#tamsyn muir you're so smart

[oksanasanna]

Re-reading The Unwanted Guest and realizing that Ianthe doesn't actually see Coronabeth as a mediocre cavalier. That's Babs trash talking because he knows Corona was his only real competition.

[jupyt3r]

The Spare

"A tournament? Did you win?”

"Of course. What do you take me for? I am my father's son.”

Corona nodded, satisfied. "Good. That's good. I will require nothing less than the future cavalier primary for this afternoon’s activities."

"And what, pray tell, have you co-opted my afternoon for so soon?”

"You're going to train me to use a rapier.”

Babs did look at her then, hefting his bag higher on his shoulder as he turned his face up to meet her resolute gaze. “Why would I do that?" he asked, confused.

Corona held her head high, eyes shifting ahead of them. “Let's call it an academic curiosity."

Coronabeth Tridentarius, the Crown Princess of Ida, Heir to the Third House (The Mouth of the Emperor, The Shining Dead, The Procession), the more shining, golden half of the Tridentarii, was utterly sick of this shit.

She leaned against the railing of the observation deck at the docking bay, golden curls seeming to somehow billow despite the absence of a breeze, her light robes draping around her. Her violet eyes moved with singular purpose, tracking a distant set of glowing headlights through the plex dome as they approached through the subsurface ocean. She tapped one booted foot impatiently against the stone floor. A lone scratch on her cheek marred the otherwise faultless expanse of her tanned skin.

When she was satisfied with the proximity of the arriving vessel, she pushed off the railing and took the stairs down two at a time, shoving through the guards and onto the tarmac before the sub had even docked. She gave the impression of a comet as she made her way through to the hatch, gleaming hair and fabric streaming behind her. She came to a stop, hands on her hips, as the clank of the craft making contact reverberated through the metal frame. In front of her, the ramp lowered onto the concrete, a chilled gust enveloping her as the pressure equalized.

The descending ramp revealed a lean, athletic figure with a voluminous wave of honey brown hair, mussed slightly on one side as if he'd been sleeping on it. He wore soft, navy colored clothes, a rapier at his hip. It bounced in concert with his footsteps as he exited the craft, hands clasped around the strap of the bag he wore over his opposite shoulder. His hazeled blue eyes fell upon the princess, and his mouth twitched as if to smile, before he thought better of it. He did not stop or turn to meet her, instead continuing his procession to the grand marble building ahead of him. Coronabeth spun and fell easily into step with him, her lithe legs having no trouble matching his shorter stride.

“Corona," he greeted with a curt nod, not glancing in her direction. “I'd not expected an entourage. I would have dressed properly if I'd known."

“I was going to comment on that drab ensemble of yours, Babs," she replied. “I much prefer that smart little jacket of yours. I trust your studies these past weeks have gone well?"

“‘Studies’ is not the word I would use to describe it, unless a dueling tournament counts as an exam.”

"A tournament? Did you win?”

"Of course. What do you take me for? I am my father's son.”

Corona nodded, satisfied. "Good. That's good. I will require nothing less than the future cavalier primary for this afternoon’s activities."

He sighed as he pushed through the plex door, tired from his journey from the frigid South Palace and very much wanting to unpack in his room, alone. "And what, pray tell, have you co-opted my afternoon for so soon?”

"You're going to train me to use a rapier.”

Babs did look at her then, hefting his bag higher on his shoulder as he turned his face up to meet her resolute gaze. “Why would I do that?" he asked, confused.

Corona held her head high, eyes shifting ahead of them. “Let's call it an academic curiosity." 

"If it's academic stimulation you seek, I'm sure Ianthe has some theory you could read, and, you know, you really should be more familiar with–"

“I don't want Ianthe’s help. I want yours, and you'll do as I say, Tern."

He replied more softly now, chastened. “This wouldn't have anything to do with–?" He tapped his cheek in the same location as her scrape.

