#which was already a very fraught thing in. THEIR family

[gloriousmonsters]

Thoughts on the Twin Jades’ relationship as kids/teens/adults (any of the above or developing over time)

honestly my first thought on the Twin Jades relationship right now is that, unfortunately, I only find the bad/unhealthy/conflict-inducing parts of it interesting. Like, I know that they very much deeply care about each other, but I only find that interesting if it's in a weird fucked up incest codependent way, and usually I only find their conflict enjoyable, so I feel like I tend to focus on/exaggerate negative aspects of their relationship.

with that grain of salt taken, I think that their relationship... ended, in a way, right around WWX's death and all that happened there. They lost trust in each other because it was a huge conflict of what they personally valued (and both of them, imo, have very good reason to be fucked up over the events). They still love each other, and have a sense of duty and family left (to an extent) but it's... more a memory of love rather than active love. Forming a mutually respectful and caring relationship as adults was just not in the cards, what with all the canon events. So to me it's a very tragic thing by the time we see it in present-day canon; the 'Twin Jades' is such a concept, but the substance and truth of that concept is gone.

[unhetalia]

England headcanons (pt. 1):

Chain-smokes like a motherfucker. Alfred, who doesn't smoke and pretends very hard to think smoking is disgusting, hasn't yet realised where his secret smoking kink comes from.

Currently works for British Intelligence/has infiltrated his own government.

Carries around either a cane or umbrella that hides a sword even though he has never ONCE had to use it. He just feels more comfortable having a sword. (He does also carry around a gun, which, in contrast, has been used often.)

Also carries around his own pen, and absolutely loathes the thought of using someone else's. The pen is a first edition Michel Perchin Serpent in Champagne LE Fountain Pen given to him by Alfred - only ten were ever made and it cost a cool 8k. While Arthur has more valuable things - especially from his time as a pirate and back when he personally knew his royal family - the pen is still one of his most prized possessions.

His favourite tea is actually French Earl Grey - which is Earl Grey with rose petals. Not actually French? But Arthur's still pretty annoyed about it.

As mentioned in a few of my other posts - Arthur is incredibly physical and has kept up with sword fighting and various martial arts over the years, and regularly goes to the gym. He's very disciplined about it.

Tends to eat only for fuel as opposed to enjoyment whenever he's left to his own devices.

If pressed, Arthur will admit his best friend is Francis. Francis would say the same about Arthur.

(Despite their individual body counts, Francis and Arthur have never slept with each other.)

(Arthur doesn't have a lot of friends and has a strained relationship with his siblings, and has always felt that people don't like spending time with him. Even when he was on top of the world, working with his government to become an Empire, he still felt like an underdog.)

On that note, Arthur worked with his government longer than the other Nations, and was a huge part of establishing the British Empire. It made his already fraught relationship with his siblings even worse, and he regrets a lot of it.

Nations get scars very rarely, because very few things have the ability to give them scars - magical weapons is one of those things. Out of all the Nations, England has the most scars.

England is amazing at knitting and crochet, and he gifts Francis crocheted figurines from French cartoons for his birthday every year, which Francis adores. He also knits Canada scarves and gloves and beanies whenever he remembers him.

One of Arthur's most embarrassing memories is getting gonorrhea during his pirate days. He didn't have sex for a month after his healing kicked in - a record back then - and he became a lot more diligent in procuring and using the linen sheaths they used as condoms at the time.

Three of Arthur's back molars are implants made of real gold.

Alfred is the first (and last) person Arthur will say he's ever fallen in love with BUT the closest he's come is with another American - a nurse that took care of him during World War I. She was blonde and blue eyed and once shouted Arthur down when he insisted on continuing to fight even with a bullet lodged in his shoulder. She completely disappeared in April 1917, just before the Americans officially joined the war. He sometimes wonders what happened to her.

[codenamesazanka]

(my translation)

“Police Investigation” - does that mean… Tsukauchi? He's been at the Shigaraki/League investigation from the start, and I don't see why Deku wouldn't tell him about Shigaraki Tomura/Shimura Tenko.

Which makes me wonder - does this mean the police do know about Shimura Tenko? And what happened in the Shimura household? And what All For One did? Which is the core thing - All For One literally reveals that he plotted Tenko’s birth and home life and quirk. Deku was right there for it. He would know. He told Tsukauchi, right? And now, the TV documentary also knows about this “tragic past”?

Does this mean people know that Shigaraki’s tragic past is generational trauma + kidnapping + given a deadly quirk + grooming? Even just a brief overview is pretty gruesome. But it's being dismissed as “sentimental”? Or they think talking about all these horrible things is… sentimental? Literally with the 419 reveal, Shigaraki Tomura/Shimura Tenko has a very strong argument for “never made a choice of his own” and immensely undue influence… but no one cares? They don't want to care? Do Tsukauchi and Deku care?

“It's important to push the causes into the light,” the people say, but are they acting like so? Have they identified the cause of a Hero abandoning her family and leading to a fraught home life even to the next generation? Have they identified the issue of All For One being so sneaky and powerful that he was able to do this, and why did this Villain have so much control and influence? He was able to target Kotarou... because All Might and Gran Torino never checked up on the kid. He was able to have access to orphanages and quirks because he had the Doctor... who was the man society ostracized 70 years ago for pushing a hypothesis about quirks. Are they doing anything about it????

“People inspired by him will appear again and things will repeat” feels like it's directed at Spinner, but the thing is: Spinner was able to be influenced because of his own miserable background that occurred without interference from All For One or knowing Shigaraki’s past. We saw that unfold on page - Spinner was already empty, which allowed him to connect to Shigaraki’s emptiness. The League came to Shigaraki because they were already broken people, and it's not until months afterwards that they even found out his past.

TALK about that fucking tragic past and learn to deal with those holes in your society!

[oliversrarebooks]

The Rare Bookseller Part 43: Katherine's Advice

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September 1925

TW: conditioning, discussion of abuse, panic attacks

Oliver put the finishing touches on a set of egg-salad sandwiches, neat triangles with the crust removed, and set them on a platter along with an assortment of tea cookies from a local bakery. Truthfully, he didn't know the first thing about entertaining -- with no friends or family and a tiny bookshop apartment, it wasn't anything he'd ever had to do. Alexander had some helpful suggestions for things he'd seen other thralls do, and had procured the supplies Oliver would need for a light midnight lunch (or whatever one might call it.)

In fact, Alexander had been hovering around Oliver a great deal since their fraught conversation a couple of nights before. He'd bought a bounty of foods he supposed Oliver might like, and seemed to be popping up around every corner of the library to show Oliver interesting books.  It was as though his master thought he needed to win his favor all over again -- despite the fact that Oliver was still very much enthralled, his thoughts often going hazy and filling with imagined echoes of siren song.

Oliver didn't really need the attention, but he did appreciate the advice on entertaining. Embarrassing as it was, Oliver really did want to impress his guests. So much had happened over the past few weeks, his entire life and conception of the world turned on its end. The only people who might really understand were vampires' thralls. Miriam hadn't seemed quite lucid enough for a true conversation, but Alexander had told him that Miss Ruth's thrall, Charlie, was quite intelligent and together.

It'd be nice to talk to someone else who had gone through... this. That was all.

He had just finished up in the kitchen when the doorbell rang and his master rushed to greet the guests. "Hello hello!" sang a voice that Oliver would never forget: Miss Lily. She brought both of her hands to her face in a dramatic mock gasp. "Lex? No, it can't be. You don't look like you just clawed your way out of a grave. Who are you, and what have you done with Lex?"

"Mm. Nice to see you too."

"And look at you!" Miss Lily ruffled Oliver's hair. "You look like you're adjusting quite well! Are you the one responsible for Lex's shocking good health?"

