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dedicatednotobsessed · 11 months

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A Hidden Love [Modern!Aegon Targaryen x Pregnant!Reader]

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Other HOTD stories [requests open]

So, I did a poll on a new character one shot and Aegon won by a long shot 😅 But I hope y’all enjoy this one! It is definitely one of my longer ones 💚

Summary: You had been working at the same diner since you were sixteen years old, working to support your family. You have had a particular regular, a boy your same age. You ended up being infatuated with him which led to an affair, even when he became married and had children although you have been holding a big secret from him….

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You had your hair pinned up so it was out of your face as you cleaned down the hostess station. You worked at a local diner on the outskirts of Kings Landing called The Gold Cloaks. It could be a tiring job, yet you were doing it for your younger brother and your sick mother. You lived in the lower parts of Fleabottom, so every penny counted.

“Isn’t this the third time we came here this week?” You heard a voice whine, a small smile coming on your lips.

“Yeah, but you did so good on your exam, I wanted to treat you to a sundae,” The other voice spoke up.

The younger boy groaned causing you to giggle. “Well, I was going to serve you, Daeron, but I see you don’t want to be here,” You said turning around with two menus. “The usual booth?”

Aegon had his hand on his baby brother’s head, his fingers tangled in his silver hair. “You know us so well, Y/N.”

You hummed, your eyes wandering over the eldest Targaryen boy with a small smile. “Follow me,” She said grabbing two menus and led them to their favorite booth; in the very corner outside of the sunny windows.

“Did you two want the usual or are you finally changing it up on me after three years?” You asked with a cocked brow as the brothers sat across from each other.

“Well, I promised this little shit here one of those giant hot fudge sundaes with extra cherries,” Aegon said with a nod. “He aced his math exam, top of his class.”

Daeron rolled his eyes a bit. “It wasn’t that hard,” He mumbled. “But can we get extra fudge too?”

You giggled a bit at Daeron and nodded. “Anything for my favorite boy,” You said with a pout while ruffling his hair.

Aegon the Second was the eldest of four siblings being twenty years young; his only sister, Helaena eighteen, Aemond going on seventeen. Then there was the youngest, who also was your favorite because of his attitude, was Daeron who was thirteen. They had been going to The Gold Cloaks for a while now, although it seemed to be more frequent in the last few years. At least Aegon became a regular.

Daeron waved your hand away from his hair but he had a small smile on his lips. “You don’t have many options for me to be your favorite anyway,” He teased looking at his brother.

You giggled and shook your head. “I’ll be right back with your usual drinks, two Cokes, right?”

Aegon nodded with a smile. “Now that never changes, love.”

“Coming right up.” You hummed lightly letting your eyes wander over Aegon before turning towards the kitchen.

You leaned against the side of the building, blowing out a puff of smoke from your cigarette. You had promised your ten year old brother, Thomos- or Thommy as you liked to call him- that you would try and quick yet balancing out working and taking care of your small family was wearing you down mentally, physically, and emotionally.

Your mother, Sofina has had Greyscale disease for a few years now and she seemed to become bed bound because of it. You were concerned that you could not find a cure for it and she would succumb to it.

You glanced up hearing the crunching of rocks and smiled lightly at the sight of Aegon. “I was wondering when you were going to show up,” You stated while putting out your cigarette.

Aegon rubbed the back of his neck. “It took a while to get away from Daeron. I’m actually thankful to see that little shit Jace for once. He came over and sat down, talking nerd stuff or some shit.”

You giggled while taking his hands to pull him closer. You leaned up and connected your lips with his, wrapping your arms around his neck. Aegon wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling your body close to his as he deepened the kiss.

“Are you coming to the party tonight?” Aegon mumbled against your lips. “Your brother and mom can come too if they want?”

You pulled back with a small smile on your lips. “You know I can’t.”

“Come on.” Aegon pouted a bit. “I don’t want to be dying of boredom by old rich people at an elaborate fancy party.”

You returned Aegon’s pout. “You know I can’t. My mom is bed bound. Besides, I haven’t been feeling too good lately.”

Aegon groaned, laying his head on your shoulder. “Fine be that way,” He whined.

You laughed lightly. “I’ll make it up to you, I promise,” You assured him while you leaned up to give him another kiss.

“Oh, you will?” Aegon questioned as he returned your kiss.

“Mm-hmm.”

You smirked against his lips before he slowly pushed his tongue into your mouth as your hands went to his jeans. You were able to get it undone just as the door burst open.

“Oi, Y/N!” The head cook, Melvin walked out, his belly jiggling slightly as he walked. “Quit fuckin’ ‘im and deliver these orders before the food gets cold!”

You laughed a bit and looked up at Aegon who had a smug smirk on his features. You pushed lightly at his chest. “I need to get back to work before I get into anymore trouble. But I promise I’ll make it up to you.”

Aegon chuckled and pulled you close for one more kiss. “I’m holding you to that,” He whispered in your ear and giggled when he gave you a playful slap on the bum before he made his way to the front of the diner.

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You held onto your stomach as you spit into the toilet. It had been close to a week since you’ve seen last seen Aegon; he hadn’t even been answering your text messages and you were beginning to worry.

“Y/N! Hurry up! You’ve been in there for ten minutes!”

You groaned while rubbing your temples at your brother’s complaining. “I’ll be out soon, Thommy!”

You clutched tight onto the bathroom counter, slowly standing. You flushed the toilet and walked out giving him a small smile.

“What took you so long? I’ve been trying to hold it for so long.” Thommy groaned as he pushed past you, slamming the door in your face.

You giggled and shook your head before heading out to the kitchen. You let out a small hum while you turned two burners on, one for the tea kettle and one for eggs. You glanced over when you heard the doorbell go off, but decided to let it go believing it was to be the post man with a few packages but groaned as it went off again.

You wiped your hand on a kitchen towel as you made your way towards the living room and frowned at the sight of Aegon when you opened the door.

“So…you ignore all of my texts and my calls for the past week and you decide to show up out of the blue?” You questioned with a raised brow while leaning against the door frame. “What do you want, Aegon?” Your tone was bitter as you looked up at him.

Aegon rubbed the back of his neck. “I wanted to talk about something…may I come in?”

You let out a sigh but stepped aside. “I guess you can.”

Aegon lightly tapped his nails against his mug of tea watching as you sat across from him. You had felt a wave of nausea while making the eggs and had to rush to the bathroom, Thommy finishing cooking breakfast for you.

“How’s your mom?” Aegon asked quietly, looking down at his mug before he took a sip.

You shrugged a bit. “She’s as good as she can be. The greyscale hasn’t spread, but she’s still in a lot of pain.” You cocked a brow as you relaxed in your seat. “What did you want to talk about?”

Aegon rubbed his face with a small frown tugging at his lips. “Remember when I told you that it’s tradition in my family to have arranged marriages?” He took a deep breath when you nodded before he continued, “my parents announced that I am to marry my sister, Helaena.”

Your heart dropped at the news. Aegon had promised you for over two years now that you would elope together and run off to Essos. You felt foolish to think he would ever want to marry someone of your status.

“Get out of my house,” You suddenly snapped.

“Y/N—“ Aegon began but you shook your head.

“Get out!” You felt the hot tears run down your cheeks.

He frowned at the shout before he nodded and slowly stood up. “Okay, okay. I’ll leave. I just want you to know, Y/N, I did not want this. I never wanted this.”

You shook your head while leading him to the door. “Just get out of here,” You choked out.

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You stared up at the bright white ceiling laying in the hospital bed, letting out a soft sigh. You had gotten severely ill at work and your boss, Vynce had called 911.

You glanced over when the door opened, the doctor offering you a soft smile. “So, I ran over your tests,” He began while sitting down with a sigh. “When was the last time you had your cycle?” He asked softly.

You furrowed your brows at the sudden question. “What does that have to do with anything?” You knew the answer though. It’s been close to two months since your last cycle, yet it wasn’t unusual for you to have irregular periods due to your body being in a lot of stress.

“Well, it means everything Miss. Y/N because you’re pregnant.”

You frowned at the news and looked down at your hands. You couldn’t be pregnant…at least you thought you couldn’t be….

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You closed your eyes as you wrapped your arms around Aegon’s stomach while the two of you settled after making love in the back of his car. You smiled lightly feeling his fingers run through your hair.

“You know, I was thinking….” Aegon began.

You gasped at that. “Oh gods, it’s bad when you begin to think,” You said teasingly.

“Hey, now.” He laughed while lightly swatting your bottom. “But, I was thinking we’re both of age now and we’ve always talked of sailing away to Essos.”

You smiled softly. “I think I know where your thinking is leading to,” You said sitting up a bit. “But enlighten me, Mr. Aegon.”

He chuckled a bit before tilting his head to look at you better. He lightly pushed back some of your hair, a loving look in his violet eyes. “We can elope and move to Essos. We don’t have to worry about any responsibilities and we can raise a big family on our own.”

Your smile widened. “Aegon, you know I can’t just up and elope. I have to take care of my mom and Thommy.”

“That’s why….” Aegon began as he reached over grabbing his backpack. “I got you this.”

You sat up a bit when he pulled out a small velvet box and gasped at the sight of the ring. It was a silver ring with a giant ruby in the middle and diamonds surrounding it. “Is this….”

“It’s not an engagement ring.” Aegon took your left hand and slipped it onto your ring finger. “It’s a promise ring that when we’re both ready, we’ll marry and run away together.”

You felt the tears in your eyes and laughed a bit as you leaned over giving him a sudden kiss on the lips. “I love you, Aegon,” You whispered against his lips.

He returned your kiss while pulling you close, rubbing your back lightly. “I love you too, Y/N.”

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“Oh, I always knew you would have a girl!”

You giggled hearing how excited your mother was as you sat beside her bed, handing her a glass of water. You had an appointment today to find out the sex of your baby and you were beyond happy to learn you were to have a girl. You would have been happy either way though.

“Did he text you back?” Sofina asked quietly as she sat her glass down slowly.

You nodded a bit. “He should be here in about fifteen minutes.” You took a deep breath. It had been the first time in months since you got into contact with Aegon, but you felt that he had the right to know he was going to be a father.

“He’s a good man, you know.”

You furrowed your brows at her words. “But he’s engaged.”

Sofina shook her head. “Do you remember the story of your father?”

You smiled a bit. “How he left some girl for you?” You asked quietly.

Sofina laughed and nodded. “It was because I was pregnant with you,” She whispered and reached out taking your hand gently. “He said he would have done anything for me and the baby. If he was a good man, he would do the same for you.”

You smiled gently and looked down before hearing the doorbell. You leaned down and kissed your mother on the head taking a deep breath, your hand going to your bump.

You slowly walked out and bit your lip gently as you opened the door, Aegon standing there with a bouquet of pink roses but his eyes weren’t on your face.

“Hi, Aegon,” You greeted with a sheepish smile.

“How long have you known for?”

You sat across from Aegon, rubbing your bump lightly as he looked over all the pictures of your child. The roses he gave you were in a vase in the kitchen.

“Almost six months now?” He repeated and you nodded slowly. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

You blew out a breath. “Because you were engaged to your sister, I didn’t want to intrude on your life.”

Aegon frowned at that. “I would have dropped everything for you, no matter what my family thinks.”

You felt the tears in your eyes as you listened to him. You knew his mother, Alicent at least never enjoyed you. She always gave you looks when they came into the diner as a family. It was as though she knew of her son’s activities with you.

“It’s still not too late,” Aegon spoke up after a moment. He reached over and took your hand so you would look at him, tears glistening in his own eyes. “We can still be a family.”

You choked on a sob and watched as he stood up to bend down beside you. He looked down at your left hand, seeing the Targaryen ruby glittering back at him. He sniffled and shook his head.

“I am intending to keep my promise,” He whispered to you.

“How?”

Aegon took a deep breath and closed his eyes. “Let us elope, like we’ve always planned.”

You frowned a bit. “And what about your engagement already?”

He shook his head. “They’ll have to call it off if I marry you.”

You sniffled and looked down as he moved his hand to you bump. The tears rolled down your cheeks, a small smile coming on your lips. “It’s a girl.”

Aegon chuckled and sniffled, wiping at his eyes. “I can’t wait to meet her,” He whispered cupping both of your hands in his. “I want to be a family with you and our daughter so, Y/N…will you finally be my wife?”

You laughed and leaned down kissing him suddenly with a nod. “I would love to be your wife,” You whispered against his lips.

You gave birth to a beautiful daughter named Vysena, being named after Aegon’s ancestor, Visenya who was one of the wives to his namesake. You married shortly afterwards on Dragonstone in a private wedding and you still wore your promise ring. You wished for nothing, living a humble life with your small family while helping your mother and brother out. It was a peaceful life and you couldn’t ask for better.