She crossed her arms. “It's nothing. I was sparring with some visitors and Ianthe was captured in conversation by their cav and she lost focus. A bone grazed me."

“I see," he replied, a hard edge to his voice. "I understand, but I don't think your father would approve. Swordplay is not befitting of your station.”

She rounded on him, all gilded intensity beating down like the sun. "My station ? My station is nothing more than a figurehead, a sack of meat you throw into the ring to take blows or collect praise while someone else does all the work. I don't give a damn what Father thinks because he's not going to know. I need to be able to do something . So you couldn't possibly understand because all you do are somethings, gallivanting around the planet to see this tutor and that, collecting medals and accolades.” She quieted the flames in her eyes down to smoldering, amethyst embers and placed a hand on either of his shoulders. " Please , Babs. I'm asking now, not telling. Do it for Corona, not the princess. I need this.”

And he was helpless then, captured in her jeweled gaze and putty in her hands. "Alright.”

Corona’s face lit up immediately, and she stepped forward to press a kiss to his forehead before releasing him. "Oh, thank you! I promise I'll listen well. Meet me in the training room once you've dropped off your things.”

She turned and left him standing there feeling glad that there was no one to witness the blush that colored his cheeks.

—

 

Naberius Tern entered the training room, having re-gelled his hair and changed into his smart little jacket. He'd pinned another medal to it from his latest victory.

He spotted Corona at the other end of the long piste, toying about with what he could already tell was some terribly weighted excuse for a rapier. He didn't know where she might have procured the thing, but she was doing all sorts of silly flourishes which were honestly an affront to the sport.

“Put that thing down before you injure yourself. Or your pride," he ordered.

"My my, Babs. I didn't know you were in the habit of defending my pride. I'm just having a bit of fun is all. You always look so serious when you do it.”

“I take my duty seriously," he replied seriously. "First things first, remove your robe. It will only get in your way.” In turn, he began shrugging out of the jacket which he'd only just put on.

Corona pinched the gossamer fabric of her sleeve between her thumb and forefinger. “Appearances are everything, though. If I'm caught in a real fight I'll have the robes on."

“Right. Well, just the sleeves, then," he instructed with some frustration, “those will definitely hinder you."

She shrugged her arms out of the sleeves, flipping the fabric over her shoulders like a cape as Babs strapped his glove on and looked pointedly elsewhere.

“Next. The grip," he said, unsheathing his own blade in a fluid motion, the familiar whisper of metal on scabbard ringing through the tall room. “Start with your thumb on–”

"I know how to hold it. Despite what you may think, I do more than gossip at your matches,” she said self-assuredly, holding the sword out before her, blade perpendicular to her body to show her hand position beneath the basket. She was, surprisingly, correct.

"Alright,” he said, grinning dangerously. "Let's see how much attention you've paid, then. Call.”

“Coronabeth Tridentarius," she enunciated clearly, a smile creeping over her lips to match his at the thrill of being invited to duel.

“Naberius Tern," came the reply in kind. Babs thought dimly that he really should have been ashamed to challenge someone so far beneath him in skill, given that he ranked top ten in the House, but was more concerned with the opportunity to prove his skill to the princess, up close and personal.

It was over before it began. Babs advanced like a perfect viper into her space, forcing her back. He didn't toy with her. He lunged and made a single thrust to which she had, really, an admirable attempt at a parry for one's first duel, but the sword was slow and unfamiliar in her hand. The silver point of Babs’ rapier stopped a hair's breadth from her chest.

Corona let loose a frustrated roar and threw the training sword to the ground, turning on her heel and pacing the room in a blaze of golden fury.

“Come now, you can't have expected to win that. And honestly, that parry wasn't bad. Would you rather I have gone easy on you?"

“No," she groaned, “No! But I thought I could survive longer than that. Pathetic."

He wasn't sure what to say because it was, in truth, one of the more pathetic duels he'd witnessed, but that was to be expected. And he wanted to say something comforting because he was, it turned out, in the habit of defending her pride. "You'll get better. Now we have a starting point. Come on, pick it up and we'll make sure whoever scratched up your face will be sorry the next time you meet.”