Oliver blushed, not certain how to respond to the praise. She seemed different from how she had been in the auction house, more relaxed, but something about her voice and mannerisms still made Oliver feel a bit dazed and eager to please. "I'm just glad I was able to help him, sir."

"Of course you did. I just knew a thrall like you could do him a world of good. Speaking of which..." She pulled her thrall Miriam through the front door, and she looked at Oliver with her usual clouded expression. "Miriam, you remember Oliver, don't you? Lord Alexander's new thrall?"

She looked confused for a moment before her face lit up a bit in recognition. "Oh, yes! From when we were staying at the auction house. It's good to see you again."

"It's good to see you, too." Miriam's uncertain mental state made him a bit uneasy. If Lily and Alexander were anything alike, would he end up similarly entranced? Would he even realize if it happened? Was it happening already?

"But Miriam's not the only person I've brought along. I took the liberty of inviting one of our old friends that Lex has been avoiding."

Alexander looked confused. "Ruth? I haven't been avoiding her."

"Ruth's on the way, too, but no, not her."

"Oh -- you don't mean --"

A sophisticated-looking older woman, gray hair tucked in neat curls, stepped out from the porch. She was wearing an old-fashioned, dark blue flannel dress with a high collar. Behind her was another older woman, also wearing an old-fashioned flannel dress, hers covered with a ruffled white pinafore.

"Edith! It's been ages!" said Alexander.

"And whose fault is that?" she said, in the tone of a worried mother. "You kept turning me away when I called on you, and I'd hear all about it from Lily -- how you refused to take a thrall, and were drinking bottled blood --"

Alexander looked uncharacteristically cowed by the scolding. "And I'm sure she's told you that I have a suitable thrall, now, so you needn't worry about my health."

"I'll stop being worried about your health when you start taking proper care of yourself," she said. "But I'd like to meet this thrall of yours. Is this him?"

Even with his master and Miss Lily around him, Oliver could still feel the pull of this new vampire's aura on his mind. It was soothing, almost numbing, and he had the odd thought that she must be a good master. "My name is Oliver Pines, sir, and I am indeed Lord Alexander's thrall. It's a pleasure to meet you."

"Oh, what a polite and charming thrall," Miss Edith said with a smile. She shamelessly took Oliver's chin in her hand to examine his face, and Oliver was surprised that his master didn't seem to mind. "Healthy, and his blood smells very nourishing."

"As you can see, I'm taking care of myself just fine," said Alexander defensively.

"I suppose this is a better state of affairs than your usual. But where are my manners? I haven't introduced myself properly." she said, and then turned back to Oliver. "You may address me as Dr. Edith. I'm a doctor who has served the vampire community for over a century. If you're ever sick or injured, no doubt your master will call on me to help."

"You're a vampire... doctor, sir?"

"There are very few health ailments that can afflict vampires, so I primarily take care of their precious thralls. After all, healthy thralls are necessary for a healthy vampire," she said, with a pointed look at Alexander.

He rolled his eyes with a smile on his face. "Yes, yes, your point has been made."

"And this is Katherine, my faithful nurse," said Dr. Edith, gesturing to the woman who had accompanied her.

Katherine delicately shook Oliver's hand. "Good to meet you." She looked bright-eyed compared to Miriam, but her hand was warm, and she clearly was not a vampire.

"Are you a..."

"Dr. Edith's thrall, yes, and her nurse and assistant and whatever else is required of me."

"I see," he said with relief. He was looking forward to having a chat with a thrall who seemed to still have her wits about her.

While the group was still exchanging pleasantries, hanging up coats and hats, when the doorbell rang once again. It was Miss Ruth, the vampire lawyer who had sized up Oliver's suitability for a clerk at the auction house. She was followed by a tall, broad-shouldered man.

"Do you remember me, Oliver?" she asked.

"Yes, sir, I remember you very well. You asked me to recite state capitals. I'm glad to see you well."

Miss Ruth looked at him with longing. "Oh, I do wish I could have afforded to buy you," she said. "But no matter how hard I work, I just can't compete with Lex's fortune."

The broad-shouldered man was named Charlie, and he was one of Miss Ruth's thralls and law clerks. He favorited Oliver with a stoic nod, and between him and Katherine, he couldn't help but feel a bit self-conscious. Now that he was fully enthralled and owned by a vampire, it was strange to be around other humans, even those in a similar boat. It made him more keenly aware of his situation, and he wondered how he seemed to other people, all too aware that he was under a hypnotic spell.

"Now that all of our guests have arrived, Oliver, why don't you get your tea and refreshments and show the thralls into the second-floor sitting room?" said Alexander. "We'll be meeting in the parlor, and I would prefer not to be disturbed."

"Yes, sir," said Oliver, feeling more than a bit like a child being shooed off so the adults could talk. But even though he'd love to hear what the vampires were discussing -- especially since he seemed to be of particular interest to them -- he was also eager to have a chat with the other thralls.

A few moments later, and he'd enlisted Katherine and Charlie's help in carrying trays to the sitting room. The curtains were open wide, offering a pleasant view of the gaslit city streets and the waning moon. Miriam settled into a plush chair and pulled a knitting project out of a small bag as Oliver poured tea for the four of them.

"Please, help yourself to sandwiches and cookies," he said.

"You're a lovely host, Oliver," Katherine commented. "And so lucid, as well." 

"Um --"

Charlie glared. "An awkward thing to say to a new thrall, don't you think?"

"At my age, I don't see any point dancing around the bush. I've seen hundreds of thralls, after all, and I'm well aware that we're some of the more fortunate ones."

"How long have you two been thralls?" asked Oliver.

"Six years for me," said Charlie.

"I've been with the doctor for nearly thirty years now."

"Thirty years!" said Oliver. "I didn't know... well..."

"Didn't realize that a thrall could last so long in the service of a vampire?" said Katherine, amused. "It's understandable, but it's more common than you might expect. I'm particularly lucky in that my master is a doctor, and so I'm kept very healthy."

"Do you like your master?"

"I do," said Katherine. "I'm under her spell, of course, but after all these years, that's practically background noise. But after having met so many vampires, I'm glad it was the doctor who enthralled me. I meet lots of interesting people and vampires, and I get to help them. I'm never bored. And she's always treated me well."

"I'm also happy to serve my master," said Charlie in a tone that sounded a bit strange. "I mean, I do miss my old life sometimes, and it's hard work to be a clerk, but my living conditions are so much better than when I was working at the factory, that's for sure. My math and reading have improved, too."

"And how about you, Oliver? What's your first impression of serving Lord Alexander?" said Katherine.

Oliver's mind swirled with thoughts, of his master's siren song and his feeding and his need, of the library and the comfortable bed and generous food, of his tiny apartment above the bookshop that used to be modest but his, of the threat of his master's sire.

"It's been good so far. Lord Alexander will be a good master to me, I hope," said Oliver carefully. "But... did you two know his previous thralls?"

Katherine exchanged a look with Charlie. "Ah, yes, Henry. I remember him. He was more... subdued. Like Miriam." 

"Like Miriam," Oliver repeated, his fear of having his mind fade away from him renewed.

Miriam looked up from her knitting. "Hm?"

"Nothing, dear," said Katherine. "I believe that Lord Alexander has, for the most part, always treated his thralls very well. He's a gentle vampire, and he's always treated me with more respect than is due a thrall. But..."

"But?"

"Well... I have had to treat a number of mysterious injuries on Alexander's previous thralls. Miss Lily's as well. I assume you know what those two have in common."

Charlie looked impatient. "There's no need to beat around the bush. Our vampires won't mind us talking about this. They're probably talking about the same thing," he said. "Oliver, what has Lord Alexander told you about the Maestro?"

"The Maestro?" said Oliver, his eyes widening. "Is that... his sire?"

"Oh dear. Yes, he is," said Katherine. "So he's told you very little. It's the way of vampires, unfortunately. Even my master barely tells me anything."