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amethystfairy1 · 4 months

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hi again. i did end up posting some of my art but idk if there's a way to link it in the ask (kinda new to tumblr lol), so im just gonna trust that you know how to find it. Anyways, I have more questions for you :)

jumping into the deep end w/ traveling thieves:

is there any way to remove a collar without the owner's permission? Could a non-collared person do it? Are they physically destructible? What happens if the owner dies? Basically anything that could free Jimmy and Scott T-T

Can any nether-born wield fire, or just blaze-borns? bc hypothetically, we could get some team ZIT going if impulse is a nether-born (he's normally head cannoned as a demon, but I like the idea of wither skeleton instead for this au, if you don't already have plans for him). he could join Zed and Tango :)))

how does the siren song work? can you get anyone to do anything with it if you were good enough? considering song is in the name, is it more effective if it's more melodic?

how do the rune trigger thingies work? Does the staff need to be continuously touching the person to trigger the collar, or does it have a time limit, or is it a secret third option? (this is for a lil piece i've written that I may or may not post lol)

That's it for now, although I do want to say that it would be adorable if Katherine got Shelby a sun-lamp so she could grow over-city plants down there :3

actually that's not it. it'd be fun if you wrote a piece where Grian helps Mumbo and Scar pull a (not so ethical) job. just an idea :)

ok goodbye

Hello hello!

I found the art! I reblogged the art! I LOVE THE ART!

I said it in my reblog but again here they are SO PRETTY I love Cute Guy his wings are beautiful and his shoes are so KILLER and then the SWAGON from Traveling Thieves! It's even got Grian's lil bay window! It makes me so happy! I will treasure them, thank you so much for sharing!

Questions questions! 🏃‍♀️

Short answer: No. Long Answer: Not any way that Scott or Jimmy currently have access too. If their current owner dies the contract has a clause that will automatically transfer them to whoever said owner designated as the inheritor, this being a built in safety measure to ensure enslaved hybrids don't try to one-hit kill their masters before a punishment can kick in to go free. They are technically physically destructible but any attempt at cutting them or unlatching them will trigger the punishment runes. And they are very tough, reinforced by the magic in the runes, again to ensure this isn't attempted, so it would be far to painful to attempt to just endure the punishment long enough to cut them off. This doesn't mean it's completely impossible for them to get them off without their current masters permission...but we haven't gotten to that yet. 😉

Blaze-borns specifically can wield fire as physical parts of their body, but other nether hybrids are able to pull similar tricks such as heating up their hands to work metal, and obviously they're fireproof. Plus, considering our lovely dark fantasy AU, some of them have proficiency with fire magic! I do have plans for Impulse in Traveling Thieves! Please look forward to it!

It's basically voice-based charm magic. I may have messed this up, but I'm pretty sure I only ever refer to it as 'siren spells' and not 'siren songs'? Is there anywhere I screwed that up? Siren spells also give the user the ability to make their voice more pleasant and tend to have good singing voices anyway. If someone is extremely good with it (ex: Scott's Dad) they could 100% use it to strongly compel others, but it's not like brainwashing. Like when Scott used it, all it really did was make the ice mage suddenly care about his opinion, and that confused her enough that she hesitated on using magic. It still has to be something understandable. It wouldn't have been enough to, say, get her to fire a spell at her companion and kill him. It's more like it makes the users words much more influential in the mind of whoever is hearing it. It can also do other things, though! Like how I mention that Scott's Dad would sing for the Queen, Scott's Mom, to help her relax, that's not just because he's a beautiful singer (which of course he is) he's also using siren spells to lower her stress.

One hit triggers the punishment runes. A second hit makes them stop. Like an on-off switch! They also specifically have to get hit with the gem at the end of the rune trigger. If you do post anything anywhere please do send another ask/post it somewhere I can see, I'd absolutely love to see what you do with the AU! ☺️

Awwww...Katherine could totally get Shelby a sun-lamp, that'd be so cute! Also I totally plan on writing a piece at some point where the Swagon Trio steal something, it's a series called Traveling THIEVES and there has been a distinct lack of thievery so I need to fix that. 😤

Thanks so much for all your lovely questions, and thank you again for sharing your beautiful art! 💖

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yungvenuz · 2 months

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Games I Played in 2024 #1: Pâquerette Down the Bunburrows

Genre: Puzzle Game (Evil)

Where: -> Here <-

Pâquerette Down the Bunburrows is a wolf in sheep's clothing. Everything about the premise and outward presentation of the game is cute. The bunnies are cute. The characters are cute. The levels are cute. Then, you try to actually catch a few bunnies and everything goes to hell.

The tutorial lasts for three rooms and explains three basic details of bunny movement behavior:

Bunnies run away if you get too close

Bunnies won't willingly enter a dead end

At intersections, bunnies try to run directly away. If they can't, they attempt to run left first, then right as a final resort

The mechanics governing bunny movement are much, much more complicated than this, but it's up to you to figure out the additional rules.

The brilliance of Down the Bunburrows' design is the way it forces you to solve each puzzle intentionally. Brute forcing a solution simply isn't an option when the decision space is as large as it gets even in early levels. Take this room, in the game's second area:

One bunny trap has been provided, which can be placed on a tile to block the rabbit's path. Exactly one tile in this room can be trapped to successfully catch the rabbit. Many more tiles look like they could work, but the damn rabbit won't enter a corridor it can see ends in a trap, per rule #2, which makes the solution that much more specific. The level designer has done an impressively thorough job of making sure that almost every one of the game's 120+ levels has exactly one correct answer, which is no easy feat given the complexity of the rabbit behavior and the tools given to the player.

To make matters worse, the third area introduces a pickaxe. It's innocuous enough at first- use it to dig a dead end you can catch a rabbit with! Then you realize you can use the pickaxe to burrow into adjacent levels, and horror truly sets in as you find out about Down the Bunburrows' heinously complicated animal husbandry system.

When 2 bunnies collide, they produce a bunny baby. each unique pair of bunnies produces a new bab, and there are more than 500 possible pairings in total. Hunting them down requires a perfect understanding not just of each level in the game, but also of how each level relates to its joining levels, and how to efficiently open paths between them.

If I have any criticisms, it's that the story is fairly barebones. Which shouldn't be that surprising, given the simple premise, but I can't help feeling the imaginative secrets and exploration needed to reach the bottom of the bunburrows could have been put toward something really cool, narratively. This could have been good like Void Stranger is good, is what I'm saying, but instead it's just an extremely rock solid puzzle game that definitely deserves a place next to the greats like Snakebird and Stephen's Sausage Roll.

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were--ralph · 11 months

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Finished Tears of the Kingdom. Some thought.

spoilers probably but i'l try to be vague. not a shitpost stay away if you dont want spoilers

Main gripes with this game were the combat never evolving and feeling stale after an hour in. I miss the direction Twilight Princess took, giving you new skills to learn, however rare the uses were. The combat is just.....not good without a lot of setup.

The final boss was so so SO disappointing. it took me two tries to finish him off and it felt lackluster the whole time. The third phase was very cool in concept but not good in execution. Matt Mercer did a fantastic job as his VA though. My god i loved it.

For a game that wants to break the traditional zelda formula as badly as this and botw, seeing Ganondorf as a power-driven bad guy with no real reason once again felt so stale. Give me a Ganondorf with layered motivations or something different.

Other than that i enjoyed everything about this game except the fifth dungeon and just building contraptions in general wasn't fun for me. just not my thing but i get the appeal.

i fucking LOVED Zelda in this game. she was a lot of fun and really like. did a lot of stuff. It really felt like a "Legend" of "Zelda" and not just "Link! and his fun adventures!" She really like.....transcended time and became a legend herself. it was super cool.

I hope they finish this series out as a trilogy and just switch gears after that because i do like the format but i wish it were different in some aspects. There are so many things i miss from previous zelda games, mainly the items. It's also weird they just like.....don't mention the Triforce at all? it's just Not Important in these games.

Also like. I wish they added more secret stuff in the world. Like a optional dungeon or two or some optional bosses. I don't find myself intertested in possible dlc, there isn't anything interesting to me rn.

My recommendation is to play it and just enjoy the world.

#tears of the kingdom spoilers #totk spoilers

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indigosunsetao3 · 3 months

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Keeping Lines Blurry

Chapter 4 - Safehouse

Masterlist of Chapters

Warnings: 18+ - No minors Please read the tags on A03 for any of your triggers

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick X Original FMC 6.1k words - AO3 Link

When they were on the outskirts of London Gaz had instructed Olivia and Henry to put their phones into airplane mode then turn them off completely. There was a risk of being tracked and when Olivia tried to put up an argument Gaz gave her the option of just tossing it out the window instead. She opted for the first choice and once they were powered down, along with any laptops, Gaz exited the highway and started using backroads to where they were going. He knew how to get to Havering without issue but once they were there, he would have to navigate off the landmarks and street names Laswell had given him verbally. He wasn’t going to the GPS. The likelihood any of it had been tapped was low, they hadn’t had a tail all evening and the assailants were waiting at their house for them to arrive which meant they were planning on taking them there. But it still wasn’t worth the unnecessary risk.

He found on the drive he kept glancing back at Olivia who was pointedly looking out the window, then over at Henry who seemed to be watching everything going on. There were a few times Gaz found the man staring right back at him as if he were monitoring Gaz for sudden movements, or to see if he could catch him staring at his wife. Gaz had to keep telling himself that this was just another job, work needed to be the priority and he could process the mess of feelings he had in his chest later. It was hard to just focus on the work when the woman who shattered him sat mere feet away indifferent to how he was feeling, what she had done to him those years ago. Adding in the factor that she was with her husband, who she had an affair with while Kyle was deployed, it was beyond uncomfortable.

The roads were empty as they moved along the outskirts of the London borough and after a quick turn around Gaz managed to find the right address. It was a small cottage, emphasis on small, that sat far back off the road and was surrounded by farm land and woods. Even though they were alone he flipped the cars headlights out and travelled slowly up the gravel driveway, not wanting to draw any attention that there were occupants headed into the cottage. The drive curved around the back and when they were close to the backstep a motion light kicked on causing Gaz to curse a bit as he threw the car into park.

“Grab your bags and head in,” he instructed as he pulled his phone out of his pocket and typed of a quick message to Laswell, then to Price. It was in code talking about how he had found the key to his safe finally and would be inventorying his stock for a few days. “It’s an agent’s house who is overseas for another few weeks,” he explained as Henry looked unimpressed at the wooden cottage. “There’s food and some other basic items inside. We’ll see what’s there and I can run out tomorrow. Depending on what the situation is in the morning,” Gaz continued feeling his temper rise a bit at the ungrateful expression on both Henry and Olivia’s faces. “Or I could just take you back to that street corner. That is still a viable option for me,” he finished with a quirk of his eyebrow as he hit send on third message to Abby having to reschedule.

“Why is it that you get to keep your phone, Sergeant?” Henry asked as rain pounded the car and the back porch light went out from lack of movement plunging them into darkness again. His eyes darted between Gaz who was staring at him from the rearview mirror and Olivia who was watching Kyle carefully.

“Because I’m not the person someone is trying to kill for once,” Gaz answered as he grabbed his large rifle from the passenger seat, “so I’m not being tracked. Even if I was, they’d have a much harder time getting to my phone. I have a bit more security than you,” he smirked, “with my top-secret military clearance.”

Henry was about to bite out a retort when Gaz hopped out of the car into the pouring rain, and jogged up to the backdoor. He didn’t have any bags with him since this was supposed to be a quick in and out trip, though if he stayed for much longer he was going to have to make the trip up to his sisters. He didn’t bother keeping a permanent place for himself since he was barely ever home, home was with the 141 these days. His sister had enough room in her home to house him whenever he had a break so she just kept all of his things there that wasn’t furniture.

Punching in the code to unlock the backdoor Gaz heard the doors of the SUV open as Henry and Olivia exited. The inside of the cottage was dark and Gaz felt around for a light switch before entering the security system code and stepping further in, taking in the cramped surroundings. He was standing in the kitchen which was long and narrow leading into a small eating area that bled right into the living room which was nothing more than a couch, lounge chair and television on stand. To the right he suspected was the bedroom behind a closed door and a bathroom next to it, the door propped open. He supposed living alone this was a good size but Gaz was already starting to feel cramped as Henry and Olivia stepped in behind him.

“Bedroom is that way,” Gaz indicated with a nod of his head as he walked into the living room and peered out the front window between the blinds. It was still just as dark outside when they had arrived and the rain was pattering against the roof loudly. He glanced over at Olivia who was shaking her arms to get the water off before she rubbed them lightly to warm up. “I’ll find the thermostat,” Gaz muttered as Henry went right for the bedroom toting his two pieces of luggage and laptop bag. “No laptops,” Gaz reminded Henry who didn’t deign to answer as he pulled open the bedroom door and disappeared inside.

