#this is marion's fault and she knows what she's done

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Unexpected 30

Sequel to Unsolicited

Warnings: non/dubcon, pregnancy, car sex, Lloyd being the worst, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

Three days since Lloyd’s return and you’re already suffocating. He may not be his most volatile but he’s always better in small doses. So you wake up a bit earlier than usual and gear up; leggings, cotton shirt, a hoodie too tight to zip, and your pregnancy belt.

He rolls onto his back and groans. His bruises are fading but he’s still in pain. He lets you know it. His griping is driving you nuts. You need a break before you beat him up yourself.

“Where are you going?” He asks groggily, rubbing his cheek only to wince as he touches the bruises there.

“For my walk.”

“Your walk?” He pushes himself up on an elbow to look at you, “what does that mean?”

“It means you were gone for a month and I got a month of freedom,” you sneer, “it’s nice out, so I like to walk around the neighbourhood a bit. It’s good for the baby.”

“You shouldn’t go alone,” he sits up and groans, rubbing his discoloured stomach.

“I can handle myself, Lloyd, it’s almost eight in the morning, there aren’t any thugs out their waiting to jump me,” you scoff, “the only thug around here is in this room.”

“Hm,” he lays back on the pillows, “fine.”

“How about I bring you a coffee before I go,” you offer, “hate to say it, but I think you’re in worse shape than me. I just really don’t care if you’re left to fend for yourself.”

“Wow, you know, peaches, I think I overestimated you,” he shifts and lets out another strained groan, “you’re not as nice as I thought.”

“Well, you could get your own coffee. I mean, it’d be justice considering I can’t have any. And it’s all your fault.”

“Baby cakes,” he whines.

“Ugh, see, this is exactly why I need to get out,” you shake your head, “I’m not your mother, Lloyd, she’s gone home.”

“But you are mommy,” he grins and you resist the urge to find something to throw at him.

“Ew, I’m gonna get the coffee on, then I’m gonna get my shit and go,” you turn on your heel and shuffle away, “I have faith in you, Marion, you can make it to the kitchen.”

“I really wish you wouldn’t call me that,” he bemoans.

“You’ve called me worse and you know it.”

💎

You leave the coffee dripping from the machine and a mug beside it. The burner will keep it warm long enough for him to find a way down. You shove your feet into your sneakers, leaving the laces loose as you can’t bend far enough to do anything about it. Besides, your feet are swollen as fuck.

You put in the wired earbuds that came with your phone and turn on the podcast you found about some old reality show you used to watch when you were younger. You remember how you would wake up in time to watch it on primetime before heading out for another night shift. Colin’s looming memory hardly makes you think anymore, he’s just someone who was there, just a bystander in your wasted life.

You follow the long drive and breathe in the fresh scent of pollen, your allergies tickling behind your eyes. You’ll have to water the bulbs Harlan planted when you get back. They’re starting to sprout up. 

Birds bathe in the marble bath and tweet around the feeder Dottie helped you hang. In Lloyd’s absence, you’d done your best to distract yourself, to do the things you could never do in your old duplex. To enjoy what you could before a baby got in the way.

You reach the gate and stop to take a breath. You brace your back, just over the top of the thick belt, and start down the street. The neighbourhood is sparse, a collective of oversized mansions across lush fields, framed with perfectly trimmed hedges. You try to meter your breath as you reach the end of the Hansen estate.

As you pass in front of the next house, you nearly scream. A man nearly bowls you over as he hops through his gate and catches your arm as he steps back, steadying both of you. Your earbuds tug free of your ears as your hand hits the wire. The stranger lets you go and pulls out a wireless bud from his ear.

“I’m so sorry,” he says, “I didn’t hear you coming.”

“Me either,” you say as you lay your hand on your stomach, his eyes following the habitual touch, “I wasn’t paying attention at all.”

“Neither was I,” he chuckles and scratches his neck, just along the stubble that weaves into his thick beard. He’s familiar in a very unnerving way. “I’d feel awful if I’d knocked you over,” he nods to your stomach, “both of you.”

“Oh, uh, well, it’s all good,” you say as you pull up your dangling earbuds, “I was just about to turn back at the end of the street anyway. Can’t make it much further.”

“Ah, do you mind company? I was headed in the same direction.”

“Please, I don’t want to slow you down,” you note his obvious running gear.

“I don’t mind. Always good to get to know the neighbours,” he smiles, his eyes sparkling at you, “Andy.”

He offers his hand and you consider it. You shake it stiffly and return your name. 

“So, which house do you live in?” He asks.

“Just next door,” you point over the tall brick wall before heading away from it, resuming your usual path.

“Hansen’s… wife? Wow, I didn’t even know he was married.”

“Oh? I guess… I guess we don’t go out much.”

“Well, I’ve seen you here and there,” he admits as he walks with you, keeping an easy pace with you, “I just didn’t know how to say hi, I guess.”

“Mmm, right,” you nod as you wrap up your earbuds around your phone and tuck it back in the pocket of your leggings, “I guess I’m not very… observant. Especially since I got knocked up. I tend to zone out a bit.”

“My wife was the same way,” he intones, “do you know your shoes are untied?”

“I’m aware. I can’t really reach.”

“Hold up,” he stops you with his arm across your path, “it’s a tripping hazard.”

“But–” you stop yourself from arguing that they’re tucked in.

He tugs them out from under your feet and you feel him knotting them tight. He reappears as he stands up and you continue down the lane. He’s friendly enough and it wouldn’t be so bad to know someone beyond the man you call your husband.

“So, you said your wife was pregnant… how old is your kid?”

He’s quiet as he takes a breath, “he was fifteen.”

You cup your hand over your stomach, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” he says, “really. I’m not saying it to get sympathy. It’s just… what happened.”

“Still, it’s a lot to go through. Losing a child,” you can’t help but peek down at your belly.

“And a wife,” he adds, “car accident. I’m working through it.”

“I’m–”

“Don’t. No sorry’s. None of it. It’s behind me,” he assures you. “You and Hansen, how long you been with him?”

“You care that much?”

“Well, I’d rather talk about your family than mine.”

“Fair enough. Uh…” you’re not sure how to answer, “too long.”

He laughs, “yeah, about what I expected. He’s a character for sure.”

“You know him well?”

“Not as well as I thought, apparently,” he says, “never even said anything about a wife. Or a kid… kids?”

“Just the one,” you say as you reach the corner and stop, “I’ll tell him you said hello.”

“Actually, I wouldn’t,” he puts his hands on his hips and squints against the sunlight, “I know him, but I wouldn’t say I like him. Or that he likes me for that matter.”

You push your lips out and make a noise, “got it. Actually, I don’t know why I thought he would.”

“He’s not really the neighbourly type,” Andy remarks as he checks his watch, “anyway, I’ll let you go. And next time you go out, get your husband to tie your shoes. Can’t have you falling out here.”

“Will do,” you muster a small smile, “sorry to slow you down.”

“Not at all,” he bounces in place, “it was nice meeting you, neighbour.”

“You too,” you reply and turn on your heel, leaving him to stretch as you head off back to the house in no hurry. You unfurl your earbuds and put them back in your ears, skipping back to your place in the episode. Lloyd can wait a little longer while you finish your podcast in the garden.

[mercurygray]

Hi Merc! How do you feel about prompt nr 16 (daybreak) for my Clubmobile girls? Doesn't have to be anything romantic if you're not vibing with it, just the girls

Thank you 💜

- your Fred Friend

I hope this works for you, Fred Friend!

Technically, it was Mary's fault.

Mission days were always early starts - 3:00 a.m. to roll out of bed in the old, crumbling mansion the Red Cross was renting for them, and pull the truck out from the shed to be on the road and catch the end of the 5:30 am run on the equipment shed with hot coffee and a mix of yesterday's leftovers and today's starter batch, usually too doughy as the oil came up to temperature.

It was cold out before the sun came up, and they kept the windows of the truck closed while they started the oil and heated the urns for coffee, the small space cramped but warm enough, with the four of them and the fryers going. Moods were infectious, in a small space like this, and Tatty seemed to have slept on the wrong side of the bed the way she was banging pans and slamming doors and grumbling about how she'd like to shoot the man who invented early mornings and gas stoves that wouldn't light.

Anyway, she was a little ridiculous, like early mornings had only just been invented and they hadn't been doing this for months on end, and Mary had started humming, and then Helen was doing it too, and by the time the tune got to Fred it had harmony and a rhythm section with the tongs and a measuring cup until Tatty turned around, blazing, and Fred could only grin.

"Oh, she kicked out my windshield," she started, still drumming along with the tongs, and the rest picked up, "And she hit me over the head She cussed and cried and said I lied And she wished that I was dead! Oh, lay that pistol down, babe, lay that pistol down Pistol packing mama, lay that pistol down."

The coin could have fallen on either side, but Tatty, it seemed, had complained enough for one morning. She rolled her eyes and declared she was going to let the mess hall know they were here, leaving the three of them to open the windows, still laughing about their improvised jam session.

It seemed they already had a customer - or an audience. Captain Brennan was waiting in the half-light of dawn with a cup of coffee already in hand and a clipboard under her arm, uniform beautiful and crisp. (She was always well dressed, whether by habit or practice - all the girls said so. Not too many women could make the green and pinks look chic, but by god, would Marion Brennan try.)

"You're all very chipper this morning," the intelligence officer observed, waiting a respectful distance away as they rolled up the windows and started putting out the doughnut racks.

"Sorry, ma'am," Helen offered quietly. (Brennan intimidated her, for reasons Fred couldn't ever quite understand - but then, perhaps she was a little intimidating, with her beautiful hair and her rank and her surety about her station. And how many other women were walking around air bases with captain's bars and the complete trust of the C.O.? Brennan's word was law and her good opinion gold.)

Brennan chuckled, her smile rare and warm. "Why are you apologizing? It's good to see smiles this early."

"Get you a fresh cup, Captain?" Mary asked, gesturing with the pot she was holding.

"You may, Mary, thank you." Brennan shook the remnants out of her cup and onto the grass, and offered Mary the now-empty mug. "If we're being honest, I like your coffee more than I do the mess hall's."

"Isn't it a little early for you, ma'am?" Fred asked, leaning over the window holding the sugar shaker so the Captain could help herself. It was only the flight officers in the earliest briefings, pilots and bombardiers and navigators, and Brennan certainly wasn't one of them. (Any minute now they'd all be done suiting up, and those doors would open and the whole lot of them would begin the hike out to the trucks that would take them out to the hardstands.)

"You know what they say about early birds and worms. I need to review today's run with Major Bowman, after they've sent them all out so I can brief my team. And we have photos from yesterday's run to review and send on to wing."

"Those worms won't know what hit them," Fred replied with a smile. Another smile from Brennan.

"What worms now?" Colonel Harding appeared from the direction of the briefing hut, hat tucked under his arm, Jack Kidd following close behind him.

"The worms the group's going to bomb today, sir," Mary offered, holding out a fresh mug. "Coffee for you? Major Kidd, some coffee?"

"Thank you, Mary. Mighty kind." Harding took it and drank deeply before anyone could offer powdered milk or sugar, watching as Kidd stepped away to speak with Brennan.

The song was still stuck in Fred's head as she continued setting the mugs and doughnuts out for service, glancing up to see Harding's face in the dim of daybreak, watching the conversation between his XO and his intelligence captain with an expression that Fred thought she would call pride, and, in another space and a different light, perhaps something like love.