Oliver gripped his chair. "I need to know. Please, tell me."

"I'm afraid I don't know that much myself. He's notoriously reclusive. But I have had to visit his manor to attend to thralls on a number of occasions. Even my master would prefer not to go there, but she says it's too dangerous to defy him."

"What was he like?"

Katherine leaned in close, as though the subject of their conversation might somehow overhear. "His power lets him control people's bodies utterly. His thralls are like toy soldiers, moving to a drum only they can hear. I'm used to all kinds of thralls, but his were uncanny." Katherine shuddered. "Even though he didn't lay a hand on me, he was glaring at me the entire time, and I could feel his influence pulling at my mind. A feeling as though I had to fall in line immediately, or something terrible would happen. Like I could barely think without him hearing it. I've rarely wanted to flee a manor so quickly as that one."

"That does sound... unpleasant," he said, trying to keep his hands from shaking as he sipped his tea, unable to stop his imagination from conjuring visions of himself being used as little more than a puppet. "And his thralls were injured?"

"My master complained that he hadn't called until they were practically bleeding out -- afterwards, of course, not while we were there. Malnourished, too, with a haunted look about them." She put a hand on his knee with a sympathetic look. "But these were the Maestro's own thralls, not Alexander's. You have far less to worry about here. As I've said, I've always found him to be a very gentle vampire."

"Convenient," huffed Charlie. "A vampire with a reputation for being gentle and honest, who gets to blame all his thralls' injuries on his notoriously cruel sire."

Katherine looked alarmed. "Charlie --"  

"I'm just saying that I find it hard to believe the apple falls that far from the tree."

Before Katherine could interject again, Miriam unexpectedly looked up from her knitting, fear written on her normally placid face. "But it is true," she insisted. "Lord Alexander has never hurt me. Neither has Miss Lily, except when she has to leave me there, and --" Tears began to roll down her face. "I can hear it. I can still hear it. Miss Lily told me I could forget, but I can't, I can't forget or he'll punish me --"

"Miriam, oh dear, Miriam, it's okay," said Katherine, pulling the sobbing thrall into an embrace. "It's all right, Miriam. No one's going to hurt you here. You're safe with us, dear."

"I can dance. I can do the dance perfectly, I promise, just let me try, I can do it." Miriam's anxious mumble was barely intelligible between her crying and the way she was pressed against Katherine.

"Miriam, you aren't there. You aren't anywhere frightening. You're having tea at Lord Alexander's house, remember?"

"I'm at...?"

"Lord Alexander's house. His thrall Oliver is being such a gracious host. It's perfectly safe. See?"

Miriam seemed to wake from her terror almost as quickly as she'd fallen into it. "Oh, of course, I don't know what I was thinking!" she said, glassy-eyed as she lifted her head from Katherine's shoulder. "Oh, I always enjoy when my madam visits Lord Alexander. He's very kind to me."

"Of course he is, dear," said Katherine, patting her back. "We really shouldn't bring up such awful topics around Miriam. She's a sensitive soul. Charlie, how's your baseball team doing?"

Oliver wanted to hear more, even though it terrified him, but he also felt awful that his questioning had thrown Miriam into a panic, so he eagerly went along with the topic change. "You like baseball, Charlie?"

"Love baseball, always have," he said, also looking relieved at the conversation switch. "My master gave me a great radio set, so I can listen to all the games. But my team's doing awful this year -- bottom of the league. They never shoulda traded their star pitcher..." 

As Oliver listened to Charlie rant about blown games and poor referee calls, as Katherine discussed birdwatching and a new bread recipe she'd tried, he could almost forget the fear of his situation and feel a little bit normal.

It was only later, after Charlie and his madam left and Miriam was engrossed in her knitting, that Oliver was able to pull Katherine aside. "Katherine, will you please hear me out?"

"Certainly," she said in a motherly tone. "I know how hard it is, the first few weeks of being a vampire's thrall."

"What you said before..." He glanced around as if he were afraid his master would pop out of the shadows at any moment. "Am I safe here? Will I be all right? I've been conditioned to be unable escape..."

"That's normal, yes. I assume Miss Lily was the one who handled your conditioning?"

"She was."

"Then no, I don't expect you'll be able to escape," she said. She put a hand on Oliver's shoulder. "I can't promise that you will be safe. What I said about the Maestro was all true, and while I do believe Alexander means well on the whole, you're among vampires now. We live in their world, and they do what they will with us."

Oliver felt his gut twist. "So then..."

"I've met so many thralls in my life. Hundreds, probably. Most in worse situations than you, and some in better," she said. "Would you like to hear my honest advice about surviving this?"

"Yes, by all means."

"Find happiness wherever you can. Find joy outside of your master's enthralling and feeding. Hobbies, food, art, education, anything that brings you pleasure -- indulge in it." She smiled warmly. "You'll need these pleasures to keep your mind sharp and keep your soul from despair. When you're permanently a prisoner, you need something tangible to look forward to, even if it's simply a warm drink or a beam of sunshine. You seem like the sort of man who can appreciate the mundane."

"...I like to believe so, yes."

"That's a skill that will serve you well, Oliver," she said. "Even if Alexander and his sire are cruel to you, you'll still have something to hold on to during your darkest moments."

"Something to hold on to..." 

"I think you will figure it out. With how much Lord Alexander seems to prize you, it wouldn't surprise me to meet you here twenty years from now, looking back on our lives with our vampires."

She seemed to mean it, and that gave Oliver hope.

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I really enjoy Edith as a character and hope to write at least one side story with her.

@d-cs @latenightcupsofcoffee @thecyrulik @dismemberment-on-a-tuesday-night @wanderinggoblin @whumpyourdamnpears @only-shadows-dwell-where-we-are @pressedpenn @pigeonwhumps @amusedmuralist @xx-adam-xx @ivycloak @irregular-book @whumpsoda @mj-or-say10 @pokemaniacgemini @sowhumpshaped @whumpsday @morning-star-whump @shinyotachi @silly-scroimblo-skrunkl @steh-lar-uh-nuhs @pirefyrelight @theauthorintraining @whump-me-all-night-long @anonfromcanada @typewrittenfangs @tessellated-sunl1ght @cleverinsidejoke @abirbable @ichorousambrosia @a-formless-entity @gobbo-king @writinggremlin @the-agency-archives @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @enigmawriteswhump @foresttheblep @bottlecapreader @whump-on-a-string @whumpinthepot @cinnamoncandycanes @avvail-whumps @tauntedoctopuses @secret-vampkissers-soiree

[romantichopelessly]

invitation to speak more about the secret good td3 in your head, if you so desire!

Ok so I sat on this ask for DAYS because I wanted to have some cohesive, great answer, but the thing about The Dreamer Trilogy that haunts me is that I can never come up with good concrete thoughts about how to fix the issues I have with it, which is why I reference the “secret good td3 in my head” because it can never fully leave my head in any real way. That being said here’s a list of some elements I would change to make my secret good td3, in no particular order.

The visionaries don’t exist. Liliana, Persifal, etc. are just psychics that keep getting visions of the end, and die for reasons other than their power. Explaining what Visionaries are and subsequently over explaining the magic system of td3 is part of what made the trilogy so confusing and ruined a lot of the magic that the TRC universe already had for me. We don’t need concrete explanations, and psychics can still fill this role. The changing age and exploding added nothing?? to the narrative?? that I can think of?? We can even keep the age gap for Carliana if we want to, just make Liliana an older psychic like Maura/Persephone/Calla. It will even add to the excellent Carmen-Mr. Gray parallels.