Realizing he was very much alone with Olivia now, Gaz busied himself to find the thermostat and he turned it up a few degrees before rummaging around in a chest behind the couch to see if he could find himself blankets. He was going to be crashing on the couch which looked to be about a foot too short for him but it was better than the floor, so he hoped. Throwing some knitted yellow atrocity over the back cushions of the couch he heard Olivia grabbing a glass from the kitchen cabinet and the distinct sound of a cork popping. Not exactly what he had in mind when he said there was food but he would be lying to himself if he wasn’t going to be looking for alcohol.

When his phone vibrated in his pocket Gaz dug it out as he tossed his gloves onto the lounge chair, smirking at the text that just came in from Abby. She was severely disappointed in the fact that they were going to have to reschedule but seemed eager to keep the conversation going nonetheless. Typing up a quick response Gaz looked up as Olivia tugged her luggage behind her in one hand, a large pint glass in the other. She hadn’t even bothered with, or maybe hadn’t found, a wine glass and by the looks of it she should have just taken the whole bottle with her into the bedroom the pint glass was full to the brim.

“I hope that is news about my house,” Olivia stated as she paused at the bedroom door and looked pointedly at Gaz’s phone as he typed away again. “I don’t want to be here any longer than I have to. There isn’t even a bath in this place,” she indicated pointing to the bathroom which indeed was just a shower and the only bathroom in the whole cottage. She had been looking forward to a long soak to ease her aching muscles and the prospect of having to sleep with Henry with Kyle literally fifteen feet away nauseated her. Hopefully the wine was still good and she could pass out before all her thoughts overwhelmed her. “And it smells stale in here,” she tacked on taking a sip of the wine to keep it from spilling over the edge more.

“Nothing yet,” Gaz answered as he slipped the phone back into his pocket, ignoring the vibration of Abby’s response that came in a matter of moments. “Sorry it’s not the Ritz, princess,” he tacked on emphasizing the last word, “but you’ve got a bed, roof over your head and most importantly, you’re still alive,” Gaz finished a bit deadpan. Money had certainly changed Olivia; she had never been this shallow when they were together. But he reminded himself he apparently didn’t know the real her all that time because the Olivia he thought he knew never would have done what she did.

“I think I’d rather take the risk at home,” Olivia answered quietly before pushing open the bedroom door. She knew Henry was in a towering temper and his only target was going to be her. Hopefully he’d keep it reigned in with Kyle being right there but there was no telling what he would do when he was in one of his moods. “Enjoy the couch,” she added in a sarcastic tone before snapping the door behind her. Henry was already sitting on the edge of the bed with the television on and by the way he watched her walk into the room she knew she was in for a long night.

Gaz made quick work of setting himself up a makeshift bed on the couch before freshening up in the bathroom. He could hear the television from the bedroom that was turned up quite loud and he thought he caught clipped muffled words, as if Henry and Olivia were arguing, but he didn’t linger to confirm it. Their marital life was their business, not his and the more distance between him and them the better. Gaz was hoping he could put a couple thousand miles between them come tomorrow, MI6 should really by the ones on security duty, not him. This was a favor and he knew Price was keeping tally of all the favors they dolt out so when the 141 needed help they could cash in.

After a brief search Gaz found some whiskey in the cabinets and poured himself a small glass, not wanting to dull his senses but just to take the edge off. His muscles were tight with stress and anger, coupled with the fatigue from barely sleeping in the past two days he needed something. He could use a smoke but the rain was torrential outside and he didn’t want to draw too much attention by moving in and out of the cottage so the whiskey and an old football match on the television would have to do.

Laying all his gear out on the coffee table, ready to grab at a moments notice, Gaz slipped his boots off before untucking his shirt from his pants and flopping down on the couch. It wasn’t the most uncomfortable thing he had ever laid on, even if his feet hung off the edge and he had to use three decorative pillows for his head. He had been messaging with Abby on and off for the better part of an hour when his eyes grew heavy and his thumbs paused over the letters of his next message debating on what he wanted to do. He knew the next few messages from him would probably earn him another hour or so of suggestive conversation; she’d already teased about what she would, or wouldn’t, wear when they did go out for drinks. But the exhaustion was winning and Kyle sighed as he sipped the last few drops of whiskey and set the empty glass on the table next to his pistol before sending a final message. He needed sleep and while he made sure she knew he was not dismissing her by any means, he needed to end it for the night. He promised to make it up to her and while she took a second longer to respond she said she understood and would be holding him to that promise.

The television from the bedroom was still blaring and Gaz could hear it over the football commentary. It dawned on him as he started to drift, one hand resting on his stomach holding his phone the other propped under his head, that they had the television up so loud to prevent him from hearing them. That was fine with him, the less he heard or saw of them the better it would be for all involved. He wasn’t quite sure if he had in fact fallen asleep or not when his mind finally wandered to that day that Olivia had turned his life completely upside down. It was a memory that had haunted him for many nights and it never got easier when he relived it.

Three years prior

“Welcome back 141,” a voice called out to the team as they climbed off the helicopter, Gaz’s hand on his head so he wouldn’t lose his hat in the wind from the whirring blades. “I’m sure you’re ready for a little R&R but we have a few things to take care of first,” the man stated, reaching out to shake Price’s hand as the helicopter took off again leaving them all in the middle of a windswept field. “Just final reports and buttoning up some details,” he added on to which Gaz and Soap exchanged a look. There were things that had happened on the mission that they had all agreed would not be spoken of or have a written records. That’s how things went sometimes, the less information the better in some instances.

“We’ve been gone almost three weeks,” Price stated looking back at his men who just shrugged. He knew they either did it now or they prolonged it a few hours and had to do it anyway. “You get one hour,” he conceded and the man nodded before gesturing for them to follow him.

Gaz was ready to be back in his room, to get back to his phone and reach out to family as soon as possible. Especially Olivia. She was never happy when he had to go dark for long periods and she had seemed a bit off when they had said goodbye the last time. His job was one of the only things they really fought about, she didn’t like being alone for so long and hated the lack of communication sometimes. They always worked it out though, Gaz reminding her he had been in the military since before they had even met so it was part of the package with him. And he also enjoyed teasing her over the fact that her pickup line at the bar when they first met was she liked a man in uniform. She couldn’t get the uniform without the work that went into it.

Their story was short and sweet, all of them agreeing on details they had already discussed before they had even been extracted. Price and Ghost did most of the talking while Gaz and Soap nodded and added in a few things here and there as the man and his team scribbled away. The mission had been a success though their methods hadn’t been exactly above board to get those results; thus the planned story. No one besides those in the 141 or the dead men would know the true details and that was how it needed to stay. Politics didn’t always understand what it took to get a win and they weren’t going to be held back by red tape and risk getting killed.

“Rest up,” Price ordered as they all arrived at their barracks. “We’ve got a few days to recoup before Laswell finds something else for us to get into,” he added with a smirk before going into his own room and shutting the door. That only told Gaz that their next mission was already lined up and Laswell was just ironing out the details.

Gaz walked into his room, shrugging off his vest and setting his pistol on the desk before he spotted the small pile of mail on his bed. Most of his mail came from his nephew who liked to send him his latest artwork or stories he had been working on. He was certainly the most creative of the family and even though he was only six he had a knack for art and Gaz kept every single thing he sent in a binder. Grabbing his phone and powering it up he tossed it onto his bedside table before he dropped heavily on the bed and started sorting through the envelopes. All of it was as expected except for a light purple envelope that has his name scrawled in precise cursive with no return address, dated five days after they had left.

He didn’t need a return address; he knew the writing was Olivia’s and the fact it was purple gave it away. She never sent him mail though, not unless it was his birthday or a holiday but none of those things were even close. Raising an eyebrow, he flipped it over and tore at the back flap to open it before pulling out a few pieces of folded notepad paper. He was about to unfold them to read when his phone started vibrating continuously, text messages and alerts filing in from the three weeks it had been off. Gaz reached over to grab it and flipped it to silent as he watched the notification number on his text messages continue to rise. His sister liked to text him as if he were still there and answering because, in her words, she would forget everything within a day.

Setting the phone facedown on the bed Gaz went back to the letter that spanned three pages of paper and unfolded it. He had his elbows resting on his thighs as he sat on the edge of the bed and as he got through each line, he felt his hands grip the paper harder and harder until it was creased under his fingers. It didn’t take him long to finish it. Olivia had been precise and extremely brutal in her words, leaving no room for imagination for what this letter was. It was a fucking Dear John letter. Something she promised she would never do to him, not after he had seen other men go through it and he had told her about it in one of their many late-night talks. He had confessed how it was a fear of his as they grew more serious, that she would just up and leave when things became too hard or too long and not have the decency to do it to his face. She swore she would never, promised they were together thick or thin and if it ever came to an end she’d wait until they could talk it through and decide together.

Glaring at the final line for a second longer Gaz threw the papers away from him and watched as they fell to the floor in three different spots. Olivia had taken all choice away from him, had pulverized him with her cold demand he not reach out to her and final note that she was already moving on and there was nothing he could do; she had made up her mind. Gaz snatched up his phone and ignored all the notifications and scrolled to Olivia’s name in his phone and hit dial. The phone rang once before a pre-recorded voice came over the line that the person was unavailable. With a snarl Gaz pulled the phone away from his ear before sending a text, which bounced back immediately as undeliverable.

His phone continued to alert with more notifications as he scrolled to his social media and immediately looked for Olivia’s pages but it was gone. All of her social media had disappeared from his view, she had removed him and blocked him. It felt like a weird fever dream as he continued to look, his eyes darting to the papers on the ground as if to confirm this really was happening before he finally called his sister. She picked up on the first ring and before she could finish exclaiming how happy she was he was back Gaz cut her off.

“Have you heard from Olivia?” He asked gruffly as he rose from the bed and bent down to grab the discarded letter. His sister hesitated before saying yes, Olivia had been by and had brought some boxes of his things and had left the engagement ring as well. “What else,” Gaz asked as he squeezed his eyes shut and leaned his head back against the closet door, the letter balled up in his fist. “I know there is more Kristie, I can tell by the way you are talking. So just tell me so we don’t have to play this game,” he continued as he waited for his sister to spit out whatever else she was holding back.

“It doesn’t matter Kyle,” Kristie said simply after a small sigh. But when Kyle didn’t answer, stubbornly waiting for her to finish whether she wanted to or not, she groaned. “She was with Henry,” she finished and winced hearing something slam on the other side of the line. “Like I said, it doesn’t matter Kyle. You were always suspicious of him and you were right. Better to know now, yeah? Before you married her and she still ran off anyway,” her voice was full of snark and Kyle could only imagine how the conversation had gone when Olivia dropped off his things.

Gaz had kicked out at his desk chair which knocked into the desk before falling to the side with a loud clatter. He heard Soap on the other side of the wall call out something but it was muffled through the concreate blocks. “She brought the ring back?” He asked simply after a long pause, feeling the defeat welling up to try and douse the anger and hurt.

“And all your things. It was a few boxes that I just put in the guest bedroom,” his sister answered softly. “I’m so sorry Kyle,” she started to say but Gaz cut her off.

“Just keep it safe for me, yeah?” He asked and she agreed and tried to say something else but Gaz cut her off again, “I have to go. Price needs me,” he lied. They both knew that it was a lie but she said okay and asked him to call back later to talk to his nephew before hanging up.

Gaz quickly picked up his desk chair and sat down in it before trying to call Olivia again, three times, four, before finally giving up and slamming his fist down on the desk. She had sufficiently blocked him out and while he wanted an answer and needed to know what the hell had happened; he wasn’t going to harass her over the phone by blocking his number or using another phone line. This was something that should have been done in person so he was going to make sure that it did happen in person one way or another.

Price had agreed on an emergency leave of two days without much question and Gaz took the first flight he could find back to London. It had been a foggy haze for him getting there, the letter folded in his back pocket as he travelled the familiar path on the underground to the neighborhood where they shared a flat. Third floor all the way on the corner and as Gaz climbed out the back of the taxi his eyes went instantly to the window, which was dark and barren of any blinds or curtains.

“Fuckin’ hell,” Gaz muttered as he fished his keys out and started up the steps three at a time that brought him to the faded green door of number 37B. He attempted to put his key into the lock but found it wouldn’t fit. So either she had the locks changed or what he suspected was she had fully moved out as well, based on the fact the windows had been bare. He stared at the door knob for a second contemplating his next move when he heard a door open and one of the neighbors step out.

“Kyle?” It was an elderly woman who he and Olivia had helped a few times with groceries or moving some furniture around to find her cat. “Oh! I thought I wasn’t ever going to see you again,” she said with a small grin as she shooed her devil of a cat back inside her apartment with her foot. “Olivia said you all were moving,” she frowned a bit noticing Kyle still had the keys in his hand, “did you not know?” She inquired, pulling her robe tighter around herself as she arched an eyebrow.