“I don't want to hurt them," she said sullenly as she crossed the room towards him and the abandoned sword.

“Well, you can use your new prowess to threaten to whip Ianthe into shape then. I don't know."

She stopped. “What?" 

"All I'm saying is, if I had been here, I wouldn't have let Ianthe let her guard down like that. It was clumsy of her.”

Corona’s face iced over. "It was not her fault.”

"Wasn't it? If she hadn't been distracted, would you be walking around with this?” He bravely reached out and laid a gloved hand on her cheek, over the angry scratch.

Corona immediately pushed it off, furious. "Ianthe is doing everything she can to keep up this ruse for me. I can't fault her for a single mistake when she's doing the work of two adepts. And she already blames herself enough as it is, so don't you dare bring it up to her when I'm the reason we have to do this in the first place."

“Corona…” Babs softened his demeanor, hand already twitching to comfort her even though she'd just swatted him away. “You know it can't be helped. You can't control the circumstances of your birth any more than the rest of us.”

“I just feel so… useless . I need her to keep up the lie and you to fight for me.” She turned away and sat on the bench lining the edge of the room opposite the wall of mirrors, pulling her knees to her chest. Babs had never seen her look so small before.

He lowered himself slowly to sit next to her. "Is that what this is about, then? Defending yourself if I fail you? Corona, I am sworn to you, I will never–"

She shook her head rapidly, curls tumbling around her face, and the dam of her emotions broke through in a river of tears. “I feel so powerless. I'm no use to anyone. I want to protect her ! I want her to need me too! She works so hard, and I'm just– hic– a spare, I'm n-nothing…”

Unable to restrain himself any longer at this outburst, Babs wrapped his long arms around her and pressed his face into the golden halo of her hair. “Stop. You are not nothing– don't ever say that.”

She turned into his chest and crumpled, sobs wracking her shoulders as he held her. They stayed like that until she quieted, or at least until starved breaths weren't tearing their way down her throat. Babs took her cheeks in his hands and turned her face towards him, her puffy eyes meeting his abashedly as he stroked a thumb to catch the tears which were still streaming.

“Coronabeth. You are not nothing. Just as I was born to be a cavalier, and Ianthe was born to be a necromancer, you were born to rule. You are the future of your house– don't give me that look. You're good at it, I can already tell, and so can your father. Never mind your mother, she's never happy with anything. But people like you. People want to follow you.” He paused, hesitating, before deciding that if he didn't move now then he never would, taboo be damned.

“I would follow you anywhere."

And he pressed his mouth desperately to hers, hot and wet tears between them, and for a brief moment everything was right in the world. Coronabeth unfolded herself and rose up into him and felt for the first time in a long time that she was more than nothing, realizing that the prince whom she wanted so badly to be admired her too.

But it was only for a moment. His was not the attention that she ultimately craved. With their foreheads pressed together, panting for air, Corona’s eyes hardened to stone and her expression sobered. She pulled back and sat to her full height, no evidence of her outburst visible aside from the wet streaks and flush on her cheeks.

"I think… you forget your station," she said evenly, only looking at Babs through the mirror across the room.

He met her reflected gaze, tucking a stray lock of his hair that had come loose. “Yes, princess."

He pressed his lips into a thin line before rising from the bench. He retrieved the shitty sword from where it lay on the floor, and turned back and offered the pommel out to Corona.

"Come on, then. On your feet. We'll make a cavalier of you yet.”

[yvesdot]

*opens tomb*

*crawls out*

*wipes my beautiful shining wet hair with a convenient towel*

Welcome to the yves. The Locked Tomb official fanfiction organizer!

All the fanfiction I plan to write (...) for The Locked Tomb, with links to parallel posts & Google Docs for each once I start posting them. AO3 ratings used to describe citrus levels, though no explicit content in this post, and possible spoilers depending on your definition.