Lean more into the themes of the age group. TRC is a coming of age story. It’s about being 17/18. It’s about learning your inner self and getting others to see the true you. TD3 should be more about being 19/20/21. To me, TD3 at its peak is like Buffy the Vampire Slayer Season 6. Which is uniquely about the horror of being in your early 20s, losing support systems, having to learn to be a full self-reliant person, grappling with what your parents did to you, and the crushing loneliness of not being around Your People anymore. TD3 has all of these themes, but I really think they need to be fleshed out more, and given proper conclusion that isn’t just “yippee everything is fine now!”

Greywaren is longer. I think almost everyone agrees that Greywaren, as a book was just too short to wrap up all the plot lines set up, and does almost none of them justice. That book needed a whole rewrite. In theory, I’m completely fine with how it opens—Ronan being in a dream coma was foreshadowed from CDTH, and is an idea that I’d actually thought of as interesting before even reading the book. Other elements of this book like Declan’s rampage, Matthew going rogue, etc are great directions for the characters, I’d just want to rework them. I could make solo posts about any of these.

The Pynch breakup either doesn’t happen, or is set up further in advance and lasts longer. Personally, I lean towards the latter. Adam and Ronan’s conflict is set up from the very beginning of CDTH, or even from Opal (Adam warring between wanting to stay with Ronan and needing to follow through with his lifelong plans, and being frustrated that Ronan never asks for anything from Adam (specifically, to stay) ((side note: perhaps Adam’s insecurity here about Ronan respecting his boundaries so thoroughly stems from both having a family that never would respect his wishes, and Gansey (Adam’s model of love, Adam’s model of everything) having to learn not to ask things like that of Adam. What does it mean that Ronan never even tries?)) AND Ronan dealing with the crushing loneliness of being left and dealing with the consequences of having a long distance bf who is more successful than him). So they needed to have an argument about this. It’s also just in character that these two would not be perfect communicators. So. My idea: In CDTH we get no Adam POVs, just Ronan’s side of the story. We see, rather than Ronan just getting upset over one missed text, that Adam begins to pull away after the murder crab incident. We the audience don’t know why, other than Ronan’s unreliable narration and insecurity. So when Adam doesn’t respond to that one text at a vital fraught time, Ronan does what he does best, shuts down, pulls away and self destructs. Then MI rolls around and we start getting Adam POVs. We learn that after the murder crabs, Adam was throwing himself into trying to fix the nightwash situation for Ronan (Adam is not in contact with Declan here, unfortunately). After visiting for Ronan’s birthday and seeing the Lace, Adam starts to have dreams/premonitions about the end of the world (no visionaries in this universe, just psychics who are/were close to dreamers getting the visions!!). So he obviously sets out to fix this alone too. He calls his best approximations to contacts in this underground world that aren’t Declan. Henry and Mr. Gray. (+ maybe also Maura & Calla) ((Also don’t worry Henry doesn’t leave the Sarchengsey trip, just advises Adam on where to start)). Now that Adam has lost contact with Ronan (he was busy and missed the message and Ronan went off the grid like in canon), he goes full throttle into trying to solve everything while managing being his perfect Harvard persona (this gets him close to a breakdown, very reminiscent to Dream Thieves). Perhaps we get to see Adam and Declan working together to acquire sweet metals and understand the underworld of magic together. He and Ronan fight the one time they get to talk over the phone, Adam because he is truly scared Ronan will be the one to end the world, Ronan because he feels like this is another person perceiving him as a failure and wanting to control/baby him (+ he hates Adam hanging with Mr Gray and Declan of all people). By the time Greywaren starts, Adam is wrung out and hurting and Ronan is dead to the world, so yeah. He doesn’t think he can spend emotional energy playing safeguard to his boyfriend’s coma corpse. And then by the end of the book they have an actual argument/discussion no “they didn’t need words” cop out.

The number of Dreamers/Dreams has to be reduced. It’s cool to say that dreams were always integrated into this world, but it creates so many plot holes it isn’t even funny. There is no way Niall could have passed off the Greywaren being a box that brings dreams to life if Dreamers were such a common occurrence. No secret can be kept that well, someone in the black market would have known, and thus Greenmantle/Mr. Gray/Laumonier/ect WOULD HAVE KNOWN !!!

Declan does not have all his character erased by suddenly loving his mommy and daddy. Seriously what the fuck was that. Declan suddenly deciding to forgive his father because actually Declan was secretly the favorite child first is INSANE. Especially after seeing that that changed because Niall and Mor WANTED TO KILL HIS BROTHER!!! The two tenants of Declan Lynch in TRC were protecting his remaining family and fucking hating that Ronan idolized Niall just because Niall loved him best. So why make Declan turn around and do the same??? Suddenly Niall wasn’t so bad because actually he let Declan be shoved into a car trunk during a shootout out of love. I hate this plot line. Family doesn’t have to be forgiven. Understood, that’s one thing. Forgiven?? Not always. Sick of it. The real takeaway from seeing those memories should have been closure to Declan’s arc of learning that dreams should be viewed as people completely.

I definitely have other points but I cannot think of them right now. And I want to post this so I will. But TD3, as you can see, makes me an insane person.

[copperbadge]

I am so close to being done with Royals/Ramblers I can taste it, and it's one of those frustrating situations where the last remaining work to be done is just annoying. I have to write one damn scene, which of course is the most emotionally fraught and difficult one, and then pick from the *counts on fingers* three separate versions of the epilogue I wrote, none of which are very satisfying. I'll probably slam them all together and then sort it out somehow.

And then I definitely have to give the whole thing one more pass before I think about posting, because it's going to clock in at right around 150K words, and I already have notes on continuity issues that need fixing.

Anyway, please enjoy this scene, in which I realized at the same time Gregory and Eddie did what a great joke their names make. (Some brief context -- Joan uses she/her but doesn't like the word "princess", so she chose the gender neutral Princeps as her title.)

Friday evening, when Gregory came on the air for the address, Eddie was sitting next to him, and Joan was leaning on Eddie's shoulder. Her excitement was almost a visible thing; she'd been fussed over that afternoon, Gregory helping her pick out clothing followed by Jerry doing her makeup for camera and Eddie doing a slightly less clumsy job of braiding her hair than she generally did. 

"Good evening, Fons-Askaz, Askazer-Shivadlakia, our neighbors, and our viewers abroad," Gregory said. Behind the camera, Jerry mouthed the words along with him absently. "I'm pleased to greet you all this Friday evening and I hope you're well. I find myself, for the second time in a year, setting aside the usual issues of the day and questions from citizens to talk to you about family...."

His idea had been to talk about Joan's history just a little, then introduce her as the newest Royal, their daughter the Princeps. He could use that as a platform to present to the country his new funding package for adoptive families, meant to encourage adoption and support children coming out of the foster system. Each half of that would hopefully make the other half seem less random.

It went pretty smoothly; Eddie chimed in at all the right moments, and Joan got to say a few words of introduction at the end. After he signed off, he gave her a hug and a forehead-kiss and told her she'd done a great job. 

And then Noah, standing with Monday and Jerry behind the camera in the little studio, said, "Well, you crashed the internet again."

Gregory sighed. "Can't blame Eddie this time, can we?" 

"It was only the tourism website, and it wasn't on purpose," Eddie said. 

"He was always breaking my stuff when we were kids," Monday said.

"Nope, this one's all Joan," Noah replied. "As soon as you introduced her as your daughter, traffic started spiking -- palace website, tourism website, and every royals' Photogram."

"Katie in Communications says told you so," Jerry said, already on the phone with her.

"Joan's Photogram is down, looks like bandwidth-suck. And there goes mine, and yours," Noah said, nodding at Gregory. "There's two hashtags trending, PrincessJoan and PrincepsJoan." 

"Let me call my guy at Photogram," Eddie said, taking his phone out. 

"You have a guy just like, at Photogram?" Monday asked.

"Yeah, he handles my requests, I send him sausages," Eddie answered. 

"How is it you simultaneously live in the 22nd century and the 14th?" Monday asked. 

