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actual-bill-potts · 1 year

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This piece is dedicated to @sesamenom whose art of Finrod and Celebrían broke me inside a bit. Thanks for your beautiful art <3 <3

Celebrían did not miss her children.

She did not miss much of anything, really. Ever since she had fully awoken in Rivendell, that first time, there had been nothing inside her but a great grey nothing that filled her chest - then the bed - then the room - until even the distant sound of fountains that she had always delighted in seemed muted and dull.

Elrond’s relief and her children’s painful joy had painted the world in bright colors again, for a few moments; then it was as if a pall had been cast over their faces, which they could not see. Their quick high laughter, their smiles, their tears, even their caution - it emptied her out. She was a vessel, and she had poured the last drop of her joy into Elladan and Elrohir, when they found her, and there was nothing left. And after awhile all their expectations, the flinches of her parents when she did not laugh and Arwen’s quietness, unnatural in such a young child, refilled her with grey bitterness.

So she had sailed.

Now she sat in the house of her grandparents, in a beautiful white city that seemed to have stepped right out of her mother’s childhood, and she did not miss her children. She felt only dull relief. Their eyes were no longer on her, expecting her to dance for their amusement - but no, that was unfair. Her children had not wanted her to be anything but well.

She had not been able to give them that, and so she was here.

Her grandparents had been kind, when they met her in the harbor. They had fought in the first Great War; they understood loss and pain. What had happened to her was - not comparable to the torments of Angband. No one had said that, of course; but Celebrían had met many veterans of the first and second Great Wars, in Lothlorien and Rivendell, and she knew.

It was just that she was weak. Weak and useless, a doll for others to play with, and she had passed into the wrong ownership, and now she was - cracked. Wrong.

But none of this had shown in the eyes of Finarfin or Eärwen. They had taken care of everything, from the moment she stepped off the boat. They had taken the little luggage she had, and they had bundled her away without allowing any of the crowd of well-wishers and distant relations near, and they had let her sleep without asking any unnecessary questions. She had been taken care of, the way she had been cared for her whole life, save - once. And that one time had broken her.

She shook off the bitter thoughts, or tried to. Things were better here, a little. There were no expectations of leadership, of recovery, of motherhood or daughterhood. Just kindness, and a quiet room. She was - grateful.

She was.

A gentle knock at the door startled her, though she did not jump. The few weeks she had been in Aman were sufficient for that, at least.

She got up and opened the door. Finarfin stood there. He was smiling, and quiet, as he always was. But there was something different about his eyes. He seemed - happier.

"My son is home!" he said. "That is - Finrod," he added hastily. Then, uncertainly, "You may have heard of him as Felagund? He is unclear on that point."

Celebrían twitched briefly in amusement. "I have heard of Finrod, Haru," she said, watching his eyes warm further - as they always did - at the familial address. "All have."

"Of course, of course," her grandfather said. "Silly of me. Of course Galadriel would have spoken of him. In any case, he has been traveling, and has just arrived, and wishes to see you, if you will permit it?"

That was another way they were kind, her grandparents - they did not require her to see anyone. Many had wished to see her, and speak to her, from old friends of Elwë who wanted to hear of Celeborn, to schoolfriends of her mother - Artanis, they all called her, which was strange to her ears - to Elwing the White herself, seeking news of Elrond.

Celebrían had met with Olwë and Falwen her great-grandparents; she had refused all other visitors, even her law-mother. And Finarfin and Eärwen had simply nodded as if this was expected, and said, "Another time, perhaps," and then they sent the guests away, and Celebrían returned to her quiet room and sat in the sunlight.

For a moment she thought of refusing to see Finrod, as well. But her mother had spoken of him so often, with such fondness - and he was kind. All knew he was kind.

She said, "I would be honored," for after all she was the Lady of Rivendell, and Finarfin brightened. He was proud of his son, it was clear: proud and happy. It reminded her of - of her own father.

She shook the thought away.

"He will be delighted to hear it," Finarfin said. "Would you like him to meet you here, or elsewhere?"

Celebrían considered. "Perhaps in the garden," she said at last. She did not like to have anyone between her and a door anymore; and these old, old Elves were all so tall! Tall and queenly like her mother, and frightening because of it.

"Very well," Finarfin said. "I will tell him, and you may come down when you are ready. If you change your mind, he will not be offended," he added gently, and Celebrían nodded.

He left, and Celebrían heard him calling to his son.

For a moment, she sat in her chair in the afternoon sunlight and did the exercises Elrond had shown her for calm. She breathed deeply, felt the cloth of the chair rub against her back. Tightened the muscles of her arms, one at a time, then released them slowly. Breathed again.

Then she stood and went out to the garden.

As promised, Finrod was waiting on a bench, in the sun. He stood as she approached, and bowed.

"My Lady Celebrían," he said, "and my youngest niece! I am so happy to meet you."

Celebrían nodded back, not trusting her voice quite yet. He was very tall.

His smile faltered briefly; then it was back. "I have taken the liberty," he said, indicating a pitcher and a platter, "of bringing out some water, and some small other refreshments. I am quite hungry. I hope you do not mind."

"I do not," Celebrían said. "Thank you." She was not sure if he was being entirely truthful; she had been - hungry, for quite some time, and one of her grandparents’ little gestures was making sure there was always food close to hand for her.

But it was kind of him.

She studied him as they sat. He was all gold, as the lays said: loose gold hair that haloed his face and swept down to his waist, gold on his sleeves and at his belt, gold in his eyes which were so like her mother’s that for a moment Celebrían could not quite breathe. His smile was kind and merry, as her mother had said; and his voice was unquestionably that of the diplomat her father had described.

But he was grave. This nobody had told her. She was not sure from whence the impression of gravity sprang, for he shone in the sun and had a smile of such brilliant loveliness one nearly forgot his hair. Still he was grave, and sad, behind the gold.

"I am told," her uncle said, reaching out to snag a scone from the platter - so he had not been lying, after all - "that you have passed through great suffering. Forgive my manners," he added, taking a bite.

It was - it was as if he had taken a blade and cut right to her heart, and in doing so freed her from a trap she did not know she was caught in. She breathed again.

"I would not call it great," she said. "But - suffering."

"Perhaps you will also forgive my bluntness, then," Finrod said. "I find it trying, to dance around that which gives us pain. I did it for many years in Beleriand. No more!"

"It - I do not mind," Celebrían said, and found to her surprise that it was true.

"I thought you mightn’t," Finrod said, and smiled at her expression. "My parents are very kind, and they have seen much suffering - but it is different to live it."

Celebrían had - nearly forgotten. Galadriel did not like the Lay of Leithian, and when she talked about Finrod it was most often tales of their merry childhood, or their escapades in Doriath. Not of her brother’s ending.

Elrond did not like the Lay either, though it was often played in the Hall of Fire; and so they did not listen to it much.

She said, "I must emphasize - it was not great. I was not -" and she broke off, unsure of what she wanted to say.

"Not eaten by wolves?" Finrod said wryly. "Many can claim that. It is not an easy end, to be sure, but it is not the only kind of suffering."

Celebrían did not know what to say to that; so she sat silent. But she did pour herself a small cup of water.

Finrod continued, "In any case, I cannot pretend to understand what you have undergone, or how you feel. I -" he faltered for the first time. "Perhaps it was presumptuous of me, but I thought you might like to talk to someone who - who has suffered in like manner. We needn’t," he added hastily, "we can also talk about - anything else. Say the word, and I shall be silent."

"It was - not presumptuous," Celebrían said. "I - would like that." She stopped, and drained her cup. Then she did not have any more words.

Finrod waited; then he said softly, "Of all the torments of Sauron’s dungeon, I always thought that shame was the worst. The shame of helplessness." His gaze was far away.

"But you were not helpless," Celebrían said. "Not as I -" her words ran out again.

Finrod waited, quietly; then, when she did not speak, he said, "I was, niece. So thoroughly helpless that to speak of it now still burns my throat. And it has been a long time. A very long time…" he trailed off, eyes unfocusing. Then he spoke again. "I am sure the Lay is known to you. But it cannot describe what it is like to hear someone I carried in my arms as a babe die not an armspan away, and be unable to comfort them. The Ten were in my care. They trusted me." He paused.

"When I was captured," Celebrían said, "they killed my guards in front of me. That evening."

Then she stopped. She had not meant to say that. She had not told that to anyone, not even Elrond.

And now the words - hung in the air. She swallowed hard. Something within her had been lanced open.

"I am sorry," Finrod said. "That could not have been easy."

At that Celebrían suddenly felt so desperate for someone to understand, truly understand, that she could not breathe. "It was not," she said, a pain in her throat. "They - they tried to be strong, for me, but the - the Orcs, they -" she paused. "They could not help screaming. No one could. I could not - later. And - and I could not do anything. I saw faith in their eyes. The Lady of Rivendell is here, they were thinking. It was clear as day. But my presence was - was the reason they -"

She choked, stopped. Finrod had refilled her cup, and handed it to her. She drank.

"I am sorry," Finrod said again. "Very sorry. That is the -" he paused. "It is a terrible pain. But I will tell you that you helped indeed, Lady of Rivendell."

Celebrían could not help herself. She laughed. It hurt the roof of her mouth, made her want to double over. "I did not."

"You did," Finrod said. He was grave indeed now, and kingly. "To lead is not only to command, but to inspire. To embody the spirit of a people, and honor the love of those who have sworn themselves to you. You know this full well, O daughter of Galadriel," he added with a slight smile. Then he sobered. "I came to the Halls broken and bleeding. In truth I wished to disappear into the Void, as my cousins had sworn themselves to. I was so shattered I could not remember my name anymore, nor - what I had looked like, before - well." His mouth twisted. "It was not pretty. So it took a long time for any of my Ten to find me. I had not known they were seeking me. I did not expect them to. But they had. And when they found me, they thanked me. All Ten of them. They said thank you for being there, my King. Thank you for honoring our sacrifice."

Silence, for a moment; then Celebrían, feeling the crack in her chest open wider, said, "But you did. You kept your honor, and theirs. I - I screamed and wept. I begged for their lives, and for my own. My - my suffering was to no purpose."

"Suffering," Finrod said, "is rarely for a purpose. Think you that I did not scream, that I did not weep? I begged Gorthaur, before the end. I begged him for the lives of my Ten, for Beren’s life, for the pain to stop. I did not tell him our names, nor our purpose; but in truth - and the Lay does not mention this either - he did not care much. We were an amusement, a diversion. He thought I was some foolish captain, seeking glory. My dearest friends died in agony because it pleased him to cause pain - and, of course, because I was neither careful nor strong enough to protect them."

Celebrían was quiet. But feeling was roaring through her. The great wide emptiness within her had cracked open, and in its place was - too much.

Finrod continued, "But as it turned out, that did not matter much to my friends, in the end. They were simply glad I had been there - well, not glad I had been there, of course!" he added hastily. "But glad that someone had witnessed their sacrifice, and been thankful for it. That their leader honored who they had been. And - I am sure that those of your guard felt the same. You are known here, Celebrían," he said gently. "The name of the Lady of Rivendell is as celebrated as its Lord. Your kindness, your patience, your laughter, your dignity and strength and generosity; they are known to all. Your people love you. They would wish you to heal, if you can."

The swelling lump in Celebrían’s throat became too much, and she had to blink away tears. It was both pain and awful, aching relief. She had not cried in Rivendell. Not once.

"And if I cannot heal?" she said.

"Then they - and Atar and Ammë, and I, if you permit it - will love you regardless," said Finrod.

Celebrían gathered her courage and looked at him, into those gold-and-brown eyes she had only ever seen in her mother. She realized what had given him that air of gravity, when he first stood before her. A scar split his upper lip. It was clearly old, and faded; but she could see that it had once been deep.

Finrod followed her gaze. "Yes," he said. "I am still marked. I always will be."

Still marked. Shattered and broken and split apart for no greater purpose than - amusement. No one had marks like hers, in Rivendell. Many had scars from battle; but it was not the same.

She was - not alone?

Not alone.

The water cup fell from her hands, and a tear followed it. Celebrían watched its glittering path to earth. Something within her had been - been drained of poison. In its place was grief. It sped through her body like lightning. There was no emptiness now.

It hurt.

"Would you like - that is, may I embrace you?" Finrod said hesitantly.

Celebrían almost said no. She felt full of shattered glass, all brittle edges that would draw blood.

But he was - so gentle. As gentle as Elrond, or Arwen. She missed them. She missed her children.

She missed her children.

The relief that flooded her, at that, was almost as strong as the sorrow.

She nodded, and felt Finrod’s arms enfold her as a wave of grief crashed over her at last.

