table, so that she may look upon her face. 

Corrin gulps. This cannot be good. Chills run up her spine like pattering rodent feet. How long will it take for Kagero to summon her master? Now that they’ve so clearly been discovered, an appearance from her disgraced step-brother is sure to follow. 

Even with this in the back of her mind, she knows it would suit her best to not let her anxieties show. So, with all of the grace she can manage, she takes up seiza at the end of the table, smiling politely and thanking Hinata as he pours a cup of tea for her with shaky hands. She doesn’t even bother trying to clean up the drips he’s slopped over the edge from nerves. 

And that one last motion is all it takes before Kagero begins.

At first, they expect her to speak, but she is quick to remove the leather bag she has had draped around her body from the moment they arrived. A few eyebrows raise in curiosity as she reaches her hand in, but Corrin’s stomach can only drop. Glancing at Hinoka, her sister is as pale as a sheet of paper. Both girls know exactly what to expect as Kagero’s hand comes swooping back out, holding a cream-coloured notebook that features two different years written in Hoshidan characters.

One of Ryoma’s many journals. 

Takumi, realizing what it is, curses under his breath. 

“Lord Ryoma recently informed me that many of his personal journals from over the years went missing suddenly. The move to the King’s Suite was not so rapid that he would not notice the loss of something so personal. Lord Ryoma takes great care of his things.” 

Gods, the feeling of wanting to die from a few days ago is suddenly coming back to Corrin very, very quickly. 

“He did not trust that whomever took his records had his or the country’s best interest in mind, so he asked me to pursue the culprit and return his journals to him.” 

She tosses the notebook so it hits the table with a loud thwap, making Setsuna jump and everyone else cringe. 

“After a few days of searching, I noticed that Setsuna had left her book behind after an afternoon of reading under a peach tree. I thought I would hold onto it to give back to her, until I noticed what it was.” 

If looks could kill, Setsuna would be dead by Hinoka’s hand. The typically oblivious retainer melts under the anger of her master, her shoulders slumping and her eyes giving off all of the power of a scolded puppy. 

“However, given the current state of things with Lord Ryoma, I considered perhaps there was a reasonable explanation for why Setsuna was in possession of his records. So I plotted out which among you had journals, and I have gathered you to give an opportunity to explain yourselves-”

Everyone gives a collective sigh of relief.

“- before I tell Lord Ryoma about what happened.” 

And then their shoulders tense again. 

Kagero shows no sympathy for them. 

Her arms fold across her chest, and her eyes glare down at the book on the table, as if Ryoma’s records themselves are the offenders in this situation. Maybe they are for her. After all, she never officially declared allegiances. She managed to secure meals without Ryoma for the past few days, which Corrin is grateful for, but she is still his retainer. She cannot abandon him just because she is upset with him. But maybe she wants to. Maybe that’s why she is letting them have their say before she does her job. 

If the rest of the group recognizes this in her face, they do not recognize it with their words. Their lips remain sealed tight, prepared to go down with the ship. Everything about each of them is so tightly wound, but she finds herself wondering if this is really the best course to take. If they say nothing, will Kagero just tell Ryoma everything she knows? Does any sympathy she has actually get to play a part in the narrative? 

She glances quickly around the table, trying to meet the eyes of the others to silently ask them what they plan to do. Unfortunately for her, most of them are still doing what they were doing before — avoiding looking at anyone at all. Even Hinoka, whom she had expected to see standing a little more strongly, has slumped in her seat and is staring at her cup of tea.

“Well?” Kagero asks sharply, still not daring to look individually at each one of them. “Is there nothing to say? Have you all stolen these records to betray the crown?”

Hinoka winces, and for a moment it seems like the silence might continue to permeate the air… Then finally, the first princess of Hoshido can no longer hold and cracks under the pressure. 

“It was my idea,” she blurts out, eyes squeezed shut, hand gripping at the table, “But I didn’t do it to hurt him. Even if… I know he’s been… He’s my brother. I would never want to do anything to hurt him, but…”

“But?” Kagero prompts, still seemingly unconvinced.