"Have him kill the Princess hashtag," Noah suggested.

"It's fine," Joan said. "They can use it for now, it'll keep things, um." She narrowed her eyes, searching for the word. "Segmented. Spread out the discussion a little."

"Someone's been reading my data analytics memos," Gregory said. 

"You leave 'em out," she pointed out. 

"Good news is people seem excited," Noah continued. "The hashtag's glitching, it's moving so fast, but overall pretty positive," he added.

"Well, we knew this would be intense," Gregory said. Joan, studying her own phone, squeaked. "Joan?" 

"Mas Corbin tagged me," she said, with possibly the most excitement they'd seen from her, at least since her first trip in the Jaguar. 

"The footballer?" Gregory asked, confused.

"Who?" Noah and Eddie chorused. 

"He's a Shivadh footballer, I think he's playing in Ireland right now," Gregory said, and his voice took on a slight edge as he considered some of the reasons a football player might mention his daughter. "What did he say?" 

"Dedicating my next game to my new Princeps JoanMac, long may she reign," Joan read, and Gregory relaxed. "Congrats to Gin&Tonic, she's cute as a button. Mas Corbin thinks I'm cute!"

"Gin and Tonic?" Gregory asked, and then said, "Gregory and Theophile," right as Eddie and Monday both began to laugh. "How did neither of us think of that before?"

"You get used to it," Noah said to Joan. "All kinds of famous people are going to have opinions on you."

"What do I do?!"

"Gram him back," Noah said. "Comment and say thanks and that you're a fan and you'll be watching the game."

"I'm gonna have to do a video with some gin and tonic recipes," Eddie said, as Noah and Joan debated the best wording for her response. Gregory leaned back in his chair, exhaling, and let the chaos happen around him for a minute. 

[guillemelgat]

I just started a new semester, and I'm finally getting the chance to take Malayalam, which I've been trying to do since my undergrad. This is obviously a very exciting development, and it's so delightful to be in a language class again for the first time in ages, but it's also been a very unique experience as far as language classes go. First of all, for me, who is generally used to having very odd personal connections to a language and being the overachieving linguist of the class. And second of all because it's just a very different experience to be in a class largely oriented towards heritage learners and people with some cultural familiarity.

There are five people in the class. Of those five, four have Malayalee family and have had some exposure to Malayalam throughout our lives; the last person is a native speaker of another non-Dravidian South Asian language. Of the four of us who are Malayalee, I'm basically the only one who didn't have a significant amount of Malayalam at home growing up. What this means is that we've spent very little time on the phonetics of the language, because everyone roughly knows how to pronounce it - something which wouldn't be true if there were non-South Asian in the class! (It was a bit comforting to hear all the other Malayalees struggling with aspirated consonants, which have constantly been the bane of my existence, and then to hear the instructor say that few people pronounce them right in spoken Malayalam anyways.) The instructor could ask us to say things on the first day, and the more fluent speakers could say them. There is already Malayalam being mixed in with the instruction. I'm sure by the end of the semester we'll be having extended conversations - especially since the two of us who don't speak have very concrete communicative desires for our outside lives.

It's also a very scary experience for me, personally. Or maybe scary isn't quite the right word, but I've always felt out of my depth in claiming Malayalee heritage - I've always felt that there were so many things which I didn't know which any normal Malayalee would. There is no evidence that this is true, at least insofar as that my cousins with two Malayalee parents have wildly varying experiences and I'm not actually that far outside the norm. In most American spaces, I will never be clocked as white, and most people usually immediately identify me as South Asian. Nonetheless, I know that when I visited Kerala this past December, I was decidedly foreign - to the two guys speaking in rapid-fire Malayalam on the flight from Qatar, to the person at the immigration counter in Trivandrum, even to my own relatives. Part of it is a mental block on my part, of feeling myself foreign and therefore never letting myself belong. Part of it is that I am, ultimately, American. But either way, in this class, I can feel that I'm the American in the room, even when I'm not, even when my pronunciation is just as good as the other Malayalees and there's nothing that's telling me I can't belong. I keep freezing up when asked to say real things, or when people speak to me, because there's some unreachable standard in my brain of Not A Real Malayalee, and everything feels fraught and fragile. So maybe this semester will be about overcoming that.

It's still strange being in a language class where the instructor, on the first day, can look at you all and say, "You know why you're here, you want to be here, we all have a shared experience." But it's also a beautiful thing in its own way, and I'm really looking forward to taking on a language in this way. I love the structure and the logic of language, the puzzle of putting it together, the beauty of making friends in it and watching shows in it and listening to songs in it - but as I get older I find myself really reflecting on what it means to learn and to know a language. And sometimes those barriers to learning and to knowing are only in our minds, not in our worlds. Language is communication and connection, and I hope that Malayalam serves me to these two ends, even as it sometimes feels like a trial by fire at each word.

[klaineccfanficlibrary]

Hello! Could someone help me find this fic please?

Kurt and Blaine broke up and years later they see each other in the street (in New York) I kind of remember the story went from past (mostly Blaine and his ex’s and how he never was fully happy with them) and present, and how they go from talking, to having sex and finally getting back together.

I think Blaine is with his boyfriend when he runs into Kurt and they break up shortly after because the boyfriend realizes Blaine’s not over Kurt. But I’m not too sure about that part.

Thank you!

I'm not sure of the exact fic, but did look through our reunion tag. These are reunion fics that you might consider, unless someone can identify the one you ask? ~Jen

Someone Like You by @iconicklaine

Kurt and Blaine keep up their very own version of “When Harry Met Sally” for years, a friendship fraught with sexual tension and longing, until the agendas of Adele (yes, THE Adele), a bored NY socialite and a super-sweet hetero couple bring our boys together. The only problem is… they’re both in committed relationships.

~~~~~

The One That Got Away by Catcat85

AU after the breakup scene in Season 6 Episode 1. Heartbroken and devastated after Kurt ended their relationship, Blaine changed his life completely. He quit NYADA. Enrolled at NYU and became a Pediatric Surgeon. He married Sebastian Smythe and they later have a beautiful daughter named Elena. Kurt realized he made a huge mistake by letting Blaine go. But the realization came too late. Blaine had already moved on and wanted nothing to do with Kurt. Kurt did his best to move on with his life. He graduated from NYADA and started getting cast in off Broadway productions, which led to having his big break when he was cast to be Link Larkin in Hairspray on Broadway. Since then, his career had taken off and he became a successful actor, but he couldn’t find a man he loves enough to marry. Desperate to have a family of his own, he found an egg donor and surrogate to have a baby, a boy which he named Chris. This is a story about a lost love between Kurt and Blaine, as well as a love story between Chris and Elena. No matter how hard their parents try to keep them apart, Chris and Elena find each other. Even after 25 years, the strength of their love might just be the thing to bring Kurt and Blaine back together.

~~~~~

Foundations by gentlereader

After breaking up Kurt and Blaine went their separate ways.

Blaine’s now a successful LA musician while Kurt is a high school counselor.