#celebrian #finrod #finarfin #my writing #silm fic

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mulderscully · 10 months

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so here we are again, i'm breaking up with doctor who again? and i have a lot of asks about why and i have some asks from people ranting at me because they know me well enough to know why these specials would upset me.

i wanna go over why i'm upset a bit, and i'm gonna do it on main because at the end of the day my tumblr career started here.

as a lot of you may be aware, i have been a huge fan of journey's end and of tentoo for over ten years. my god, i have been in the absolute trenches defending that ending for rose and defending the metacrisis doctor for so long that it's honestly part of who i am.

when rtd was announced to be returning as showrunner i was really excited because i thought he was such a brilliant writer who understood the show and his characters. rtd has always been imperfect, but his original run was about life, death, happiness, pain and how you cannot have one without the other. it was about the human experience and the tragedy of the doctor always being on the outside of that. so close but never having it fully.

that's what made it compelling.

now, i was pretty convinced that the fourteenth doctor was going to be tentoo or that something tentoo related was why that face came back. not just because i wanted it but because it made sense. tentoo is half of the metacrisis, he is why donna lost her memories and the toymaker is a villian who messes with universes for fun! all these pieces fit.

it wasn't primarily about rose because i knew billie wouldn't be in the specials, it was about this making the most sense for donna and for the doctor and their relationship.

my biggest issue now is that... fourteen is not ten. the audience seems to be accepting him as such because that's how he was written, but doing so really undercut a lot of what made the tenth doctor my doctor.

fourteen is not ten, he and donna have not seen each other in years - millions for him, fifteen for her - they are different people. or they SHOULD be. and of course he still loves her, of course of course but it doesn't ring true to me for them to barely address how long they've been apart and act like it's s4 again so rtd can give ten a "happy ending."

i don't even know where to start cause it's all so upsetting. listen, i don't like donna getting her memories back and i know that is unpopular but i feel like that tragedy was so well done that reversing it with a wave of the hand is a travesty. but even if donna had kept her memories, fine! show me her family, show me how she has grown and changed in the life without him and show me how she has grown to love herself and is ready to let ten go so he can let go of the guilt of what he had to do to her. why does donna need to have her own doctor?

in russell's book "the writer's tale" he was ADAMANT about donna NEVER getting her memories back. he was proud, as he should have been, of how painfully he ended s4 because tragedy has value.

the key difference between this and journeys end and giving rose her own doctor is that while rose gets a happy ending, it's tinged with pain and with sacrifice for them all. it comes with a price and that makes it all the more precious. ten and tentoo have always been the same guy with different opportunities and how that affects who we become to me. you remove the tragedy from it and the core falls out and it feels soulless.

sure, rose would be happy that the doctor is happy but i'm sorry this is rose's storyline repackaged and handed to donna and done in a way the audience accepts as "real." which is so fucking mindnumbingly unfair and lazy. to take the doomsday, "one adventure i can never have," which is about rose and giving it to donna is so god damn insulting. it's like donna's popularity as a platonic soulmate to ten has completely overpowered the power of nine and ten's relationship with rose, her family and what they represented for him and that doesn't sit right with me and i'm not ashamed to say it.

and it doesn't even work overall because the doctor settled down with river for 24 years already. like... he already had that adventure in various ways! it's like rtd thought he could pick up in 2008.

this is what he originally wanted to do with journeys end and instead of using what he already had and expanding on it, instead of using how tentoo has been thinking of donna for fifteen years too bc he cost her everything, instead of using their metacrisis to have him absorb his mind, instead of using how they are biologically related he makes a THIRD david tennant doctor? it's perplexing. he could have easily brought tentoo over to the main universe and if he REALLY wanted to had donna and her fam move to pete's world and seal them all away for his soft reboot that way.

now we have two timelord doctors in the main dw verse. why? what's gonna happen to him! what about when donna die? does he become the valeyard? what was the point? HOW does this celebrate 60 years?

but my biggest pain of all has been how this neuters ten and the audience perception of him. i love how rude he was. i love how repressed he was. i love his pain and his sillness. i love how he went mad. i love i don't want to go. i LOVE how hard it was for him because it fucking Meant something. like julie gardner said, the doctor is his most compelling when he has to sacrifice something. i love a happy ending, but i worry we are forgetting the value or something ending painfully and just... ending.

tldr; i have more to say but at the moment i feel like my favorite doctor got erased, like they took all the depth from him and made him happier and easier to digest for comforts sake and it sacrificed his arc and that makes me unhappy.

#dw spoilers #negativity

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xuchiya · 24 days

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"CHAPTER FIVE: Receiving Gifts" || kim hongjoong || [a mini-series]

| genre: non!idol hongjoong. ceo! reader. angst. fluff. slice of life | mentions: different language. Korean (Hangul). Tagalog. unfair treatment. love language list

Hongjoong bit the end of the pencil as his eyes skimmed over the sentence in the book. The lamp on his desk cast a soft glow across half of his dark bedroom, illuminating the worksheet beside it as he carefully answered the questions.

“Titanic is about… a story where or were… the ship sank in the North Atlantic Ocean?” Hongjoong tilted his head, trying to remember the difference between the words. He was working on an assignment from the language program at the company, which he had requested to take home for the weekend. Balancing his studies with the paperwork he brought back from work was proving to be a challenge.

Bumjoong had been standing by the door for a few minutes, about to head back to his room, when he noticed Hongjoong's light still on. Arms folded, he watched his younger brother focused on the worksheet. “Are you back in grade school?”

Hongjoong spun in his chair, scoffing. “It’s part of the company.” Bumjoong pushed himself off the doorframe and sat on the bed. “It’s a program? About what?”

“Language.” Bumjoong leaned over Hongjoong’s shoulder to see the assignment. He noticed the multiple thin layers of eraser shavings scattered across the book and the sharpened pencils discarded to the side. The book was in both English and Tagalog. Being a secretary wasn’t just about assisting; it involved handling the CEO’s side tasks, updating reports, and being constantly available for phone calls and sudden visits to other companies.

As Bumjoong observed his brother, he noticed the deep concentration etched into Hongjoong’s furrowed brow as he fiddled with the pencil before finally writing down an answer. It dawned on Bumjoong why his brother had seemed so down over the past month.

The language barrier—it must have been causing him so much stress. Bumjoong’s heart ached at the thought of his brother struggling in silence, carrying the burden until it became too much to bear. That had always been Hongjoong’s way. Even when they were younger, he would avoid speaking up, letting things pass in silence or finding ways to sidestep difficult conversations.

“Whose idea was it?” Bumjoong asked.

“My boss.”

“Ms. Ae-Chan?”

Hongjoong looked up, shocked. “You know Ma’am Ae-Chan?”

Bumjoong chuckled, nodding. “Mr. Jackson Wang is my boss, and they’ve been collaborating since the start of her career.”

“Ms. Ae-Chan made this program.”

“Really?!”

Nodding toward the textbooks, Bumjoong explained, “Mr. Wang initiated this program to address the same issue—his staff faced criticism due to the language barrier. So, he offered this program to the entire company. Ms. Ae-Chan faced similar challenges throughout her career. Did you know she spoke Korean before she learned Tagalog?”

Hongjoong shook his head, curiosity piqued. He recalled how hearing her speak Korean during his interview had nearly brought him to tears. It had been a struggle to navigate the company’s language policies, and he hadn’t been sure if speaking Korean was even acceptable there.

“She faced criticism for not using her country’s language, too,” Bumjoong continued, “so she implemented this program to help her staff. But it wasn’t well received, and she faced backlash for it. We never fully understood why, but it took a toll on her mentally.”

There was a long pause. Hongjoong looked up and saw the contemplation on Bumjoong’s face. He raised an eyebrow. “You know more, don’t you?”

Bumjoong sighed, leaning back. “Being Mr. Wang’s second secretary has its perks.”

Sitting up straight, he added, “Your boss received backlash because of her mother.” Hongjoong knew bits and pieces about your family issues. He had heard rumors from his colleagues—about your father being a businessman and your mother, a housewife, who had cast you out. While he wasn’t one to indulge in gossip, the intrigue had always been there, wondering why you had been left alone.

“She did?” Hongjoong asked.

Bumjoong nodded. “Her mother criticized her for speaking a different language, calling it unprofessional. She also resented her for hiring foreigners instead of her own people. One day, she even showed up at the office, causing a scene, accusing her of abandoning the family for work. Afterward, she started spreading negative reviews about how your boss abused her power, forcing her staff to work overtime. Her mother never supported her decision to pursue business, especially after her father left them and never tried to rebuild the family.”

“Her own mother?” Hongjoong repeated in disbelief.

“Yes,” Bumjoong confirmed. Learning these details about you, without hearing it directly from you, made Hongjoong feel guilty. He knew Bumjoong didn’t mean any harm by sharing, especially since he had been helped in his early days as Jackson’s secretary. But still, discussing you behind your back felt wrong.

“I’m quite fascinated by your boss,” Bumjoong admitted, still amazed at your mental resilience despite everything. “She probably started to heal and learn to love again because of her former secretary. But considering her past and complicated family situation, she’s incredibly strong. She puts the company and her staff first, always trying to patch the wrongs and fill the emptiness.”

Hongjoong tilted his head in curiosity. “What do you mean?”

“She does all of this because she knows no one can truly fill the emptiness in her heart,” Bumjoong said softly, poking Hongjoong’s chest near his heart. “She’s hard to love, yet so soft on the outside.”

Hongjoong stared at him in amazement. “She went through all of that alone?”

Bumjoong nodded. Without saying much more, he ruffled Hongjoong’s hair. “Don’t stay up too late,” he said before leaving the room, a swell of pride warming his chest as he glanced back at his brother before heading to his own room.

On Saturday afternoon, Hongjoong decided to visit the mall to buy himself a new suit, coat, and shoes. After putting the last piece of his warm clothes on, his mother hurriedly tied a scarf around him.

Patting his shoulders gently, “Stay warm baby.” He chuckles, kissing his mother on her temple before bidding goodbye.

Despite having enough money in his bank account, the prices made him reconsider, so he settled on buying just a new pair of socks, underwear, and sneakers.As he looked at the newly purchased shoes in his hand, his mind drifted back to four days ago when he had given you sneakers. It didn’t matter now—seeing you working comfortably made him less anxious and brought a silly little smile to his face as he worked.

Hongjoong strolled through the mall, a smile still on his lips. The festive decorations of the season cast a warm glow on the bustling crowd, and for a moment, he allowed himself to be carried by the flow of people. The soft jingle of holiday music echoed in the background, mingling with the chatter of shoppers. Despite the cheerful atmosphere, his mind kept circling back to the conversation he had with Bumjoong. The weight of it all settled in his chest, making him feel distant, even amidst the holiday cheer. It falters but with a puff of his strong breath, he pushes the thought away.

As he walked past a jewelry store, something caught his eye. He slowed down, drawn to the window display where a variety of delicate pieces sparkled under the soft lights. Amidst the necklaces, rings, and bracelets, one pendant stood out to him. It was simple, yet captivating—a small, crystal-clear pendant that seemed almost ordinary at first glance.

But then, as Hongjoong watched, it shifted. The color of the crystal changed subtly, from a cool blue to a soft, warm pink. He leaned closer, intrigued by the transformation. A small card beside the pendant read: "Temperature-sensitive crystal—changes color with your body heat."

Hongjoong’s eyes lingered on the pendant as it continued to shift colors. The idea that this little piece of jewelry could reflect something so personal—one's own warmth—felt oddly comforting. He imagined the pendant resting against someone’s skin, its color shifting with every rise and fall of their emotions, like a hidden connection between them and the crystal.

He thought of you—your strength despite the weight of your past, the burdens you carried alone. The pendant seemed to embody that hidden resilience, the way you adapted to your surroundings while still holding onto your core self.

But he couldn’t help blushing uncontrollably when he remembered feeding you. His hands flew to his face with a small yelp, drawing odd glances from passersby. His face was indeed red from the thought of you—blushing. You looked so pretty when you got flustered, sometimes stuttering when Seonghwa teased you or when your staff noticed your new hair color or style.

Nevertheless, his heart seemed to be freely expressing its love for you. His eyes softened whenever he saw you being considerate and courteous to others, outside of work. He admired how you let others speak first, translated words for those who struggled to understand—just like you did for him. Hongjoong would never forget the time when, in the rain, you had given your umbrella to a lady whose own hand had broken. You had waited under the rain for Yunho, your clothes half-soaked, yet you still had a smile on your face.

To Hongjoong, you were a humble woman.

“Ah– I’m sorry, sir... I do not understand... Yes, yes.” Hongjoong’s head shot up when he heard a familiar voice nearby. When he looked, he saw you talking to an aged man who seemed to be growing impatient. You were fiddling with your phone, but the man shook his head and spoke in another language—Japanese.

He saw you struggling to understand the man, and he knew he had to step in. Hongjoong quickly approached, placing a reassuring hand on your lower back as he stepped between you and the man, offering the man a polite smile.

(“何かお手伝いしましょうか？”)(“Is there anything I can help with, sir?”) Hongjoong asked in fluent Japanese. The man sighed in relief, glancing at you with a hint of disappointment before responding, (“ああ、この女性とずっと話していたのに、何も分かっていなかった！”) (“Ah, you don’t know how long I’ve been talking to this woman! She doesn’t understand anything!”)

Anger flared within Hongjoong, it is not your fault nor anybody’s fault that no one can speak the same language. Speaking in another language had its disadvantages—people wouldn’t know they were being insulted. He glances at you, “Are you okay?” You shake your head, placing a meek hand on his arm, to which you retreat your hand immediately, awkwardly placing them on your side whilst you feel uncomfortable under the stare of the aged man in front of you.

Hongjoong took notice and moved gently so that you were totally out of the prying eyes of the man, “Yeah … I am.”

The man continued, [“英語でラーメン屋の場所を尋ねたのに、彼女は理解せず、他の場所を勧めてきたんだ。私はただそこに行きたいだけなんだ。”] (“I asked her in English where the nearest ramen place was, but she didn’t understand and insisted on going somewhere else. I just want to go there.”)

Hongjoong took a breath, calming himself. [“ 彼女は混乱していただけで、助けようとしたんだと思います。ラーメン屋の場所ですが、ここからは…”] (“I believe she was confused and only wanted to help. To answer your question, the ramen place is just…”) Hongjoong gave the man directions to the ramen shop. The man thanked Hongjoong, even shaking his hand before giving you one last look and parting ways. You bowed to the man, unable to meet Hongjoong’s gaze.