“I couldn’t let Corrin live the rest of her life in fear. If Ryoma knew something about Corrin’s father, her real father, then it didn’t seem fair to me that he would try and keep it from her.” 

Kagero blinks in surprise, a frown etching itself into her expression. It’s the first time in a long time that Corrin has seen her emote so openly. It should comfort her, yet instead she finds it strangely chilling. “Does he know?” 

“That’s the thing. We don’t know. When she asked, he insisted that he didn’t, but he… If he lied about all of us being siblings, who’s to say that there aren’t other things that he’s lying about? Having a reputation for being honest and actually being that are two very different things.”

The ninja hums in response, almost like she is prompting Hinoka to go on. 

“I just didn’t want Corrin to get hurt because Ryoma’s…” She pauses, shaking her head. 

“Lord Ryoma is…?” 

“… I’m not sure anymore.” 

After what seems like eons of standing above and staring at them accusingly, it is this comment that brings Kagero to sit on the ground across from Corrin. The tension is still thick in the air, that much anyone can tell, but the willingness to listen is there. It helps to finally draw out some of that anxiety from Corrin’s shoulders, even if only by a little. 

“What do you mean by that, milady?”

The two of them had little communication about the journals after their delivery, so even Corrin can’t be sure. The need for secrecy was relatively obvious, so she never bothered to pry. Nevertheless, Hinoka’s words and her overall demeanour reveal something about what she read. Did she have more recent journals than she did? Were there more pertinent things said?

Or was it those entries, the ones that crop up every once in a while, filled with a pain and anguish that he dared not to express to the world around him? The ones that have him blame himself for every bit of death, dishonour, and damage? 

A mere look at her step-sister’s face tells her so little. 

“I thought he was being selfish before, when he refused to tell us about Father’s true relation to Corrin. And honestly, maybe he still is, but…” She turns to look at the rest of the group, all of whom seem to be hanging onto her every word. “The rest of you read his journals, too, right? You know what I’m referring to?” 

Hinata nods reluctantly, followed by Azura, Takumi, and Corrin herself not long after. Setsuna, as always, is dazed and clueless – but still tuned in and listening somehow.

Kagero’s frown deepens, leaning towards Hinoka. “Is there any reason to be concerned for Lord Ryoma’s well-being?” 

Hinoka licks her lips, gaze still turned down, focused so intently on turning the thoughts over in her mind that it almost seems like she has nothing to say. The hesitation makes sense; to anyone who knows Ryoma, his writings are difficult to describe. They sound so much like an unconvincing lie when spoken aloud. But they are real, very real, and it is extraordinarily challenging to put them into words because the thoughts and feelings are just perfectly illogical, like a human’s. With the image Ryoma has so carefully crafted for himself, is there anybody who would believe that he felt such intense fear and self-loathing? 

He approaches love like a man dying of thirst would when he finds an oasis, is the only way Corrin can think to describe it herself. 

“I’m sure you know by now, Kagero, that things with Ryoma aren’t always as perfectly put together as they seem.” Hinoka lifts her head to smile at the retainer, but it is so obviously pinched that it hurts to look at. “It was why Mother urged you to stand beside him.” 

Kagero nods thoughtfully, seemingly unaware of the other eyes watching them. It is as if only she and Hinoka are in the room. 

“He got better with time. We all did, really. Learned to turn our pain into hope and plans for the future… But I don’t think that what happened in Cheve ever left him fully. I think part of him is still there.”

Part of Ryoma is… still in Cheve? 

Corrin almost opens her mouth to ask Hinoka what that means, but she doesn’t want to interrupt. Whatever is being said now, she wants to hear. No, she needs to hear. It will help her understand. Maybe it will make her the person he said he thought she was. 

“Something inside him snapped then. And even though we tried, nothing fixed it.”

A moment of silence hangs over them as Kagero processes, her brows creasing further than Corrin has ever seen them go before. She does not move much more than that, just looking forward and thinking. 