The creation of the Pavarotti Music Foundation was their dream… and now its a reality.

~~~~~

A Song For Cordelia by @melissamotown [PDF]  [EPUB]

Kurt never called Blaine after the break up, despite Isabelle’s advice. It was not out of spite, or because he didn’t believe she was right, but because his heart didn’t know how to forgive. Five years later, when their paths cross once more, Kurt and Blaine decides to be friends again - just friends. But where the heart goes, the man follows…

[odyssean-flower]

The Winding Path of Fate Chapter 3 - Spring: An Agreeable Marriage

Masterpost Pairing: Neuvillette x Female Reader Summary: You and Neuvillette decide to get into a marriage of convenience. Warnings: None except for restrictive gender roles, also for some reason Fontaine’s regency england (sort of) now? Note: I update this story on AO3 first so please subscribe to the fic there if you’d like to read it faster Note 2: If you want to be on the taglist for this fic, please make a reply to this post, send a message or send a private ask

Have a pic of Neuvillette staring contemptuously at Venti

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“Monsieur and Madame, I am here today to declare to you that I am deeply and ardently with your daughter, and I would like to ask for her hand in marriage.”

Very nice delivery, you thought. Although, his facial expressions could really use some work.

You and Neuvillette were currently sitting in the small parlor of your family home, facing your parents, who were staring at Neuvillette like he had just grown a second head. Which perhaps would be less shocking than the fact that the Chief Justice of Fontaine had just declared his intentions to marry their daughter.

“What!?” you hear your sister scream out from behind the closed parlor door. Your parents had wisely made her wait outside when Neuvillette made his visit.

“P-Pardon me, Monsieur Neuvillette?” your father finally spoke, blinking rapidly like he was still convinced this was a dream. You couldn’t blame him. “Could you please repeat what you just said?”

“Certainly, sir,” Neuvillette proceeded to do just that.

“I-I see...” your father said. “So, just to confirm, you wish to marry our oldest daughter, is that correct, Monsieur?”

“Yes, sir. It is my dearest wish. My heart yearns for it,” Neuvillette nodded.

You heard your sister squeal behind the door. This must be like one of those pulpy romance novels come to life for her. Although, I wish Monsieur Neuvillette look less like he’s informing my parents of a death.

Your mother brought her hands to her mouth. “Monsieur Neuvillette, do you truly mean what you say?”

“Yes, I do. Every word of it.”

“Might you tell us...why you want to marry her? I don’t mean to question your judgment—my husband and I raised both our daughters to be fine ladies of good character, though our oldest can be a bit stubborn in her ways at times—but as you probably already know, we are not a particularly wealthy or influential family, so it is quite shocking for us to hear that you, Monsieur, would choose our daughter as your wife.”

Neuvillette was silent for a moment. Oh no, perhaps he hadn’t anticipated this question, you thought. Maybe he just assumed that my parents would automatically agree and ecstatically give their blessing. I can’t say I blame him, I expected the same thing--

“In my humble opinion, Madame, wealth and rank are trivial when it comes to love,” Neuvillette said, looking straight into your mother’s eyes. “I was drawn to your daughter for her wit, sensibility, and devotion. There is no other person who I would choose to share my future with.”

Okay, now he’s overdoing it. You watched as your mother blushed under Neuvillette’s intense gaze. There was muffled screaming coming from You would probably be blushing too, but thankfully, you had become rather adept at controlling your facial expressions over the years.

“And you, dear, how do you feel about this?” your father addresses you at last.

You cleared your throat and straightened up.

“As Neuvi said--”

“Neuvi!?” your parents, as well as your sister, exclaimed in unison. You could feel Neuvillette suddenly turn to look at you and had to resist the urge to bury your face in your hands. Your family’s shock was understandable. You never used nicknames for anyone except your closest family members and friends.

This was all calculated, of course, after a long and fraught brainstorming session.

“Ahem, as Neuvi said, he is in love with me, and I reciprocate his feelings wholeheartedly. I believe this marriage will be a beneficial one for our family, which is just one of the many reasons why I accepted his proposal immediately.”

As explanations for marriage went, this wasn’t the most romantic or heartwarming. But then again, you were never much of a romantic, and if you had said something about your “love for him being as boundless as the ocean” or that you’d “die if you weren’t allowed to be with him,” that would surely set off alarm bells for your parents.

You were once again proven right when your parents nodded without probing any further.

“Well,” your father said, standing up with your mother. “Your mother and I would like to discuss this amongst ourselves for a little bit. This is very sudden, after all.”

“But of course,” Neuvillette said. “Take all the time you need.”

Your parents left the parlor, blocking your sister from rushing into the room as they did so.

Now it was just the two of you.

Next to you, Neuvillette calmly took a sip of tea. You couldn’t help but feel how surreal it was to see the Chief Justice sitting on the worn couch you used to play pirates on with your sister. The entire past week had felt like a dream, like you were watching yourself from above.

You decided to voice what was bothering you. “Monsieur Neuvillette, I must apologize my earlier discourtesy.”

“Discourtesy?”

“Yes. I referred to you by a nickname and didn’t tell you about it beforehand. It must have caught you by surprise.”

“It did,” Neuvillette admitted. “But it wasn’t discourteous in the least.”

“Ah.”

Another silence fell between the two of you. It wasn’t exactly awkward, but you felt some strange need to fill it. After all, this was a scheme plotted by the two of you. Surely there should be more communication? Feedback, perhaps?

“Your speech earlier was very good,” you said, grasping for a topic. “If I were my parents, I would have believed that you truly meant it. I never knew the Iudex could lie so well. If there is one critique I have, it’s that your facial expression should match your words better.”

You had meant that half-jokingly, but Neuvillette nodded like he was seriously taking your words into account. “My apologies. I have often been told that my lack of expression has caused misunderstandings. It’s something I have been struggling with for a long time, so I must continue to work on it.”

Now you felt angry at yourself. You had also been told by many well-meaning people that you should smile more and look friendlier, and it had never failed to annoy you.

Just as you opened your mouth to apologize, Neuvillette added, “Also, not everything I said was a lie.”

You stare at him in shock. “What--”

Your words were cut off when the parlor door opened and your parents walked in, with your sister leading the way. It seemed that she finally convinced them to let her in. Your mother’s eyes looked puffy. She must have been moved to tears of joy over the fact that her daughter, who seemed destined to a life of spinsterhood, finally found a match, and with the Chief Justice no less.

Your father looked at you both, then smiled broadly. “Your character is impeccable, Monsieur Neuvillette, and if our daughter wishes to marry you, we have no reason not to trust her judgment. We give you two our blessing.”

Your sister squealed and clapped her hands, and your parents looked upon the two of you with warm eyes. They were probably expecting hugs or even a kiss between the two of you.

After no such thing occurred, your mother broke the awkward silence and turned to you. “Oh, sweetheart, I’m so happy that you are finally going to experience matrimonial bliss for yourself! Now you don’t have to waste so much time and effort on all that governess nonsense!”

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes.

“Oh, is that how you met?” your sister said, her cheeks flushed like she was the one getting married here. “At the Palais Mermonia? I knew it, there was something going on between the two of you at the opera house!”

“The wedding...” your mother started to pace. “There is much to be done for preparations. Now, we are not exactly wealthy, but a wedding with the Chief Justice needs to have a certain gravity and extravagance to it. Don’t worry, we’ll see what we can manage...”

“There’s no need to worry about that, Mother,” you interrupted. “Because there won’t be a wedding.”

“What?”

You stare at Neuvillette in disbelief, completely forgetting to be polite. Did you hear him right? Neuvillette didn’t seem to be the type to joke around, but you dearly hoped he was doing that right now.

“My apologies, I understand that it is a great shock to hear this so suddenly,” Neuvillette said, his voice even and smooth as though he didn’t propose to you out of the blue. “But after hearing your story, I think this arrangement can be of great benefit to the both of us. You require a place to stay, and I am in need of a spouse.”

“You are?” You weren’t up to date with the latest gossip, but even you knew that Neuvillette, in all his long years as the Chief Justice, had never looked for or even expressed interest in having a spouse. “Why now?”