Oh, lay that pistol down, babe, lay that pistol down Pistol packing mama, lay that pistol down.

[stesierra]

Find the Word tag game!

@isabellebissonrouthier tagged me! My Words: Blue, Sunrise, Hope, Feel, Fly. I'm drawing from Triangle Park.

I'm going to tag @squarebracket-trick and @avrablake! Your words are demon, habit, erase and slaughter.

Blue and Sunrise

The next morning, Adam woke before dawn and went out to look at the swirling stars overhead.

And he wondered if Madeline was awake. And what she would think of his decisions, caught between Queen Lía's oaths and Millicent's. He had saved a child. He had killed their friend.

Rabbit was too young to ask any knight to take oaths, except, probably, the impossible 'be nice.'

He stayed out there past sunrise, thinking, and past breakfast, too. It wasn't as if there was anything to eat. He was completely alone until Rabbit barreled out of the trailer straight towards him. He caught her right before she collided.

Rabbit didn't run off in another direction as expected. She wrapped herself around his waist. She said, her face muffled against his chest, "The mean lady called me names."

"Oh, did she?" Adam said. It was time to have a talk with Sybil.

Sybil was where he'd left her, lying tied up in a corner. He hadn't talked to her more than what was necessary to help her relieve herself and to feed her what little they could afford. She probably thought he was starving her on purpose.

This wouldn't work very well standing over her. So he sat down on the floor beside her after both Gardener and Sniffer left to follow Rabbit about her day.

Sybil glared at him. The blanket had fallen partway off, exposing her in her bra and leather pants. Under her bandages, her shoulder was coming along well. No pus or swelling marked the wound. With her enhanced rate of healing, she could probably get up and walk now as long as she didn't try to use the arm too much.

"Leave, traitor," she snarled.

He rested his hands on his crossed legs. "No, I don't think I will. I hear you've been yelling at children."

Sybil snorted. "I called her a stupid little brat, and that blue-winged bitch threatened to punch me in the throat if I did it again. What are you going to do, cut off my knees?"

"I'm going to ask you to yell at me instead. Rabbit hasn't done anything."

Sybil frowned mightily. She said, abruptly, "How long are you going to do this?"

"How long am I going to do what?"

Sybil strained against the ropes. "Hold me here."

Adam sighed. "I don't know. I won't let you go back to Millicent and tell her how many faeries defend Rabbit, and how many knights she should send next."

"So kill me."

"I'm not going to kill you, Sybil. We've known each other for two hundred and ten years." And been friends for most of them.

"That didn't stop you from murdering Rose and Marion."

He exhaled. "Rose... was my fault. I hit her harder than I intended. I meant only to knock her out."

"Liar."

"As for Marion, the panther downed her before I could do anything."

"Liar," she said again, more softly.

"I said last call for both of them. The Spirit answered."

Sybil stared at him. "I should have been there for that."

"Yes, I know." He sighed. "So. You're stuck here. But it is ungentlemanly of me to leave you on the floor all day. Do you feel well enough to sit up?"

Her eyes narrowed. "What are you playing at, traitor?"

"I merely thought that you would prefer to be tied to a chair, outside. And if you're thinking of escaping, don't. The panther is very aggressive."

Hope

"Where are we?" Rabbit piped from the back seat.

"A 'natural area,'" Adam replied. "How would you like to go and see it?" He turned to look at her, throwing the emergency brake on. They'd be here a while.

"Is it far away?"

"Right here."

She tilted her head. "Will it be fun?"

Fun. Fun for Millicent. For Rabbit...

Rabbit gazed at him from the backseat, her eyes wide and trusting.

Adam stared at her. And released the brake.

He couldn't go through with it. He couldn't. Millicent would kill Rabbit, and any thoughts otherwise were merely comforting lies.

"Maybe we'll go find a natural area somewhere else," Adam said.

And six faeries melted out of the trees.

They were knights, all of them, and they approached like wolves swooping down on an injured deer.

"Don't say anything," Adam said softly to Rabbit. "Pull a blanket over yourself and lie small and still."

"Why?" Rabbit asked, halfway under a blanket already.

"It's a game," he lied. And then he rolled down the window.

He recognized all of them. Rauf, the leader of the conroi, could have been Adam's blonde and pale brother, except Adam had a fencer's frame and Rauf ran more toward bulky muscle. Waulter was a fox-like faerie, golden skinned and golden haired, with sweeping ears that belied his small size. Elinor, tall and lithe, was uniform nut-brown and lacking ears altogether. Her reptilian eyes flashed forest green. Piers was notable for his averageness; average size, average face, skin neither dark nor light. He was still more beautiful than a human. Gyles had the furred face of a greyhound, the body and clothes of a courtier. And Bridget's bulk was all bone, but her delicate face was as beautiful as the queen herself. Their lovely clothes were from a scattering of styles and eras, but Waulter and Rauf and Elinor were adorned in Queen Millicent's yellow. And Bridget, Piers and Gyles in the queen's red.

They clearly knew him. Elinor and Walter grimaced and frowned, but the others gazed at him from emotionless cold faces. They didn't draw their swords, but their hands fell to their hilts. Adam had left his sword under his mattress again, because he was an idiot.

Rauf swaggered up to his window and leaned down to stare Adam in the face. He smiled with colorless lips and said, "You're not welcome, traitor. The queen has spoken."

The words stung, especially since until a minute ago, he hadn't been a traitor, not to Millicent. But leaving his birth court behind, abandoning Queen Lía for another, meant the faeries born of Millicent would never see him as anything else.

"I have done nothing to betray Queen Millicent," he protested, as if the blanket-covered lump in the backseat didn't exist. "I have served her loyally for centuries."

"And she tired of you, traitor, and sent you away. You are not of her get. How could you think anything else would happen?"

Because he'd been young and stupid, and Millicent had lured him to her court with promises of riches and glory. He said, "If I am unwanted, I will leave, and you need not even bother the queen with news that you saw me."

Rauf snorted and stepped back. But Gyles stalked closer to the car.

"What?" Rauf snapped.

The dog knight took a deep breath. Let it out slowly. "He smells like a queen."

Well. He'd spent the night sleeping beside one, because Rabbit was a snuggler. And the blanket would hardly drown out her scent.

Rauf spun back towards Adam. He snarled, "What?"

"Is there a problem, gentle knights? If I encountered a queen, I don't see how it would concern you. Queen Millicent cares nothing for my wellbeing, as you say."

Rauf drew his sword with the hiss of leather against steel. "Get out of the car. You're coming with us, and you can tell Queen Millicent personally what usurper you've allied yourself with."

Adam threw the locks on the door. "If I were going to turn on Queen Millicent, why would I come here? There isn't any usurper. The queen was only passing through."

"Liar," Rauf said.

And then Rabbit sat up in the backseat.

No one moved for a second. And then Rauf lunged for the door handle. Adam stepped on the acceleration, and the rest of the knights barely dodged out of the way. Adam lurched away from Glory Woods so fast he almost fishtailed off the road.

Rabbit was thrown into the side of the car, but she bounced off as if she'd planned to do acrobatics that day. She scrambled to grab the back of Adam's seat and said, "I got tired of the game. Who were those angry people?"

"Rabbit," Adam said, "Please let me drive."

And miracles of miracles, she went quiet.

He sped through the forest, passing a few cars dangerously fast. He had no intention of stopping until he was back in Triangle Park. And then he had to skid to a halt to let a party of hikers pass. But they didn't pass. One man practically threw himself in front of Adam's car. Blocking his way. Now. When a hunt would soon be after him. He'd nearly stepped back on the acceleration before he remembered the man was human. He snarled, "¡Joder!" And then hoped Rabbit hadn't been listening.

Feel

Rabbit and Sniffer joined them as they shoveled the last bit of dirt onto the grave.

"Where did the hole go?" Rabbit asked.

Gardener said, "I told Adam that it was a tripping hazard and that he had to fill it in."

"Oh," said Rabbit.

"So we're done here now," Gardener said. "Let's--"

"Not quite," Adam said.

"Oh, sun and stars, what is it now?"

"I need to do a ceremony." For Rose, a friend he had killed. And for Marion, a friend he hadn't saved. Last night he had been too tired to do it.

Last night, only one of his friends had died.

Sniffer's growl was a clear warning.

Rabbit flicked him on the nose. "Be nice," she demanded.

The panther flinched back. And he stopped growling.

Gardener looked dubious, but she nodded and stepped back. "Do what you've got to do, I guess. Just don't ask us to join in."

"I won't. You didn't know them." Sybil should be here. But Adam was uncertain that she could be moved without reopening her shoulder. So he would do his best alone.

He stepped forward. Knelt between the graves and laid his hands where the sisters' faces lay, six feet down. With Sniffer and Gardener watching, he felt judged. How dare he know these people and want to ease them into the afterlife? How dare he indeed.

He spoke. "Spirit."

The words seemed to hang in the air. The trees above the grave were listening.

He focused on those trees. Forgot Gardener and Sniffer and Rabbit. Spoke words he'd spoken too many times in only two hundred and sixty four years. "Spirit of life. Spirit from which all queens are born, and all faeries. I invoke you, not to beg for good fortune and favors, but to ask for succor. Please listen to me, your child, on this sorrowful day."

Something came. He couldn't see it, or feel it, or hear it. But the trees responded to it, their leaves and branches reverberating with song. And the forest seemed taller and older, the grass greener. He felt stronger, and the wounds of his body were nothing. He could still feel them, but they did not matter.

"Spirit," he said, acknowledging the arrival of something far greater than he. He was already kneeling, but he bowed his head to the trees. "These two, your daughters, have stopped laughing. The bodies you gave them can hold life no longer. Violence has taken them from us."

The trees sang their sadness. The wind smelled, deeply and intensely, of green.

He took a deep breath. Let it out slowly. "In a fairer world, I would tell you how my court would avenge them. But those that killed them did so honorably, in defense of a child. Which leaves us with no vengeance. Only grief. So take them. Take them and let them become one with you again. Let them be part of every living thing until some queen dreams. And in those dreams, in a new shape, let them awaken to another day."

When he finished speaking, nothing happened. Not at first. But Adam stayed kneeling, waiting, for the forest was still too old and the air too alive. And then the wind blew freshly fallen leaves to cover the graves. They mounded over Adam's hands and feet, still green and living. The smell faded, the trees shrank down to their normal dimensions. The grass was patchy. It was his grass, not the grass of dreams.

Fly

They were nearly to the trail. It would be watched, of course. It always was. Adam's muscles tensed more and more as they approached. His senses felt heightened, as if the smallest fly or whiff of scent would capture his attention before any of his companions could notice it.

Of course, when the attack came, he didn't anticipate it at all.

A massive dog, black as Sniffer, crashed out from behind a fat red oak. A Gytrash, its red mouth opened to bite and rend, drool dripping from its lower lips. And its eyes glowed white like the sun. It hurt to look in them. But it didn't hurt as much as those inch-long teeth would. Awë:iyo:h shrieked and let go of Adam's pants.

Sniffer met the Gytrash's charge with outstretched claws. They raked deep furrows in the dog's shoulders. The hound bit down on the side of his neck, and blood splattered the forest floor. Adam couldn't tell which animal had lost it.