It’s hard not to feel even more shut out of the conversation now than before. Even with her forbidden knowledge, somehow that of Hinoka and Kagero seems a fruit so much sweeter. She finds herself glancing at Takumi in hopes of meeting his eyes. Maybe he knows something more. 

In the end, however, it is Azura who reads Corrin’s mind. 

“Is it truly so severe?” She asks, bouncing between the two women with her eyes. “Nightmares, self-harm, the like?” 

“Self-harm?” Takumi exclaims, head jerking back. 

He must have had the oldest journals, Corrin thinks sadly. It makes sense. Nobody would want to impart a big brother’s burden upon the little one. He would only blame himself. 

“It’s not like that.” Hinoka explains, responding to Azura more so than she is Takumi. “It’s… different. The nightmares and self-destructive behaviours are under control as far as I know, but the way he thinks, it’s not…”

“He reminds me of Camilla.” 

Somehow, that thought manages to slip past Corrin, far before she can even question whether it is worth saying. What does writing like Camilla mean to anyone in this room? It will take some explaining, but it is the only way she can think of to rationalize what they are seeing in their brother and king. Maybe it will help her rationalize all of the feelings she’s been having herself. 

When the others don’t respond with more than a few confused blinks, she takes it as her cue to continue. 

“The two queens of Nohr were mothers only to Xander and Azura respectively. Camilla, Leo, and Elise were the children of concubines. Actually, most royal children were those of concubines…”

“They fought amongst themselves often, and saw their children as paths to power.” Azura cuts in, face held stoic but with eyes brimming with emotion. She may not remember what happened to Camilla, yet she surely remembers the days she spent there. “Camilla’s mother, Hortensia, was rumoured to be among the most ruthless.” 

It helps to have Azura to fill in the backstory gaps. Truth be told, Camilla never told her the story personally. It was Leo who told her the truth. Xander and Camilla were always concerned with protecting her from everything, so they wouldn’t have spoken a word. Why they did not extend Leo the same courtesy, she never knew, although she supposes she should be grateful. If it weren’t for him, she might have had a far worse relationship with her older sister… and maybe, just maybe, it will save her from having a bad relationship with Ryoma now, too.

“Hortensia was a cruel woman. She withheld a great deal of love from Camilla, and would show her affection only when she did as her mother expected. King Garon was never around enough to do anything about it. It taught Camilla that she had no one she could count on. That’s why she’s so… Overbearing, at times. She thinks everyone needs someone to count on unconditionally.”

Both Takumi and Hinoka grimace. In terms of one-to-one comparisons, it’s not perfect, but it’s about as close as any of them have gotten to saying it out loud. That has to count for something, she wagers.  

“Make no mistake, though,” Azura continues their two-person monologue, “As much as Camilla cares, she is not always selfless in it. It is clear that she craves love as unconditional as the kind she gives, and if I am correct, I believe that Corrin is saying that it might be a similar case for Ryoma.”

“What I read did convey as much,” Hinoka murmurs at the table more than anyone else, “I just don’t know how I didn’t notice.”

Takumi places a comforting hand on her shoulder, and Corrin can’t help but notice how much softer his voice gets when he consoles his sister. “You didn’t notice because he didn’t want you to. You know how he’s always been about having those walls up.”

Kagero nods helpfully. “Queen Mikoto did say that he never let his guard down. It’s not your fault.”

The grateful smile that Hinoka gives is weak, but it is given, and they suppose that is a better answer than anything else. She hasn’t admitted defeat yet.

“But how do we help?” Hinata asks unashamedly. If he has any sense of how tender this moment or subject matter is, he doesn’t show it. It’s only once Takumi shoots him an accusatory glare that he throws his hands up in defence, ready to clarify. “I’m not saying we can’t, I’m just saying, if this is what we think is happening, we need to come up with a plan so we don’t end up prolonging his fight with Lady Corrin. Same way you would for any fight, really!”

A brief silence permeates the air for what feels like the millionth time. 

“As much as I hate to admit it, Hinata isn’t wrong. It’s not as if we can just leave things like this,” Hinoka sighs, “Now that we know what we’re up against, we have a better chance of beating it and fixing things, but we can’t do that without… some way to get through to him.” 