“Ah,” Gaz answered before stuffing the keys into his jacket pocket, “no. No I didn’t,” he gave her a small smile before gesturing toward the door. “You should get inside, it’s cold out here,” he supplied moving to open the door for her, hoping her cat was not lurking nearby. The last thing he wanted was to chase the damn thing all over the complex, he’d done that once before and was scratched to hell for it once he caught it. Soap had laughed himself hoarse when Gaz had to explain he lost a fight with an eight pound orange cat when he saw the scratches on his neck.

“Oh,” was all the woman said, the sympathy in her face was enough to make Gaz want to turn and leave right then. He didn’t want sympathy right now, he wanted answers to something that he was apparently the last to know about. “Well, if you ask me,” she started as Gaz turned the doorknob for her and bent down to grab the newspaper she had come outside for, “she didn’t quite seem herself as they packed up all your things. She seemed a bit,” she paused as Kyle handed her the newspaper, “upset. The man with her seemed awfully rude, told me to mind my own when I asked why they were leaving.” She pursed her lips as she stepped inside the door and grabbed the handle from the other side to close it.

“That would be Henry, I’m sure,” Kyle answered flatly before his phone buzzed in his pocket. “I need to head out, it was nice to see you,” he dug around for his phone and saw it was a text from his nephew asking if he would be calling anytime soon. He needed to catch him up on everything that had happened while he was away. With one final nod he jogged down the steps and rapidly typed into his phone to hail yet another taxi to take him to Henry’s house. Everything so far had one common denominator and that was him.

Gaz had the taxi driver drop him at the end of the street and he walked up the half block to Henry’s house. He had been there before during a very awkward family dinner, one that Olivia had been dreading for weeks and begged him to go with her. Kyle had only endured only for her sanity because she seemed so uncomfortable with the whole thing and now, he was wondering if she had been so upset because her relationship with Henry had already started behind Kyle’s back.

Tugging his ballcap down low Kyle walked across the street from the house, his eyes taking in the long driveway from behind the gate. He saw Olivia’s car parked there along with her parents, and a few others as well, apparently they were having some sort of get together. Stopping by a pair of bins he feigned tying his shoe as he observed the area, hoping to catch some sort of glimpse and after a few minutes he did. Olivia stepped into full view of the large picture window that overlooked the front lawn, she was smiling and laughing with a glass of Gaz guessed was champagne, with Henry snaking his arm around her waist. There were flashes of lights, cameras Kyle assumed, and his fingers fumbled over the tied loops of his shoes as they kissed for the press.

A loud crash pulled Gaz from his twilight slumber and he instantly dove for his pistol, phone falling to the floor in a clatter as he sat up. It took him a second to get his bearings before he took in the living room that was lit by the faint glow of another football game on the television he had fallen asleep to. Standing up he cocked his gun and flipped the safety off as he listened for more noise, his head cocked to the side as his eyes swept the room. He heard another muffled bang as something fell to the floor and Gaz snapped his attention toward the bedroom where Olivia and Henry were. Their blaring television was off and he inched closer to try and figure out what the sounds were since it was coming from their room. He needed to determine if they were a threat or innocuous stumbling in the dark in an unfamiliar place before another sound met his ears and he all but staggered backwards to get away.

“Bloody hell. Couldn’t keep it in your pants one damn night,” Gaz said none too quietly as he backed away, flipping the safety back on his gun and stuffing it into his waistband. He couldn’t sit in the living room now, just knowing what was going on in there and the fact his ears had locked onto the noise there was no way to ignore it. Snatching his hat off the couch he slipped into his unlaced boots and stomped through the kitchen and out the backdoor for a smoke. It was still raining and he ducked under the eave of the roof as best as he could as he lit up in the dark, having turned off the motion detector light on his way out.

Listening to his ex getting railed by her husband, the man she left him for, while he had been assigned to protect them had to be some form of torture. Gaz wasn’t sure what he had done to deserve this sort of karma but it must have been bad whatever it was. He thought had had been through enough with Olivia and their relationship, thought the wedding invitation dated for their anniversary had been enough cosmic fuckery. But no, he was still knee deep in the shit three years later by some unlucky chance.

He lit a second cigarette and took his time smoking it, staring out into the darkness of the yard as before glancing at his watch. He didn’t know when it would be clear to go back inside and even if he was exhausted Kyle knew sleep wasn’t coming back for him anytime soon. Surely a man of Henry’s age couldn’t last that fucking long right? He was debating a third smoke after standing in the dark for a while just staring off into space when a light flipped on in the kitchen sending light cascading on the front lawn from the window. Gaz cut his eyes to peer into the small door window to see Olivia rummaging around in the cabinets again, her back to him as she looked.

Gaz decided since she had already made this so uncomfortable it was his turn to make her squirm a bit. Opening the door he stepped inside and whipped his hat off to shake off some of the water from it before sliding it back over his head again. “I think you drank all the wine, though I did leave some whiskey if you need it for a nightcap,” Gaz stated as he flipped his lighter between his fingers. “I’d offer you a smoke but I don’t think it was that good if it only lasted that long,” he smirked, though it wasn’t a playful gesture.

“Go to hell Kyle,” Olivia snapped as she slammed one of the cabinet doors shut and faced him. She had been hoping he had been asleep on the couch when she came out but when she didn’t see his form in the dark she assumed he had gone outside and was rushing to get back to the bedroom before he saw her. She had hoped to God he hadn’t heard anything but judging by his last sentence he knew, or thought he knew, what had happened in the bedroom. She knew her face was red but it wasn’t from exertion, nor embarrassment, she always turned red when she cried which drove her insane because she could never hide it. Her cheeks and neck were blotchy, the skin a mottled patchy red, and her eyes were red rimmed and still a bit glazed. “I just need something to eat. You can get back to whatever it is you were doing,” she continued as she pried open another cabinet and found a box of crackers and reached for it.

“What happened?” Gaz asked instantly when he caught sight of her face as she attempted to hide it behind the cabinet door. She didn’t answer as she pulled down a snack box and ripped open the cardboard, her hands shaking as she attempted to pop open the bag inside. He knew what she looked like when she was upset, had been the cause and also comfort to those tears more than once. “Olivia,” Gaz pried as he reached out to grab the box from her and saw her fully tense as his hand came within inches of her wrist, as if out of fear. “Tell me what happened,” his tone a little softer, “let me get...” but another voice cut in

“Liv,” Henry’s voice came from the dark kitchen doorway and Gaz turned his head to find the man in nothing but his boxers. At least Olivia had the decency to pull on set of pajamas before she left the bedroom. “Come back to bed dear,” he grinned a bit looking at Kyle as he spoke, “I think we’ve kept the Sergeant up long enough. Sorry for the, ah,” he paused as if looking for the right word, “late night debauchery but you know how it can get sometimes.” His smile was feline and Gaz could feel the tension roiling off Olivia as she turned with her still unopened box of crackers and walked toward Henry not daring to even glance at Gaz as she went.

“Everything alright?” Gaz asked Henry simply as Olivia walked right past him and toward the bedroom without stopping. Gaz was perfectly aware that things were in fact not alright based on how Olivia had been crying and she seemed scared but he couldn’t act on things when he didn’t know what it was that had upset her. “Only your wife seems a little upset,” Gaz tacked on as he crossed his arms over his chest.

“The past few days have been overwhelming,” Henry supplied evenly as he glanced over his shoulder at the bedroom door. “She’s just a bit tired and understandably upset about it all. I thought a roll in the sheets would help,” he shrugged a bit, “but you know how women can be a bit delicate. And our Liv gets upset so easily at change, I’m sure she will be better when we get home.” He laughed as if he and Gaz were sharing the same joke which Gaz certainly was not in on and, if anything, it set Gaz more on edge.

Gaz didn’t answer as Henry turned around and followed Olivia into the bedroom, shutting the door with a snap. Something was weird about the whole situation and since there was nothing else for him to do, all chances of sleep were gone, Gaz decided it was time to start doing some digging on Henry. He wanted find out what he and Olivia had been up to for the past three years while Gaz had been doing his best to pretend neither of them existed. Maybe he would find some more answers as to why Olivia had picked this man over him or at least figure out why things felt off.

#fanfic #fanfiction #ao3 fanfic #ao3 writer #ao3 author #call of duty fanfic #cod fanfic #call of duty #cod #my fic #gaz fanfic #kyle gaz garrick #gaz cod #gaz x oc #keeping lines blurry

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theothin · 3 months

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"What the hell is the deal on Hylara?" compilation (Part 2)

Part 1

Chapter 135: Lunch

The others frown at me, puzzled. “Deep burn?” Tal asks. “You know.” I wave a hand vaguely. “The questioning.” “Ah!” Captain Klees grins. “The ‘third degree’. Yes, she did. It seems you were right, Aspen, about the attitudes here. Did you see how people stared at us when we came in?” “That part doesn’t mean anything,” Tinera says. “They thought they were alone out here and we dropped out of space. They’d stare even if they wanted us here. What’s everyone’s thoughts on these disease measures?”

attitudes of the hylarans towards the landing party

“You’re the sociologist,” Tinera points out. “Sociologist, not morals expert,” I counter, struggling to find suitable words in Texan. (I should’ve practiced more on the ship, why didn’t I practice more on the ship?) “The right thing depends on your morals. You might say, one generation isn’t a culture; you might say, we were sent to supply them by the same people they were sent by, that this is our colony as much as them. That a handful of decades late doesn’t matter and settling here loses nothing of importance. Or instead you might say, okay, we put everything in their hands and let them tell us what Hylara will be, it is their planet and we make no decisions – but what if they say, okay we will take the resources and take a very long time with the colonists, and they die with Kae Jin’s crew on a broken ship? What if they say, good, we need convict workers, and they built what we were trying to avoid? Probably they will not, but they may argue among themselves forever, their children may claim power over our children, and where is the line? There must be somewhere where we say ‘no’ or our children say ‘no’, yes?

outlining some potential outcomes

“So perhaps you say, okay, we land somewhere else that is too far to get to easy, but you can still get to. Trading range. We set up and when we know better what we will and won’t need, when we have… when we can build our own things, we give them help. We let them come to us if they want, let our children go to them if they will accept them. Let them choose to be bought and out-traded by a much bigger, stronger culture; then it’s not our fault, you might think. If they choose to trade with us, or their children choose to abandon a dying colony to live with us.

I still think aspen is too negative about this option. let future generations decide what to change and what to keep - it's not the place of the current generation to deny them that opportunity for the sake of keeping things in stasis

“So, what do you think is the right thing to do?” Tinera asks. I shrug. “Ask the Hylarans. Dr Kim has not been secret with her concerns. Hive and Max were more friendly, but they were chosen to deal with us, so they must know what the concerns are. If we are friendly and harmless, we can wait for them to talk to us in a friendly way. We can see what their government is like, what their lives are like, what they need and what their concerns are. What exactly are they worried about? We find out, exactly. We see how they do things, and they are probably similar to how we do things. They probably have a reasonable government and reasonable laws already, we will just be increasing their population. We find out what they need and how we can fit our colonists in, we act as contact with Kae Jin for them. You know. Do our jobs. We can worry all day about whether their culture is worth protection or whether they own Hylara or not, but that all doesn’t matter; those questions are for historians. We have people who are scared that bullies will make their lives worse. We don’t want to be bullies. We make friends and we ask what they want instead of telling them what they want. It’s all very simple.”

a sensible perspective, but one that isn't yet accounting for all the pieces. max seems to be as friendly as aspen thinks, but hive has turned out to be more cautious than they looked at the time

Their helmet is covered by a transparent dome, far less sophisticated than a space suit helmet. It looks fairly fragile; I suppose it doesn’t need to deal with pressure differences or need radiation shielding in it or anything. I don’t see any electronics in there, but there must be a microphone somewhere, because Max’s words emanate from a small speaker at the base of the front of the dome. They drop the packages on the table, which gives me a chance to see the outfit close up; white canvas stitched with tiny black stitches and coated in a sealant. The stitches are almost perfectly even, but not quite, if you know what you’re looking for. Hand sewn, by an expert. Interesting. The colony has an AutoDoc; they surely have sewing machines.

more of the autodoc mystery, and ways it seems at odds with other aspects of the colony

I take anther bite of the soft brown brick, frowning. Salt, sugar. A fair amount of oil, but… hmm. “You okay, Aspen?” Tal asks me in Texan. I chew thoughtfully. “I wonder about their food making process. This is very strange.” “It’s not that different to the preserved stuff on the ship. The stuff that’s in brick, I mean, obviously.” “Yes, preserved. Is strange for a colony, yes? No plants outside. Their growing is contained. So, they probably make fresh food all the time, right? Harvest and eat quickly. Processing it is a lot of work, too much work, doesn’t need to happen.” I take another bite. “I see brick of food, I think, algae cultures. You can feed a colony on algae cultures. But process algae does not look or taste like this, not anywhere I have had it. The only reason to process something this much is if you need to, to preserve it or move it or remove poisons or add things. What are they growing to make this?”