When Hongjoong looked at you, his heart sank. Despite your usual fierce and confident demeanor that you show inside the office, this was the first time he had seen you look so small and timid. You were fiddling with your oversized sweater, clearing your throat, you raised your head, eyes shaking, “Uhm .. thank you Hongjoong.”

He smiles at you gently, “No problem ma’am.” You shake your head, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear, “Please we are outside of work, you can call me by my name.” He moves, facing you as his eyes soften, holding a short gaze at your sweaty forehead and anxious hands, Hongjoong looks around and sighs in relief when he sees a lady ringing a bell.

Nodding his head to the side, a smile on his lips, “Come with me then, Ae-chan-ah.” You stare at his back, confused yet intrigued at his sudden invite. He spuns, thumbing at the ice-cream car, a boyish-smirk on his lips, “Ice-cream is the best medicine.” Realization dawns at you, your shoulders relaxing before shaking your head yet a smile is on your face. You could feel your heart leap from the inside of your ribs.

You and Hongjoong sat on an empty bench just beside the ice-cream car. You spoon enough of the ice-cream yet it makes your head experience an intense brain freeze. You squeal, holding your head in your hand, Hongjoong glancing at you worriedly, thinking you got hurt, realizing that you were just cursing yourself for having brain-freeze.

He laughed, making you pout playfully before you lightly smacked his bicep out of habit, quickly apologizing afterward. Hongjoong watched as you kept the spoon in your mouth, your legs stretched out and relaxed. To others, it might seem odd that he was hanging out with his boss, but to him, that title was just a formality—a name you earned, but one that didn’t define the way you connected with those around you.

“Hongjoong-ah,” you said, startling him out of his thoughts. He realized he had been staring, caught gazing at you as if you were the universe itself, just within reach. Your eyes widened, trying to ignore the pounding in your chest, but it was nearly impossible to tear your gaze away from him as you took in his features.

You could feel the heat rising in your neck, and your cheeks burned even hotter. It all felt so real, too overwhelming for your heart to handle, leaving you breathless every time your eyes settled on Hongjoong.

Hongjoong wished the seat beneath him would open up and swallow him whole out of sheer embarrassment. His insides twisted with panic; he had been caught. His breath hitched as he looked at you, the soft glow of the mall lights above creating a faint halo around your head. You were ethereal, so delicate.

It was not your fault that you forgot to say the words in your head whenever you look at Hongjoong. You hummed, looking down on your melting ice-cream. You wanted to thank him for saving you. Not for a while ago but for how things are turning out for you in the greater good.

You hummed, looking down at your melting ice cream, the sweetness a comfort against the day’s awkward moments. You wanted to thank him, not just for stepping in a while ago but for how things were turning out in your life, all for the better. How you have started to open your heart to the possibilities, reality and most especially, in love.

As the two of you sat in a comfortable silence, your mind drifted back to a few weeks ago when you visited your former secretary. She had dropped by your office to pay you a quick visit but you were out of the office that time and left a note on your desk.

“I’m proud of you, anak.” You chuckle, feeling your heart flutter from the nickname. Being called ‘anak’ or ‘my child’ by someone so dear to you is the same thing as winning a stuffed toy in a claw machine. You hum, playing with the teaspoon, twirling it around the cup before taking a sip. Everything about the visit had been wonderful—meeting her family, her kind husband, and their two beautiful daughters. You both had spent the afternoon catching up over tea, the warmth of her home a stark contrast to the cold, sterile environment of the office.

“How are you doing, really?” Mrs. Han had asked, her voice gentle but probing, as if she could see the weight you were carrying beneath your composed exterior. You waved her off as she pouted at your long silence, chuckling at her, “I’m managing,” you replied, smiling softly. “But things have been… different since you left.”

Mrs. Han nodded knowingly, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Have they found someone to fill my spot yet? I hope they’re treating you well.”

The question had caught you off guard. You’d paused, your mind immediately conjuring up an image of Hongjoong, his determined gaze as he worked late into the night, the way he always seemed to anticipate your needs before you even voiced them.

Or those times where you caught both yourselves tangled in a intense or intimate moment inside your office, holding such soft gazes across the meeting room or even when he covers your bottom when he notice a spot and uses his coat and lead you to the bathroom; ignoring the stares and gave you a spare pants (called Yunho for emergency purposes).

And then, without warning, you had felt a warmth creeping up your cheeks, your heart fluttering at the mere thought of him. Mrs. Han had noticed, of course. She had always been perceptive, and her teasing laugh had filled the room as she leaned in closer. “Oh, I see… someone’s got your attention, huh?”

You had quickly brushed off her comment with a laugh, but the blush remained on your face, and even now, as you sat next to Hongjoong, you could feel it returning. You glanced at him from the corner of your eye, the way his lips curled into a soft smile as he savored his ice cream, the way his eyes sparkled with kindness whenever he looked at you.

“Thank you, Hongjoong-ah,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper, but he heard you. He turned his head slightly, his eyes meeting yours with a questioning look. “For what?” he asked, his tone gentle, as if he was ready to comfort you if needed.

“For being here,” you replied, offering him a small smile. “And for… everything.”

He chuckled softly, shaking his head as if to dismiss your words. “You don’t have to thank me. I’m just doing my job.”

But you knew it was more than that. There was a sincerity in his actions, a quiet dedication that went beyond the boundaries of a mere professional relationship. And as you both sat there, enjoying the last bits of your ice cream, you couldn’t help but feel a warmth spreading through your chest, realizing that maybe, just maybe, you were beginning to see Hongjoong as more than just your secretary.

After finishing your ice cream, you both decided to take a walk around the mall's outdoor garden. The air was crisp, and the glow of Christmas lights bathed the area in a warm, festive hue. Candy cane lights lined the pathway, and children ran around, laughing and playing, their cheeks flushed from the cold. The garden was decorated with oversized ornaments, sparkling tinsel, and wreaths that filled the air with the scent of pine.

As you and Hongjoong strolled through the festive scene, the soft hum of Christmas carols filled the air, blending with the sound of joyful chatter from families and couples enjoying the holiday atmosphere. The twinkling lights overhead mirrored the stars in the sky, casting a magical glow over everything. You couldn't help but smile at the sight of a young couple taking pictures near a large Christmas tree, their happiness infectious.

You and Hongjoong walked in comfortable silence, taking in the beauty of the moment, until something soft brushed the top of your head. You blinked, looking up to see tiny white flakes falling from the sky—the first snow of the season. The cold breeze carried the snowflakes around you, and you instinctively pulled your arms tighter around yourself, shivering as the chill seeped through your clothes.

Hongjoong noticed immediately. Without a word, he slipped off his scarf and gently draped it over your shoulders, making sure to wrap it securely around you. The thick fabric covered not just your shoulders but also your ears, the ends hanging down to your chest. The scarf almost covers half of your face, nuzzling on the soft cotton of the material, your body relaxes. The scent of mint and strong perfume made your heart skip a beat. You blushed, the warmth of the scarf mingling with the fluttering in your heart.

"There," he said softly, his voice filled with warmth. "That should help." Patting your shoulders gently, giving it a soft squeeze before his eyes gazes on yours. You looked up at him, your eyes meeting him in a quiet exchange of gratitude and something more. The snow continued to fall around you, dusting your hair and the ground beneath your feet. For a moment, it felt like the rest of the world faded away, leaving just the two of you standing there in the gentle snowfall. The way the snow falls gently on top of your heads made the whole scenery out of the dramas.

In that stillness, you realized that the greatest gift you were receiving wasn't wrapped in paper or placed under a tree. It was love—unspoken, but felt in every gesture, every glance, every moment you shared with Hongjoong.

That night, you drove Hongjoong home after a quiet meal at a familiar restaurant. The familiar comfort of the place had become a tradition, one that both soothed and reminded you of the constancy in your busy life. As you pulled into the driveway of his house, your gaze was drawn to the Christmas decorations that adorned the place—a few garlands hung neatly along the porch, soft lights twinkling, and a gentle dusting of snow already covering the rooftops. The sight brought a smile to your face, though a bittersweet tug gnawed at your heart. The realization settled in that, once again, you would likely be spending the holiday season in the solitude of your office.

Yunho had extended his open invitation for you to join his family’s Christmas celebration again this year. For the past two years, you had shared warm, joyful moments with his grandparents, feeling like a welcomed guest in their home. But despite the sincerity of Yunho's offer, you hesitated. Christmas, for you, held a deeper significance—one rooted in the ideal of family. You wanted those you cared about to celebrate with their loved ones, their families whole and complete, without feeling like an outsider intruding on their cherished traditions.

Then there was Seonghwa—your half-brother. The discovery of your shared bloodline had come unexpectedly, revealed by a family doctor, and Seonghwa, determined to be a part of your life, had sought you out. He had been a steady presence during the peak of your career, offering guidance and care. But despite the bond you had formed, you couldn't shake the feeling of being on the fringes. His mother, though polite, still kept you at arm’s length, loved and accepted you like her own daughter, and your heart ached, for the closure you had longed for with your father.

The desire to celebrate with a family of your own never faded, even if it seemed like a distant dream. A quiet wish you whispered to yourself each night—a hope that, someday, the holidays wouldn’t just be spent at a desk, or as a guest, but as someone who truly belonged.

A family you would never have, a family you wish you had.

As you watch Hongjoong step out of the car and walk toward his front door, you can’t help but feel the weight of the season pressing down on you. The twinkling lights, the festive garlands, and the snow-covered rooftops should bring joy, but all they do is remind you of the solitude that awaits you back at your office.

Hongjoong pauses at the door, glancing back at you with a soft smile. “Are you sure you don’t want to come inside? Mom always makes hot chocolate after dinner this time of year.”

You return his smile, though it doesn’t quite reach your eyes. “I wouldn’t want to intrude on your family’s time together. But thank you, Hongjoong. Maybe another time.”

He nods, though there’s a flicker of something in his eyes—concern, maybe. “I won’t push you but alright. Drive safely, and… take care of yourself, okay?”

You offer a reassuring wave as he disappears inside. With a sigh, you turn your car back toward the road. You drive back towards your place, halting on the red light. Your ears picking up the faint music of carols blasting on your speaker. You sigh, leaning back as you glance around the city. It is now fully covered with Christmas lights. Decorating the entire place with vibrant colors and cheers while it makes you bitter and lonely. Like resembling the Grinch himself.

Just the thought of the green bitter guy made you chuckle. With a shake of your head, you release your foot from the brake only to step down gently. You catch a glimpse of something out of the corner of your eye. Across the street, nestled among the shops in the town square, a small jewelry store catches your attention.

Curiosity piqued, you park your car and make your way toward the shop. The soft glow from its display window illuminates the delicate pieces inside, but one, in particular, stands out—a simple pendant with a crystal-clear stone. Its beauty lies in its subtlety, but what makes it even more unique is the way the stone changes color, reflecting the warmth of its wearer’s body temperature.

The bell above the door chimes softly as you enter, and the warmth of the store contrasts with the chilly night air. Your eyes are drawn back to the pendant, and as you step closer to the display, you can see the delicate craftsmanship. The stone, though clear, seems to shimmer faintly with potential—a small, almost magical detail that makes it stand out from the other pieces.

The store-keeper, a kind-looking woman with a warm smile, notices your interest. “Beautiful, isn’t it? It’s one of our most unique pieces. The stone changes color depending on the warmth of the person wearing it. Some say it reflects the emotions of the heart.”

You glance at her, then back at the pendant, feeling an inexplicable pull toward it. “Does it… have any significance?”

The store-keeper nods thoughtfully. “It’s said that the pendant symbolizes connection—a bond between people that changes and grows, just like the colors in the stone. Some buy it as a gift for someone they care about, others as a reminder of something special they’ve shared.”

Her words linger in your mind as you continue to stare at the pendant. You think of Hongjoong—his gentle smile, his quiet determination, and the warmth he’s brought into your life, even when you’ve tried to keep your distance. The bond you share is growing, shifting in ways you hadn’t expected. Perhaps this pendant could be a way to acknowledge that, to give something tangible to represent the connection that’s blossoming between you.

It was the season of giving and taking. Christmas. Winter. The first snow had already fallen a week ago, the night Hongjoong wrapped his scarf around your neck. You still hadn’t returned it and made a mental note to do so once you finished the paperwork scattered across your desk. A soft jingle echoed through your office from the ceiling, where a built-in speaker played the familiar tune of EXO’s "첫 눈 (The First Snow)."

You chuckled, shaking your head knowingly. Jongho had likely set up the playlist—he always left a selection of Christmas songs on repeat until you paused it, almost as if forcing you to take a break and go home. Christmas had always been your favorite season: snow, cheerful songs, choirs singing carols, gifts exchanged between loved ones, the warmth of family. But now, that joy seemed distant, overshadowed by your responsibilities as CEO.

Sighing, you returned your focus to the paperwork. Despite giving your staff the week off to enjoy the holidays with their families, you couldn’t afford to rest. For someone in your position, work never truly stopped. The dim glow of your desk lamp was the only light in the room as you pushed forward, the stack of reports on your desk reminding you of the unending responsibilities you bore.

A knock at your door broke the silence. You glanced at the clock—10:35 PM. To your surprise, Hongjoong entered your office, looking both hesitant and determined, his usual cheerfulness tinged with concern.

“Hongjoong? I thought you had already gone home,” you said, setting a folder aside as your fingers hovered over the keyboard.

“I was finishing some paperwork before heading off for the holiday,” he replied softly. Then, after a moment of hesitation, he asked, “Why are you still here? You gave us all a break… but you’re still working.”