These are now ALL complete and posted, both under the cut and on AO3! Enjoy!

key

✅complete

🚧 needs final edits

📝writing

⁉️unwritten

HOUSES I-III: INFERNA, PURGATORIA, PARADISA

INFERNA [E] ✅

Passion and pain taste the same when I’m weak (Tove Lo, Passion and Pain Taste The Same When I’m Weak)

Harrowhark wakes in the night to Gideon saying her name.

Extremely inaccurate Lyctor erotica based on the mechanics of the last chapter in GtN.

PURGATORIA [M] ✅

Even hell would feel like heaven with you / So what can I do? (Shaun Frank, Heaven)

For Gideon’s part, it’s not as bad as it could have been.

Prologue to INFERNA. Meditations from Gideon on (also inaccurate) Lyctorhood.

PARADISA [E] ✅

Freaky, nasty, bite me, I bite back (Megan Thee Stallion, What’s New?)

The room is dark when Harrow wakes up in it, muting the mess of her laundry and the closet and all the other shapes that seem determined to trick her as her eyes adjust.

Harrow and Gideon get one more night between the pool scene and the events of the next day.

HOUSES IV-VI: STAY, OVER, GLAD HE'S GONE

STAY [E] ✅

I'm better if they blunt, I don't really wanna hunt / So why complicate it? (Tove Lo, bitches)

Someone knocks at the door to the Ninth House quarters in Canaan House.

Gideon x trans!Coronabeth. Naberius is there. Harrow is there.

OVER [E] ✅

Know we’re not kids anymore / Know we’ve both been here before (Tove Lo, dont ask dont tell)

The atmosphere of the First kaleidoscopes away in streamers of green and black and blue as their shuttle departs.

Gideon and (trans!)Harrow have made it off the First unscathed (canon is easily handwaved!) and have an hour to themselves on the ship home.

GLAD HE’S GONE [E] ✅

I think you’re sleeping with me, dreamin’ ‘bout her / I hope I’m mistaken (Tove Lo, Mistaken)

[literally entirely pornography]

Naberius x Coronabeth demonstrate why Naberius x Coronabeth is a bad idea. For the Naberius stans, if you’re… out… there?

HOUSES VII-IX: OVERTUR(N)E, FITTING FALL, ONE FLESH, NO END

OVERTUR(N)E [M] ✅

If you wanna start a fight / You better throw the first punch / Make it a good one (P!ATD, The Good, the Bad, and the Dirty)

Ever since it has become clear that Harrowhark is not getting any taller, and worse, that Gideon is not getting any shorter, everything has been all out of sorts, and so, a year or two before the myriad year of our lord—the ten thousandth year of the King Undying, the Necrolord Prime, and everything else associated—Harrowhark Nonagesimus breaks into Gideon Nav’s tier and spends an hour perusing her mags.

What it says in the first line.

FITTING FALL [M] ✅

I don’t want to be afraid, the deeper that I go (P!ATD, House of Memories)

Finally Harrow spots a set of double doors at the edge of the auditorium, and, feeling certain she will suffocate if she stays a second longer, escapes Aiglamene and Ortus.

Chapter 41 royalty AU continues, becomes present tense, gains backstory, develops erotic Jewish metaphor, and resolves as an explicitly bad coping mechanism. #CanonWasRight

ONE FLESH, NO END [M] ✅

If you're a lover, you should know / The lonely moments just get lonelier / The longer you're in love than if you were alone (P!ATD, House of Memories)

Gideon’s heart restarts, and her breath returns, and when she opens her eyes Harrow’s big, worried ones are all gold, and before she can say anything smart Harrow takes her face in her hands and kisses her.

A lot of things should definitely happen post-Perfect Lyctorhood. Don’t worry! In case Tamsyn Muir has more important things to do, I made sure they happen here. One instance of Ianthe for fuck Ianthe purposes.