“I believe I’ve heard talk of healers that specialize in the mind, but…” Azura looks down. “They are relatively few and far between, especially in Hoshido. Not to mention that the cost would likely be greater than what we are used to.” 

Takumi shrugs. “It’s not like Hoshido couldn’t afford to pay. Royals have spent gold on much more frivolous things in the past. Trying to keep positive relations between two kingdoms and preserve the well-being of our king is a lot better than King Akinobu the Third’s gold-soaked concubine’s quarters.” 

“But there would still be a question of finding someone like that,” Corrin points out, not really thinking before she speaks once again, “Don’t get me wrong, I think we should, but it’s not going to be easy. And that’s if we can find someone. Do we even know for sure that Ryoma will be willing to talk? He hasn’t been open with any of us. I… I didn’t even know half of the stuff he wrote in his journals.”

Determination flares in Hinoka’s eyes, and within a matter of seconds, she is sitting up far straighter than before. She can’t see them, but Corrin is willing to bet money that her fists are probably clenched tight, too. 

“We have to try. It may very well be the only way that we can find out the truth about your father, Corrin, and save Ryoma from hurting himself in a way he can’t come back from.” 

Corrin nods carefully, her heartbeat picking up in her chest. She gets the feeling that she knows where this is going, but she’s a bit afraid of that outcome. 

I’m all for honesty, but right now seems like a really bad time for it. 

“So what are we going to do?” 

“We’re… going to talk to Ryoma. All of us, like Kagero said we should.” 

Damn it. 

She was really hoping it wasn’t going to come to this, but if Hinoka has made her decision, there’s little that can be done about it. The plan did belong to her, after all, and so long as Corrin is an accomplice in it, she has to answer for what she’s done just the same as the ringleader.

Hinoka turns to look at Kagero with pleading eyes.  “You’ll be there with us, won’t you? I think it would really help to put everyone at ease.”

“Of course, milady. There is nothing I would not do for yourself and Lord Ryoma.” 

“Okay… then it is settled. We’ll have Ryoma meet with us at nightfall, and tell him the truth.” 

Little else is discussed after that. Just minute details, really, and most of them fly over Corrin’s head. She doubts anyone can blame her for being as overwhelmed as she is. They’re all overwhelmed, really. The contents of Ryoma’s journals weren’t really something that they bargained for, especially not when the original intention was to confront her parentage. Going in to find out if she was the daughter of a mad god or not was already a heavy task, but this only serves to make things worse.

Honestly, it seems like her whole plight is a little forgotten in the midst of all of this stuff with Ryoma, which she understands at least partially, but it doesn’t do wonders for anxiety. She must show it on her face, too, because as the group agrees to adjourn their meeting and reunite later, Takumi stops her for a moment. 

“Everything okay, Takumi?” She asks politely, knowing that the answer can’t be truthful if it’s anything close to yes. He’s just discovered there is another side to his older brother, after all, and it’s one that presents a danger to him. 

“… Me?” Takumi quirks a brow. “Yeah, I’m… good. A little stunned, I guess. Guilty.” 

Her expression softens. “You don’t have anything to feel guilty about. It’s like you said yourself, Ryoma has always had walls up. He didn’t want to let us in.” 

This doesn’t seem to do much for Takumi. “N-No, that’s not what I…” He shakes his head again, letting out a bit of a huff. “Sorry, but this really isn’t about me.”

Corrin tilts her head. “It’s not?”

“No. I stopped to talk to you because I wanted to see how you were doing. I mean, the only reason why we even know any of that stuff about Ryoma is because we read his journals to try and figure out stuff about your background, right? But nobody really acknowledged that the whole time we were there. You didn’t even bring it up.”

“Oh.” 

The panic is still there, that much she knows, but the situation with Ryoma’s fragile state has tempered things a little. It’s given her something else to think about, really, so while she is still eager to know, she doesn’t mind having something else… Even if it is still rather distressing. It’s probably something that Flora would scold her about, telling her that she can be too self-sacrificing. 