You were taken aback by his question. “Hongjoong, I have to finish these reports. If I don’t, we won’t have work lined up for the new year. This is important for all of us. The work doesn’t stop just because it’s Christmas. There are responsibilities—”

“But we all have responsibilities too, and you still gave us time to rest,” he gently interrupted. “Don’t you deserve that too?”

His words hung in the air, and you couldn’t deny the truth in them. You had told yourself countless times that this was part of the job, that being at the helm required constant vigilance. But seeing Hongjoong standing there, with the soft glow of your desk lamp reflecting in his eyes, made you realize how much you had sacrificed. And for what?

After a long pause, you sighed. “Maybe you’re right.”

Hongjoong’s face brightened with a sense of accomplishment, a charming smile spreading across his lips. He glanced at his watch, then at his phone. “Yunho is still here. Let’s go, Ae-Chan.”

You chuckled, pushing your chair back as you turned off your computer screen. “Are you that eager to bring me home?”

“N-No!” he stammered, though his enthusiasm was clear.

Later that evening, you found yourself at home. You placed your bag by the coffee table and lit the fireplace. The flames cast a warm glow across the room, illuminating the side of your face. When you turned around, you noticed Hongjoong standing by the front door, staring at you.

“Hongjoong, for heaven’s sake, sit down,” you said with a chuckle. “I’m not the witch from ‘Hansel and Gretel.”

Hongjoong hesitated, clearly lost in thought. He looked around your living room, taking in the simplicity of the decor—a white Christmas tree near the fireplace, twinkling lights dancing around it, but nothing else. His heart ached as he realized that you must be spending Christmas alone. It reminded him of the favor Seonghwa had asked of him earlier that day when he visited the office.

‘Please make sure she celebrates Christmas,’ Seonghwa had said.

It was a simple request, yet it felt complicated. But Hongjoong wasn’t one to back down from a challenge. As you prepared tea, you suddenly felt his presence behind you. When you turned around, your hands were suddenly clasped in his.

“Hongjoong?” you asked, startled. “Are you okay—”

“Celebrate Christmas with me!” he blurted out, his declaration catching you completely off guard. You stared at him, searching his eyes for any sign of hesitation, but all you saw was hope and excitement, like a child eagerly waiting to open gifts on Christmas morning.

You had already mentioned your thoughts on the true essence of Christmas, but Hongjoong only shook his head, a smile playing on his lips as he leaned in closer. Your faces were so near that you could feel the warmth radiating from him. Your breath hitched in your throat.

“I’ll show you the true essence of Christmas,” he whispered.

And that’s how you found yourself packing for a week away. With a suitcase in one hand and a satchel bag filled with your laptop and gadgets in the other, you arrived at Hongjoong’s family home. After a night of contemplation, you were finally convinced—partly by Hongjoong’s persistence and partly by Seonghwa’s encouraging messages. You parked your car in their driveway, letting out a puff of air as you rolled down your window.

“I hope I’m not intruding,” you said nervously.

Hongjoong shook his head with a smile, opening your car door as you finished turning off the engine. “Not at all. Come on, they’re excited to meet you.”

As you entered the house, you were immediately enveloped by warmth and the comforting smell of home-cooked food. Hongjoong helped you remove your coat as he introduced you to his family. “Mom’s cooking right now. Let me introduce you to Dad and Bumjoong.”

Your eyes widened in recognition. “Bumjoong? As in Kim Bumjoong, Jackson Wang’s secretary?”

As soon as you stepped into the living room, Bumjoong greeted you with a wave and a slight bow. “No need for introductions—I see you at the office now and then,” he said with a chuckle. “But it’s good to finally meet you properly. I’m Bumjoong, Hongjoong’s older brother.”

You extended your hand to shake his, but he pulled you into a warm hug instead. “No need to be formal! We’re family here.”

You blushed deeply, taken aback by the affectionate gesture. It was rare for you to be this close to anyone outside of Yunho or Seonghwa. Hongjoong was still in the process of becoming someone you were comfortable with in more intimate moments, but this hug left you a flustered mess. Hongjoong had to intervene, gently pulling you away from his brother’s hold.

“Yah! She’s not used to being hugged like that,” Hongjoong scolded playfully.

Bumjoong laughed, teasing both of you. “Oh? And you’re allowed to hug her?”

You and Hongjoong both squeaked in surprise, faces flushed with embarrassment, as Bumjoong’s playful remark echoed through the room. As soon as you were released from the teasing embrace, you noticed a tall figure approaching from the kitchen. Hongjoong’s father stepped forward with a wide smile, his eyes crinkling with warmth. His presence was commanding yet kind, and you immediately felt a sense of comfort around him.

“Ae-Chan-ah, welcome!” His voice boomed with joy as he held out his hand, shaking yours firmly before pulling you into a gentle hug. “It’s wonderful to finally meet you. Hongjoong’s been telling us so much about you.”

You smiled shyly, “Thank you for inviting me. Don’t worry, I brought something for all of you … for letting me celebrate Christmas with you and your family.”

Won-Chul chuckles, giving your hand a squeeze, “You shouldn’t have trouble for the gifts, darling. Your presence and your kindness is already enough for me and for all the opportunities you gave to my son.” You feel your cheeks redden, not used to such open displays of affection, but you felt the sincerity in his greeting. His warmth and kindness enveloped you like a soft blanket, easing the tension in your shoulders.

As soon as he stepped back, you heard hurried footsteps coming from the hallway. Hongjoong’s mother— Hyerin, entered the room, her face lighting up with delight when she saw you. She didn’t hesitate for a second before rushing over, cupping your cheeks in her hands with a soft, almost maternal touch. Her eyes sparkled with excitement as she took in every detail of your face.

“Oh, you’re even more beautiful than I imagined!” she exclaimed, her voice filled with genuine affection. She placed a quick kiss on each of your cheeks, causing you to blush. Then, without warning, she pulled you into a tight embrace, her arms wrapping around you with a tenderness that made your heart swell.

“I’ve been waiting to meet you, Ae-Chan-ah,” she said softly, her voice muffled by the hug. “I knew from the moment Hongjoong mentioned you that you were special.” You were taken aback by the overwhelming love and warmth she radiated. It wasn’t just a polite greeting—it was a deep, genuine affection, the kind that only a mother could give. You found yourself melting into her embrace, your heart softening with each passing moment.

When she finally released you, her eyes were shining with tears of joy. “Wait right here!” she said excitedly before hurrying off towards her room. Hongjoong chuckled beside you, clearly used to his mother’s exuberance.

“She’s been looking forward to this for weeks,” he whispered with a smile.You place a warm hand on his shoulder, “She is so sweet.”

“That’s her love language.”

Moments later, she returned, holding a soft sweater in her hands. The fabric was thick and cozy, a light pastel color that seemed to glow in the warmth of the room. She placed it gently into your hands, her expression filled with pride. “This belonged to me, but I’ve never had the chance to wear it,” she explained, her voice filled with emotion. “I’ve always wanted a daughter to share these things with, and now that you’re here… I hope you’ll accept this as a gift, from mother to daughter.”

Your breath caught in your throat as you looked at the sweater. It was more than just an article of clothing—it was a symbol of the love she was offering you, a piece of herself that she was giving with open arms. You could feel the warmth of her love radiating from the fabric, and it touched something deep inside of you. Tears welled up in your eyes as you looked at her. “Thank you,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. “I… I don’t know what to say.”

She smiled, wiping away a stray tear from your cheek. “You don’t have to say anything, dear. Just know that you’re always welcome here. You’re part of our family now.”

Hongjoong watched the exchange with a soft smile, his heart swelling with pride and affection. He had hoped for this—for you to feel the love and warmth of his family, to experience the kind of care and attention that only a mother could give.

You eyed the sweater in your hand. Evening had already rolled in and you were already settled in your room, just beside Hong joong’s room. You got up and had a quick shower before dinner started. As you slipped on the soft sweater, it felt like a warm embrace wrapping around you, comforting and reassuring. You stared at the full body length mirror, twirling as you examined the cotton and how it fits you nicely. It reaches over your fingertips and around your mid thigh, it feels warm and comforting.

You smile, a genuine smile. It wasn’t just a gift—it was a piece of love, a mother’s love, and it reminded you that gifts weren’t always about material things. Sometimes, the most precious gifts were the ones that came from the heart.

Hyerin continued to pamper you throughout the evening, offering you more food than you could ever eat, making sure you were comfortable, and constantly checking in to see if you needed anything. She even fussed over your hair, smoothing it down, “You took care of yourself. So pretty my baby.”

At first, you were overwhelmed by the attention, but slowly, you began to relax into it. You realized that this was her way of expressing love—through acts of care and kindness, through the little things that made you feel seen and cherished. It was a kind of love you hadn’t felt in a long time, and it made your heart ache with gratitude.

By the end of the evening, you were filled with a warmth that had nothing to do with the fireplace or the cozy sweater you were wearing. It was the warmth of family, of love freely given and gratefully received. As you sat around the dinner table, listening to Won-Chul tell stories, and watching Hyerin smile at you with such fondness, you realized that this—this was the true essence of Christmas. And materials are not just a gift you receive but love and family.

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theweeklydiscourse · 1 year

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If Alina had actually passed the tests he'd given her, how do you think Aleksander would have told her the truth? When?

This is a good question! Addressing the whole truth of his identity, past and motives would have been inevitable considering his larger aspirations for him and Alina to become immortal companions, so what strategies would he employ to ensure that the big reveal goes as smoothly as possible?

First, we need to identify what exactly he’s going to tell her. I believe the whole truth is something that he’d tell her in two parts.

1. The truth about his motives with the shadow fold as well as the imminent coup d’état.

2. The truth about his immortality and him being the Black Heretic.

Both of these truths are alike in the sense that they pertain to the essence Aleksander’s character, but they differ in urgency. Informing Alina of the coup would be the most urgent given that the pressure to destroy the shadow fold increased greatly after Alina was discovered. In order for the plan to proceed, Alina should ideally know what Aleksander’s true motives are before they move forward with an enormous feat of Grisha power.

However, telling Alina the second truth would be akin to him putting his life in her hands. As such, his approach to telling her the truth would most likely require more time and caution. I can only imagine how that conversation might go for the two of them.

So what if Alina did pass the tests?

Even if she passed his tests initially, I imagine that Aleksander would still approach the issue with a high degree of caution. Their conversation on the journey to the Little Palace was a sort of placement test that let him subtly grade her, that is why I think he would conduct more tests incrementally to track her progress and milestones until she fully passed. But, if she had passed his initial test, I believe that Aleksander would have been far bolder with his hints and taken an approach that might allow Alina to draw her own conclusions.

For example, after Alina’s introduction to the King and Queen, Aleksander tests the waters by describing the King as a child. It’s an obvious slight at the King’s frivolous and incompetent ways that would’ve been understood by Alina after seeing his childish attitude firsthand. What if, instead of gasping and appearing visibly shocked, Alina responded in an affirmative manner? Perhaps agreeing with Aleksander or making a jab of her own? This might then lead into a conversation about the King’s failure as a ruler and allude to Aleksander’s future plans while also allowing Alina to ease into the subject.

We see the beginnings of an incremental approach to ease Alina into the world of Grisha. Getting her acquainted with her new home, giving her a friendly companion (Genya), and placing her among the rest of the Little Palace Grisha for daily events such as mealtimes and training. This stage is crucial to gaining Alina’s support and allegiance due to her upbringing as a non-Grisha as well as her low self esteem. Given that Alina’s introduction to the world of Grisha was both frightening and shocking, throwing her into the deep end right away would only cause her to flail and struggle, ultimately risking the entire movement in the process. So, she needs to spend a bit of time on the edge of the water, going from dipping her toes in to wading into the shallow end.

My estimate is that if all went according to plan (meaning that Baghra never meddled) then Aleksander would obtain the stag with Alina and take a number of months or even a year or two to train and acclimate to such a powerful amplifier. During this time, he would level with her about the true purpose of the fold and what her role would be in the movement for Grisha liberation.

R/relationshipadvice : How do I (500M), tell my potential girlfriend/life partner (20F) that I’m not actually 120 and that I’m actually an immortal revolutionary wizard who forever changed the geography and politics of our country?

As for the biggest truth of all, I often wonder how long it would take Aleksander to tell Alina the full truth about who he is. The idea of telling her most likely intimidates him into playing it safe and because of that I think it might take a number of years before he would be ready. However, Alina is not an idiot and has the power to observe things. The benefit of this is that it would allow her to gather information and draw her own conclusions as she gets closer to the truth. Aleksander is an understandably guarded person, but he will still leave breadcrumbs for Alina to follow and pick up on. But if I had to say, I’d think that he might wait for Alina to ask him outright (after a time) and then either bare his souls or let Alina’s questions reveal the truth throughout a long conversation.

#lb critical #shadow and bone #alina starkov #the darkling #s&b critical #aleksander morovoza #darklina #s&b netflix #darklina meta #grishaverse meta #grishaverse #anti leigh bardugo #shadow and bone season 2

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mississpissi · 1 year

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i was talking to keri the other day and i realized that the way carlos defined his intentions for being in night vale is very specific.

in the very first episode, cecil reports: “Carlos told us that we are, by far, the most scientifically interesting community in the US, and he had come to study just what is going on around here.”