the mystery of lunch

“Are we sure they’re growing food at all?” Captain Klees asks. “Maybe it’s from the supplies their ancestors took down.” “They are nearly four hundred people, there is no way they still have food from that. Even if they did, they would say something to the ship, right? Ask us to bring food down with us?” “It is strange,” the Friend agrees. “The open air and lack of [unknown] also suggests no radiation or toxic dust. If they had to worry about radioactive dust and suchlike, cleaning off the truck and Max’s suit and soforth would be second nature to them.” “We can ask Max about that kind of thing when they come back, right?” Tal says. “They did promise us a tour.”

additional questions

Chapter 136: Dome

I’m not interested in a total population. I’m interested in knowing the family size. The table we ate at has 8 seats, which gives some idea of how many people are supposed to live in this dome, but it’s not a reliable count. It’s common for societies that use tables to have larger ones than they need, for guests. It’s equally possible that a lot of people live in these domes and eat in two shifts. It’s also possible that the table was brought in specifically for us – it’s set up in the middle of a living area, and it’s possible that the Hylarans eat communally and brought one in for us since we’re in quarantine. It would fit through the door, with some careful maneuvring. Beds are a more reliable indicator of population, although they’re not completely reliable either because there’s no standard for how much space someone needs to sleep. In some societies, individuals sleep in individual beds, or share a bed with one partner. In others, whole families share a single sleeping palette. It’s not unusual for cultures to not have permanent beds at all, but merely roll out blankets on the floor when it’s time to sleep. The Hylarans, as it turns out, do have beds, although not quite the kind I’m used to. Instead of a mattress, some kind of fabric is stretched over a narrow bedframe. Narrow enough that I can be reasonably sure the beds are each designed for one person, which makes a count easy, and there are indeed eight of them. So. This sized living dome is for a maximum of eight people.

sociological studies via beds. I have no idea how this will tie into things, but I'm willing to bet that somehow, it will

The bathroom facilities are approximately what I’m used to on the ship except the shower, although the pipes are all exposed since the walls are canvas. Everything is hooked into a pipe leading to a rainwater tank outside that I was able to glimpse on my way here. The wastewater lines port outside and are presumably buried. The shower is replaced by a seat and a hot water basin with ladles and cloths, a much more Arborean sort of system than the spaceship has. I wish I knew more about Antarctic culture. I’ve never been to Antarctica, but taproot and stars, if I had… examining the differences between everyday Hylaran and Antarctic culture would be fascinating. The colonists who arrived here were almost certainly Antarctic, but the environments are so different…

bathrooms

The second most interesting thing is the soap. It’s solid soap in little bricks, not too harsh and with some kind of vaguely pleasant scent that I don’t recognise. The bricks have rough edges, and a couple of them are cut unevenly – hand cut. So probably hand made. Couple of possible reasons for that. It’s possible that they don’t have anything so specific as a soap making factory, but everything I’ve seen so far suggests that Hylarans simply like working with their hands. I put the soap away carefully, fully aware of what a precious resource it must be in a place like this. It can’t be reclaimed from the water system once it’s used; every brick of soap means making more oil, growing more calories that won’t be used as food. It means manufacturing lye, which might be sourced from the planet itself depending on its chemistry, but is more likely sourced from burning wood – more precious plant growth. Providing us with this much of it suggests that they’re either working very hard to make sure we’re comfortable, or their prosperity is far in excess of what they need to feed themselves. I can’t wait to see their farms. Or it might just mean that they’re expecting a large influx of soap from the Courageous’ supplies and don’t need to ration it any more. That’s always a possibility.

aspen calls this the second most interesting thing, but they have a lot more to say about it than the water handling, and I think it's much more noteworthy than more of the hylarans not being afraid of the outside environment. I don't buy that they changed course on rationing that fast - there's something to this

The condition of the dome canvases makes it clear that they don’t have the sophisticated setups needed to make the high integrity dome canvases, but they obviously have basic manufacturing capabilities, or they wouldn’t be able to keep the AutoDoc supplied. I wonder how recent this indifference to the open sky is. I would’ve thought that it would be fairly recent, after they’d realised that the Courageous wasn’t coming and that their canvas integrity would fail eventually without a resupply. At that point, there’s no reason not to remove the inconvenient airlocks and get used to carrying oxygen tanks. But that would mean that the living domes initially had contained water systems… did they pull those out and replace them with these systems? Why?

more questions

“Guys,” I pipe up. “I don’t know about you, but I’ve had a long and terrifying day. Maybe we could start by learning a bit about the Hylarans? Settling in a bit? Max, can you show us around the settlement? Don’t worry, the Friend here made absolutely certain that the outside of our suits are thoroughly decontaminated.” Max smiles again. “Of course! I’m sure everyone will be delighted to meet you all. Some of the people here have read your books, Aspen.” I make sure to turn my radio off before responding to that, then turn it back on again to say, “That’s nice. How many homes are there?”

I don't think I fully parsed this line before but I'm realizing now that aspen must have gone off radio to curse

We’re on the very outskirts of the little town. As we weave between the houses, I notice that about two thirds of them are our size, and about one third are smaller. That is extremely interesting. Most of them have rainwater tanks attached, although there’s a few situations where a cluster of houses share a tank. The doors don’t seem to be built to accommodate airlocks that have since been removed; they’re just singular supposed-to-be-airtight doors. Also extremely interesting.

houses

I’m running the math. Houses set up with water tanks and that never had airlocks were presumably built after the colony gave up on a contained atmosphere (they couldn’t possibly have planned not to have one from the beginning, it’s another planet), suggesting a rapid expansion after that. As we approach the middle of town, I see some doorways set up that clearly used to be airlocks; older homes, probably. And with canvas in better repair than further away houses… some kind of class difference, there. Houses for the privileged. Anyway. About two-thirds of the houses are large enough to fit eight occupants, and many of them are not the initial houses, despite smaller houses also clearly being available (let’s call those four-occupant houses for now). At a rough guess, space for six hundred people. Of course, that’s assuming that all the larger domes fit 8 people; it’s possible that 8 is just a maximum. But it’s also worth noting that the dome we’re living in has clearly been lived in a lot. And the population has no elderly, and more than half of them are children.

construction timelines

“I’m sorry if this is insensitive,” I ask Max over the radio, “but has your colony suffered through some sort of disaster recently?” “Disaster?” “Something that’s caused a great loss of life.” Their lips tighten under their oxygen mask. “Famine,” they say shortly. “I’m sorry to hear that.” “Well.” The bright smile returns. “We don’t need to worry about that sort of thing any more, do we?” They raise their voice slightly, and I realise that while nobody without a radio can hear my side of the conversation, the various onlooking locals can hear Max. “Now that the ship is here, we won’t need to worry about famine ever again!” Famine, huh. Interesting.

famine feels at odds with the apparent lack of concern over resources, and this is a topic max doesn't want to get into. they're acting unconcerned, but while they're more consistent than hive and dr kim, it certainly feels like a facade here

Chapter 137: Radio

Max shows us the central meeting area, which is exactly what it sounds like – a huge dome that’s apparently for meeting up and conducting business. A town hall, I suppose. Some benches are lined up along one edge with plastic crates piled on them; a middle-aged person with no feet perches on the edge of a table and consults a computer screen over one eye while a few other Hylarans talk to them. As I watch, they direct a toddler to go and grab a small wrapped package from a crate, which is handed to one of the consulting people. Some kind of resource distribution centre, then; makes sense. A ration system? Or are goods paid for with money? A mix of both, perhaps?

in the discord, I've seen comments suggesting cannibalism of the elderly population - starting before this section, but taking this as evidence. there is precedent in derin's stories for people on a planet with limited resources sacrificing appendages to make other use of them, but I doubt this is an example of that. in particular, if someone was willing to give up both feet for meat, surely it would be more efficient to give up one leg instead?

The oxygen pumps run constantly, with people moving in and out of the dome through multiple doors. A wasteful setup. I suppose that they have a system somewhere that pulls oxygen from the air, so it’s not like they’ll run out of air, but it’s surely a waste of power. Not to mention wear and tear on the pumps. Even if the canvas integrity can’t be trusted, surely some airlocks would be more practical than this?

more resource oddities

Before I can get a good look around the dome, a door opens, and a tall Hylaran wearing a multicoloured woven belt walks in. Max’s eyes widen. “Well, we should move on!” Max chirps over the radio. “Captain Klees, I believe you wanted to make a report?” “But I wanted to see – ” Tal protests, but stops when the Friend and I grab kes elbows and steer kem after Max. “Well, that was transparent,” Tinera grumbles over our private channel. “I wonder what they were so worried we’d see?” “Or what they didn’t want that person to see about us,” I say.

who was that person? also, given how short the hylarans are, how tall is a tall hylaran?

On our private channel, Tinera asks, “Are you guys as curious about the underground areas as I am?” “I’d love to see their farms,” I say. “They’re not up here, so they’re probably underground, which would be easier to keep airtight. A famine that killed off so many suggests some kind of crash that they’ve recovered from; I want to know what happened. If it’s some kind of pathogen then we’ll need to account for it in what plants and algae we send down first.” “Yeah, that’s what interests me,” Tinera says. “‘Easier to keep airtight’. If they have farms and power generation down there, if they’ve been here for decades, they have space down there for beds. So why are they up there trusting their lives to old canvas and oxygen pumps?”

agriculture questions

“There may be something toxic underground that doesn’t come to the surface,” the Friend suggests. “We don’t know what the ground is made of down there. Perhaps it oxidises into a toxic gas that is more of a risk than the too-thin oxygen up here.” Hmm. Maybe. There are a lot of gases that can kill through inhaling too much but are perfectly safe to grow crops in. You’d want an airtight place to grow crops, too, because the easiest way to keep nitrogen in the soil for them is to have nitrogen in the air that can be fixed down there. Earth’s air is mostly nitrogen; Hylara’s is mostly neon. Their food situation is precarious enough for there to be no aboveground plants in sight, not even decorative ones in the common area, and they suffered a famine, so food growing might be a delicate operation.

something being odd underground is certainly plausible, and it makes sense for them to not bother maintaining nitrogen levels in the living areas. even so, how can this fit with the soap situation?

A long set of rails climb up the neighbouring slope in what looks to be a perfectly straight line. The bottom disappears into a small metal building at the base that might be partially buried, it’s hard to be sure. Along their length, they travel through several metal hoops on their way to the top of the slope and then just… stop. “Is that a fucking rail gun?!” Tal asks, awed. Max laughs. “What is this, the pre-Neocambrian age? No, that’s a Hypati launcher. A rail gun that short wouldn’t send anything very far.” “What’s it for?” Captain Klees asks. “Climate control, mostly. It’s complicated. Should we contact the ship?”

it does something to the climate, and has at least one other benefit max doesn't want to get into. what's going on there?

“Welcome to the command centre!” Hive says dramatically. “Well, The monitoring station. Mostly we monitor weather and the mat – well, weather, from here. There’s always the risk of flooding.” “I imagine there would be,” Captain Klees says in a very neutral tone.

@lilietsblog suggested that the cutoff word could be "material". that would suggest hive was going to say "material conditions", but decided to narrow it to talking just about weather. that fits how max talked about the hypati launcher, but why? what other relevant material conditions are there, and why don't the hylarans want to talk about them?

“The higher-ups insist that the settlement is positioned properly so we won’t be in danger of any floodwaters, but that’s always a matter of rainfall not overwhelming the water channels. So we try to keep an eye on the cloud movements and the rain which, of course, we get a lot of.” “Of course,” Captain Klees agrees. “When can we meet these ‘higher-ups’?” Hive and Max exchange a brief glance, brief enough that I wouldn’t have noticed if I wasn’t watching specifically for it. “Soon,” Max assures us. “But we need to be sure that everyone’s completed the viral treatments first, and that they work.” “Yes, of course.”

they're hiding something about the reasons for keeping the landing party away from the higher-ups

Hive fiddles with some dials. “There you go! If you call through your radios on the ship’s frequency, we can send the message up.” “Thank you. You wanted to know about bees, right?” “No! No, there’s no need to bother them with that; it was just idle curiosity. I’ll ask when it becomes relevant.”

hive does not want the ship to hear the bees question. at least, not at present. why?