For the first time since you’ve known him, a flicker of annoyance appeared in Neuvillette’s eyes, but it didn’t seem directed at you. He let out a long-suffering sigh that sounded suspiciously similar to the kind your mother would give you. “Furina--the Hydro Archon—has been getting increasingly insistent about me, in her words, ‘experiencing the joys of matrimony and companionship,’ to the point where it has become difficult for me to work uninterrupted.”

You hadn’t been expecting that answer. It was hard to imagine Neuvillette feeling pressured by anyone, but the Hydro Archon most likely would be one of the few people in this nation—maybe even this continent—to be able to do that. You wondered what their relationship was like.

“It can be a temporary arrangement, just long enough for Furina to lose interest, and for you to get your license and find a new place to live. Don’t worry, I will do everything in my power to maintain the privacy of you and your family. We can perform the marriage quickly and discreetly to avoid any attention from the press.”

Your mouth hung open as you listened to him, but what was shocking you even more was that you weren’t immediately standing up and leaving. “You...have certainly put a lot of thought into this already, Monsieur. How long have you been considering this?”

“Since we ran into each other at the Palais Mermonia,” he admitted. “But I hadn’t initially planned on asking you because you were so set on your own goals.”

Goals that were now completely up in the air. “How convenient for you that I have fallen into this predicament, then, Monsieur.” A thought just occurred to you. “Wait...you didn’t have anything to do with me being placed on the waiting list, do you?”

“I can assure you, I had no involvement, nor would I ever use my power in such a way. In fact, I will swear it upon my position as the Iudex of Fontaine.”

The certain, resolute look in his eyes made you believe him. Neuvillette was well-known to be a principled man, but you knew that even the kindest façade could hide a dark underbelly.

“This isn’t some scheme to make me your, your, um, kept woman or anything, is it?” The words sounded absurd as soon as they came out of your mouth, but you had to ask. “Because if it is, then let me tell you, Monsieur, I may be of an inferior status than you, but I do still have my self-respect, and--”

“Please, Miss [Name],” Neuvillette interrupted you. The horrified look on his face took away the rest of what you were going to say. He looked deep into your eyes. “I will once again promise you that I have no such intentions towards you, nor will I ever. If you need further assurance, we can sign a contract that will stipulate that I never lay a hand on you.”

You were taken aback by his intensity. Luckily, there was no one sitting near you two, or else this would be all over the papers tomorrow.

"I think that’s going a bit too far...” you said a bit weakly. And how would it even be enforced? You thought.

There was one thing that was still bothering you. “So, why me? I’m sure there are plenty of people that would be a better candidate than me. I am not exactly the most prospective match for a man of your status, and we hardly know each other.”

Neuvillette stroked his chin thoughtfully as he stared at you. For a moment, you feared that he was going to say something encouraging, but instead, he said, “I don’t see what makes you unfit. Neither you nor your family are involved with Fontaine’s political factions, you don't seem to be romantically involved with anyone,” he paused for confirmation here. You nodded, and he continued. “You have a pleasant temperament that is well-suited to my own...and I enjoy your company. Is that not enough for an agreeable marriage?”

You found that last part a bit baffling. Thinking back to your few interactions, you came across as considerably curt and disinterested. Plus there was that one time where you rambled on about history for around fifteen minutes... Did that qualify as enjoyable company for him? You found it hard to believe. There must be some other ulterior motive behind this. However, you were in no position to ask him about it.

“I suppose it is,” you said. Neither of you brought up the subject of love.

You licked your dry lips. Solely relying on someone else’s sympathy was unbearable for you. “You said this arrangement is temporary... I assume this arrangement will last until I obtain my license?”

It was stated in the requirements for becoming a licensed governess was that one must be unmarried at the time of receiving the license. There was also a strong preference for schoolteachers to be young and unmarried, though it wasn’t a hard requirement. If you divorced before that time, though, you wouldn't technically be breaking the rules.

"We will of course do everything the proper way,” Neuvillette, observing your silence, seemed to be trying to grasp what you were thinking. “We will ask your parents for their blessing and obtain a marriage license, and hold a wedding ceremony, if you like--”

“No ceremony,” you said immediately. “I don’t care to go through all that trouble.”

Neuvillette nodded. “I’m very glad to hear that. To tell you the truth, I share your feelings on that matter, and my schedule this month is already too busy.”

You nodded. “It would be best if this whole affair is as quiet and low-fuss as possible.”

“I agree. Ah, my apologies. I don’t mean to imply that I’m ashamed of marrying you, or to pressure you into an agreement, for that matter, I know this isn’t part of your plans--”

“I never implied anything of the sort,” you said, sounding harsher than you meant it. You were starting to get a good idea of what kind of person Neuvillette was. “And I haven’t said no, have I, Monsieur? I accept your proposal.”

The corners of Neuvillette’s mouth lifted. “Thank you, Miss [Name]. I will do my utmost to ensure that everything goes smoothly.”

The two of you shook hands. You proposed a toast with the Fonta, but he politely declined. Despite the clouds from earlier, it did not rain that day.

It was a fine spring day. The skies were clear, and warm sunlight fell upon the land. Flowers were blooming, the once-naked trees were dotted with green shoots, and the singing of birds could be heard everywhere. It was a good day for a wedding.

Unfortunately, you wouldn’t be able to experience it, because you and Neuvillette were getting a civil marriage.

The marriage services office was tucked away in a quiet corner of the Palais Mermonia. By the time you arrived there, Neuvillette was already sitting on a chair outside the office, waiting for you. He was wearing something similar to his usual outfit, which was already plenty formal. He looked up when you approached.

“Good morning, Monsieur Neuvillette,” you curtseyed. “It’s a lovely day today.”

“Good morning, Miss [Name],” Neuvillette responded, standing up. He paused, taking you in. You were wearing your nicest dress, a white muslin with a deep blue sash, as well as a silk bonnet trimmed with blue ribbon and garnished with lilacs. You had bought it with the money your mother had insisted on giving you to buy something nice for your marriage. Even though you didn’t like the long-winded extravagance of a wedding ceremony, you still wanted to look nice for your first and last marriage.

Neuvillette was still staring at you. You shuffled your feet in discomfort. Was there something wrong with your appearance? Maybe you should have just dressed normally; this was just a marriage of convenience after all.

However, he surprised you by saying, “Blue looks good on you.”

You blinked. Then blinked again. You could feel your cheeks warming. Having a non-family member or friend compliment your appearance was a rarity for you. “Th-thank you, sir.” You were about to say that he looked good in blue as well but stopped yourself when you realized how dumb that sounded. He always wore blue.

But he did smell different today, you noticed. Did he put on cologne? Should you mention that? But before you could say anything, he held out his hand. You stared at it for a few moments before you realized that he wanted you to take it.

Silently, the two of you walked through the office door. The license had already been purchased by Neuvillette, and all that was there was left to do was to sign the registry with a witness. Your parents couldn’t make it, so your witness was a Melusine named Liath. You had expected the Hydro Archon to serve that role, but perhaps she was too busy.

The clerk in charge of the office was trying very hard not to stare too much at the both of you. Neuvillette had promised you that the marriage would be kept as private and lowkey as possible, but you knew that it was only a matter of time before it got out.

“Monsieur Neuvillette, Miss [Name], welcome,” the clerk said. “The marriage registry is on this desk. Please feel free to sign it whenever you like.”

The clerk’s voice sounded too loud in the quiet room.

A thought suddenly struck you. This was going to be the last time you would hear yourself be called “Miss.” From today onwards, you would be “Madame Neuvillette.”

It’s only temporary, you reminded yourself.

Neuvillette stepped forward and picked up the pen, then wrote down his name with a firm hand. He then passed the pen to you. You took it with a surprisingly steady hand.

You wrote down your name, right next to Neuvillette’s. The black ink stood out starkly against the white pages. You wondered if your names would be crossed out or painted over with white when you divorced. There was so much you didn’t know about the marriage process.

The clerk signed their own name next to confirm that the marriage had been witnessed and approved. “Congratulations on your marriage!” they said with a bright smile. “I wish you two all the happiness and bliss in your married life.”

“Thank you,” you two said in unison.

There were no bells, no cheers. But it didn’t matter.

The clerk looked at you two expectantly, probably for a kiss. The two of you just stared back at them. They cleared their throat awkwardly and began to rummage through the large filing cabinets behind them.