(this gets really out of hand so be warned)

i thought it was interesting that carlos highlighted that what was scientifically interesting was the community of night vale. that he came to study what is going on in night vale. i thought maybe this could just be weird wording, so i. i did read through every mention of carlos in the transcripts from episode 1 up to the most recent episode.

the next time we hear about carlos’ reason for being in night vale is in episode 25, when cecil says, “[Carlos] came to us to investigate our town, because he said it was scientifically extraordinary, and downright bizarre.”

interesting that carlos is investigating the town, and that he finds the town extraordinary and bizarre. it is repeated multiple times that night vale is the most scientifically interesting community. “Community” is the word used every time.

also of note is how carlos describes the desert otherworld. he calls it “the most scientifically interesting place in the otherworld” (58). he also says that his time there is “the most scientific. I don’t think I’ve ever been more scientific, and you know how much I love science.” (59).

i point this out because carlos calls the otherworld the most scientifically interesting place, not community. part of this could be that there wasn’t much of a community in the dow at this time, but there were still people out there with him, but i think this wording is intentional. he even corrects kevin on this later: “Kevin: I think you once called this desert otherworld ‘the most scientifically interesting community in the U.S.’ Carlos: Well…no, my exact words were–” (70a).

i also point out that carlos emphasizes how scientific his time in the dow is because it seems as if it is a significant difference from what he had been doing in night vale- almost as if the nature of his research had changed from studying a community to a place.

later, when reflecting on his arrival in night vale, carlos says, “When I came here, I understood this town as scientifically fascinating” (111). again, the emphasis is that the town is what’s fascinating. the community.

in this most previous arc, we get even more insight into this idea. carlos has come to define for night vale what science looks like (which i could and will go on and on about at a later date). this is widely acknowledged- carlos is repeatedly referred to as the towns leading scientist, as the scientist (which, i know, its by cecil, not a reliable narrator, but thats the narrator we got and im taking his word as bible). when the uowii comes in and starts doing science differently, cecil contrasts their work with that of the night vale community college, saying, “See, this is what real science is all about. Dangerous, frightening experiments conducted on an unknowing populace with a vague aim and no clear end date” (223). and, yeah, this def sounds like a cecil/night vale little quirk, seeing that cecil is. intimately familiar with how the. top scientist does his work (sorry), i think it’s worth noting that he sees science as something done to a populace. i might be stretching with that one but i dont care.

then, when lubelle is directly addressing carlos, she says, “I knew you when you got it in your head that there was somewhere in the great deserts of the United States a town that was the most scientifically interesting community in the country. Oh the attention you got for this so called discovery, nonsense though it was. You got headlines, you got grants, an entire research team for this fully funded expedition” (230). she says again, community. he got grants and attention and headlines for discovering this community (which does make me wonder what he was putting out there to get headlines and attention. or how he found night vale to be credited with discovering it. again, a post for a later date).

now to what im trying to get at.

i do think it matters that carlos is coming to study the community of night vale. when lubelle gets to town, she jumps right into trying to find the most interesting thing, the biggest scientific breakthrough. when carlos gets to town, one of the first things he does is call a town meeting. he tells the town why he’s there. he warns the town of things that might harm them, investigates that which is actively affecting the community.

i think of the anthropological nature of that idea- of studying a community. of entering a community you find interesting, declaring your intent, and trying to learn what you can about how the community works. to learn about the culture. to be curious about how things move in that world.

i think about carlos trying to distance himself from marine biology, from the phantom ocean, and deciding that studying a community of people in the middle of the desert just might be different enough for him to reignite his passion for science and research.

i think that its really interesting how actively carlos resisted becoming personally entangled with anyone in town, with cecil especially. we know carlos liked cecil fairly quickly, but didn’t move as fast as cecil hoped. i think it’s really interesting that carlos defines home as “a grouping of objects connected by a shared personal experience of time” and a town as “a collection of objects and people, no more meaningful than any other” (100, 210). those definitions seem very distant to me. i think it’s really interesting that carlos was so resistant to the idea of calling night vale his home town.

i think, if someone had come to a town intending to study the community, they would be very wary of becoming too involved in the community, of putting their results at risk. studying strange phenomena would be excusable, especially for someone who deeply believes “science is a tool, helpful and dangerous, but we will use it only for our fellow humans, with the benefit of the least of us always in mind” (230). but becoming involved personally, allowing personal biases to sully the objectivity of the research, tainting the data with something as unscientific as feelings- this would be unacceptable to someone who saw science as the ultimate motivation.

i just think it matters that this wording is repeated. i think it matters that carlos spent years terrified of calling night vale his community, because it was one he was only ever meant to research. one he was only ever meant to report on. like. a certain someone who has also had to shift the nature of his work because of a man he fell in love with.

i think it matters that carlos recognizes when he has let his scientific integrity slip, when he calls himself “complacent” for “no longer see[ing] the strangeness, but only [his] home” (111). i think it matters that carlos comes to realize that sometimes, an explanation takes away the fun of things (it devours), that even if the sun doesn’t set at the right time, “the sunset was really beautiful, so at least there’s that” (111). that a magic trick doesn’t need to be explained (222), that every mystery of the strange community he is studying doesn’t need an explanation. that his focus was not on tearing apart the community in the search of truth, but “the science of discovery, of research, of humility, of using these tools to make our lives better” (230).

i think it matters that, even as carlos did become irrevocably involved in the community he was meant to study, he always made sure to keep “most of its mysteries… intact” (212). he still maintained that level of scientific integrity, and pushed to reinforce this when people threatened to do otherwise.

i think it matters that carlos, when faced with someone from his past, someone who knew exactly why he was there and exactly what he had left and exactly what the correct scientific procedure is, says, “I speak now not to my adversary, but to my community” (230). his community. yes, the most scientifically interesting community in the united states. yes, the community he had come to study. yes, the community he had, somewhere along the way, become a part of. and yes, his community.

i think this is such a cool example of character development, and maybe i just couldn’t fully appreciate or understand the importance of him saying “community” every time without what was revealed in this last arc, but i really like considering this angle. i love thinking of carlos trying to remain distant before realizing his community, his love, his family had all become one, and he could still find wonder and make scientifically interesting discoveries from within the community. i love that he found a home, one much more personal than simply a grouping of objects and people, but a community that is his.

#um. i think about carlos a regular amount.#shoutout to keri and bulk for encouraging this. it's their faults. blame them.#wtnv

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wonder-worker · 4 months

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Writers who knew [Marie of France Countess of Champagne] depicted her in several guises. For Chrétien de Troyes, the most elusive of contemporary writers, she was an assertive patron of romances, dictating for example the subject and meaning of the Lancelot tale. The mischievous Andreas Capellanus, who was close to Marie in the mid-1180s, drew a highly entertaining parody of Marie and the prominent women of her milieu resolving the conundrums of amatory conduct in “courts of love,” in the manner of modern advice columnists. In Hugh of Oisy’s musical performance, Marie cut a fine figure as a combatant in a tournament of elite women. It is striking how in three quite distinctive imaginative works written in the 1180s, Marie appears as an author of an Arthurian romance, a judge at a court of love, and a participant in a tournament mêlée.

Others who knew Marie well in the 1180s and 1190s remarked different aspects of her character. The Eructavit poet noted her penchant for the trappings of wealth, and addressing her directly during a performance of his religious drama, chastised her for her “largesse and lavish expenses.” [Canon] Evrat, on the other hand, a resident canon of St-Étienne who observed Marie closely in the 1190s, stressed her spiritual and moral character. Seeking to understand the deep meaning of the scriptures, he wrote, she provided him a copy of Genesis to translate into the vernacular and annotate with the findings of the latest “academic” studies. In an epilogue added after her death, Evrat penned a eulogy praising her largesse and renown, and comparing her, la gentis contesse Marie, to the three biblical Marys—“she would be the fourth.”

An entirely different side of Marie was captured by Marie’s court stenographers, William (1181–87) and Theodoric (1190–97), who made verbatim transcripts of her comments and directives while observing her deal with the practical affairs of governance: assigning revenues (“I assigned 100s. on the entry tax on wine”), resolving disputes at court (“resolved in my presence in this manner”), confirming prior transactions (“I approved this act”), registering acts done at court (“done in my presence”), consenting to feudal alienations (“I approved because it was my fief”), founding chaplaincies (“for Geoffroy, count of Brittany, my brother”), and establishing endowments (“for the anniversary of my lord and husband, Count Henry”). All of that was “done in public,” usually in the presence of her officers and witnesses. It was precisely in her capacity as ruling countess of Champagne that she continued Henry the Liberal’s example of performing in public as prince of his principality. Having observed Henry at court—just as Henry, while a very young man, had observed the conduct of his father, which earned him the reputation as the “good” Count Thibaut—Marie understood that the comital court, as the core institution of the principality, demanded her active participation, and she paid close attention to the great and the minor issues presented there for her disposition.

It should be emphasized that Henry the Liberal’s principality was only three decades old when Marie became regent in 1181, and the primary comital residence and chapel in Troyes were barely twenty years old, not yet fully implanted as the seat of a new territorial state and mausoleum of a princely lineage. Marie’s task was to preserve the principality and its institutions intact, and to assure the continuity of the lineage. And that she did. Evrat sensed both the precarious nature of her rule and her achievement in holding a firm hand on the levers of comital authority, especially during those anomalous years of the 1190s: “Well did she protect and govern the land / letting nothing slip from her hand, / she was gracious, wise, valiant, and courageous.” By all accounts, Marie projected a complex, forceful, and captivating character, one that proved a worthy counterpart to the compelling personality of Henry the Liberal. [Canon Evrat rendered homage to her in the epilogue of his Genesis translation: 'She had the heart of a man and the body of a woman'].

-Theodore Evergates, "Marie of France Countess of Champagne, 1145-1198"

#historicwomendaily #Marie of France Countess of Champagne #marie of champagne #12th century #I love this a lot #not only because of what it tells us about Marie and how she was perceived #but also because it perfectly captures the elusiveness of these historical figures #and how our knowledge of them is so dependent on narratives and propaganda and secondary perspectives #also can I just say: Evergates summing her up as 'complex forceful and captivating'? FUCK YEAH #my post

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paris-in-space · 4 months

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I need to get the thoughts I’m having about Doctor who out because if they just stay circulating my head I don’t know if I’ll be able to get to sleep it’s been 2 hours and I’m tired but my brain is refusing to shut down.

So, Dot and Bubble spoilers beware. Also these thoughts will be in the order I think of putting them down not in the chronology of the episode.

Weird place to start but one thing I got caught up on was the style of makeup that the majority of finetime characters had, like it was heavy and unflattering but in a way that seemed like maybe they were trying to go for a more natural look. And I’m sure there is something to be taken from this about the way people present themselves online but I’m too tired to do proper analysis it just struck me early on that I didn’t like the makeup. (It did feel fitting though)

I literally went “OH SHES BEING RACIST” out loud at the end. I do admit that although I did notice the weird vibes in Lindy’s responses to the doctor I didn’t pick up the exact meaning until that last scene, but then so many things clicked into place and made sense once I understood that fully. Like when she responded badly to the doctor appearing on the screen a second time I took it as irritation at his persistence, didn’t even think for a second that she didn’t realise it was the same guy.

Lindy deserves to get eaten by a slug.

Ricky September you deserve so much better.

(Not going to lie I didn’t think he was as attractive as everyone was making him out to be no offence to the actor I think it was a case of the weird makeup strikes again)

The lack of human connection is another thing that really stood out. This is the second episode this series to feature the concept of people never being hugged, albeit in different contexts. Just everyone being so focused in on themselves that basic human connection isn’t present in their society is such a sad thought, no wonder it turns out people like Lindy with no value for the lives of others and understanding of cultural differences if she has no meaningful relationships in her life at all. Just. Hug your friends guys (as long as they’re comfortable with it I know some people struggle with being touched)

The Doctor failing is such a rare thing, like of course there are tons of occasions where the Doctor can’t save everyone but they always try and almost always save at least someone. But these people cannot be saved, and it’s not the slugs that they can’t be saved from, it’s themselves. I think the lack of explanation into the detail of what actually was going on ties into this, because this time the Doctor doesn’t get to do a little “Here’s what’s been going down I saved you look how clever I am!” Because even the Doctor, the most caring wonderful being in the universe can’t save people who refuse to change and accept his help just because he’s different. The unfinished downer feeling feels totally intentional. Like, these people suck, the Doctor doesn’t get to experience a conclusive win, so neither do we as the audience.

The fact that this episode took place in the future too, they really said, just because time passes and things look like they’ve developed, societal issues have not disappeared and are still prevalent (I am white just so you know that’s the perspective I’m coming from) I think it’s a much more powerful way to address racism by putting it in a future setting than in the past. It’s very easy with historical settings to look at a piece of media and be like okay so the racism is awful but that is how it was, it’s uncomfortable but we can sort of look around it because everyone was doing it back then. But you put it in the future and you can’t look around it anymore because it should not be happening, should no longer be culturally acceptable. I’m struggling to put into words exactly what I mean, but it’s the difference between oh times were different back then it sucks but that’s how it was and times are not that different there’s still a massive issue to address here we can’t just sweep it under the rug of the past if we actually want things to be fair for everybody. It definitely made me think a lot more than a similar situation in a historical setting probably would have (not that that wouldn’t make me think but this has more impact)

On a more lighthearted note, the Dot flying around reminded me of the baubles from Runaway Bride. This is Doctor Who you cannot escape the floating balls.

Ruby doing the hair tuck seeing Ricky… she’s so real for that.

Overall I really love the concept of everyone so caught up in their own little world that they fail to see the horrors right before them. And it all comes back to the importance of human connection and understanding.

This has got to be the most thought provoking episode in a long time, and I’m sure there’s more thoughts I’ve had that I’ve forgotten to mention here.