On our private channel, Tinera says, “Something really weird is happening, but I have no idea what it is. This feels like some kind of con. Are we being conned?” “How?” I ask. “We don’t have anything. We know we have partial information, but they haven’t given us anything specific enough to be a useful lie, if they’re trying to deceive the ship.” “Well, something’s not right here.”

tinera echoes every reader's thoughts

“Okay,” Xanthe says, “so canvas isn’t critical, and neither are food or medical supplies?” “Our doctors are requesting cell substrate,” Hive says, “if you have that.” “Anything specialised?” “No, whatever we can grow human muscle on.” “Right, that shouldn’t be a problem. Basic grower substrate can do that, we have that already for our own moss biotanks to make oil so we won’t even need to go digging around for it. Anything else?” “No.”

why this, specifically?

“Okay. Ground team, what’s the nonhuman growing situation down there? Plants, animals?” ‘Alien life?’ is the real question there, I’m sure of it, but I answer the question asked thoroughly anyway. “We haven’s seen anything nonhuman. We haven’t toured the underground facilities yet, but there’s nothing up here. Zero nonhuman animals, no plants of any kind on the surface, not even decorative ones in the living domes. I can get you a more thorough picture after we’ve seen everything.”

alien life, a question hive and max are conspicuously dodging

“Nothing else?” “No life in sight, known or unknown. Of course, I haven’t been sampling for microbes. I assume there’s bacteria everywhere.” I make a mental note to check that as soon as I get access to a microscope. I’m sick of being blindsided by assuming things that should definitely be true and somehow aren’t.”

hylara is full of surprises

“Huh. Hive, any particular reason for the lack of vegetation? Do you need plants?” Hive and Max exchange a strange, tense glance before Hive answers, “the atmosphere is low pressure and very low in nitrogen. It wouldn’t support plant life very well.” “We have engineered strains for that. We’ll send you down some basic pioneers that can survive your conditions. They won’t be particularly verdant with that level of nitrogen but they’ll survive. Once we get some proper terraforming experts awake, they might have a strategy for keeping nitrogen in that soil.” “Our committee would need to talk about that,” Hive says. “We can’t just go randomly planting things.” “Of course! We’ll send them down and you guys can figure out what you want to use and how. We’re not ready to wake terraformers yet anyway.”

hive and max have some concern about this that they don't want to share

“Are you waking people yet?” Captain Klees asks. “We’re planning to wake our first round of colonists once we’ve started properly pipelining these resource drops, so probably in a week or so. Oh, Tal, you might be interested to hear that Teri’s been looking into the cerebral program for the colonists.” “It’s working alright, isn’t it?” Tal asks, a hint of panic in kes voice. “They’re dreaming properly?” “It’s working fine, so far as us non-experts can tell. But she found an altered version that we think might be Cory’s program for sending and receiving to the brains ke stole. None of us can make much sense of it, I suspect a lot of it is machine-developed and incomprehensible to human minds anyway, but – do you guys have reliable computer access down there?”

this isn't directly about hylara, but the timing of it coming up is suspicious. we already know the conspirators behind the AI project were planning to show it to someone, but we don't know who was looking for it or what purpose it was meant for

the presence of an existing hylaran colony opens possible answers for who, but raises further questions about how they could fit in. it does seem likely that it will relate to some secret being kept on hylara, but what?

Max flashes us a bright grin. “Everything’s going great for everyone, then!” They don’t seem to notice Hive’s tense look. “Our haulers have finished retrieving and sterilising the contents of your drop pod. I imagine you’ll all want to rest for a bit.” They lead the way outside. They’re not wrong. I certainly want a bit of time to go over everything. There are too many little things that mostly but don’t quite add up. There’s something here that the colony isn’t telling us. What the fuck is going on?

hive seems to be more bothered by this conversation than max. do they know something about the AI project?

what does all this add up to?

#time to orbit #time to orbit: unknown #ttou

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richardsphere · 22 days

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Leverage Redemption Log: The Work Study Job

Ultraviolet catastrophe is indeed a great bandname.

Girl walks in, "how could you"... im putting money on plagiarism? (its the only crime i can think of a student could figure out. Sure he could be working on a quantumphysics/nucear radiation based weapon for the military, but a student wouldnt know) Pressed continue, im right. Stage fright/anxiety. As someone who has never been diagnosed with anxiety but has some pretty anxiety-esque tendencies... this will be a hard episode for me. --- Skipping over the "client meeting" bit, cause nothing much happened there (besides the obvious) Back at the theatre Breanna has the powerpoint. Turns out, not only is he a fraud he's also a climate-change denialist (not because he doesnt believe in it, lobbyists just pay him).

Turns out Harry used to go to this school (he also used to do "little yellow pills")

Harry and Breanna are ideologically seperated? (i dont think they are, Harry isnt saying "the system works", for godssake he's on team leverage AKA team fuck the system) but we're gonna be force-fed some BS here. But Breanna is being really harsh here. Like all Harry is saying is "I have connections here, and I have built up enough credit with 'donations' that these doors are open to us".

Harry: Look guys, The slow option exists and any crime involved in getting her her research back could permanently destroy the girls legitimately and ultimately cost her the very future we're trying to get her back. If we steal it from him and she gets her stuff back, he'll just claim she stole it from him. Sad Parker: But I love crime! Harry: Ok you can do a little crime, as a treat.

Sophie is calling the shot: We'll at least give the official route a chance. (She does not seem to be under any illusions it'll work but have to get started somewhere) --- I agree with Sophie, "ultimate frisbee" is a dumb name for a sport.

Dean Alreadyforgothisname drops a tech billionaire, which feels like either someone we'll return to later in the episode or a future mark.

Elliot is stealing the camerafeed for Breanna, But gets spotted by someone who redirects him elsewhere to fix whatever needs fixing. Parker complains that college campusses, campussi? Campi? are too easy. The one way to prevent Elliot from kicking your ass: Be someone he genuinely likes and/or pities. (he's gonna be evil isnt he? Obligatory third act twist) Harry cant distract this guy too long, They find the stuff (its behind the whiteboard) but while Parker manages to hide Breanna is found --- Breanna, when a mark says "oh you're the janitor" your response is "yes let me just take the trash out", confirm their suspicions and biases. But now that you've failed the slam dunk exit time to flatter his glasses and ego, (and bait him with a new, promising student he can plagiarise next) He tries to bait her with an impossible question, but she sees through it and exposits that she actually knows what she's talking about. But breanna has made herself an opening next monday --- So he's looking to "sell" (techcically lease) the patent to this clean fusion research to an oil company.

Mr "genius" doesnt seem to understand what "installed backwards"means.

Breanna stalls and redirects the oilguy, Floyd is about to interfere with Elliot. Harry is going to request the hearing,

Floyd is suprisingly happy with Elliot. Are we shock-therapying the Oilcorpo?

Oh Floyd has friends (presumably the actual backbone staff of the institution, secretaries, accountants etc.) --- Ok so its a secret Illuminati order of janitorial staff. I've seen this joke before but also, dont mess with the janitors man. They know where the bodies are hidden as well as where to hide yours.

As far as taking Gray down, Elliot just won the fucking lottery.

Meanwhile Harry gets what amounts to an out-and-open admission of corruption from the Dean. (Rule number 1: Never admit to your crimes where Leverage is near. They have recorders in their ears. The Dean's job priviliges are hereby revoked.)

"we need all the crime". Simple line but it works. 8.6/10 --- New plan: Convince Gray that the girl stole the research from a third party and its way more valuable then he thinks.

Breanna tells Emma to help Sophie

Sophie on a greenscreen doing a Ted Talk, Elliot plants a book with Sophies thesis in the library.

Gray just entered the suplycloset/Sophies Lair. Sophie, you could've waited 1 minute, given him the time to steal stuff on camera and strengthen your futures.

--- Time to feign Tech Billionaire Status (that guy from earlier is getting dropped again) HARDISON IS PLAYING THE SPACEBILLIONAIRE! I am loving this. They really realised exactly how much leniancy a greenscreen gave them to work around this guys schedule. the legit look of glee on Sophie's face when she realises Hardison is joining this con. She (character) doesnt even need to fake it. (i dont want to presume on the feelings of the actor)

Hardison, you ducked up your coverstory in the first line. A tech billionaire admitting that their people did the work not themselves? God if only we lived in a world where that really happened. (i mean an ideal world obviously wouldnt have billionaires in the first place but one step at a time)

Gray has taken the bait. Sophie boner-baits him into a rush decision.

Problem with a violin scam, what if they have an actual buyer lined up. --- Ok so list of problems: Getting Emma in the room, Goading Gray to over-extend. Getting rid of a billionaire's security. thats 1 big problem and like, 2 quarters of a problem. (Emma is the legit issue, anxiety sucks)

Huh this tech billionaire is actually rather open minded and sensible. Ah they let him realise they're conning him to move the guards out of play.

All the janitors working together to funnel this guy into his doom. Gray tries to prevent Emma from meeting the Tech Billionaire just in time for commercial break. (he's about to gloat on a wire, while the billionaire is locked in a box with a functioning speaker hearing him admit everything) --- Oh yeah the billionaire went to school here, he's been in Gray's class and knows enough science to know that when a professor claims to have all the answers rather then admit "i dont know that, i'll look into it" from time to time its a big red flag. Obviously fuck billionaires, but on the scale of fictional billionares this guy is pretty good.

"I have Tenure" "We have a Harry".

#Leverage #Leverage redemption #leverage redemption season 2 #the work study job

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docholligay · 1 month

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I can't say I blame Kate for wanting to bail out of the fucking car that won't start here, either. I can't imagine just having to fucking sit and think about everything that's transpired, having to sit with it and not really having another frame of reference for how to handle literally any of it.

One thing I really like about this show is I think it actually follows through on the promise of many other magical girl shows: I think this is a pretty realistic take on how teenagers would respond to this sort of thing. And it has a wide range of reactions in that. Claire just wants to figure it out, Rose is basically shutting down and doing a weepy coward sort of thing, Rachel can get the job done but she is fucking DONE with this shit, and Kate is finding herself in the horns of all of this, trying to figure out where she stands. None of them are toying with fucking stupid secret third options, none of them are taking the choice of letting the world die or whatever, none fo them are lining up to die for a cause that was foisted upon them, either. all of them are struggling in ways that strike me as entirely organic.

#Doc watches Red Garden #Red garden ep 5

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redotter · 2 months

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Feeling really demoralized ngl. About writing, but it extends to other aspects of life. I am perpetually, chronically, tired and overwhelmed (zacalibita for the moldovans). I can barely keep up with the baseline existence of an adult human in capitalism. Going to work, doing chores, cooking, cleaning, brushing teeth etc all feel like SO MUCH and I am constantly behind on them. And then besides this I'm supposed to also have an exercise routine and social life? And some people out there have children too?!

Which brings me to writing. It took me. Over a literal decade to publish Soarers. Now it's out and i can't be bothered to run my social media to promote it. I made a spread sheet about what it would actually take to maintain all my platforms such that the algorithm picks up on me (i.e. post daily, edit everything neatly, do it in both romanian and english) and it's a minimum of 4 hours of work a week, and more realistically 8. And this is simply not maintainable for me. And now I have to make the choice: write without ever finding an audience, or just stop writing. Because anyway I average around 1k words a month, so instead of bending over backwards trying to find the time and energy for it, I could... clean the kitchen for once. And write "for myself" once a year when the moment naturally strikes.

(There's a secret third option of giving up my job and trying to "make it" as an author but I financially can't unless I'm selling the apartment which I would never push my partner to do because it's insanely reckless. There's also a super secret forth option of focusing on my writing AND my job and instead ignore everything else - tried that, caused major ripples in my relationships and I also got a fungal infection from not showering.)

This is exhausting. Is it supposed to be exhausting? Is everybody exhausted? Is life supposed to feel difficult no matter how easy it really is? Because by all objective standards, I'm living a VERY chill life, so why can't I just enjoy it and actually feel grateful and serene and all that? Why can't I go grocery shopping without the urge to bang my head on aisle doors? Why can't I change bed sheets without mentally psyching myself up? Why can't I be excited about going out on a date instead of feeling like I have to? And why can't I just post a stupid insta story about my book now and then?

#renu talks about publishing #not to be su*cidal on main but that's the fifth extra classified secret option

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nanenna · 10 months

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Okay, time for a little life update. Rambling under the cut.

TLDR: I haven't been able to write in a while and until I can get real life under control writing won't happen for a while longer.

I currently don't have the spoons to look for a new job AND write. Actually, I honestly don't even have the spoons for either right now, which tells me I need to scrape together some spoons to spend on finding a new job. Unfortunately that's not a particularly easy task.

For those of you that don't know: I decorate cakes at a grocery store for a living. My options are 1. transfer to a different location of the same chain store or 2. start my own business. As you can imagine neither of those is really feasible. For 1 a different location is going to have most of if not all of the same problems, even if I at least won't have the same awful store manager, assuming my awful manager will allow me to transfer (I've been told point blank he's not). For 2 I am the breadwinner of our household, we literally can't afford it.