"Holy crap!" Lizzy jerked her gun towards a second Gytrash that appeared behind them. A third lunged out between the trees in front of Adam. He drew his sword and stabbed for its eyes. It shook its head and the sword glanced off its cheekbone, gashing open its cheek all the way back to its ear. It threw itself forward and he had to retreat before it. Sybil was at his shoulder then, her own sword held out before her like a spear. The Gytrash ran up against it and fell back, snarling. Gardener swiped at it from the other side, but she missed completely.

A shot echoed through the forest. Adam twitched his head to the side. The Gytrash charging Lizzy fell with a hole the size of an apple punched through its neck. It landed a few feet from her shoes.

Sybil stabbed Adam's hound in the side. "Well, now they know we're here!"

Lizzy pumped the gun. "They already know we're here!"

The Gytrash pulled itself off Sybil's sword and circled them, snapping the air and shaking drops of blood off of its face.

Adam slashed out across the dog's throat. "Shoot another one, then!"

"I can't! You guys are in the way!"

He and Sybil fell back in unison. Lizzy set her feet and fired. The shot caught the Gytrash in the shoulder, ripping through its fur and flesh. It barked, spun on its three functioning legs and fled. The third Gytrash, its throat torn up by Sniffer's fangs, followed. They transformed into black horses and ran so fleetly that Adam would not have taken a shot even with the enchanted bow.

Tag list for everything

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Just chapters and snippets

@da-na-hae

[therobishow]

The Mists of Avalon, by Marion Zimmer Bradley, was recommended to me by one of my English teachers, who was also at one point my theater teacher. She said it was a feminist retelling of the myths involving Moran and King Arthur. So, I am so sorry to say that it is just…rubbish.

Okay, some of the cultural and fantasy elements are interesting. There is genuinely cool world building done tying everything together, whether that be Avalon itself or Camelot.

But...the characters.

Morgan, or Morgaine, at first acts as a blank slate of sorts. She's interested in the culture that surrounds her, and it's through her eyes that we get to learn about the world. That said, she takes a face-heel turn which is just...bizzare. It's like the plot is going "oh wait, we forgot to make Morgan EVIL so she does things people would consider EVIL" even though the plot doesn't necessarily demand it??? There's this one point where she basically goes "actually you know what doing incest with my brother is fine actually. I should have acted like a girlfriend to him after that and manipulated him to do my bidding" and. girl????? And it feels like the whole way the book is trying to justify it? Like, yeah in the original myth there's a sense of betrayal. But not like this?

And Gwen. Gwenhwyfar. Ohhhh my god. Her introduction is kinda neat, since it gives some perspective on how mentally ill women would have been treated back then. It quickly becomes annoying though. She's a religious fanatic. A Christian religious fanatic. Also she threatens to cheat on Arthur in order to bear a child. Also she's having an affair with Galahad. Gwen just...always has something to complain about. And it's not a good experience to read.

Arthur. Hmmm. He's portrayed as somewhat wishy-washy, constantly being pulled back and forth between the opinions of Gwen and Morgaine. Like...this is such a bad thing for a king to be. But he's honestly somewhat chill?

Plus there are just...so. many. unnecessary. sex. scenes. I would have given the author a bag of caramels for half of them to be fade to black moments.

The author is very clearly pro-pagan and anti-christian. I fall somewhat in line with that, not anti-christian but I can understand why someone would be. That said. The author kind of rubs the faults of christianity in the reader's face. Repeatedly. It's not subtle.

Overall, I have read a lot of retellings of different myths. This might just be my least favourite retelling of a myth ever.

Oh god The Mists of Avalon.....

I read this in middle school. It was a mistake. This book is so far up its own ass. I've read a lot of pretentious books, but this one nearly gets the top spot (nothing could beat out The Dream of Perpetual Motion or literally anything by Donna Tartt).

Morgaine becoming evil definitely felt like Bradley suddenly remembered that she was a villain in the legend and hastily shoved it in. She could have easily not made her evil, and just gone with the idea that history twisted the facts. That would have suited the character better, as well as playing into the "feminist" themes since history does often villianize women who don't deserve it.

And I put "feminist" in quotes because this book is like the definition of White Feminism.

Also, Marion Zimmer Bradley was a horrific person. Not joking or exaggerating here, she was pure evil. Epstein levels of evil. Humbert Humbert evil. Look it up if you want to, but be warned that it is genuinely awful and reading about it is pretty harrowing. There's a reason I chose those specific comparisons.

[pearblossommina]

ToG Read-a-Long, Queen of Shadows, Day 1

GUYS when I bought these books i mistakenly received TWO copies of Queen of Shadows so I mailed one to my friend! They SAID they’d read along, because they still haven’t finished the series either, but also idk if they’re gonna read along.

Books are hard

(But no one can stop me I’m a huge fan of Celaena and this series sooooo)(shirking literally all other responsibilities)(and reading books instead) (HERE WE GO)

Ch 1

LET’S GO

hi Dorian i’m sorry you’re sad

Listen

I’m sad too but also I am excited to be reading this book

(I keep forgetting that the tone has RAPIDLY shifted and we are in the worst timeline rn) (everything sucks and nothing is fun)

Ch 2

I wanna know what color she dyed her hair

(This is so awesome!!!!!!!!) (I can’t wait for her to start exacting revenge)

(Kill baby kill)(slaaaaay queen!)

Ch 3

I have so much rage in me for Arobynn it’s not even funny

(God he’s so disgusting.)

GET AWAY FROM HER GROOMER.

I have no idea what Chaol is doing but my thought is that maybe he’s here trying to hire someone to help him rescue Aedion?

Ch 4

AEDION, don’t give up. Chaol is planning a daring rescue (I think)

Ch 5

So - who is this lady

I can’t think of any ladies actually.

Does she have a name and have we met her before?

Ch 6

I think maybe we’ve never met her before. She says her name is not important. Well lady, I’m still gonna root for you, even if you don’t feel important.

(Go, weird sewer lady, go!)

Hi Chaol

I missed you

Are you planning a daring rescue? What are you up to?

Ch 7

Oh Nesryn! Hi!

Ooh boy this is rough

I thought maybe they could… be friends… even after the breakup

Guys, guys. You should try and work togetherrrrr

This is heartbreaking, I hate when mom and dad fight.

“Dorian is my king” Chaol, you’re precious and I fucking love you. LMAO you loyal piece of shit. You absolute madman.

“She knew herself well enough to admit that the relief was partially that of a coward- that she didn't have to face Ren and see how he might react to who she was, what she'd done with Marion's sacrifice.” Ugh why is she being so hard on herself????????

GIRL GO TO THERAPY

Ren and Aedion do not hate you, no one hates you, I promise. Not even CHAOL hates you. I think he’s just upset about Dorian and misses getting snuggles. Deep down that’s what every man wants… snuggles. It’s not your fault you guys aren’t in love anymore. Please, please, please stop being so hard on yourself.

I’m just ready to devour this book at this moment.

My hope is that our good guys can conquer and kill some of our villains, but also, I know this is book 5 of 8 and I might have to waiiiiit a little bit before. Ya know. The defeat of evil and the saving of the day.

A girl can dream.

I’d also LIKE TO SEE SOME ROMANCE SJM please my crops are dying

I know it’s hard to work in when everything’s intense intense intense like this but

Can we get some soft moments please

I NEED IT

[dankusner]

WINIK — BOOKS Not all sunshine and rainbows

Summer read glows with feeling, but a dark secret could unravel this trip to the beach By MARION WINIK

The sandwich Catherine Newman serves up in her new novel, Sandwich , is a classic one: grown kids on one side, aging parents on the other and 54-year-old narrator Rachel, aka Rocky, in the middle.

As they do every year, three generations of Rocky’s family have decamped to Cape Cod for a week, a gathering made all the more special since son, Jamie, and daughter, Willa, no longer live at home, and their grandparents are becoming quite frail.

Newman’s last novel, the very moving We All Want Impossible Things, was a paean to friendship.

Her new book practically glows with family feeling — “I’m drowning in love,” says Rocky at one point.

Sandwich has much in common with Ann Patchett’s Tom Lake , though Patchett’s novel doesn’t have an older generation, a key element here.

The laughter begins on the first page, where we learn that Rocky is “long married to a beautiful man who understands between twenty and sixty-five percent of everything she says” — and the great lines and witty observations never stop.

Many of them arise from the indignities of aging and menopause, which has left no part of Rocky’s physical and emotional being untouched.

“My hair! What on earth? It used to hang down in heavy, glossy waves, and now it sticks out of my head like a marshful of brittle autumn grasses.

It is simultaneously coarse and weightless in a way that seems like an actual paradox, as if my scalp is extruding a combination of twine, nothing, and fine-grit sandpaper.”

Newman is fearless in her depiction of the physical and emotional indignities of getting older.

Rocky’s fits of irrational rage often manifest in her relationship with her calm and kind husband, Nick.

A typical moment occurs when the couple is in line at the bakery and Rocky gets mad at Nicky because he doesn’t know which pastry Rocky would choose.

When she insists that in nearly 30 years she has never once chosen sweets for breakfast, he reminds her about the almond croissants she ordered in Paris.

She grudgingly concedes his point but remains angry.

The poor man realizes there is no course but apology. “I’m sorry I don’t know you better. In the bakery sense.”

As it turns out, there is more than baked goods involved, though it’s Rocky’s fault for having kept an important secret for many years.

The week in Cape Cod probably wasn’t going to be all sunshine and rainbows, but Rocky’s miserable perseverating over something in her distant reproductive past feels a little out of place.

Perhaps this is also occasioned by menopause, representing as it does the close of a chapter of life, but to this reader the whole thing felt a bit cooked-up.

The other stone in the shoe of the gentle plot is concern for the health of Rocky’s parents, which makes more sense.

The depiction of Mort and Alice, their dialogue, their posture, their sleeping white heads on the pillow, their humor, are endearing.

When Mom has a fainting spell at the beach and ends up briefly in the hospital, Rocky wonders if they’ll stay an extra day.

“But my parents have a strict two-night policy. If they traveled sixty million miles to visit you on Mars, they’d bring Zabar’s whitefish salad in a cooler bag and they’d stay two nights.”

The abundance of love flourishing in Rocky’s family is refreshing and inspiring, but Newman is not afraid to go to the dark side of it.

There was a time, Rocky recalls, when her children were small and she was half-mad with exhaustion and anxiety, and she ruminated on stories about women driving themselves and their children off cliffs or into oncoming traffic.

“I thought, ruinedly, Yeah. I get that.”

She wouldn’t have done it, she says, but understood why someone might.

And then she continues, “I hope I wouldn’t have. I’m honestly not entirely sure.”

I imagine some readers will feel a little shock of gratitude upon reading this passage and even more will embrace Rocky’s view of the meaning of life.

At one point, she and Willa are in the laundromat when a child begins to cry because her beloved (smelly) snail shell has been taken away.

After Willa calms her down, expressing empathy about having to abandon the dubious treasure, Rocky suggests this takeaway:

“And this may be the only reason we were put on this earth. To say to each other, I know how you feel. To say, Same. To say, I understand how hard it is to be a parent, a kid. To say, Your shell stank and you’re sad. I’ve been there.”