#apologies for the rambling #but I needed to do something with my thoughts #I don’t think anyone follows me for my takes on Doctor who but I’ll be back on my usual stuff soon enough #doctor who #dot and bubble

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ohblackdiamond · 7 months

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liner notes/unused joke summaries for kiss fics (part vii)

Despite what my general dislike of the shift key and my tendency to mock all that I love might imply, I actually overthink everything I write to a great extent. I make no claims to these explanations being in any way enjoyable, but if you wanted to know what I was thinking while writing KISS fic… now you do. Part one can be found here. Part two is here. Part three is here. Part four is here. Part five is here.

shock them, show them --Ace and Paul have smoking hot lesbian sex just like in a drive-in movie theater porno. Well. Except for the part where Ace makes Paul sing "Shock Me" acapella, post-coital.

>>Ace/Paul is one of my not-so-guilty pleasures and they just have a fun dynamic. It had been a long time since I'd written the pairing, and I really enjoyed Ace's lack of pretense and impatience with Paul's stress and tendency to overanalyze. I also enjoyed small bits, like the fact that even though Paul tells him they'll go again if he (Paul) gets eaten out first, Ace doesn't ever eat him out, and that Paul initially refuses the thought of scissoring only to get really into it not too long after.

Other things I liked: Paul feeling more masculine/more himself around Ace (after all that time with Gene), and managing to seduce him a bit. Title is, of course, another lyric from the Stones' "Little T&A."

little rock 'n' roll --Paul spends five days doing almost nothing in the wake of getting turned into a girl by a vengeful groupie by way of a demon. Besides try to masturbate.

>>I had written this out in part a long, long time ago mostly as a writing exercise for myself while writing "little t&a," but as it kept expanding, I decided someone might find it interesting enough to actually post. I wanted the freedom to explore some really weird things-- I don't think Marbas had anything to do with the dreams Paul was having, but that's up to interpretation. I wanted to work with Paul's poorly-established sense of self and his own issues with sexuality/gender, which was mostly accomplished through the dream sequences where he was, in effect, reinterpreting parts of his life with a female lens, and (poorly) addressing things he had latent issues with (his own bisexuality and femininity). Also, I just found the body horror aspect interesting to explore and the difference Paul experienced in how other people were treating him, especially when he was alone.

catch my drift --Gene manages to bed one of the hottest women of the eighties after nerding out about Lon Chaney movies.

>>I really wrote this in an attempt to fully get at what it's like to be around Gene Simmons as a woman and get a sense of his presence/confidence as he's really... the guy is something else, all the rumors are true, etc. etc. etc. He has ridiculous eye contact, he pays ridiculous amounts of attention to everything you say, and he acts extremely invested in what you have to say. Yes, it's because he wants money/sex/etc. out of you, but boy, the times I have seen and the time I have met him, I have fully understood exactly how he got so many women. I don't think I fully encapsulated it in the story, but I tried!

I hesitated to finish and post it, too, because Vanity in real life was extremely troubled and, in the early nineties, changed her life very dramatically and became a preacher, so I worried that writing about her during this point in her life would come off as if I was disrespecting her and ignoring her later choices to focus on a period she wasn't proud of. I thought about it and then decided that if her story was one she was willing to share in her autobiography and in public (in some amount of detail), then, well, I was probably okay to go ahead with it. Vanity's eighties lifestyle was not sustainable on any front and she battled addiction, eventually getting clean in the nineties after some serious health consequences. I'm proud of her for that.

c'mon, get your feet wet --Ace lets Peter hit it from the back, until he decides he'd rather him hit it from the front. Then he meets Marbas, who doesn't bother trying to convince him he'd be better off with tiny boobs.

>>I find Ace really funny even in the face of situations that are terrible. You get the impression in interviews and even in behind the scenes stuff that a part of him is always dryly laughing at how everything has turned out and that he's basically along for the ride even in his own life, for better or for worse. Ace's rockstar insulation isn't that thick, really, and he's at least somewhat self-aware.

That being said, his dynamic with Peter meant that he couldn't manage to goof around and act like things weren't bothering him, which meant he kept trying to turn to drugs and alcohol instead. He's only aware he has a problem that can't be laughed off in the context of where he would be without the creature comforts of being a rock star. An alcoholic drug addict twenty-something girl with no money or family will end up in an objectively worse position financially and physically than an alcoholic drug addict twenty-something multimillionaire (or at least millionaire at that point) rockstar guy. Marbas points out he's set to lose everything anyway, but of course once he's gone, Ace can push all that aside again.

Ace isn't focused on trying to be a girl (for whatever that means) or what that means or anything along those lines. He doesn't have Paul's relatively weak sense of self and nothing about staying like he is is enticing for him. Ace doesn't care about that and all he cares about are the limitations of his current position and the ramifications.

I had a hard time with this piece for a very long time because I didn't feel like I was making it hot enough at all, and when I just gave up on that aspect, the fic managed to come together in an evening (after being on the backburner for months and months). The shower scene was hard up until that point-- once I embraced that Ace would never not be falling over in the shower, it was fine. Peter doesn't really have a whole lot to do beyond treat Ace right, but I wanted him to still feel like Peter.

#kiss the band #kiss fanfiction #liner notes

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i-am-minty-fresh · 9 months

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(The ask at hand being: “I'm really normal about robin (<- lying) and I want to hear about her and chopper because their relationship is so important to me” from @noisypitta)

Okay, so I took my melatonin before committing to this so I apologize if I get incoherent about halfway through. I finally get to address Robin and one of the many fascinating elements of her personality and relationships. Not only Robin, but I also get to talk about the world’s bestest boy, Chopper! What a good day for me! And this analysis is going to be about self-image and what makes us monsters.

Hilariously, Chopper doesn’t have that much to his character…because he’s a child. He’s best understood through the lens of a still-developing child. He’s not old enough to commit to his insecurity in the common strawhat way (Sanji, Nami, Robin), but he’s also inexperienced enough not to understand shit like Usopp’s betrayal in Water 7. He’s yet to make a proper mistake because he’s going in completely blind. His only understanding of himself was brought on by either his dad or his adoptive mom. Up until meeting Luffy he always understood himself to be a monster, something no person in their right mind would want anything to do with. Hiriluk takes care of him cause he’s a crazy old man (who paid the price for taking care of him later) and Kureha only takes care of him out o obligation…this is a lot for a child to put up with. Hated by reindeer and people alike he can only associate with the kinds of people that even other people don’t like (i.e. crazy doctor and greedy witch). Chopper thought himself an unlovable monster and rather than being told that he wasn’t a monster, he came to meet other (worse) monsters. He joins a crew of insane monsters who embrace all that makes them strange and offputting because that's the strawhat way, and after Marineford Chopper vows to become a real monster to protect his crewmates from losing like that ever again.

Another thing to keep in mind for Chopper is his development, which is something I brought up a little bit earlier. He’s never really had a comforting parent figure, much less for very long. He’s a child who seeks validation and comfort at every turn because he’s used to violence and hatred. He’s not used to someone treating him like a child meant to be protected rather than a monster to be feared…and Robin…

Robin knows a lot about being a monster. About being hated and hunted and laughed at and being seen as nothing more than devil spawn. She has spent her childhood being chased for just being herself and learning to never fully trust anyone but herself because everyone else will just hurt her in the long run (or her past will end up hurting them). He keeps people at arm's length because she can’t trust herself not to hold everyone too close. She’s so desperate for comfort and safety that it makes her uncomfortable to be too friendly. She’s a textbook manipulator who hides behind the lies told about her because if she becomes the evil thing they call her at least it’ll stop being a lie about a helpless child. Robin is done being a child, or so she says. She’s matured with her terrible self-image and until Enies Lobby was more than willing to let her piss poor perception of herself kill her…but it didn’t. Luffy wouldn’t let her. He made her admit just how desperate she was for a real family. She’s got stupid dreams she’s willing to die for, she finds the crew's antics ridiculously charming, and she loves being both looked after and respected as a powerful member of the crew. She’s cared for in the way that she needs to be at this point which is to feel intellectually important (hands down she’s the smartest member of the crew), and valued as a strategist. She doesn’t need to be coddled, she just needs to feel like she takes up the proper space on hr crew, and she does…but for Chopper….he’s something different.

Zoro and Sanji are stubborn and bull-headed and unwilling to accept help even when it best suits them. Nami has her being more of a sister than a dotting mother, on an equal playing field in terms of trickery. Usopp’s similarly stubborn and does best by learning through his mistakes so not much she can do there. Luffy loves being cared for, but not as the unique god-child savior he is but rather as an extension of how every member of the crew should be cared for (which is to say efficiently). Chopper though is little. So little he hasn’t learned to take compliments in stride or mask his enjoyment. He doesn’t have up all the walls that Robin or Nami built to try to put everything that has happened to them into a context in which it doesn’t hurt as much rather than just admitting that it wasn’t fair and they should be mad. Chopper wants validation from his peers and attention from those he sees as more experienced…but he also wants to be cared for. Similar to Robin, he wants to be respected in his field and as a fighter, but only because that respect can be translated into cool points with older brother Zoro and dad Franky. He’s a textbook case of a little sibling who wants to feel just as important as everyone else and it’s devastating to him but adorable to everyone else. Robin doesn’t want him growing up too fast, because that’s what she had to do. The world turned her into a monster and now she sits comfortably with that title making sure to use it against them when they try to hurt her family. Chopper does the same. He knows that no one will look at him and not see a monster, but it doesn’t mean he can’t break his Hippocratic oath to kick some ass if need be.

Robin treats him like how she wishes she was treated. She hangs on every word and carries around his favorite food because she wants to give him what she never got but wanted so badly. He wants to be looked after because the world is full of stuff that he knows nothing about and he doesn’t have his dad around to wrap his wounds anymore.

Their relationship is one of the teacher and the student. Robin gets to pass on her wisdom through her terrible lived experience at the hands of people who call her a monster and Chopper gets to learn that maybe being a monster isn’t so bad if it means you get to protect the people you care about. If Robin’s a monster, maybe being a monster isn’t that bad.

Not as long as I would have liked it, let me know if you think I missed anything! I’d love to discuss them further because I love my antlered son and his bloodthirsty mom but it is now bedtime.

Sorry for taking so long!

#one piece #minty musings #character analysis #nico robin #devil child nico robin #tony tony chopper #one piece chopper

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isfjmel-phleg · 6 months

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The Secret Garden on 81st Street has lovely art and a lot of good intentions. But one reason I don't find myself revisiting this one for personal enjoyment is how it handles the story and characters. While the broad plot remains and the same roles are all filled (except for the notable absence of Mrs. Sowerby), the point of the narrative is now to impart Lessons on anxiety and grief, and to serve this centralization of an issue to address, the characterization is altered. This results in not merely a less effective adaptation but a less effective plot and characters.

To illustrate this, let's start by looking at how Frances Hodgson Burnett handles Mary and Colin's argument that leads to the tantrum scene in The Secret Garden (Chapters 16-17).

Mary has been spending a lot of time with Colin after meeting him. But when the rain that has kept her indoors finally ends, she spends the whole day out in the garden with Dickon. When she returns to the house, she gets into an argument with Colin, who is angry that she didn't come to see him. The two exchange insults, Colin plays the I'm-going-to-die card, Mary questions this, he is so angry that he throws a pillow at her, and she leaves. Late that night, she is awakened by his having a tantrum, and Colin's nurse asks her to try to get through to him. A furious Mary yells right back at him, orders him to stop, tell him that she and everyone else hate him, and contests his insistence that he has a lump on his back. She examines his back and confirms that there is nothing wrong with it. This upends Colin's entire worldview, and he is able to calm down and process the notion that he is not really doomed to die. His arc has reached a major turning point, and from here on, he is open to going outdoors, which leads to further progress.

In The Secret Garden on 81st Street, this plays out completely differently (pp. 156-168).

This version's Colin has anxiety/panic disorder and is portrayed as very emotionally fragile and self-doubting. Burnett's Colin has those qualities too, but 81st Street leaves out any of his negative traits. He is not ridiculously spoiled. He does not have an uncontrolled temper. He is not demanding, possessive, and entitled. He's just super, super anxious, which is a struggle rather than a flaw. He has no apparent flaws.

81st Street's Mary doesn't just devote a day to work in the garden without seeing Colin; she ignores him for an entire week. This sets her up from the beginning as in the wrong and makes his being upset with her more sympathetic--which is the opposite of what Burnett presents. When this Mary finally comes to see Colin, excitedly telling him about what she's been doing in the garden, he points out how long she's ignored him and how she knows he can't see the garden. She asks him why he's being like this, and he proceeds to guilt-trip her: "Because you forgot about me! You're going to leave me, too! You'd rather spend time with normal people, like Dickon. And this is all my fault. If I could just be normal and not be broken, I could be your real friend, not just someone you visit when you have time." He starts to cry.

I would consider this emotionally manipulative behavior, not unlike what Burnett's Colin does in the equivalent scene, but it's clear that this narrative wants us to fully side with him by portraying Mary's responses to him as lacking in understanding of his condition. Mary tells him he's being ridiculous and insists she didn't forget about him. He escalates into a panic attack. Mary, like her counterpart in the original, tells him that he's not dying and there's nothing wrong with him. His attack continues, she says he's overreacting, and the adults come running in to tend to him and shoo her out.

Later, Colin's therapist has a long talk with Mary about the nature of Colin's panic disorder and how to properly respond to it. Mary is abashed at not having understood but says she doesn't know why Colin is still upset about losing a parent, because she doesn't feel that way about her similar situation. The therapist talks to her about how grieving is different for everyone. This is followed by Medlock telling Mary to "please be aware of [Colin's] condition" and to apologize to him.