“Don’t get me wrong, I’m still anxious to figure out who my father is, but… If I can at least fix things with Ryoma and see if whatever’s going on between us is actually just some unresolved pain talking, I might be closer to getting the answer I need. You know what I mean?”

Takumi shrugs in that same, non-committal shrug that all teenagers love to use. No one can say that he doesn’t act his age. “I guess…”

Even with his recognition of her stance, though, he still won’t meet her eyes. She squeezes his shoulder comfortingly to draw him back to her. “It’s sweet of you to worry about me, though. I really do appreciate that.” 

“I just don’t want you getting the wrong idea about what’s going on here. We all care about you a whole lot – we wouldn’t be doing this if we didn’t. It’s just sometimes, people around here get… tunnel vision. Especially when anything has anything to do with Ryoma. Hinoka’s the worst for it. She doesn’t mean to ignore you. I mean, she’s always been crazy about looking after you like a sister. Her and Ryoma just have this like, weird sort of loop that only the two of them are in on, and it can make her blind to anyone else,” the next set of words come more bitterly, “It’s frustrating.”

Makes sense, Corrin thinks to herself. Based on what Hinoka mentioned of their childhood, she and Mikoto were not the best of friends. With no other adult figure to defer to aside from Yukimura, who would obviously take Mikoto’s side, Ryoma must have seemed like the next best option. Maybe that’s what Ryoma meant earlier, when he said that he and Hinoka did not used to be close. 

“It’s okay, I understand. There’s a lot of dynamics at play here,” she pushes a smile, feeling it only for him, “But thank you anyways for taking the time to check on me. It was very thoughtful of you.”

She almost laughs at how his face flushes a little, but she knows that will only make him grumpy. As much as she thinks of Takumi as her cute little brother, she knows he’s quite eager to be thought of as a man. 

“Well, blood or not, you are my sister. Hinoka and Sakura like you too much for me to not be stuck with you.”

For what feels like the first time in ages – or what the very least must be a few days – Corrin laughs and shakes her head, all too eager to ruffle her brother’s hair and listen to him complain about it. 

Oh, how they will need to treasure this calm moment between the two of them with the incoming storm. 

______________________________________________________________

It amazes Corrin how the same room a few hours later can make things terrifying all over again. 

The same room, the same smells, tastes, sights, and sounds… The only thing that is really all that different is that another person will be joining them within it, but somehow, the prospect of that one person just completely ruins everything. Not a surprise. She’s had a few days away from him, where he’s just been avoiding meals, potential run-ins, and even meetings about the reconstruction of Valla. They have brought her some peace. Nonetheless, now she knows that he is going to be back again, and the anxiety is setting in anew. Even the hours she has spent away from this situation following her conversation with Takumi have done little to soothe her anxieties. She knows he’s going to be angry about what they did. Admittedly, she is a little afraid that the brunt of that anger is going to be aimed at her once again. 

As she sits in the meeting room, the same spot as before, she finds herself glancing around the table in hopes of seeing something more in the other participants. For once she is looking to others to give her courage, and not the other way around. Unfortunately, the only one who even seems to be remotely putting on a brave face is Azura, and she knows better than to believe that. The rest are either Setsuna and Hinata, who have already resigned themselves to the scolded retainer position; and Takumi and Hinoka, who are still filled with guilt at having betrayed their brother’s trust. Everyone is right to believe that this whole situation is probably going to be one gigantic mess. She just wishes that they could have some false hope about it being okay. 

The minutes they spend waiting for Ryoma feel like hours. No words are spoken, few gestures made. Just complete silence as the group is overwhelmed by their incoming guest. 

Naturally, that means the moment the door slides open, the entire group’s heads all snap up to the door. 

Ironically, it seems to startle them just as much as it startles Ryoma. 

His expression is difficult to read as Kagero leads him into the room, ensuring that he knows that his seat is at the head of the table. It always is. It comes with being king. Perhaps this is a sign that Kagero, too, is nervous. He doesn’t need her to micromanage him.