Marion Winik, host of the NPR podcast “The Weekly Reader,” is the author of numerous books, including “First Comes Love” and “The Big Book of the Dead.” Sandwich Catherine Newman Harper, $26.99

[elareine]

Adamare (1/7)

Read here on ao3.  Tags: Harry Potter AU, Friends to Lovers, Bruce Wayne is a good parent, Friendship, Teenagers, Christmas, First Love, Bullying, blood supremacy 

Summary: Jason starts magic school two years late and with a terrible reputation. To say that his time there isn’t easy would be an understatement. Some people, however, make everything worth it. 

Year One 

“Todd, Jason!” 

Feeling the stares on him as he walked to the front, Jason reminded himself that his clothing was just as new and shiny as everyone else’s here. Of course, that thought then just made him feel ashamed of himself. He’d been Bruce Wayne’s ward for less than five months; he wouldn’t start taking this money for granted, not now, not ever. 

Jason shifted his gait so his sneakers dragged along the ground a bit and his cloak fell open slightly, revealing his favorite hoodie underneath. There. Better. 

The room was silent as he sat down on the chair in the front and lifted the hat onto his head as he had seen other students do. It would sort them into houses, which was weird to Jason but supposedly normal for an English boarding school. Apparently, this school was modeled on a major one in Great Britain. The white upper-class wizards that had been among the first to ‘settle’ the East Coast had sniffed their noses at the school founded by an Irishwoman, of all people, and created one that reminded them of home barely two hundred miles away. 

It was called Schola Artis Magicae, for God’s sake. These people had not been imaginative. 

No. No, I suppose they weren’t. 

Oh, great, the hat was talking to him. How did that even work? Was it telepathy or just a shallow whisper into his ears? 

A curious mind, huh? Brave, too, though. Hm… Do you have a preference? 

Jason had read up on the houses in ‘A History of Magic’ before he came here, but even Alfred hadn’t been able to satisfactorily explain to him what the point was. Dividing children up by allegedly defining characteristics seemed premature to him, not to mention leading to potentially dangerous stereotyping. Why not just go and go by favorite color or something? What was the problem with drawing lots? It was just stupid—

I see. “Ravenclaw!”

Right. That was the blue and bronze table. Jason headed towards under applause that was lukewarm at best. A few students smiled at him, but mostly everyone was occupied with watching the rest of the sorting hat ceremony. 

When it was over, the food appeared. At least Jason had read about this, so he was prepared for this. Still, this was… a lot of food. Even Alfred would disapprove of the waste. Who even made all this? Hopefully, it was just a feast for a special occasion… 

As he ate, Jason looked around. The Hufflepuff and Gryffindor tables were behind him, so he focused on the Slytherin one (green and silver). He tried to remember what this house’s supposed defining trait was—cunning? Ambition? Something like that? Honestly, most of them just looked like kids to him. One of them was even tinier than all of the other first years. With a pang of pity, he thought: He’s gonna get eaten. 

Then, another one of the Slytherins said something, and Jason watched as the tiny first year drew himself up and fixed him with a glare so cold Jason was a bit surprised it wasn’t magical and turned the older student into stone. Jesus, where had the kid learned to do that? Jason clearly didn’t need to worry about him. 

Maybe he should worry about himself. None of his fellow first-years had spoken a word to him so far. 

After dinner, their prefect took them up to the tower. The riddle system for the portrait seemed easy to crack to Jason, but maybe that was the point? This was a school, for God’s sake. They were shown their rooms, but when Jason made to follow the other boys inside, the prefect took him aside. “Look, we’re aware you’re in a somewhat… unique situation.” 

Jason just stared at him, saying nothing. 

“And I thought… It just happens that two years ago, only one boy got selected for Ravenclaw. I’ve never been happy about having anyone living alone, so… maybe you’d be more comfortable rooming with someone your own age?” 

Great. Another thing that would make him stand out. Jason wanted to decline, saying he’d be just fine rooming with the eleven-year-olds.

However… looking at the group that was supposed to be his, he counted six people. Jason knew himself well enough to know that living with this many kids would drive him up the wall within a week. Rooming with a single person who hopefully had matured a bit might be more manageable. 

“Okay.” 

The prefect looked relieved. “Great. I already talked to him, he loved the idea. Your dorm is this one, then.” 

The staircase shifted enough to let Jason knock on the small, wooden door. 

“Come in!” a cheerful voice called. 

Jason did. The room was airy and spacious with two four-poster beds and roomy closets, as well as huge floor-to-ceiling windows. A lanky redhead sat on the ground between the beds, a multitude of random items spread around him. The first thing Jason noticed about him was his smile; the second was his hands, incongruously large and calloused for someone who looked like a breeze could topple him over. 

“Uh, hi? I’m supposed to be staying here.” 

The boy got up in a hurry. “Jason, right? Nice to meet you, dude, I’m Roy.” 

“Hey.” Jason gave an awkward little wave. 

“You can put your stuff in there. I’ve been sleeping by the wall, is that alright with you?” 

“Yeah, that’s fine.” Better than, actually. Closed spaces still made Jason antsy. 

While Jason unpacked his things (all the equipment Bruce had bought, some clothes, his favorite books), Roy sat back down on the ground and watched him. “So you’re my age, right?” 

“I guess? I’m thirteen.” 

“How come you’re only starting now?” 

Jason, to his own surprise, appreciated the frank questions. Might as well get it out now. “I was only adopted into a Wizarding family last year.”

“Oh yeah, by the Waynes, right? I know your brother.” 

Well, that made one of them. Dick had been very distant when he’d been home during the summer; Jason had gotten the distinct impression that he’d disapproved of Bruce adopting Jason. The fighting had been hard to miss. 

“Didn’t you get your letter before that, though?” Roy asked curiously. 

Jason shrugged. “Sure. But I had no way to follow up on it.” A kid trying to fend for himself on the streets didn’t have the kind of resource that got him to a magical train station. Not to mention, he wouldn’t have been able to afford a wand, back then. 

Trying to lighten the mood, he added: “I also thought it was a prank. Like, if you’re a muggle, giant owls following you to draft you into a magic school means that you’ve either gone mad, your friends are having a laugh, or someone is trying to kidnap you.” 

Roy snorted. “Fair. Well, you’re here now. Wanna help me build a glitter bomb?” 

Jason took in the equipment surrounding his new roommate. “That’s a lot of stuff for a simple glitter bomb.” 

“The plan might just be to have it follow around the DADA teacher. Have it spell out stuff, maybe.”

“Why the DADA teacher?” 

“She likes making the first-years cry on their first day.” 

Jason thought of the prim blonde sitting at the teacher’s table and plopped down next to Roy. “Can you add sound? I’m thinking ‘Barbie Girl.’” 

Roy held out a hand. “Jason, this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.” 

Jason shook it gravely. Maybe this year wouldn’t be so bad. 

[eponymous-rose]

Talks Machina Highlights - Critical Role C2E129 (March 16, 2021)

Tonight’s guests are Matt Mercer and Taliesin Jaffe!

Matt, on DMing Luc’s Revivify: “That was weird. It’s one thing when it happens because of player action and circumstances and the choices they make. When it’s entirely on me, unintentional, and just realizing different chess pieces you’ve set up, that’s rough.” It was especially rough since this was a child NPC related to a PC. “I was hoping somebody had a spell slot left.” He kept in mind that there are two clerics in the room and that they could resurrect the next day even if the Revivify went poorly. “A good chance, since it’s his first time. Okay, okay, okay, okay, I think we’ll be okay, we’ll see how this goes. It was really stressful in the moment! I did not set out to have that happen, but when I realized what was going to happen, I tried to see it through.” He wouldn’t have prevented a chance to bring him back. “There may have been an offshoot short-run series of games to find a way to bring him back. I would have found some way to correct the circumstance so the players could feel good about moving forward with the story and there was no undue punishment beyond their control.”

Taliesin on Cad’s response: “This is a big thing if you’re a cleric. It was very much coming in like an EMT. Everything should be fine... hopefully. Just focused in and got it done. The minute things started to go south it was like, okay, that’s the next problem.”

On Yeza’s feelings: “It is a very complicated situation. I think he, much like how Veth is trying to figure out what it is that she wants, I think he’s trying to help her find that while also figuring it out for himself. I think Yeza’s also noticing that because Veth’s the more active of the two of them she also takes the weight of the responsibility and the blame for things when they go wrong, unnecessarily. Especially when he himself acknowledges that he’s partially at fault for even dragging everyone in with the Conclave. As much as he’s appreciative for them coming back for him, there’s a lot of back and forth. He’s filled with a lot of regret, too, but he’s very much trying to convince Veth that it’s a burden that she doesn’t have to keep to herself, that they can share it and work through it together.” Matt mentions that, as an actor, he really loves exploring interactions between characters first and foremost. “Especially when you don’t know where it’s going to go.” He also praises Sam as a scene partner - “I really cherish that.”

How does Caduceus feel about Revivify and Speak with Dead? “Speak with Dead is an interesting middle ground, because he knows that it’s not actually speaking with the dead. It’s really just-- it’s almost medical, really. This is just reactivating a brain at a certain point. It’s practically just a muscle twitch at this point. That doesn’t really prod him in that direction. Revivify is interesting, because it had never really come up. At first I thought of it as bending the rules, but it’s not bending the rules. You knock over a plant, you replant it, you don’t stare at it and go ‘Well, that’s over.’ This is just doing the work. No, we can bring this thing back to health. This is all part of the circle of life, that sometimes we can save something. Especially given the stress that he’s put himself through over the past year of being with these people. He’s started to think of himself a bit as a battlefield medic, and triage is just part of the deal, and it’s completely acceptable.”

Did Trent really just want to talk? “Yeah, that circumstance, as it came together, Trent would never have arrived if there wasn’t an indication that there was some kind of infiltration or attack. Even beyond that, it was Jester breaking the concentration on her charm on that one guard when she created her duplicate.” The guards’ job is to inform a member of the Cerberus Assembly, and Trent lived the closest. “He didn’t know who it was, didn’t have any expectation necessarily. The minute he saw the illusion, he knew a powerful magic user was involved.” Seeing Caleb was an unexpected surprise. “I don’t think he wanted to throw down necessarily. He was more interested in figuring out exactly what the nature of this was.” Matt had multiple battlemaps that didn’t get used. “They managed to cleverly out-maneuver him in his surprise of seeing them.” The Nein rocketed up his priority list after that very quickly. Taliesin: “We’re so fucked.”

On Cad being “Uncle Caduceus” to Luc: “It’s the thing he misses most about home, is being a juvenile shit. It’s nice to be able to express that part of him again, as opposed to the serious, life-threatening, constant intensity. I’m very at home just being a little difficult.”

Cosplay of the Week: an amazing Beau! (_rumor_king, photography by kourtyardproductions on Instagram)

On Marion: “Like a lot of people in this whole narrative from the beginning, getting swept up in things larger than her and trying to adapt. This is a circumstance she’s avoided for a long time. She’s having a rough time in some ways, but simultaneously, she’s enduring. Like a mother would. She’s adapting, she’s making it work. Without much of a choice, you just kind of do the best you can and lean on the people around you to help you where they can. Luckily she has a daughter there. She’s probably surprising herself at how well she’s doing given the circumstances.” Matt talks about how weird it is to feel proud of character he’s created. “Of the many things Marion is incredible at, she’s a studier of the human condition. She’s seen and heard the stories of so many. That gives her a very special perspective. She can see elements of that fractured individual within Caleb, and knowing the good that he’s brought to his friends, and knowing he’s possibly saved her life from bad circumstances, she couldn’t not speak up. She very easily falls into that role of maternal comforter, because it’s one of the many things she’s really good at, she enjoys it, and she can see well when people need it.” He’s been enjoying having Marion along for this (despite the difficult circumstances) because he was always a little sad that they only got to see her for short periods of time.