Mary apologizes, Colin berates himself for not being able to control the panic, and she repeatedly affirms that it's hard and she knows he's trying. She then apologizes for having to leave to tend to the garden and asks if it's okay with him if she does. He grants permission. Shortly after this, he decides for some reason that he's ready to go outside now.

In Burnett's story, the purpose of Chapters 16-17 is to establish conflict between the two deeply flawed protagonists which will build to a climax that furthers both the plot and Colin's arc. The argument is the natural outcome of a clash of interests between two characters who are self-absorbed and not used to being told no. Mary reacts with obstinacy and aggression, Colin with entitlement and self-pity, and these characteristic behaviors emerging their interactions move the plot forward. Going outdoors would be good for Colin, but he has always been vehemently opposed to it--so what would it take to get him past what's holding him back (i.e. his belief that he is destined to die young)? Mary returns to her renovation of the garden -> Colin is angry at being left alone and tries to control her -> she attacks his worldview -> he can't handle this and has a tantrum -> she lashes out at him and supplies concrete evidence that he's not going to die -> he has to reconsider his worldview and can thus start on the path toward growth. It's a logical progression of actions consistent with the characters as established, and they respond like humans, not plot devices.

In 81st Street, the purpose of these scenes is to deliver a lesson about responding to people who have panic disorder. It accomplishes what it sets out to do, but from a narrative standpoint, it does much less than Burnett's version. This Mary and Colin do not function so much as individual characters here as they do roles in the lesson being taught.

Mary is a stand-in for a hypothetical audience who is ignorant of panic disorder and liable to be dismissive. It is her job to be wrong, to be called out by an authoritative adult who imparts instruction, to meekly accept this rebuke, and to apologize and be accommodating, because this is what the narrative is teaching the audience to emulate. Whether any of this behavior is strictly in character for her is less important than the example that needs to be modeled.

Colin, meanwhile, embodies panic disorder. Since he is defined by this condition, he cannot have flaws or be wrong in any way lest anything disparaging be suggested about the condition. He is an Issue for other people to correctly react to. So nothing that he does in these scenes is affected by his personality or flaws, and he does not need to learn anything from other people. Other people have to accommodate him. (There should be mutual accommodation and understanding, with her learning to understand his condition and him learning to take ownership of his own feelings without expecting the world to walk on eggshells around him just because he has anxiety, but that's not what's being portrayed here.) Instead of external factors leading to growth, he just...changes his mind one day.

This Colin could have panic disorder and still have significant character flaws like his counterpart in Burnett's story, because these two factors (a psychological condition and one's personal character) really have nothing to do with each other. It would have made him more complexly human to allow him some negative traits, as well as moving the plot forward by allowing his and Mary's flaws to clash and giving him an opportunity to grow as a person, not just learn to manage his condition better (important, yes, but the heart of a story is not in a character's increasing in skill or knowledge but in how they personally develop).

What the graphic novel presents isn't an effective arc for either protagonist. Mary doesn't have any agency in her change; she must be instructed by an all-knowing adult instead of learning things for herself. Colin's change of heart is utterly arbitrary because he hasn't had to learn anything and hasn't had his misconceptions about himself and the world meaningfully challenged. It's just: Mary reacts incorrectly to Colin's condition -> she is corrected and instructed in what to do in the future -> she apologizes and corrects her behavior -> Colin decides he's ready to go to the garden. This isn't a plot; it's a PSA. Instead of letting the characters drive the action, they are there to be vehicles for the Lesson. And that may be instructive, but as far as I'm concerned, it doesn't make for a very compelling story or characters.

#The Secret Garden #I'm not tagging the other book because I'm being critical of it

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mageofseven · 1 year

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Repressed Love: A DiaLuci Love Story

Chapter 10

Tag list: @astroseuss @zarakem @brielle043 @missloserqueen

•▪︎▪︎◇°●♡●°◇▪︎▪︎•

A little over a week went by. Satan came over to visit every day to see his sister and father. Occasionally, the brothers would force their company onto the blonde and join him at the castle. On these days, Satan didn't say a word, just sat in a corner and waited the other men out until they left before taking his sister from Lucifer and holding her tightly.

Him having a good relationship with his father and being so protective of his sister...it was all still fresh so the man didn't want the others to know about it yet, in fear that they would tease him or worse, pay too much attention to him. The wrath demon still wasn't ready to deal with them yet.

Still, as soon as they left and Audriana was in her big brother's arms, the blonde was content. He spoke more freely with his father during this time than he ever has and the two were really at the budding stage of a healthy parent-child relationship.

Some days, Diavolo would come join them during his break and each time, the blonde met him with a look of utter disdain, like the prince was intruding on his family time.

Lucifer saw this, was well aware of these looks, but said nothing to his son. Things between the two were just starting to improve for the first time in his son's life and he was afraid of jeopardizing it. He apologized to his boyfriend multiple times for his son's attitude and for Luce's own cowardice in the situation, but Diavolo always kissed his love and assured him that it was alright.

Dia understood that a lot of things were changing lately and assumed that Satan more or less was having difficulties with some of it. The prince assured him that he'll be patient with the blonde and that things will work themselves out eventually.

One day, Lucifer got a call from the headmaster at RAD. Apparently Satan got into a fight with some another demon during lunch and the other guy had to be sent to the infirmary.

This was the last thing the pride demon needed, but he knew he had to go to the school and address this issue.

He wasn't sure what to do about Audriana at first though. Lucifer didn't want to bother his boyfriend while he was working, but also thought that taking his daughter, who was already hurting and overwhelmed, to a new location with so many new and different noises would be too much for her.

The man dug through the pile of assorted baby things his boyfriend bought for their daughter to see if there was anything useful for this situation. Honestly, Diavolo bought so many items for Audriana that the girl likely won't even lay her eyes on them by the end of year when she's fully grown.

Devil, that was such a strange thought, so very different than what he's used to. He raised his brothers and Lilith for hundred of years before they matured yet his daughter...won't have a very long childhood at all, the same as Satan...

His heart stung as he thought of this. Satan really didn't get a childhood, another thing that was out of his control, but the dad still felt guilty about nonetheless.

Finally, he found these tiny little headphones with these cute little dog ears on the top of them, reminding the man of Cerberus. He read the box they came in and discovered that they were enchanted to block out noise for sensitive babies.

Luce smiled down at the box softly, his love for his boyfriend swirling in his chest; Dia really did think of everything, didn't he?

The dad also found a baby harness, the kind parents strap onto their chest and slip the baby in so they could carry the infant while also keeping their hands free.

The demon sighed. The idea of wearing that harness was embarrassing to the Avatar of Pride, but he admitted that it would be useful.

So he strapped on the harness, slipped his daughter inside before putting the enchanted headphones over her ears and heading out to RAD.

Once at the school, the dad got a lot of stares. Was it because the Avatar of Pride had a baby strapped to his chest or because the baby strapped to him was lightly whimpering in her all too familiar way; the man wasn't sure, but did his best to ignore them.

Once he got to the headmaster's office, he stepped inside and the man behind the desk looked shocked at the Avatar of Pride carrying around a baby. Satan, on the other hand, looked positively thrilled for the first half second, finding the little headphones on his sister to be too cute (though obviously would have preferred cat ears on her instead of dog ears).

Then he looked up at his father's face before looking away, a frustrated scowl replacing his first expression.

But that wasn't all that was on his face. Fresh cuts, still bleeding from the fight.

"What the hell is wrong with you?!" The Avatar of Pride yelled at the man at the desk, grateful his daughter couldn't hear him. "He's bleeding for devil sake! Go get him a first aid kit, a potion, something!"

Lucifer scared that man out of his own office. His son stared, genuinely impressed and wondered if the older demon will actually come back.

The dad took a seat next to his son, still furious. Yes, Satan started the fight, but that didn't mean he was undeserving of basic medical care! What the devil is wrong with that man? The dad was already preparing to talk to his boyfriend about finding a replacement for the job, someone with basic common sense.

The man didn't say anything to his son for the first few moments, still brewing over the incompetency of that so-called headmaster. After a minute or so, he took a deep breath in then out before addressing his son.

"Are you alright?"

"Of course. That fool learned his lesson."

"I'm well aware." The dad huffed. "You sent that man to the infirmary. He almost died, Satan."

"I could have finished the job--"

"Satan!" Lucifer scolded. "Things are not the same in the Devildom as they were when RAD was first founded. You could get into legal trouble for this now."

The blonde scowled and looked away from the other man.

His father sighed.

"Satan, what caused this?" He asked. "You've been doing so well; you haven't been in a fight here more or less in the last eighty years. What changed?"

His son kept silent, refusing to even look at him.

"Satan...I thought we were starting to talk to one another." Luce kept his gaze on the blonde. "I thought we were making progress. Do you really want to cut yourself off from me now?"

The other man pursed his lips before slowly turning towards his father.

"That guy was talking shit about you, saying that you're actually self-centered and incompetent, that the only thing you can do right is knock yourself up." The blonde said, gritting his teeth. "Talked like Audriana and I were just bastards, incomplete freaks..."

Oh this father felt a fire in him blaze. Talk shit about him? Fine then. It says more about about you then it ever could about himself. But you bring his children into this? There will be consequences, mark his words.

Lucifer took a deep breath.

"His name."

"What?"

"What was this man's name?" He asked again, trying to keep his temper in check for his son.

"I don't know." The blonde shook his head. "He's Abigor's son though, I know that much for sure."

Luce pursed his lips. A man from a noble family, but luckily from a minor one. The father should still be able to handle this though.

Looks like he has another topic to discuss with Diavolo when he gets back home to the castle.

#obey me #obey me otome #obey me lucifer #obey me satan #obey me diavolo #obey me dialuci

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air--so--sweet · 1 month

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Spoilers The Umbrella Academy Season 4 episode 4 spoilers

Oof, so I know that Klaus working as a medium for the Mother's of Agony in exchange for drugs is taken from Hotel Oblivion, down to letting a ghost possess him and having sex with his widow, and her looking for the money, him lying about it and it all culminating in a shootout that kills everyone (that last bit goes down slightly differently in the comics but that's more or less what happens). I also had a sneaking suspicion that this was the Klaus working as a medium plot we were going to get, rather than the alternative option which was his psychic shop in You Look Like Death.

All that said, holy hell was that dark. I've wanted the show to treat Klaus' addiction and life on the streets with the depth and seriousness it deserves and I mean we got it, but God that was dark. Like, while I knew about the widow plot from the comics, I initially thought they were using Klaus' mediumship as a metaphor for sex work (something which it is likely Klaus could have engaged in as someone who lived on the streets) and then very fast it became clear that it was in fact actual sex work. And I'm not saying the show shouldn't have done that, as I've said I wanted them to fully explore Klaus' addiction and destructive tendencies, I much prefer this to it being ignored or dealt with comedically, but god it just hit very hard. And then for him to be buried alive by someone who knows he's immortal with the intention of leaving him there for several years to break him... I don't know what I'm trying to say. The show needed to address Klaus' addiction and self destruction head on, they are doing that, and I'm glad they are and I'm glad they've chosen to fully engage with the darkness of that rather than try to lighten it with humour, but it was somewhat unexpected and that made it tougher to watch I guess it what I'm trying to say.

Also, firstly, shocked that my theory that Reggie killed Ben and then altered the kids' memories was correct (I mean a lot of it was wrong but the general thrust of it was correct). I've seen some people saying they didn't just want Jennifer to just be some girl that Ben had a romantic relationship with and Ben died trying to save her, and I'm not sure how they will feel about the romantic elements of the story but I really like how they've done it.

Yes, because they're being pulled together by the particles within them, so it's not just romance but also because it makes sense for the character of Ben. He is traumatised due to an abusive childhood that lead to abusive family dynamics in adulthood,and probably has never even seen a healthy relationship, never mind had one. On top of that, he lost all his family in a short amount of time, realised his father had raised him to die, lost the academy by which he defined himself and determined his worth, and then went to prison which I imagine added some more trauma. All of which is to say, Ben at this point in his life is lost and floundering, he has people willing to be his family, but he see expressing any kind of genuine emotion or showing vulnerability as weakness and so he continues to build up these walls and hide behind an angry, abrasive and uncaring exterior, underneath all of which he's actually still a frightened little boy who just wants to be seen and understood and to be loved.

And then he meets this girl that he has an connection with and feels drawn to in a way he's never experienced before. He literally can't stop thinking about her, isnt5 what they always talk about in romantic movies and the lije, as a sign of love. Also, she understands what it's like to lose your family to feel completely alone in the world, to be given up by your biological parents and not know why they didn't care enough about you to keep you. So, yes, the particles inside them attract them to each other, but more than that, Ben is just the right mix of lonely, and desperate for connection and affection, to mistake this for falling in love, and being fate. Their story isn't a romance, it's about trauma, and loneliness and how, if you've never experienced healthy love, it can be easy to mistake shared trauma and toxic dynamics for love. This isn't about Ben being in love, it's about Reginald Hargreeves breaking his children so badly they go on to cause the apocalypse.

Because just like Viktor, if Ben hadn't been abused by Reginald, and made feel he was less than (because let's remember he was Number One, and then was demoted, with a huge portrait of him hung to shame him and act as a warning to his sibling), made feel like he could never be good enough for Reginald to show him some scrap of care for him, then he wouldn't be this position. I mean it's also why Viktor thought what he had with Harold was love and why he fell for his manipulations. All Reginald needed to stop the apocalypse was to love his children and that's the one thing he couldn't do. How fucked is that?