Still, if it perturbs the Hoshidan King, he makes no note of it. He simply sits and waits, his dark eyes focused exclusively on Kagero, like he’s afraid to look around the table. It squeezes Corrin’s heart a little to know that a few days ago, she might have thought of his refusal to look at them as an act of aggression. She sees so much more of him now, even if she hasn’t forgiven him for the way he acted. 

“Thank you for granting us your audience, Your Majesty,” Kagero says with a voice so controlled and perfect, one would think she was conducting court, “We appreciate you giving us your time.” 

He only nods, though it looks like more words are forming behind his mask. 

“I understand that this will be a difficult time for you, but I would like to ask that you hear what everyone here has to say before making any decisions. Our conversation will not be nearly as productive without all the appropriate context and emotion.” 

Corrin’s heart squeezes as she sees Ryoma’s mouth twitch ever so slightly. In the time that she’s known him, she’s discovered that it can be a fifty-fifty chance if he is going to notice something. Often it’s the things that are relatively obvious that he might miss, like when a woman is flirting with him, but the strange stuff… that’s where he tends to shine. And in this moment, the strange little thing that has happened as of late…

No matter how hard he tries to maintain a strong expression, the colour is draining from his face.  

He knows exactly why he is there.  And, as expected, he is not happy about it.

[fkevin073]

I do not wish to add to an stressful situation. I just want to thank you for writing and sharing IKLAO. There are hundrends of Aemond/ofc stories out there. Most of them are a wish fulfillement love stories with your "love trumps it all and female character becomes "Aemond's"" trope. They are fine. I am sure that there have been times when we all – fanfic readers – have turned to them. But, man, to those of us who also enjoy (and have a preference for) more complex takes on love (familial, platonic..you know, life), the overabundance of those stories with a toxic understanding of love as a one dimensional romantic feeling which should be put (particularly by female characters) above everything and everyone at all times gets tiresome. In fact, it tends to feel like an impossition by certain groups of fans. So than you, thank you, thank for writing and sharing a story which reads like a ASOIAF/GRRM story...as he himself has put it: a story about the heart in conflict with itself. Thank you for treating your readers like adults able to understand characters as complex as they are. I cannot tell you how much I love Alys. As someone who has have to face choices between differents kinds of love, her struggles feel so real.

I am sorry that you had that awful experience on the comment section. Unfortunately, when you share your stories with the world, you cannot control the level of emotional maturity and critical reading abilities of your readership. I have seen these awful and inmature reactions to complex takes on ofc (my favs, tbh) many times before in fandoms with characters similar to Aemond or Daemon (btw, LOVE, LOVE, LOVE your take on Daemon). I am not at all surprised at the level of toxicity, but I am deeply sorry that you too had to experience ir. That is something mostly unheard off in fics focusing on characters such as Jace ir Oberyn Martell.

What I wanted to say with this rambling rant is that you should not blame yourself for the fact that some in your audience are not trained you really engage with a text beyond passive consumption of certain romantic tropes to fulfill their obsession with a character. You have written a beautiful story with complex characters, whose motivations and flaws hace been there from the start. You have treated us, your readers, like an intelligent audience able to understand nuances. It is such a rare thing in fanfiction that finding your story almost made me want to cry tears of joy. It is also the very reason I began reading IKLAO. Given the level of toxicity that the character of Aemond seemed to atract and how much I disagreed with the fanon interpretations, I avoided Aemond/ofc stories like the plage with a couple of exceptions: IKLAO and another story. I kept to my meager fics exploring Jace/ofc or Jace/Cregan.

So thank you once again for writing and sharing your story. You are extremely good at characterization and I do hope that this awful experience has not put you off from writing – to yourself or to share it.

Please, do not feel that you need to answer this ask. I was not really intended as an ask. I just wanted to thank you and I thought that a DM out of nowhere might be too impolite/rude (I am not that familiar with Tumblr etiquette)

ah if u like my DM's are always open! I'm not the best at responding, but I really don't mind at all if you have any questions or something.