THE GIDEON THE NINTH MASTERDOC

A line-by-line analysis of everything in GtN that means more than it seems, from foreshadowing to thematic parallels to my personal fee-fees on Naberius Tern. On hold so that my head doesn't explode.

DOMINICUS

FORCED HAND [G] ✅

What… is this. (secret self-insert fic for me and a friend)

[radley-writes]

So, as someone wanting to study more and get back into literature, I need some suggestions/tips. I left college years ago/never got a chance to finish. So I am a bit behind, lol. My focus is on Anthropology and Theology, but I want to be open minded to new information and areas of study. In a way, I want to strengthen my rhetoric, core knowledge and challenge myself. I followed you so I can start doing that, but sometimes have a hard time following the context, if I am being boldly honest with you. I am curious what books you would personally suggest for a person re-entering the world of reading, writing and studying so I can get better? And even if you have any direction or guidance? I really respect your opinion and enjoy your content as well. I want to be able to follow along and be like, "Yeah, I know exactly what you're saying!" You're so smart and well read! I hope you have a wonderful day today! xx

You are a brave soul, if you followed me in the hopes of gleaning any intellectual or academic fulfilment. 99% of this blog is clownery. Nonetheless, thank you for the message!

As someone who ducked out of education after university, I'm not the best person to advise you on re-entering academia. However, as someone who, after finishing my degree, didn't engage with original fiction for over a year, but is soon (ish) going to become a trad-pubbed author, I can pass on some suggestions that helped me ease back into the world of writing & reading!

Start with books you enjoyed when you were younger. The familiarity makes them far less daunting. If you want to improve your writing skills, read those books critically. Try to identify rhetorical devices, establishing character moments, points where the momentum of the pacing changes, etc. Chart out the plot on a piece of paper, if you like visuals. Buy a second-hand copy and scribble all over it. Try to think of the book as a clanking, belching steampunk device and yourself as the engineer who's deconstructing it to understand how it works!

For specific reccs - I'm unsure of your likes or dislikes in fiction. Here's a random selection from my nearest bookshelf!

Bartimaeus trilogy, Jonathan Stroud (my comfort books!)

Monstrous Regiment, Terry Pratchett (another old favourite!)

The City We Became, N. K. Jemisin (glorious prose, Lovecraftian horror remixed & reclaimed.)

Vicious, V. E. Schwab (I prefer Vengeful and Addie LaRue, but Vicious is the OG masterclass in non-linear storytelling!)

Cloud Atlas, David Mitchell (Multiple intersecting plots that weave into what I honestly think is one of the best novels of the 21st century...)

Silas Marner, George Eliot (Is is Eliot's best work? No. Is it her best writing? Also no. Did it make me cry like a little bitch? You fucking bet. Disney-film emotions in a classic adult novel.)

Nevernight, Jay Kristoff (This book is Problematic, to say the least. Its selling points are 1) gore 2) sex 3) more gore and sex. Some of that sex features underage characters. And, when you find out who the narrator is, the graphic nature of these scenes goes from 'ugh seriously?' to '...ew.' These sex scenes are, thankfully, skippable (why, you might ask, are they even there.....??). But this series means a lot to me personally, and I would recommend it based on the fact that it offers a great lesson in adding flounce and drama to your writing!)

Gideon the Ninth, Tamsyn Muir (for quirky, comedic, OTT-in-a-stylistic-way writing (trust me, that's hard to pull off.))

Leviathan Wakes, James S. A. Corey (for pared-down yet effortlessly descriptive & funny prose, plus some of the best character work I've ever read (later in the same series, at least). This is accessible semi-solid SF at its best; it explains complex physics in layman's terms.)

If you're interested in religion & literature from an academic perspective, The Stripping of the Altars is on my shelf - a fascinating delve into late medieval Catholicism. Of Giants: Sex, Monsters, and the Middle Ages is also a favourite - it features a lot of what it says on the tin.

Happy reading~