On the Blooming Grove’s safety: “He’s afraid that it’s a premonition. He’s not pinned it down, but he’s happy to let his imagination wander. He at the very least feels like there’s a reason he’s having these thoughts, and that there’s a reason to go there. He’s a big believer that these things don’t just happen. He’s more likely to think that there’s a good reason to go versus a danger to go. He’s had a couple of ominous warnings lately, and he’s not used to them and not a fan. He’s more likely to read something like that as, there is something there waiting for you that you have to discover. There is something that is going to be helpful to you, even if it hurts.”

On Astrid: “While maybe not as readable in overall personality as Trent is, I still want to be careful to not discuss things that are still being discussed within the game and tossed around as possibilities. Astrid is another complicated character, as anyone would be who’s been through the life she has. I can’t say too much. I can say she’s definitely legitimately happy to see Bren/Caleb after all this time.” His reemergence definitely caught her off guard. “We’ll have to see where it goes from there.”

On Cad’s successful Divine Intervention: “He’s definitely hit the ‘on a mission from god’ stage. He’s been that way for the entire campaign of, this, this is what I’ve been waiting for. Even when it sucks a lot, it’s been nice that those things have popped up to remind him, no, no, you’re doing it right, everything’s good. Probably not going to survive the next week, but you’re doing good! Not quite 1 in a 100 chance, but I forget so often to make that roll, and it’s such a great roleplaying roll. I don’t know how at level 20 you could deal with the fact that you can do that every day.” 

On Zeenoth getting his comeuppance: the kidnapping was a concept Marisha brought up for Beau’s backstory, and Matt went with it even though it was opposed to the Cobalt Soul’s philosophy because he knew rooting it out would make for an interesting story. “I felt it was an important beat to bring to her, because it was something that she was wronged by. And to show that there are still some good people out there who are trying to make things right.” After the tentative peace, dealing with this became Dairon’s next focus. “I was glad we finally got to it. So many people don’t have the opportunity in their lives to get that sort of justice and vindication, so if I can bring elements of that justice into our world, even for our own hope, I’m going to do that. Especially for my wife’s character, especially for a character that deserves that.” Taliesin points out that if it had come too early, Beau wouldn’t have believed it.

Cad’s thoughts on the Tomb Taker betrayal? “He knew it was gonna come at some point. There was no way that was gonna last. He was hoping it was gonna last a little longer. He was really hoping they had a vested interest in getting them all the way to the end. Nope, this is apparently as far as we go, and he was not prepared for that.” He was expecting the potential for de-escalation. “Caduceus is the only character in there that doesn’t have a history with Lucien. I think he sees him a little more clearly than everybody else does. They’re all looking for this person that Clay, at least, is of the opinion that he’s just not there. This is a very manipulative, very dangerous infernal human. Just smarter than all of them. Really aware that there is no calculating what the hell is going to happen. Conversation is the only way you can deal with someone like that.”

Fan Art of the Week: An amazing Caleb closeup! (rynn_birb on Twitter)

Taliesin on Lucien: “I’m excited he’s the one that’s going to kill us all. Poetic that this is how the game ends.” Matt was delighted when Taliesin handed him carte blanche to do what he wanted with Molly’s past. “I was like ‘shit... oh, wait!’ The character of Lucien was always intended to be an antagonist so that it would have been Molly being chased by the person who wanted their body back. But then it happened that he got his body back.” Taliesin: “He’s so much worse than I ever hoped.”

Matt, on the Holy Avenger: “I hadn’t thought to initially even give that sword.” The good roll was the only reason Kima handed that over. “Well, sure, you get the sword. It was very reactionary, it wasn’t my intent originally. I was like, well, I mean, there’s two avenues she can take with this.” Multiclass into Paladin, or lean into the fact that her subclass is essentially a barbarian paladin. “This really works out in a uniquely beautiful way. Let me see if I can lay out a path for her to earn it.”

On Cad’s attempt at lying blowing up in his face: “He was like that kid that had a really bad day in high school and was like, you know what? I’m going to let loose. This is it. I’m gonna dye a streak in my hair. And then tries to give himself a haircut and ends up with half bangs. Well, okay, obviously I’m not that person. I was feeling a little distraught and I didn’t handle it well. Maybe I’m going dark... no, I’m not going dark. Nope.” Matt mentions how much he relates to Caduceus.

Matt, on the Eyes: “What can I tell you? I’m enjoying the hell out of it. The moment they began to really push to read that book, I was like, okay, this is on you. I’m excited for the point in the narrative where the march continues back to Eiselcross. I am almost impatient - not really - because we’re on the cusp of getting to more of the meat. There’s so much to learn, so much to see, so much to explore. I love instilling my players with absolute terror.”

Thoughts on Jester’s Tarot reading? Taliesin cackles. “Molly made the cards, so. Did it to himself, he did, he did.” Matt: “Once again, another example of things working out unexpectedly and too perfectly for an improvised moment. Fuck.” Taliesin: “Bless the wisdom of chaos.” Matt: “I love that even at this point in the campaign, Molly continues to fuck with people. I’m just so proud. That deeply shook Lucien, for reasons.” Taliesin: “It’s the everlasting gobstopper smoke bomb.”

[utilitycaster]

The Best Lay Ever for the ask game

How I feel about this character: she HAS A NAME and it's Marion Lavorre and she's wonderful and I love her.

All the people I ship romantically with this character: obviously the Gentleman. I need to stress that like, if you want to be disappointed by canon relationships CR is a bad choice. I am already boring and it rewards this boringness.

My non-romantic OTP for this character: no single one but I do think she is extremely close with Bluud and Carlos despite them technically being employees; I also think she and Yeza remain very close friends (and she becomes close with Veth now that the Brenattos live in Nicodranas).

My unpopular opinion about this character: None in particular? People seem to like her, and they should.

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon: Not a case of what would happen but I'm really going to need to know what past experiences led her to say this:

"If there's one thing I've come to know, the good people are easy to be misled to think they're at fault for the things that bad people used to victimize them. It's how they stay in power. If they convince us that we are responsible for every terrible thing that comes upon us, they're absolved. Blame's a tricky thing. And sure, we all have our own guilts that we keep. The gods know I have mine. But I've been told enough times in my life that I am responsible for the bad things that befall me. It's taken me this long to know that that's not true." (2x129, around 2:57:00)

my OTP: Bluud I think, of the friends. Something something Marion Lavorre, a woman with pretty severe agoraphobia, still manages to have so many friends compared to any of the Assembly wizards.

my cross over ship: Marion Lavorre also would do numbers (along with Vex) in the Vorkosigan saga books what with intergalactic politics, and the great news is that they basically have genetically modified humans who are pretty close to tieflings.

a headcanon fact: I do think she has bard levels. If she doesn't, she should. Not many, and I don't even know if she's super aware that she has them, but like, a couple.

AND WITH THAT: we are done unless you ask me something I have a really juicy rant or really fun hc for that I desperately want to talk about.

[romeoandjulietyouwish]

If it catches your fancy, Clara, Post-Separation from Thoreau, meets Marion and talk motherhood. Maybe in a "I want to make sure TJ grows up right" or "I hadn't realized how bad Thoreau was to Beau, I want to make things right". Marion being compassionate but also protective of Beau

It's odd, Marion thinks as she watches Clara Lionett brush a strand of Beau's hair from her face, it's odd how, despite being several years younger than Clara, Marion finds herself wiser and more knowledgeable than her. Beau pushes her mom's hand away, saying something quietly before turning her back and walking away.

Clara drags a hand down her face with a sigh and walks over to Marion, sitting in the chair across from her. "I can't seem to get through to her," Clara says, pleating her dress absentmindedly.

Marion is silent, not quite sure what to say. What do you was to the mother of a child who has told you several times how bad the house she grew up in was? Marion knows that the situation was not Clara's fault, but she can't help but judge the woman for not getting out sooner, for not trying to save her daughter from her husband's wrath.

Clara looks up at her, "I'm trying to make things right with her, I...I didn't realize how bad things were with Thoreau. Or rather, I didn't let myself see what was happening. I have no idea how to fix this."

Marion sighs and reaches out to take Clara's hand. "You need to let her be angry with you. You can't fix it so don't try to. Let her feel her anger, don't try to make her push it aside." Marion squeezes her hand. "I can't imagine what I would have done in your position, but I know what I would do now. Make yourself available to her, but don't push conversation. She'll talk to you when she's ready to."

"Beau has talked to you about our family?" Clara asks her.

Marion nods, "She has. It is not my place to pass judgement on you, but I have seen the way Beau treats the world and the way she treats herself because of things Thoreau told her and made her believe."

Clara's head falls, "I know. There are many things I regret, a lot of them relate to my daughter. I...I can't make the same mistakes with TJ, I can't fail both my children."

"She'll come around," Marion assures her. "Just give her time."

"Thank you, Marion," Clara squeezes her hand. "You're a very good friend."

"I'm glad I can be of at least some help."

[softspeirs]

Characters: Bill “Hoosier” Smith, Julia Martin (OFC) Rating: PG - no real warnings. Summary: Hoosier becomes a lawyer, and finds a kindred spirit in his new secretary, who he soon learns has more to offer than doing paperwork and fetching coffee. Author’s Note: I saw Jacob Pitts as an ADA in an episode of Law and Order: SVU, and my mind immediately screamed HOOSIER POST-WAR LAWYER AU. Special thanks to @mercurygray​ for indulging (see: enabling) my thoughts on this. Disclaimer: I don’t own The Pacific and my portrayal of Hoosier is based on the show and not on the real man. No disrespect is intended. Julia is my own creation! Please don’t repost on any other sites.

Hoosier’s office is small, cramped, and has a single, dim light bulb hanging from the middle of the room. He supposes he should be happy he has an office at all - he’s the newest and greenest lawyer here, after all.

After Peleliu, he was sent off first to a hospital ship steaming somewhere off the coast of God-knows-where, and then, eventually, back to the States. He has blurry memories of it all. The doc that saved his leg (and his life, probably), said he slept for nearly six days.

He made it back to Indiana relatively in one piece.

The quiet and everyone hovering over him was too much to bear, so before long, he decided to channel his annoyance with the government, the Marines, his own family… he decided he was going to milk the United States for all it was worth, and take advantage of the newly passed Servicemen’s Readjustment Act of 1944. The GI Bill was all anyone was talking about.

“You argue with everyone so much, maybe you should just become a lawyer,” Runner had said to him once, and he found those words echoing through his mind more and more the longer he was stateside.

So here he is.

Years of law school done, and now he’s the newest body to land in the Marion County Prosecutor’s Office. He’s of the impression there’s a lot of turnover here, but he’s just happy to finally have something solid under his feet.

“Bill,” the lead prosecutor, Andrew, enters his office, a pretty woman trailing behind him. ���Bill Smith, this is Julia Martin. She’ll help you get settled in the office and handle some paperwork for you.”