I mean there are so many different kinds of fanfics, you know? and they're all so wonderful. but I guess this is a less than idealistic story, you know, because it certainly isn't "happy". and I get the disappointment with that.... I just don't know why people feel the need to blame me/insult the story bc of it. there's plenty of fanfics out there that might be exactly what they want, and if there's not, they can always write one themselves, you know?

it's certainly been an experience! I mean I do disagree with some takes I've seen on the characters, and it's totally fine if people do... it's just when they disguise their disgust and hatred for the story as "constructive criticism" that I get ticked off. like there's been a lot of really helpful suggestions and points about certain decisions. like many people thought it was a bad idea for Jace to let daemon go. they were right in the long run. many people don't blame daemon for what he's done. they have a point too! it's about a lot of different perspectives, and that's great! but yeah, when people are like oh, Alysanne is the worst person ever and I hate her with aemond... it's just like what are they doing reading the story, and why do they feel the need to tell me?

anyway. thanks for the ask! I just want it to be a healthy/respectful comment section. nothing wrong with people who hate alysanne/aemond or the whole story but there is something wrong if they decide to harass me/pollute the comment sections with wholly discouraging comments.

[anxiousnerdwritings]

Would Lord Voldemort also be a platonic yandere for Bellatrix's daughter? Voldemort and Bellatrix had a daughter, Delphini in the book, from "Harry Potter and the Cursed Child". So would they give as a family?

I could see it!

I had actually considered including Delphini in my Yandere!Bellatrix Lestrange w/ Biological!Child!Reader headcanons and her relationship with the Reader but I decided that if anyone wanted that I would just write a part two or something.

In regards to Voldemort becoming platonic!yandere I could definitely see it, especially given how much Bellatrix would hype up her child when talking about them to him. It would certainly get his attention given how loyal of a Death Eater she is her child would have to be something just like her, right? But that wouldn’t be enough to garner his obsession. There would have to be more for him to be invested. He’d test them, make them prove their loyalty to the cause and if they do so as he pleases then I could see him taking even more of an interest in them. Maybe even taking them under his wing as his Dark Arts protégé.

I can’t help but think of Reader taking in and raising Delphini given the fall of Voldemort and the death of their mother after the second Wizarding War. I wholeheartedly believe the Malfoy’s would help the Reader in raising Delphini and being a better support system for her then what she’d end up with otherwise. Particularly Narcissa and Malfoy given they would be the closest to the Reader.

Imagine the Reader having turned out similar to Draco; having to act and do things they didn’t want to that would haunt them later but doing so nonetheless to protect the ones they cared about and or to please the Mother they never got to have (not like Narcissa wasn’t good enough already). Only for them to feel some sense of relief after the war is over and the Dark Lord is defeated. The Malfoy’s and the Reader no longer having to live under the fear of the Dark Lord let alone having him so close. Wanting to do good by their new sibling, the Reader wouldn’t want to abandon Delphini even if she did have Voldemort’s blood running through her veins. I could see the Reader desperately trying to keep Delphini from turning out like Bellatrix knowing nothing good would come of it. Only for Delphini to find out the truth about their parents and wanting to get back the family she didn’t have. Her family, not the Malfoy lie.

I could see Delphini growing up in this scenario and only really ever taking to the Reader over any of the Malfoy’s. Maybe even feeing like the Reader is her true family out of all of them before knowing the truth. Once she does know the truth though I feel like Delphini would resent the Malfoy’s all the more for lying to her and acting like her family when they weren’t. I don’t think she’d blame the Reader, she’d probably believe that they lied to them just like her. But she would definitely have no problem guilt tripping them.

I also have this image of pregnant Bellatrix keeping the Reader by her side whenever she can, gushing about how much their sibling is going to look up to them and whatnot. Or how wonderful their little family is going to be.

Personally, I feel like Narcissa would especially feel threatened to have Bellatrix back in the picture. She loves her sister of course but for the longest time she has considered the Reader her child and to have to give that up now that her sister is back would really hurt her. She would especially worry about the Dark Lord becoming invested in them, how could she not?