I do have a secret third option: change careers. This is way harder, I'd be going from a labor intense career to a more office style career (I'm looking into things like data entry), and that's already a hard transition. But to complicate things: I'm turning 40 next year. You can cry age-ism all you want, it doesn't change the fact that being my age and trying to start completely over is near impossible.

So in short: until this situation can be sorted out I just don't have the energy or motivation to write. I've tried, it just isn't happening. I'm sorry to everyone who's been waiting on new chapters, I want to. I really do.

Be careful out there, watch out for burn out, take care of yourselves, and don't take no shit from awful managers.

#nenna rambles #personal

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a-pale-azure-moon · 4 months

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I have no actual plot ideas for you, but I would love to see a childhood friends type AU for Dimileth!

Thanks for the ask! I didn't think I had any plot ideas for this either, but then something went off in my brain and this got a bit long, so...under the cut it goes!

(Brevity is definitely not my strong point.)

I've seen this done in one of two flavors: Byleth being raised in the Kingdom for some reason, or the two of them meeting once as children and then recognizing each other during their first in-game meeting.

But consider a third option! Jeralt's band accepts a job for King Lambert. It's deemed too dangerous for Byleth (say she's about ten, which would make Dimitri about seven), so she stays behind in Fhirdiad with the innkeeper's family. They find her unnerving and she gets bored, so she sneaks into the castle and that's how she and Dimitri meet. They become secret friends while Jeralt is away, and Byleth gets particularly attached because Dimitri is her first real friend.

Meanwhile, Rhea comes to Fhirdiad for some church-related reason, and she's at the castle when Jeralt (with Byleth, who insisted on coming along in hopes of seeing Dimitri again) returns to collect his payment. Rhea offers him his old job (just like at the beginning of the game) and he reluctantly accepts and he and Byleth return with her to Garreg Mach. Byleth grows close with Rhea, Seteth and Flayn (when she gets there) and she trains to be both a teacher and a part time knight of Seiros. Rhea expresses a wish for Byleth to be her eventual successor.

Dimitri and Byleth maintain a regular correspondence until the Tragedy of Duscur. She hears about what happens to his family and for awhile, can't even get confirmation that he's alive, and her letters go unanswered. Turns out Rufus (or one of his goons) has been intercepting all of Dimitri's outside communications. Byleth eventually insists on going to Fhirdiad with or without permission. When she's refused entry to the castle, she forces her way in. (Nothing's going to keep her from her friend!)

I imagine a scenario where, once Byleth realizes Dimitri's situation at the castle, she arranges with Rhea and Jeralt to stay so Dimitri has someone else looking out for him. She and Dedue work in tandem to protect him, and she joins Dimitri when he suppresses the western rebellion (getting to meet Felix & Rodrigue in the process). I imagine Cornelia would probably try to scheme of some way to dispose of Byleth, possibly even figuring out what she is, but Byleth also gathers intel about her and starts helping Dimitri put the whole Duscur conspiracy together.

By the time Dimitri is sent the Officer's Academy, he and Byleth are AN ITEM, with Dedue's full approval (and a begrudging approval from Felix, since he saw her skills during the rebellion as well as the stabilizing presence she has on 'the boar;' Rodrigue is fully supportive). She isn't allowed to teach the Blue Lions for this reason, though she holds seminars that they're allowed to join, so she gets to befriend them all. She and Dimitri at least try to be subtle about their romance, but everyone pretty much knows they'll be getting married after the school year. Jeralt's not terribly enthused about it. Rhea's mostly on board, though she still wants Byleth to be her successor.

Wait...wait...I got it! Byleth teaches the Black Eagles and Edelgard tries to convince her to join her side, and Byleth plays along with it so she can gather more intel about Duscur! She gets wise to Edelgard's plans and the war gets stopped before it even begins!

#ask game #dimileth #my writing #my ramblings #dpsisquared #blue lions #holy kingdom of faerghus

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sotwk · 1 year

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Greenleaf's Day Out, Chapter 4: Secrets in the Stacks (young Legolas family fic)

Completed Work: Chapters [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6]

Summary: Legolas struggles with his reading lessons and finds help and encouragement from his scholarly brother, Prince Arvellas. (brief OC character profile in end notes).

Word Count: 3.2k

Content: G-rated, fluff, family, comedy

To Read on AOC: Link

Divider credit: @firefly-graphics

Greenleaf's Day Out

Chapter 4 - Secrets in the Stacks

Third Age 250

The Woodland Realm, Greenwood the Great

Legolas yawned and pushed the heavy, leather-bound tome across the table away from him. “I am bored,” he announced loudly. His complaint jarred the peace of the enormous and mostly deserted main hall of the palace library.

The elfling who sat on the opposite end of the long table raised her auburn head. “Well then,” she said crisply. “Keep it to yourself and keep quiet. Those of us who are not bored are trying to work.” She ducked her head once more and returned to the lengthy scroll unfurled before her, scratching furiously at it with a brown feather quill.

Legolas gaped at her for a moment, before the O-shape of his mouth twisted into a scowl. Screwing up his eyes, he stuck his tongue out as far as it could go and held it there, waiting for her to take notice.

A reproving sigh came from a voice familiar but unseen. “Your Highness, you know well it is not proper to make faces, especially at young ladies.”

Hearing this, the she-elf bristled and raised her head. Legolas immediately relaxed his face into an expression of innocence.

He had enjoyed barely an hour at the stables with Gelir when his morning of freedom was cut short. His mistake had been getting distracted and lingering in one place for too long. Word of his whereabouts passed on and on from mouth to ear until it eventually reached Ninniel’s attention. The next thing the princeling realized, he was seated behind a great oak desk in the palace library, with books and scrolls encircling him in stacks that rose above the top of his head.

“If that book is not to your taste, then perhaps we could find something better suited to your interests.” Belorfing was a palace tutor, and a member of the realm’s exclusive guild of academics and scholars. Legolas rather liked the nickname he’d heard palace residents use for them: “the Inkhands”, for the perpetual stains on their fingers from hours of spent copying texts. But this morning, Belorfing’s chief duty was to provide the young prince a helping of schooling for the day, upon the request of his wife Ninniel. She did not say it outright, but Legolas knew that being sent to study when he was supposed to be on holiday was a small punishment for his earlier acts of mischief.

“This text simply drones on and on without end,” Legolas groaned, his head flopping down against his outstretched arm. “I cannot seem to care about it.” The truth was, he had been given the choice of whether to practice his writing, his oral recitations, or his reading, and the last option had seemed to be the least taxing…at least at the time they were presented to him.

Tauriel’s head whipped up again, and she cast him a look heavy with incredulity and disdain. “That is the Valaquenta!” she sputtered, pointing at the rejected book. “How can you even think of calling the Valar boring?!”

“I did not say they were boring, I said this is!” Legolas retorted, slapping a hand on the closed book. “Whoever wrote it did not do a very good job, if they managed to make the likes of Ainur seem dull as rocks.”

“Perhaps if you placed more focus on completing your reading assignments quickly, you would be able to move on to more exciting texts in our lesson plan,” said Tauriel, primly tossing her auburn braid across one shoulder. “While you dawdle on the Creation accounts, I am about to start on the War of the Jewels.”

“You are not!” Legloas blurted out, his face suddenly flushing pink. It was a surprise to no one that Tauriel was ahead of him in their shared lessons, but realizing she was that far advanced struck him with shame.

“I am!” She sniffed and went right back to scribbling. “And you could be too, if you stopped wasting hours in play."

Lost for words, Legolas fought the urge to make another rude face. Not for the first time, he wished Eru could have blessed him with a different birthmate, so he could spend his days with someone a little less aggravating and a little more fun. Despite her stubborn focus on their studies, Tauriel did not aspire to be an Inkhand herself; she declared loudly and often that she would someday be a healer, an even more exclusive profession in the kingdom. Legolas didn’t understand how or why she was already thinking of such things. Not even his Ada has asked him to consider what he aspired to someday be, which was a relief since he hadn’t the slightest clue.

“Speed is of no importance here.” Their tutor’s voice was kind but firm, and defused the brewing conflict. “Your progress is your own; it is not a competition.” He rested a hand on one of the tall stacks and gave Legolas an encouraging nod. “Because this is an informal session today, you may choose whatever text you wish to read. Anything on this table, or even the entire library.”

“Truly?” Legolas brightened. “Anything?”

“Go back and explore the stacks, but do not take too long. Leave enough time to finish a few chapters before luncheon.”

“Thank you!” The princeling pushed back his chair with a loud scrape that echoed in the library’s silence. He bounded off, pretending not to hear yet more of Tauriel’s irritated clucking.

The library at Bâr Lasgalen, the Elvenking’s abode, held one of the largest archives of written work on the continent, second only to that of Osgiliath and even above that of Imladris, or so Belorfing boasted to Legolas. But the teacher also shared with him that it had not always been so. Belorfing, in his own youth, had been there during the first days of the great palace, and had since helped gradually build up the library and the collection it housed to its current grandeur.

“Your father is the most voracious reader I had ever known in my life,” Belorfing once said to an eager princeling, who craved stories about his father more than any tale of Elven lore or legend, since so seldom did the King speak of himself. “He has read perhaps every single book and scroll within these halls, some more than once, and can recite back passages from many of them to the letter.”

Little Legolas had laughed at this, believing it to be a joke. “Ada? A reader?” In all his few years, he didn’t think he had seen his father hold a book even once. The Woodland King was not a scholar but a great warrior, like Mirion and Turhir, or so everyone he knew proclaimed.

“His Majesty was born before Beren ever set eyes on Luthien Tinuviel,” Belorfing said, and then clarified further for the puzzled child, “He has been alive for many, many years. He has had much time to read to his heart’s content.”

The knowledge of his father’s passion for reading only made Legolas more determined to prove himself as well-versed as at least stodgy Tauriel. He stepped briskly among the high shelves, pausing every now and then to examine a title. But the choices were too many, and the young elf’s mind struggled with the burden of the decision to pick just one.

Within minutes, he bore a heavy stack of books in his arms that reached up to his chin. Realizing he was coming back to the same dilemma he had started with, Legolas set the pile back on the ground in a frustrated huff. Think, think, he commanded himself. This should not be so difficult, if silly Tauriel manages it so well.

A pensive glance upward led to a sudden inspiration, as his eyes beheld the higher shelves that rose up to the circular roof, the narrow balcony accessible by a single staircase. He had never browsed the upper level of the stacks. All the material from his assigned readings were kept on the lower floor, easily accessible. He had always assumed the more onerous volumes, only suitable for the Inkhands and therefore of little interest to him, were stashed up there gathering dust.

All the more would reading one of those books show Tauriel and more importantly, impress his father!

Mindful of his time limit, Legolas raced up the stairs, his agile footsteps producing no noise even in his rush. He was not sure why, since the upper level was not off limits as far as he knew, but he felt like he would get into trouble just for setting foot in the area.

He gazed back down and saw that Tauriel had not moved at all from her position, and that Belorfing was absorbed in his own reading at the farther corner of the room. He wondered how visible he would be from down there, when his head barely came above the balcony railing.

“ Focus,” he muttered, hearing echoes of Tauriel’s challenge in his mind. But the leather spines and covers in those shelves were even more confounding than the ones down below, and many of them bore no titles at all.

Now desperate, he pulled out a fat black tome closest to his reach and tucked it under his arm. As he turned to head back towards the staircase however, an oddity caught his eye. A dull gleam in the empty space left behind where he’d taken the book.

A keyhole.

He quickly removed several more of the surrounding volumes and revealed the small door, barely two feet high and even less in width, built into the back of the shelf. The elfling grinned, reached out and stuck his finger against the keyhole. In the next half-second, he yelped and jerked backward in shock--not from the thing he’d touched, as it was just an ordinary keyhole, but because of the unexpected voice that suddenly called him by name.

“Of course you of all people would uncover this little secret space in the vastness of this entire room.” His brother Arvellas crouched down, for the low shelf with the hidden door came up only to his waist. “Not that the discovery will do you any good, since only one key exists for this lock.”

“It is you, isn’t it?” Legolas grinned, standing on his toes gleefully as Arvellas started putting the books back on the shelf to conceal the door. “You have the key--this is your secret compartment!”

“You give me too much credit, little brother,” Arvellas said with a chuckle. “If you believe I have the power, cleverness, or nerve to build a hidden door in the king’s library. Nay, this existed long before my time. I am merely borrowing it from Ada. In fact, he holds the only key so only by his leave can I retrieve or leave anything.”

“What do you store in there?”

Arvellas stood straight and gave him a reproachful but gentle look. “It would not be a very good secret if I were to simply tell you, would it not?”

“I suppose.” Legolas frowned. “But if something wondrous actually dwells inside this library, I would just like to know what it is.”