“Nice to meet you, ma’am.” He says, watching interestedly as her smile barely reaches her eyes.

The beginning of the day is a whirlwind. He’s so bogged down with new hire paperwork that he misses two meetings with the rest of the prosecutors and doesn’t get briefed on any cases until after lunch.

Julia makes her return around then, two cups of coffee in her hand.

“Thought you might need this.”

Bill looks up, hand pressed to his forehead as he reads. “God bless you.” He says, and she smiles, a little more genuinely. She looks around, unsure of herself, and he realizes belatedly he has books and boxes stacked on the only other chair in the room.

Hastily, he limps his way to the other side of the desk - an annoying side effect of sitting too long - and clears a space for her. She smiles gratefully.

“Thanks. Your leg okay?”

He doesn’t mean for his smile to fade so quickly, or for his expression to morph into a scowl. He especially doesn’t mean for her to take it personally, but he can tell she does.

“Sorry -- I didn’t mean to pry.”

“It’s not your fault. Old injury.” He says softly.

She looks like she’s not sure what to say, and he doesn’t blame her. Usually he avoids any and all mention of the war. He’s proud of his service, but he doesn’t want to linger on it, especially on how it ended. The things he saw and the things he had to do… he wants to just forget it all. His stubborn leg and hip are the only reasons he thinks about that day.

“On cold nights I don’t sleep.” She says. She meets his eyes and shrugs. “Turns out a few months in Belgium in the middle of winter will do that to you.”

He sits back down heavily. He feels that tether between them, one he feels whenever he sees someone else who flinches at the sound of a car backfiring or the way they prefer to sit facing the door of any small room they’re in.

Her next smile is tentative. “101st Airborne.”

“First Marines.” Is his reply, automatic, like they’re introducing themselves by name. He never realized how ingrained in his identity his unit is.

Over the next few weeks, they get along like a house on fire. Their shared time in the service proves handy - even though she’s from the Army and he’s a Marine, they develop a shorthand that helps in stressful, even borderline chaotic situations.

They also have silently agreed not to talk about any of it in explicit terms.

His fingers itch to go to the library and find some newspapers from during the end of the war, to find out where she was and what she got into in Europe. He’s impressed enough that she was a paratrooper, and finds himself wanting to know more. He waits for her to tell him though, not wanting to invade her privacy.

It’s the same way she doesn’t ask him about any of it. She doesn’t ask why his leg bothers him on cold mornings or when he’s been on his feet too long, and she doesn’t ask why, even though he still smokes, the smell of fresh cigarette smoke makes him want to throw up.

After a few weeks, he tells her, “Call me Hoosier, for Christ’s sake. Only my mother calls me Bill.”

In the afternoon on a Wednesday, she bursts through the door without knocking.

“What?” He’s on his feet instantly. “What happened?”

She winces. “Sorry - nothing happened--”

“Julia.”

“They’re calling us to court. Today.”

Hoosier feels like the floor is giving way underneath him. “In the Morris case? We were supposed to have weeks--”

“Well, we have--” she looks at her watch, “-- approximately four hours.”

Now, Hoosier has been under worse stress in his life, to be sure. Still, this feels like the make or break moment. He has got to get a conviction in this case. It’s the biggest case of his career so far, and he’s been sort of flying by the seat of his pants as he tries to figure it all out. He feels confident about arguing the case itself, but some of the evidence isn’t as iron-clad as he’d like it to be.

“Hoosier?” Julia’s soft voice brings him back to the moment. “You’re gonna be fine,” she says, and there’s something about the tone of her voice that suddenly makes it so clear what she used to do in the Army. “Gonna be just fine,” she repeats, absently rifling through a stack of papers. It’s almost a mantra that she doesn’t realize she’s saying. “Hoosier?” She meets his eyes.

“Yeah.” He clears his throat. “It’ll be fine.”

.

.

It is not, in fact, fine.

His arguments go well enough. It’s the recent hire of a defense attorney that he knows is shark-like that worries him. He’s gnawing on his bottom lip, his knee bouncing as he fidgets.

Julia, though, looks completely giddy.

“What are you smiling about, anyway?” He asks, crossing his arms. They’re sharing a cab back to the office, and she rolls her eyes as she glances at him.

“You know, it doesn’t bother me when you get grumpy.”

He looks over at her, eyebrows raised.

“I dealt with plenty of men like you before, don’t forget.”

Before. It’s how everyone says it when they’re trying not to say it. He’s getting more and more curious about what Before was like for Julia Martin. He doesn’t get a chance to ask her, because they’re pulling up to their office, and he can see his boss pacing before they even make it to the lobby.

“Jesus Christ.” He mutters, sparing an apologetic glance at Julia, but she seems to not even notice or care that he’s cursed.

“Bill--”

“Andy,” he uses the nickname, “Give me just a minute--”

“The DA isn’t happy.”

“Well you know I live and breathe to make the DA happy, so--” He responds, dry.

“Bill.” Andrew’s voice is sharp.

“Andrew,” Julia’s voice cuts in, “We had so little time to prepare, but Bill argued brilliantly. The defense didn’t have anything worth talking about.”

Andrew puts his hands on his hips. “You still need to meet with the DA. We have to get a conviction here.”

“I’m aware of that, Andy, for Christ’s sake, it was my first case! You really think I wanted to stand up there and talk about the same five facts over and over?” His frustration erupts. “I wanted to call more witnesses and I wanted to make damn sure that Morris isn’t going to get out, ever. But I had no time. And to be clear - Julia is the one who interviewed all the witnesses and did most of the prep. So if he wants to speak with me, he can talk to her first. She did all the work.”

With that, he turns on his heel and heads to his office, already loosening his tie and peeling it over his head, tossing it on his desk as soon as he gets inside. He sits down heavily, running a hand down his face.

He’s exhausted. His hip aches from being on his feet for so long, and he takes a second to thank whoever made sure he knew how to bullshit so that he didn’t look like a complete idiot in court today.

A few minutes later, Julia enters. She’s quiet, a solemn look on her face. He hates it. He likes her better when she’s making fun of him, or coming in with coffee for the both of them and the latest newspaper.

“That was quite the speech out there,” she says, sitting down in the chair she’s claimed for herself.

He makes a grunt of acknowledgement.

She raises a brow. “You know, I can count on one hand the number of men who have ever stood up for me based on the merit of my work.” She says it casually, but he snaps his head up just the same, brows furrowed with concern.

“You’re the smartest person I know.” He says, truthfully. “And I meant it - you did all the work.”

“I really didn’t. You need to give yourself more credit, Hoosier.”

“I don’t know if I’m cut out for this. All I wanted while I was overseas was to come home and do something else. Maybe this isn’t it.”

She tilts her head, seemingly weighing what she wants to say, how much she wants to reveal. “I was a nurse.” She says finally, confirming what he already suspected. “Some time after D-Day they asked some of us in the forward hospital if we’d ever considered being field medics, that the replacements weren’t coming fast enough, and they needed help. I had barely any medical training as it was, but I grew so fond of the men we were attached to that I volunteered.”

“You volunteered to be a combat medic after D-Day?”

“Maybe I’m not the smartest person you know.” She says, a smile tilting her lips. “I went through a crash course with the paratroop replacements. An even briefer crash course as a medic, and then I was right there with them.”

He leans over his desk, resting his elbows on the smooth wood, and his head in his palm as he looks at her. “So we were both in the shit, then.”

She laughs. “Yeah, we were. Point is -- if we got through all that, we can certainly handle the District Attorney.” She says it with such surety, such faith. That spark is there in her eyes again, the one he’s gotten familiar with the longer they work together.

“Well, Julia, that confirms you’re the smartest person I know.”

Hoosier deals with the DA. He and Julia lay out every bit of evidence they have and they find a way to deal with the pain in the ass defense attorney, too.

They win the case.

Hoosier is still irritated that Julia’s name won’t be associated with any of this, because he knows the hours she put in with him, knows that her fingerprints are all over his notes as he argues.

Still, they go get a coffee on the way back to the office, and he feels lighter than he has in years while he listens to her stories of her parents and her sister and some of her friends from the war. He finds himself telling her a bit more about himself, too, and absently, he thinks to himself that he hopes he’s lucky enough to know Julia Martin for a long, long time.

[tilbageidanmark]

Movies I watched (and books I read) this week - 35

As I wait for season 3 of Succession, I thought I’ll re-watch the pilot of Season 1, directed by Adam McKay. Absolutely a great start for the week.

The opening credit theme is a killer!

✴️               

George Méliès X 2:

✳️✳️✳️  The Méliès Mystery, a fascinating biography of magician, toy-maker, pioneer director, impresario and THE inventor of the cinema. Gave me a whole new appreciation for his work. 9/10

✳️✳️✳️ And of course, Scorsese’s Hugo, which recreates the 7 years in Méliès life, when in desperation he burnt the negatives of all his 700 films, and as he operated a small toy booth at the Gare Montparnasse, penniless and forgotten, (Photo above). This is the setting for the story, transformed into a children fairy tale about an orphan looking for his dead father. A technical tour de force and an ode to early cinema, which eventually turns into a history lesson.

✴️          

In a similar vain, Sylvain Chomet’s animated story of Jacques Tati’s 1957 unproduced script The illusionist, which was written in an attempt to reconcile with his daughter whom he had abandoned when she was a baby. 

Lyrical, sentimental and melancholy. 

"Magicians are not real"

✴️          

“Do you want the world to end in Your lifetime?”

Scenes from an Empty Church, an unexpected Covid “Dinner with Andre” from an independent filmmaker Onur Tukel! 

Never heard of it, didn’t know what to expect, watched it for over an hour ... and suddenly it grabbed me, and grabbed hard. It starts as a talkative, philosophical tract with 2 priests trying to deal with the very unusual pandemic that shut down their NYC church. They talk about it, and talk about it, and some of their parishioners enter the conversation and talk about it, but at the end, the anguish and desperation that they feel is being transcended. A bit, at least - 8/10

✴️      

First watch - Stanley Kubrick’s very first film, the short self-financed boxing documentary Day of the fight (1951)! Done when he was 23, fully cinematic and well-composed, with distinct narration The Killing-style.

Happy Find of the week!

✴️      

Bernadette Peters X 2:

✳️✳️✳️ Mel (“Fun”) Brooks’ slapstick film-about-filming Silent movie, a blatant Product Placement vehicle for Coca Cola. Bernadette Peters played the Madeline Kahn role, the very voluptuous Vilma Kaplan, “A bundle of lust”.

“You brought me papers?”

My father would have loved it!

✳️✳️✳️ First watch: Woody Allen’s 1990 Alice, a rework of Fellini’s Juliet of the spirits. With cameos of Thelonious Monk and Mother Teresa, and scenes of Mia Farrow smoking opium. Bernadette Peters was “The Muse” who had to wear reading glasses.

✴️      

So I also re-visited Fellini’s baroque Juliet of the spirits, with the delightful Giulietta Masina. Both Fellini and Allen cast their middle-age wives / girlfriends in the same role. Also, I didn’t realize that Fellini was gay, and his marriage to Masina was partly pro-forma.

Long Live Nino Rota!