#the umbrella academy #tua #the umbrella academy season 4 spoilers #klaus hargeeves #ben hargreeves #viktor hargreeves #this is a ramble and a half #these are fresh reactions friends #if you want coherency and insight you might want to wait until I've watched it all and had time to process

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tc-doherty · 6 months

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Book One | Chapter Eight

I do know what I said last time, but in the end I decided it was too much work so I will continue posting the chapters here. I will still be running a mailing list if you would like the chapters to be emailed to you please send me an ask with your email address. I will not be answering them publicly, it's only for my records.

Index | First Chapter | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Tag list: @bloodlessheirbyjacques @magefaery @did-i-do-this-write @marrowwife @muddshadow @outpost51 @full-on-sam @bluberimufim @unclear-contributions @talesfromtheunknowable @guessillcallitart @flowerprose

(Ask to be added or removed)

Patrice stopped speaking just in time to see the winner of that round, an unassuming knight named Eddard. Two new knights took their places. Maria pointed to the closest of them.

"That's Dame Errys," she said. "Her mother is the queen's sister, but she was disowned for eloping with an artist. They're still considered nobles, technically, but this is the first year that Dame Errys has been allowed to compete."

Patrice had seen the female knight fight the day before, but not had not seen her without a helmet. She alone had always entered the field fully armored. Now that Patrice saw her like this, she finally understood the difference between handsome and beautiful.

So far, most humans looked more similar than different, but Errys stood out. Even under armor and padding she seemed slender and delicate, with perfectly symmetrical features. Blonde hair so pale as to appear silver had been braided in a crowd around her head. Her horse was a pale palomino who matched her knight perfectly. Errys's colors of blue and silver only emphasized her ethereal beauty.

She looked like nothing so earthly as a knight, especially comparing her to Petrich, her opponent.

"She's beautiful," Patrice said, and couldn't keep the surprise out of her voice.

"She is." Maria laughed. "But you should see her mother. She's what we call a professional beauty. That's how she met her artist anyway, everyone wanted to paint her."

But it was not looks that had won Errys her place in the tournament. The joust was as quick as lightning. Dame Errys unhorsed Petrich in the second round, after nearly doing so in the first. She left Petrich standing in the middle of the arena gazing after her, looking as if he just received a visit from a goddess.

"She leaves a trail of broken hearts behind her," said Maria. "Just like her mother. There's so much gossip that even us palace servants hear about it."

"I can see why," Patrice said. After all, if she was beautiful enough even for a dragon to take notice, she could only imagine what effect the woman had on other humans.

The other three matches in the third tier passed quickly. They were all knights that Patrice had seen, but had no attachment to or knowledge about. With Maria sitting at her side, Patrice learned more about all of them than even Elizabet had told her. Palace servants like Maria knew as much about the noble bloodlines as the nobles themselves did. Sometimes more.

Patrice tuned out her chattering and glanced over at the tournament board, attached to the front of the royal box. Felisjyta would be facing off against Eddard, first thing. Errys would be facing the winner of the fourth match – a knight named Sir Wilhelm. The two remaining knights, Sir Karles and Sir Bruce, would be facing off against each other.

When Felisjyta and Eddard reappeared on the field, neither of them tried to hide how hot they were. Both fanned themselves off while waiting for the signal to mount. The horses stood as still as statues, not even twitching an ear or tail.

Even stepping into the ring didn't perk up the horses as much as it had earlier. It was now the hottest part of the day, and it was clear that the horses would rather be resting in the shade than running back and forth across hot sand. The two knights looked scarcely more excited. This was a quick match, as quick as they could make it.

The first pass ended in a draw, with two shattered lances.

Eddard broke his lance on the second pass. Felisjyta's lance cracked, but did not break, so the point went to him.

On the third pass, Felisjyta used the same move that had beaten Braiden. She angled her lance to hit the top of Eddard's shield. It didn't slide off to hit the knight himself, but it unbalanced him. The force of the blow separated Eddard not only from his horse, but from his shield and lance as well.

He hit the ground first, though Felisjyta slid down just after. She held her seat longer, so the point went to her. Eddard wanted to duel, and Felisjyta gave him one. But he wasn't as fast as Johan. She feinted a side attack from the right, then came in from the left around his shield. The point of her blade rammed into his armor so hard it sent him sprawling into the sand.

Eddard picked himself up and left the field without giving her the customary bow.

While the crowd clapped, cheered, and whistled, Felisjyta searched the faces until she found Patrice. At least, that's what Patrice assumed she was doing. Patrice gave her a small wave, right before the knight turned to offer her honors to her mistress and the royal family.

"I suppose this means we’re going to the summer court," said Patrice.

"Oh, my lady! This is-" Maria began.

Patrice didn't pay attention to Maria's words. She was too busy noticing the annoyed scowl that clouded the face of Countess Elizabet in the stands opposite. Sir Eddard had been fighting for her.

The next two matches took twice as long as Felisjyta's had. Errys had to duel with Wilhelm for a full ten minutes before she finally managed to disarm him and claim victory from the jaws of defeat – both had accumulated the same score through the tournament, and he very nearly claimed the win in the duel. It was the longest, and closest, duel in the entirety of the tournament so far.

Sir Karles only managed to throw Bruce on the third round, and had to duel for his win as well.

Now that the three victors were established, the tournament went into another long break. Maria excused herself to return to the palace, and Patrice didn't bother to hold her back. She went to find Felisjyta.

The knight had stripped off her armor and was lying in the shade next to Vasya.

Patrice paused a moment before joining them. She was getting better at judging humans all the time. Before she would not have noticed anything unusual, but now she could see the thin lines of old scars and the ugly purple of new bruises blooming over Felisjyta's skin amid a scattering of freckles. Although the joust was only mock fighting, it still took its toll on the body.

Felisjyta opened one eye at the soft swish of fabric and gave Patrice a smile.

Patrice smiled back. "I believe congratulations are in order," she said. "You did your mistress proud."

"And you too," Felisjyta agreed, "I kept my word not to disappoint you. But we're not done yet. I still have to face Errys and she's a hell of a knight."

"How do you know you'll be fighting her and not Karles?"

"She has more points than he does," said Felisjyta. She closed her eyes again. "I'll be fighting her and I'm completely exhausted. This heat!"

"Perhaps the great Dragon-in-the-Sun is testing you," Patrice said. "He wants to see if you are worthy of carrying my favor in battle."

"I didn't know dragons had religion."

Patrice raised her eyebrows. "I thought you said people in your country knew about dragons. Did you think we would consider ourselves the secondhand creation of some human god?"

"We do know some things about dragons, but you're still the first one I've ever met. I suppose I didn't think, knowing what I know of you, that dragons would consider gods at all."

Patrice had to laugh at that. It was the first time she'd laughed since her mother's death. That felt strange, perhaps slightly disloyal – even though she knew her mother wouldn't mind. But she truly couldn't fault Felisjyta her reasoning.

Felisjyta smiled. "Well, it would be nice if you can ask the Dragon-in-the-Sun to bank his fires slightly. The mountains don't get half this warm and little Vasya is having a rough time."

"I will, in return for a favor."

Felisjyta opened her eyes and rolled over on her side to face Patrice. "What favor?"

Patrice ran her hand over the dragon scale cloak, as she often found herself doing when unsure. "I want you to teach me how to fight the way you do. With a sword."

The knight stared at her for a long moment. "Why?"

Patrice dropped her cloak and dug her fingers into the cool grass instead. "Compared to other dragons, I am weak. Compared to humans, I'm ignorant. I have no wish to be either."

Patrice met Felisjyta's eyes. The two women stared at one another, and the weight of their strange, growing friendship was as oppressive as the summer heat.

"Why not?" Felisjyta said, finally. The tension vanished as soon as she spoke. "There will be plenty of time to learn the basics at summer court."

A bugle rang out and she groaned. She groaned again as the squire hurried over, bearing her armor. The knight pushed herself to her feet. "You better go back to your seat. From here on out it'll just be me and Vasya getting kitted out."

"Yes," Patrice said. She stood and shook bits of grass and dust off her skirts. "While I wait, I will send a prayer to the Dragon-in-the-Sun for you, that he might cool his raging fires."

Felisjyta laughed. "I'd appreciate it. But I'll do my best to make us proud on my own abilities."

Patrice smiled. It was a very dragon-like statement. "If you weren't willing to do so, I wouldn't have offered." She gave Vasya an affectionate pat and left Felisjyta to the demands of her squire.

The seats, when Patrice returned to them, were completely packed.

Not everyone bothered to sit through all five rounds of jousting, but it seemed as if everyone in New Iber had turned out to see who their new champion would be. Some seats had been cleared by the servants who, as on the previous day, had to return to their duties in the palace. That did not help. For every empty seat, two people had crammed into the stands. Patrice found herself pressed in the very middle of a hot and restless crowd of nobles.

Excitement and chatter buzzed all around her. To have two dames facing off over the championship, that had never happened before. People were torn between who they wanted to win. Felisjyta was a foreigner, a Serzek. Patrice heard those who said that she would win to prove Serze's strength and commitment to the alliance, and those who said that she should allow Errys to win because it would be disgraceful for a foreign knight to be champion. But, the conversation suggested, Errys was only just on the right side of respectability and legitimacy and to have her win would be an insult to the royal family. Patrice could only shake her head. She didn't think she would ever understand how complicated humans made politics for themselves.

In all that hubbub, no one heard the small prayer she muttered, just a few whispered syllables in dragon.

The ambient noise only increased as the two knights arrived at the arena. Patrice studied them both, Felisjyta in her colors of emerald and sapphire, and Errys in her colors of sky blue and silver. Her pale gold horse really did look too delicate to be a knight's horse, but it still stood at least a hand higher than Vasya, if not more. She wondered if Maria would consider either of them "proper" horses.

Errys was taller than Felisjyta too, and seemed more graceful compared side-by-side with the Serzek knight. There were certain similarities shared by the two women – such as their amusement of their current circumstances. Felisjyta grinned as she looked at the shocked and excited crowd. Errys was not so open, but Patrice could see the slight smile hovering on her face.

Both knights mounted, accepted their first lance, and took their places on either side of the tilting barrier. Felisjyta held the end closest to the royal box, presumably to avoid offending the queen by associating Errys with the royal family. As the announcer stood up, the predicted hush fell over the crowd. This time, the silence was complete. Even the birds and insects seemed muted, as if nature herself hesitated to interrupt and before the final match.

“Dame Felicity of Fellveer, fighting for Lady Patrice Drake. Dame Errys Dauber,” he said, gesturing to the appropriate party. Then, “Start!”

The eerie silence continued as the knights began to charge. Shields came up and lances came down, both knights ready for collision. They hit one another straight on. Both lances cracked, then exploded in a shower of splinters. As they did so, the silence cracked right along with them and suddenly the crowd was cheering and screaming again.

Neither knight took any notice. They bowed to one another and returned to their starting positions.

Each dame accepted a new lance from their squire and the exercise began again. Two horses galloped at each other at full speed, all signs of heat and exhaustion gone. This time Errys's horse spooked slightly, shying away from the barrier at the last minute.

Two lances hit two shields.

Felisjyta's lance broke. Errys's did not.

The crowd around Patrice had whipped itself up to fever pitch. With that one hit, Felisjyta had tied her score with Errys's. No one seemed to care any longer about the political ramifications of who won, they cheered the match itself.

The two knights wheeled back around for their third and final lances.

Both horses ran steadily on the last pass. For this round, neither knight ran straight on, but off-center. That gave them a better chance of unhorsing their opponent, in an ordinary match. The lances struck, and shattered. Neither woman lost her seat. Still tied for points, the match came down to either a fourth pass or duel.

Errys dismounted onto the red gold sand, and Felisjyta followed shortly after, sword drawn.

The duel was on.

Errys lunged first, going immediately on the offensive. Felisjyta turned and caught the blow on her shield. She launched a cut of her own, but Errys had already disengaged and Felisjyta's sword met nothing but empty air.

Errys went to take advantage of that, swinging for Felisjyta's unprotected side even as Felisjyta had done against Eddard, but she was ready for the move. She sidestepped Errys's attack and slammed her shield into Errys's arm. The women separated again. They circled, trading blows of little consequence, each trying to judge the right moment to close with the other.

Then Errys seemingly lost patience with fighting at a distance. She attacked again, a feint aimed at Felisjyta's legs before she brought her sword swiftly upward to thrust at Felisjyta's exposed chest.

Felisjyta did not take the bait. She shifted her feet, and raised her shield instead of lowering it, catching the thrust between sword and shield. Felisjyta batted Errys's sword out of the way and rammed the other knight again, this time catching her straight on.

Errys stumbled, dropping her shield.

Felisjyta raised her sword, ready for a downward strike that would end the battle.

She did not get a chance.

In one swift move Errys bounded forward, caught Felisjyta's sword arm, and twisted it into what seemed to Patrice an unnatural and uncomfortable angle. With her dominant arm she thrust her sword straight and true, ending with the point at Felisjyta's throat.

Felisjyta dropped her sword.

The fight was over.

Both knights bowed. That was the signal the crowd had been waiting for. They surged forward in a screaming mob, taking over the arena completely and surrounding the two exhausted women.

Patrice let them clear out of the stands before heading for her room. If she was required to attend the feast tonight, she needed at least a little time to herself to recuperate before she had to relinquish herself to the tender mercies of her maids and whatever ensemble they had cooked up for her.

Index | First Chapter | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

#writeblr #writing #tc's writing #dragon's daughter #femslash #queer fantasy #fantasy novels #authors on tumblr

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