“You need no secret door for that! Mysteries and treasures beyond the price of gold are all over these walls,” Arvellas said, with a sweeping gesture at the shelves around them. “If you think it tedious work to practice your letters for an hour or two a day, just imagine the labor it took from hundreds of scribes across many centuries to create all these.”

Legolas noted the black ink marks on the older prince’s fingers and palms, remembering that he was perhaps chief among those laborers in the Greenwood. Whereas his other brothers were rarely to be found inside the palace during the daylight hours, Arvellas was hardly seen outdoors while the sun was up. The only times Legolas could count on seeing him was when he went to the library for lessons, or at suppertime when their whole family dined together in the courtyard by the light of the stars.

“Here…” Arvellas held out a book to him, bound in rich green leather with gold lettering on the cover. “You may keep it for as long as you wish, although it is my hope that it would not take you too long to finish.”

“The Powers of Arda,” Legolas lifted the cover to read the author page. “By Arvellas Thranduilion.” His eyes widened. “You wrote this?”

“That and a few others.” Arvellas laughed. “Judging by your tone, you thought all I do is study and make copies of texts, of the works of others?”

“No,” Legolas denied, flushing scarlett in his lie. That was indeed what he had assumed. In the elfling’s mind, record keeping was the task of elves at least his father’s age, or older. He did not equate any of his brothers with those regal, albeit stuffy, lords.

“Belorfing told me you are struggling to finish the Valaquenta,” said Arvellas. “That account, however beautiful and true, was written in the Years of the Trees, its words from ages long past. Perhaps my version will be more to your liking. I have done my best to make a thorough narration, leaving none of the ancient knowledge out, but using language a bit more straightforward and, might I say, spirited."

Legolas hugged the book to his chest, his face awash with newfound admiration. “This sounds brilliant! I would like to read all of the books you’ve written.”

“Start with that one first and see how you fare.” Arvellas smiled and placed a guiding hand on the younger elf’s shoulder. “Come. Maybe a bit more quiet and privacy will help further your concentration.”

After relaying their plan to Belorfing, Arvellas escorted his brother through a door in the far-eastern corner of the library, a chamber that until then, Legolas had only managed to peer into, but never enter. It was the scribes’ workshop, or scriptorium, as Arvellas later explained. Only one other elf sat inside working steadily at his station. He glanced up, surprise registering momentarily over his face, but then he simply inclined his head to acknowledge the princes before returning to his task. He did not question the child’s presence.

The silence in the chamber was even more profound than that of the main hall, but Legolas found he did not mind it. He settled into a cushioned armchair that Arvellas placed beside his own work station, and the two brothers worked side-by-side. Legolas took to the task of reading his new book, and though every so often his thoughts would drift away from the pages, something about Arvellas’s near presence took him back. The sounds the elder prince made--the rustle of parchment sheets, the dance of his quill upon paper, fluid and effortless (unlike Tauriel’s furious scratching), even the occasional, barely perceptible murmur of a thoughtful, “ Hmm ”--made a music of their own.

Legolas lost awareness of how much time had passed until Belorfing finally came to fetch him, amazing the elfling with the announcement that study time was over. He had never managed to sit still and read for more than fifteen minutes before, much less a whole hour!

“If all books were written like yours, then I would not struggle so much to read and learn my history,” Legolas declared, skipping upon the stone patterns on the floor while Arvellas walked alongside him as they exited the library. Much to the elfling’s delight, his brother offered to go and take lunch with him. Legolas usually ate luncheon with only his mother, and occasionally his father, but rarely did his brothers pause their daily business to include it in their schedule.

“That is a kind compliment of my work, brother, but I am sure you exaggerate,” said Arvellas. “Countless authors and books exist in this world and as you grow and learn, you will find much to entertain and educate you.”

“Or perhaps the problem is with me,” Legolas said. He stopped and looked up at Arvellas with mournful eyes. “I think I simply hate reading,” he whispered, as though confessing a dreadful sin to Eru himself.

Arvellas’s laughter puzzled him. “Even if that were true, and you hate reading now, you have years ahead of you to change your mind,” he said. “It takes time for some. Ada once admitted to me that he read very little for the first thousand years of his life. His interest caught fire only after he met Ammë and found inspiration in their travels together.”

He smiled at the renewed hope in Legolas’s eyes and continued, “I myself refused to sit and read more than a few pages until I was twelve. Ammë found herself having to constantly reassure Ada that his son would not be illiterate.” He shrugged. “Like you, perhaps, I lacked interest in the work of others and desired to create accounts of my own.”

Legolas balked at the idea. “If you have seen my practice scrolls, you would find I am not much better at writing.”

“Then life as a scholar may not be for you, and that is all right. There are many other paths to choose from that are suitable for a prince of Greenwood,” concluded Arvellas.

Legolas looked relieved as he considered this, but then blurted out in genuine distress, “I just want to do well enough in my lessons so I can keep up with Tauriel! She thinks I am a halfwit!”

“A halfwit ?” There was a hint of secret knowledge in Arvellas’s smile. “She told you so?”

“Not in those exact words,” Legolas admitted. “But the other things she says make it clear what her thoughts of me are. She is so… so… vexing .”

“Then we must correct her perception of you,” said Arvellas. “I shall speak to Ammë on her return and make some arrangements--”

He blinked, cut off and caught off-guard by his brother’s loud whoop. The excited Legolas promptly turned a somersault, flipped into a handstand, and proceeded in that position the rest of the way into the dining hall. Arvellas followed behind, amused by his brother’s joy and yet wondering what he might have gotten himself into.

Continue reading: Chapter 5 - Royal Welcome

NOTES:

ARVELLAS THRANDUILION 3rd Prince of Mirkwood Year of Birth: Third Age 89 Most noteworthy skills: various degrees of literacy and fluency in many Middle-Earth tongues (eventually including limited understanding of Khuzdul and even of the Black Speech) Notable physical feature: light facial hair (mustache and beard, appearance varies in time) Hair Color: dark brown Eye Color: blue Etymology: "King's Leaf" (Sindarin)

BAR LASGALEN ("House of Greenleaves" - Sindarin) A grand palace and surrounding lands built by Thranduil in Second Age 2022, located north of Amon Lanc just east of the Gladden Fields. While only a prince at the time, Thranduil built the palace for his beloved, Lady Maereth, after she had refused his proposal of marriage. This gesture of his, among other deeds to prove his devotion, swayed her decision and they were married a few years after its completion. Upon the death of Oropher and the ascension of Thranduil to the throne in SA 3434, the lands of Bâr Lasgalen became the new capital of the Greenwood Realm and seat of the royal family.

#thranduil #thranduil fanart #lotr fanfic #tolkien #middle earth #legolas brother #thranduil fanfiction #legolas #lotr elves

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bonesandthebees · 1 year

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So the Techno conversation. I’ll start of be saying that I continue to love the Wilbur-Tommy-Niki-Jack vibe. That’s such a great group to read. Also, Tomy just casualty lounging on Wilbur now that he knows he didn’t get touched a lot to make him used to touch again (and also checking if it’s okay or helping/having the intended effect). Also, Glass!Jack breaking the ice before it fully forms, we love to see it.

Anyway, so Techno comes in and he’s basically instantly eyeing how close Tommy is to Wilbur. I’m assuming that’s the protectiveness kicking in. Also, poor Niki did not know what she started. I’m sure she regretted asking Techno to stay minutes after she did it. Unless she wanted to know the answer to the same questions. She not Jack tried to intervene. Tommy did try, either because he already knew about Schlatt not listening and how sensitive lf a topic it is, or because he wants to believe that Wilbur is against Schlatt. (again he kind of already knows). He also knows how badly Wilbur got screwed by being chosen to become the Pythia. None of that was his choice a a from what Tommy can piece together it was awful (it is, Wilbur is just waist deep in denial as a coping mechanism).

It makes sense that Techno wants answers to his questions. He saw his chance to get those answers so he kept pushing, but none of them were ready for the result. It also gives us more inside into the deathlings and how the Pythia looks from the outside. To them it looks like he had a lot of power. It’s one of the arguments Tubbo already made. To them he was probably living his best life. To them he’s just as corrupt, but we know he wasn’t. We know Schlatt doesn’t listen and Wilbur never wanted to be there. We know how much he hated his life even if he could never admit it to himself.

It’s also very interesting to note how long Wilbur kept holding pushing back and holding on to the confidential relationship. And it’s even more interesting to see what broke him, it’s not at the mention that he’s bad at his job (at least not the first time), it’s at the idea that Clara wanted him to get kidnapped. It’s at the idea that she wanted him to be unable to fitful his purpose because to him that makes his life useless. It’s the idea that She would want to dispose of him even before he got kidnapped because he failed her. That’s his biggest fear. But he knows he got the warning and he knows he failed to get Schlatt to listen to him and he just keeps failing Her over and over again (or so he believes).

Any it’s so interesting because Techno was basically projecting his opinions onto the Pythia and looking for confirmation or proof that he’s right or wrong. He’s looking for a person to blame. He’s trying to find out if the Pythia is to blame and if so, how far because he can not imagine the Pythia being in that position and not having any power at all so he must be at least somewhat do blame. He has to be somewhat corrupt. It’s also pushing his faith is Kristin vs. His hate for Clara. She’s supposed to protect the people but she’s failing them (she’s failing Wilbur too), so Techno wants to know where the disconnect is. Is it Clara failing the people or actively making it worse for fbs people OR is it her Vessel being bad at his job?

It’s the secret third option of Schlatt not respecting Clara or the Pythia at all and doing as he pleases and ignoring the guy who can literally see the future. And now all of them have to live with that knowledge. And now all of them can start to realise just how fucked Wilbur’s position was. Knowing the future but not having the power to stop it when the people who do don’t listen to you. They also have to live with the knowledge that he knew he was getting kidnapped (he didn’f know that was what was going to happen, but he knew it was something). That has to hit, especially on Tommy, who kidnapped him. Also, they have to realise that they kidnapped him for nothing right? That’s why nothing changes with Schlatt’s rule, he wasn’t listening anyway. I wonder if they feel guilty. Part of them has to be, but at the same time, Wilbur is kinda better of now so *shrugs*.

And that’s long enough for now.

(2/2)

-🌲

tyyy i also love writing the wilbur - tommy - niki - jack vibe. they're such a fun group. especially with how well jack can break the ice if things start getting tense. also, I love showing small ways that wilbur and tommy are getting more comfortable with each other like you pointed out with the small touches.

yeah techno eyeing how close they are was him immediately scanning to see if tommy was in danger. if he seemed uncomfortable at all or if any of the pythia's body language seemed threatening/hostile. also, yeah, niki kind of regretted asking techno to stay the minute he started grilling the pythia but there was nothing she could do to get him out once he was going.

tommy tried to cut in because he didn't want to freak wilbur out. techno came out of the gate seeming at least somewhat hostile, even if that wasn't his intention, and tommy didn't want wilbur to feel like he was being attacked. also, like you pointed out, tommy also has put together a lot of the pieces and has figured out how bad it actually was for him at the palace. but no one else knows that, and that's kind of tommy's own fault.

yeah I wanted to remind the readers how the deathlings (besides tommy) view the pythia. they genuinely have no clue that things in the palace were the way they were. they all fully believe the pythia had a ton of power and influence and even if he's not as much of an asshole as schlatt is, they think he was at least somewhat in line with schlatt's policies/attitude towards governing.

I really wanted wilbur's outburst to feel like a genuine slip he just couldn't hold in anymore. so techno pushed and pushed, and he kept getting worked up until he finally broke at the suggestion that clara wanted this to happen. because he can't let himself consider that. he tells himself over and over again that he was chosen by her and therefore she has to care about him because if she doesn't he has nothing.

now I do wanna say that techno's motivations in my head were a bit different from how they came across to wilbur and consequently the readers. sure, it seems like he's trying to find blame and project an opinion, but that wasn't really what he was doing. if you notice just a bit before wilbur blows up, techno says, "I'm not trying to attack you. I'm just saying some things aren't adding up."

techno was trying to get a reaction out of the pythia. because the more he thought about it, the more it didn't make sense how easy the kidnapping was and how little has seemed to change in the government with his absence. that paired with what techno has already learned about the pythia made him a bit suspicious that things in the palace might not have been exactly what they seemed. of course, he wasn't sure about this and also thought maybe the pythia really was a dick who had all this power blah blah blah so there were some truths in the things he was accusing wilbur of, but he wasn't sure. and since the pythia seemed to clam up talking about this stuff most of the time, techno figured out if he pushed in the right direction, he might get him to say something else. and it worked.

yeahhhh theres a lot of things the deathlings now have to consider with what wilbur told them. the implications that he knew he was going to be kidnapped and also that they kidnapped him for nothing. I can't wait to explore the consequences of his outburst more :D

so glad you enjoyed spruce!!

#ask #spruce anon #through a glass divine

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