✴️      

Gérard Depardieu X 3:

✳️✳️✳️ I have to see all of Truffaut‘s films again! His straight-forward, sweet, simple story telling style. First: The Woman Next Door, where the new neighbor is the old, tragic lover. L'amour Toujours.

And always with Georges Delerue‘s score.

✳️✳️✳️ "When are you coming, Cherie?" 

30 years ago I used to love Green Card, because 1. Romance with Andie MacDowell and 2. Similarities of my marriage of convenience of the same time.

It was actually a rarity, a comedy about immigration policy. I also used to like Peter Weir‘s films.

✳️✳️✳️ La Vie En Rose (2007), a standard French bio of Édith Piaf’s very hard life, full of Marion Cotillard, accordions, and endless grief.

Her music though was better. 3/10

✴️        

As if there was a pandemic, and you can’t get out of the house. Buñuel’s absurdist The Exterminating Angel, about a party of upper class socialites slowly descending into anarchy after getting stuck in a mansion and not able to leave. Uncomfortably claustrophobic and eerily nihilist. Re-watch.

✴️        

White, part 2 of Kieślowski’s ‘Trois couleurs’ trilogy. A disappointing revenge fantasy, whereby a hapless Polish hairdresser suffers a humiliating divorce and somehow manages to gain ‘equality’ by implicating his ex-wife in his fake death.

I loved ‘Blue’, but not this ‘Anti-comedy’.

✴️      

Shirley Jackson X 2:

✳️✳️✳️ Shirley, a “Woman’s film”, made by (nearly all) women, about “brilliant, tortured” writer Shirley Jackson, the author of ‘The Lottery’. Reminiscent of ‘Who’s afraid of Virginia Wolf’, but this younger couple are dull and uninspired. I didn’t find it compelling, except of the final cathartic scene at the edge of the cliff, overlooking the dive below.

‘Let’s pray for a boy. The world is too cruel for girls”.

✳️✳️✳️ Shirley Jackson’s horrifying short story The Lottery (full text here), published in The New Yorker, and featured at the opening scene of ‘Shirley’ above. A story about a small town in New England which follows a long-held tradition of stoning one member of the community every year in a ritual that is accepted by all.

✴️        

Al Pacino in William Friedkin’s Cruising, a commentary on the S&M leather scene at the end of 70′s NYC. Gay sex & open hustling were normalized, but within a story of a serial killer. Not homophobic, but unconvincing and disappointing. With Paul Sorvino and Joe Spinell. 

✴️ Documentaries X 3:       

✳️✳️✳️ Inside Deep Throat, a prurient 2005 documentary Produced by Brian Glazer and narrated by Dennis Hopper. With the typical HBO horrendous quick editing, it claims that Deep Throat is the one event that mainstreamed blow jobs.

America’s reactionary obsession with sex and porn and the politics of religion and morals which fucked it all up. Despicable Alan Dershowitz does his Talking Head shtick.

✳️✳️✳️ First watch: The Thin Blue Line, Errol Morris‘s breakthrough doc, which was faulted (justifyingly) for using reenactments in telling a real story. 

America is filled with so much miscarriages of justice, gun violence, police abuse, and crime, that it’s hopeless to navigate it.

✳️✳️✳️ Fox and the Big Lie, Australian Broadcasting Corp's doc - How Fox News promoted trump’s propaganda and helped destabilize democracy in the USA. Part 2.

✴️         

Why I quit Netflix (It’s true)

- - - - -

(My complete movie list is here)

[commic-jester]

For your prompt spoiler for 129

Okay Cad's Revivy didn't work. Caleb has to use his Transmuter Stone.

why must you hurt me in this way anon /lh

disclaimer!! i don’t know a lot about the transmuter’s stone in terms of critical role so im going strictly off dnd stats!! idk how important it is to the current story!! im sorry if this is a bit ooc!! also kinda channeled my inner matt mercer for this one dksfdjk-

‼️SPOILERS FOR EP 129 HUGE FUCKIN SPOILERS‼️

TW: temporary child death!! please be safe y’all!!!

Last Resort

—

It didn’t work.

It didn’t fucking work.

Caleb watched as Caduceus’s spell faded into nothing, the charred, lifeless body of Luc, a mere child, lying still in Marion’s arms. The red tiefling woman’s face crumpled once more as she covered her mouth with her hand, choking out a sob.

“Caduceus...?” Veth’s voice was small, broken. The adrenaline of the battle had worn off, the mother’s rage at the now dead creature that had killed her son simmering down into small embers instead of a raging flame.

Caduceus himself was horrified. It shook Caleb to his core, to see Caduceus so open with his emotions. The cleric was known to be gentle, supporting, but closed off with his own emotions. Now, though, the firbolg was staring at the lifeless body, his hands beginning to glow with another _Revivify, _until the small hand of Veth reached out to stop him. The cleric was clearly exhausted already.

Caleb looked around frantically. Yeza was broken, sobbing forcefully into his son’s chest. Veth had laid her head on her husband’s shoulders, her shoulders shaking violently but with no noise. Marion was crying as well, gently carding her fingers through the toddler’s hair. Jester was next to Caduceus, who was sat back on his heels, staring blankly at the toddler, tears silently streaming down his face. Jester was whispering small reassurances to the firbolg, who clearly wasn’t having any of it by the way he would gently shake his head.

Caleb shook himself out of it. He had to do something. 

He rummaged through his bag, desperately digging for something, anything—

The transmuter’s stone.

He knew it would shatter after this use, given that it even worked at all. It was a gamble, but as far as he knew it was the only chance they had at the moment. Losing the stone was better than losing Luc.

He shoved his way past Caduceus, who looked up, slightly confused.

Placing the stone on Luc’s chest, Caleb muttered a few arcane words and watched as the stone pulsed with a faint glow.

A beat of silence. Two. Panic began bubbling inside Caleb’s chest. He didn’t necessarily worship any gods, that was more Jester and Caduceus’s areas, but he could have sworn he began subconsciously muttering a quiet prayer.

One more beat of silence, and the stone suddenly exploded in a blinding flash of orange and gold, a shattering sound ringing through the chamber as fragments of the small ringed stone went flying across the molten cavern. 

Everyone in the cavern released a collective breath as Luc drew in a gasping one, coughing violently. Veth and Yeza both dashed forward, wrapping their son in a near crushing hug. 

Caleb fell back onto his heels, not unlike Caduceus. Caleb buried his head in his hands, reminding himself that he had no right to cry. If he had just been stronger, more cautious. If he hadn’t gone fucking unconscious. If he had just dealt with the elementals sooner--

A large hand came to rest on his shoulder, and Caleb looked up to see an exhausted, but gently smiling Caduceus.

“You did good.”

“I did what I had to.”

Caduceus frowned. “Caleb, don’t tell me you’re blaming yourself for this.”

Caleb sighed. “I was weak. If I just killed that fucking elemental sooner. If I hadn’t dragged every one of you into this mess in the first fucking place, he’s a child!”

Caduceus placed both hands on Caleb’s shoulder this time. “Hey, hey. None of this is anyone’s fault, ok?” he said, then chuckled slightly. “Caleb, you, quite literally, can’t fight fire with fire. As for ‘dragging’ all of us into this, I think you should know by now that we would all follow each other to the ninth circle of Hell if it meant one of us was safe. After all the shit we’ve been through? I don’t think anything you could have said would have convinced us otherwise.”

Caleb sighed. “I could have done more.”

Caduceus shrugged. “Maybe. Maybe not. We’ll never know, though, will we? What’s important is that the elementals are dead, Luc is safe, and no one is terribly hurt.” 

Caleb didn’t respond, instead standing up and focusing on setting up the magical dome that would keep them safe, at least for a bit. When they were all rested up, they would get the hell out of here as soon as they could with Jester’s magic.

When Caleb finally got the dome up, he sat inside, looking over as Jester massaged Caduceus’s likely tense shoulders. He smiled gently as the large firbolg practically fell asleep.

He jumped slightly as a tiny hand came to rest on his knee, and he looked down to see little Luc looking up at him with large, innocent eyes that nearly broke Caleb’s heart. 

“You have really cool magic, Uncle Caleb,” The small child said quietly as to not wake any of the people sleeping. Caleb gave sad, small chuckle. He didn’t deserve that nickname. 

“It is pretty cool, isn’t it?” Caleb replied quietly, deciding to indulge him. He snapped once, Frumpkin appearing on Luc’s shoulder. The child laughed and pet the cat as it curled around his shoulders, purring. Caleb looked up to see Yeza and Veth clutching onto each other, smiling sadly at their son playing with the cat. Caleb saw Yeza look up at him, tear stains visible on the halfling man’s face. The man looked at him with a gratitude so strong Caleb almost had to look away. After a few beats Caleb saw Yeza mouth the words “thank you”.

Caleb looked away, not responding. He held back a sniffle of his own, and instead lied down in his own cot away from the rest of the group.

Caleb knew he’d carry that guilt with him for a long time, but for now, Caleb decided he would rest in the small comfort that Luc was safe, none of his friends were hurt (that he knew of -- he had no idea about Fjord, Beau, and Yasha), and the families would be hopefully safe at the Evening Nip in the coming days. With that, he rested, not peacefully, but rested nonetheless. The Mighty Nein had survived possibly their worst challenge yet, and it wasn’t in the form of a dragon or beholder. 

Gods provide they survived the next.

--

reblogs > likes!!

[elsinore-rose]

this is something i’m writing with shay, and since we do hope to post it ONE DAY WHEN IT’S DONE i will just give you a little tiny snippet here:

It's her mom's fault.

Really. It is. Marion Lavorre has always been overprotective, always sheltered Jester more than was necessary, always overreacted to things — like when Jester was a child and snuck out up onto the roof of the Chateau for a better view of the New Year's fireworks, or when she was thirteen and dropped a tree frog into the visiting Marquesian ambassador's wine goblet, or when she was eighteen and trapped Lord Robert Sharpe on her balcony wearing nothing but a girdle — 

True, Jester had fallen and broken her arm that first time — and yes, the ambassador had been so furious that she'd called off the trade deal Mama was trying to negotiate — and, all right, Lord Sharpe had sort of threatened to do unspeakable things to Jester and ended up having to be arrested and stripped of his title and caused a scandal whose repercussions are still being felt in Nicodranas to this day — 

But it's not like Jester meant for any of that to happen. She just...has a knack for getting in trouble.

It doesn't mean she needs a bodyguard. 

"What do you mean, death threats?" She stares at her mother. "Who would want to kill me?"

Marion lets out a tired sigh. "We are not entirely sure yet, my sapphire. That is why Magister Widogast is here. Until we know who is behind these threats, and what kind of attack they have planned, we cannot be too cautious."

I bet we can, Jester thinks miserably as she glances at the strange man standing at Mama's side, his hands clasped politely behind the back of his long coat.

"No offense," Jester starts, which is usually a pretty good indicator that she's going to say something offensive, "but he looks like a stiff breeze could knock him over. Besides, we have plenty of guards crawling around, why would having one more help?"

She crosses her arms, trying to look haughty and in control. Fjord has told her she just looks like a brat when she stands like this, but Fjord doesn't know anything. This is her princess pose. Intimidating, powerful, and slightly troublesome — perfectly crafted after time spent staring in the mirror.

In response, this Magister Widogast, whoever he is, extends a hand towards Jester, palm up, and snaps his fingers.

Flame erupts around his hand. 

Marion coughs. "Magister Widogast is an accomplished mage, Jester. He is here to ensure that you are safe from threats of a more...arcane nature."

The flame winks out. His hand, from what Jester can glimpse before he tucks it behind his back once more, appears completely unscathed.

She refuses to be impressed. While Magister Widogast had summoned the flames completely silently, they hadn't been huge or anything. Jester shoves down the sudden urge to stick her tongue out at him, or maybe use a foul gesture. 

"So as long as it's an arcane wind, he should be totally fine," she mutters.

[elizabethemerald]

The Nein, The Sapphire and The Ruby; Part 2

“What was your plan?” Beau stepped forward, her threatening posture completely unnecessary as the man was still completely terrified of Jester. 

“Our plan was to scare the Ruby. We weren’t going to hurt her too badly. Just scare her, to lure that one back to the city, he wanted us to capture the Blue Tiefling.”

He nodded his head to Jester as she stepped back from him. Caleb stepped back with her, while Fjord and Beau took over the interrogation. The two of them left the room and walked together through Yussa’s tower. Jester didn’t say anything until she found herself outside the closet where Caleb had cast his tower. She stared idly at the cat statue and wand sitting at the base of the closet. 

“Jester. Are you-” Caleb started. 

“I’m just fine Cay-leb.” Jester interrupted with a bright smile even as she wiped tears from her eyes. 

“Talk to me Blueberry.” Caleb said softly. 

“He hurt my momma because of me.” Jester said, more tears rolling down her cheeks. “I played a prank and Sharpe attacked my momma.”

Caleb snapped his fingers and Frumpkin appeared to weave around Jester’s ankles. She immediately picked up the fey cat and pressed her face into his fur to hide her tears. Caleb stood with his hands at his sides for a moment, unsure what else to do to try and comfort her. 

“What happened today is not your fault. You must know that Jester. Lord Sharpe is a cruel and arrogant man.”

“I know that Cay-leb! He’s a dick and he’s just awful, but he hurt my momma because I pulled another prank on him!!”

Jester sobbed even louder, and put Frumpkin back on the ground. She threw her arms around Caleb’s narrow shoulders, pressing her face against his neck. He hesitated for a moment before wrapping her in a some what awkward embrace. He felt out of his depth. He felt he usually left the comforting to one of the other members of the Nein or to his cat. 

“Your momma is safe. And we’re going to make sure she stays safe. After we’re done with Sharpe no one will dare threaten her again.” This was a promise Caleb could keep. 

Jester pulled away, looking again at the doorway to Caleb’s tower. 

“I hurt him.” She gasped out. Caleb looked around in confusion. Was she talking about Lord Sharpe? After a moment Jester continued. “What I did to that guy, what you and Beau were willing to do to him. It was too much like what the Iron Shepards did to me.”

Caleb stepped back, floored by that admission. He hadn’t even thought about that. The nature of his memory was that he could still remember every detail of that dungeon. The stink of fear and rot. The implements used to torture children, and chains to keep them helpless. He could remember the bruises and marks he had seen. And worse, he could remember the exact appraising look he had given that dungeon. Compared their tools to the ones that had been used on him when he was a child under Ikithon. Compared the marks they left to the ones on his own body. Compared the rank stink of fear to his own wild fear of falling back into his one time master’s hands. 

He stepped forward and grabbed Jester in a tight hug. This may be the first time he had been the one to initiate a hug between the two of them, but she needed it now. She needed comfort, not the reminder of what she had gone through before they could rescue her. So he held her tight, her knees grew weak and they slumped to the floor. 

“I want to make Sharpe pay.” Jester whispered. “I want him to suffer, for even thinking he could hurt my momma.” She was quiet for a long moment. “But we can’t torture him like that. I can’t… you can’t… We aren’t like that. We don’t hurt people like that.”

A sound from below them brought them both to their feet. Jester quickly wiped her eyes and picked up Frumpkin again. Soon the rest of the Nein joined them. 

“We got we can out of that piece of shit.” Beau declared as they arrived, then stopped short when she saw the two of them. “Jes, are you-?”

“I’m perfectly fine Beau.” Jester interrupted for the second time. Beau and the other more observant members of the Nein were quick to catalog Jester’s red eyes, the tip of her nose showing a hint of purple, the tear marks on Caleb’s white shirt, and the fact that Jester was currently cuddling Frumpkin tightly to her chest, but none of them commented on it. 

“Yussa has the information we need.” Beau said. She spoke slower than normal, keeping a close eye on Jester while she did. “We’re going to lead a squad of Zhelezo to arrest Sharpe. We need to go now before he has a chance to leave the city, or pull some stunt.”

“Go on ahead guys.” Jester said. “I want to stay here with momma, make sure she is ok and safe.”

“But Jester-” Veth grabbed for her hand. “Don’t you want to get revenge?” 

“I want to stay here with my momma.” Jester repeated, more adamantly. 

Caleb gestured to the closet and the door into his tower opened for her. She stepped up to it, her back straight, even as her tail curled tightly around her ankle. 

“Jester, would you like me- s-someone to stay behind with you?” Caleb wasn’t sure why he offered. He knew she was more than capable of taking care of herself. 

“No.” She sounded sure when she said that.  “Go arrest Sharpe. And Caleb-?”

Jester hesitated, unable to ask the question on her mind, but Caleb could see it, could guess what she couldn’t say. He nodded without bringing it up. No matter how much he might deserve to be punished. Lord Sharpe was not to be tortured. At least not by the Mighty Nein. They weren’t like that. They didn’t hurt people like that. 

“Ah. Could you hold onto Frumpkin for me?” He asked her instead. “We don’t know quite what to expect with Sharpe’s estate and I would rather know my cat was safe.”

“Of course Cay-leb.” Jester gave him a small genuine smile, before stepping into the tower entrance. 

Once Jester was within Caleb’s tower, standing in the middle of the entrance way with its nine windows showing the schools of magic she took a deep shuttering breath and began to float up through the tower. It didn’t take her long to find the room Caleb had created for her. She entered her apartment’s sitting room to find her mother, Luc and Yeza. Marion took one look at her daughter and without hesitation opened her arms. Jester ran into them and held her momma as tightly as she could. 

They cried together, mother and daughter, Ruby and Sapphire, for what felt like hours, but was probably only a few minutes. They summoned some of Caleb’s cat servants. Some just to bring food. Some to cuddle and play with. Jester took Luc into her painting room and together they began to cover the blank walls. Her momma sat and watched them paint, while Yeza would lift Luc up to reach a high spot on the wall. 

Jester, of course, wasn’t used to waiting on the side lines while her friends fought, so she used multiple Scry spells to check up on them to make sure they were alright. She watched as her friends walked at the head of a small group of Zhelezo through the streets of Nicodranas. She saw Caleb’s Cat’s Ire tear down the gate to the Sharpe Estate. A moment later with spells flying targeting Sharpe’s mercenaries, Yasha bamfed out her wings, picked up Beau and together they flew up to the second floor and crashed through a window into Sharpe’s office. 

The next time she scried the fight was basically finished. Sharpe was unconscious, Beau and Yasha standing over him while Fjord and Veth dealt with the last of the mercenaries. Caduceus and Caleb focused their efforts on some second rate wizard Sharpe had hired, but he wasn’t a match for either of them. 

After that, they had Sharpe in chains. The Zhelezo were scouring the estate and interviewing different members of the Nein about what had transpired. In the background Veth was picking the lock on a safe hidden behind Sharpe’s desk. She watched as one of the city guards aimed a vicious kick at Sharpe, only to be stopped by Caleb. He gave the guard a firm but quiet shake of his head. 

Finally she scried on her friends and found them walking up the stairs in the Tide Peak Tower. She flew down to meet them, polymorphing into a hawk (pale blue of course) to move even faster. She hugged each of her friends tightly in turn, using what few remaining spells she had to heal any small injuries they sustained. 

Her friends… her family… The Mighty Nein reconvened inside Caleb’s tower. They had dinner together, again laughing and telling jokes, keeping the mood light. Caleb stayed quiet for most of the night, only giving small smiles, seemingly lost in thought. They were tired, but they felt confident that no one else would dare threaten the Ruby of the Sea again. 

When dinner was over, Marion sang for them. A private concert just for them. Jester blinked away tears as her momma sang, her beautiful voice, perfectly suited for the magical tower. While she sang Caleb used his few remaining spells to create illusions and light effects around her, just like he had done on Rumblecusp. 

Eventually it was time for them to go to sleep. To rest and recover from the injuries and the terror of the day. To regain spells so that tomorrow they could do a little more to leave the world a better place. Marion was offered the guest bedroom but declined in favour of sharing a room with her daughter. 

RIght before Jester went into her room to sleep for the night, she grabbed Caleb into a tight hug. 

“Thank you Caleb.” She whispered, then pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. She left him there blushing up to his ears and gently closed the door.

[sociallyawkwardfoxwriter]

Dairon mentions to Marion what Beau's dad had done to her (through the Cobolt Soul) and Marion is appalled. Either Dairon/Marion or them just meeting sometime before.

My mind hates looking at Dairon/Marion because of how close their names are, but it was fun to write.

Enjoy!

A soft knock followed by the door to her room opening enough for a lithe form to slip in, then shut it behind them. She quickly pushed the last pin in her hair to keep it up, so she could turn to smile at Dairon. Her hand stretched out in an invitation that Dairon immediately moved to accept with a calloused hand of their own. They flipped her hand over to place a kiss to the back of it.

"It is good to see you again."

"It has been too long." She gave Dairon's hand a squeeze as she rose from her chair to press a quick kiss to her cheek. "Did you find what you were looking for? You were so distressed the last time I saw you. I've been worried."

"I did. Finally."

"That's good. I could tell it was eating away at you."

"It was important I found the truth. She deserves what will come of it."

For a moment, she bit her lip in uncertainty, then brought a hand up to rest on her cheek. "Can I ask who?"

"Beau."

"Beau? What happened to her? She looked fine the last time they visited."

With a sigh, Dairon motioned for her to take a seat on the lounging couch while she moved to the alcohol cabinet. After a moment of searching, Dairon set a bottle of whiskey and two glasses on a side table. They brought the filled glasses over and took a seat next to her on the couch. She accepted the offered glass with the best smile she could manage with the worry slowly eating at her.

"How much do you know of Beau's past?"

"Not much. She's told me a little about herself, but she prefers to stick to what they've been up to and Jester and Yasha."

"With good reason. She said something quite some time ago now that I hadn't been aware of. I looked into it and found the evidence that should get her the justice she deserves."

"What happened?"

When Dairon pursed her lips, she reached out a hand to give their leg a comforting squeeze. "The archivist that recruited her to the Cobalt Soul did it against her will. He took a bribe from her father. In exchange for quite a bit of money, he took her from her home in Kamordah against her will."

"That's horrible."

"Yes, it is. And, it goes against everything we do at the Cobalt Soul. The fact such corruption was going on under our own noses..."

"It's not your fault. As soon as you found out, you did something about it. That's the important thing. He won't be able to do that to anyone else because you believed her and did something about it."

"It shouldn't have happened in the first place."

"I know," She set her glass on the table so she could wrap her arms around Dairon. "but you can't change the past. You've done what you can. Now, you focus on being there for her."

"Thank you, Marion."

"Of course, I'm always here for you, dear."