“Shall we go, then?” you asked Neuvillette—your husband. You were supposed to be moving into his house today, and you had to return to the boarding house to get your things.

“Wait,” he said, and took out a small box from his pocket. He opened it, revealing two unadorned silver rings. The color of his hair, you thought. “May I help you put it on?”

“Okay,” you nodded and held out your hand. He grasped it between his fingers. He’s doing his best to not touch me too much, you realized. You watched as he slid the band carefully down your ring finger. The cold metal sent an involuntary shiver down your spine. The ring fitted perfectly.

You took the other ring and asked him to hold out his hand. It was gloved, so you gently pulled it off. You slid the ring down his finger, willing your hand to remain steady. You could feel him watching you. What was going through his mind right now? Was he feeling relieved? Resigned to a year of being bound to a near stranger?

After you were finished, you stepped back and looked at him. It was over. You were now married to this man.

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Taglist: @just-simping-over-genshin, @xalphafox

[funsizedshark]

not to project my very own complex feelings about haircuts and femininity but imo harrow's haircuts are thematically important just like her face paint... the narration in htn remarks time and time again how she needs a haircut. you could argue that she keeps up the haircuts in the mithraeum because of tradition and familiarity, but the in-text explanation as to why she /doesnt/ cut it is because she's terrified its her only symptom of lyctorhood. in the same passage we get this:

those last two sentences specifically are something that will be intimately familiar to anyone who's had their haircut dissected as a topic of conversation by family members, deemed "too masculine", "too short", "not feminine enough", "you would look so much prettier with long/longer hair", all while knowing that the alternative (something long, ""classically feminine"" or whatever that means) will feel annoying and uncomfortable and very far removed from the way you want to present.

all throughout this ianthe is there being proud of her makeover moment, and harrow rebels against it in the only way she knows how, by doing the one thing she can do in that moment to make herself less "pretty" because freedom of presentation and self-determination go hand in hand

ianthe's manipulation of harrowhark's appearance through her hair ("it's the little things") purposefully takes away some of her agency in an environment thats already fraught, and combined with the popular theory ive seen that ianthe changed corona's appearance with necromancy it really reads as just another way to control the people around her ("i made you, you owe me etc etc"). even with john her longer hair leaves her vulnerable to gestures like this, which in any other circumstance would feel uncomfortable and overfamiliar, but in harrow's unstable emotional situation it feels like being offered gentleness:

but it's not! it's not a gentle touch, he's touching her to examine her after trying to convince her there is no way she could have opened the tomb, lowering harrow's defenses and leaving her to doubt herself more than she already does

anyway. this rant doesnt really have a Point point but its one of those details that i think are Very interesting in the narration and id love to see it explored more

[moonspirit]

do you think that if Reiner had Died instead of Porco that the ending with the ambassadors would have still been the same?

Hmmm. Oh god I'm very bad at canon-divergent analysis T_T

I think what makes Reiner's eventual survival so impactful is that for the greater part of his life, he was so fraught with guilt over his actions that he wanted to die. His suicidal wishes and attempts were never successful and in the end, he comes out of everything alive, at long last allowed to live freely as someone who helps others, which was the type of person he always was, right from the beginning.

@aquietjune in her Pieck Essay (an extremely well done write up and a fantastic read, I highly recommend it!) talks about the final lineup of "heroes" to counter the Rumbling, and the balance in numbers. Specifically she talks about how Pieck joining the alliance balances the numbers in terms of Paradisians & Marleyans present (Armin, Jean, Connie, Mikasa, Levi.... Reiner, Annie, Pieck, Falco, Gabi. You see?). While I leave the essay to speak for Pieck's character and significance, I think another perspective to the point June makes, is how Reiner's presence affects those in the alliance in their fight for what they believe is right.

Reiner's character is not only integral and crucial to all the events that unfold in S1-3, it's also incredibly important to understand the Marleyan point of view when we are finally introduced to the Warriors in S4. We don't know Pieck, Porco, the warrior kids, Magath. We know Zeke, but not much. But we do know Reiner, his past, his life on Paradis, the kind of big-brother figure he used to be to the 104th... which is why when he ends up fondly reminiscing about his life there in front of a shocked Gabi and his family, we already KNOW the reason behind his lack of hostility even before Gabi questions it. Reiner is the link between the Scouts and the Warriors when Isayama flipped the coin to tell us the story of the other side.

Reiner's true personality (kind, helpful etc) is what helps us empathize with his guilt and intent when the Alliance forms. What he tells Connie and Jean on the flying boat is important: that despite the wrongs they've all done in the past, they should still do what's right in the present. It's the hand he extends that puts the last of the hesitance between the Scouts and the warriors to rest. Reiner's significance in the story, from where he began to where he's come, is the final link in the chain for reconciliation. It is very poetic then, that he jumps to his apparent death to stop the Hallucigenia, something that is struggling to just survive in its own right, a.k.a. fighting the very thing that gave him life, only to survive at the end of it and live on instead.

Anyway.

Our "proper" introduction to Porco is through a stunning display of his arrogance and ignorance when the Scouts land in Liberio and quickly overpower him. Porco is our classic Warrior adult, unlike Pieck or Zeke or any of the kids, he's blissfully unaware of the Devils on Paradis being... well, not devils. He's very prideful and prone to lose his temper, but all that aside, what sets him apart from any of the other warriors is his loyalty to HIS purpose and his friends. Even in the end, his sacrifice is for Falco, not for anybody else (imo).

Porco being the one to survive instead of Reiner makes me wonder if he would've been a smooth-functioning limb of the Alliance at all. What would he have fought for? Why would he have fought for it? Knowing all his friends in Liberio are dead, would he have agreed to join hands in the first place? I think there would've had to be a drastic reckoning of the cruel reality before Porco agrees to become an Alliance member. A "hero", if you will.

And if it happened, I think it would be quite rough and uncomfortable with the Alliance six, in the end. I can't see him getting along with anybody except Pieck in that bunch ahaha xD Reiner then becomes prone to being bullied by both Porco and Annie, Jean hates Porco and vice versa, Connie thinks he's an idiot (and vice versa!, both of them don't have any general knowledge) and Porco straight up calls Armin a naive weakling which... doesn't help Armin's lack of self-worth. Pieck's the only one who's able to "calm" Porco but really, how much do you think she can do?

[givemearmstopraywith]

hey, absolutely no disrespect meant here, but i noticed in one post you referred to yourself as a jew, and in another said you were censoring g-d out of respect to your family's jewish heritage, which you are exploring. amongst all this, you are clearly a christian. are you jewish or not? if you are not personally jewish, i really don't think you should be referring to yourself as a jew in a post where you claim christian theology (jesus being g-d) is true.

instead of sending me asks like this, can you maybe google what it means to be jewish, or what it means to be a jew? there is a wikipedia page about this. that way i don't i have to repeatedly unpack my generational trauma on the internet for (literally) thousands of strangers? the search function on my blog is broken- fine, but i have talked about this a lot, repeatedly, in the time i've had this blog, and it is not something i feel comfortable divulging openly. nor should i have to- nor should i have to worry about my identity being policed by strangers. this ask is worded with a certain tone of well-meaning authority, which is fine, i understand, and i am not mad at you, nor do i think you are trying to come across as harsh. i appreciate that you took the time to send this because it shows well-meaning concern. but this tone of authority comes from somewhere. where is it coming from? if you do not already know how i can be a jew and talk about christian theology, then you don't have the authority to question my identity, because questioning that means you must have no prior knowledge of the history of the jews whatsoever, about religious versus ethnic identity, the history of forced conversions to which jews have been subject, the necessity for religious and cultural assimilation, and so on.

whether you intend this or not- and i don't think you do, insomuch as i think you are genuinely well-meaning and don't want to harm or offend me personally- the wording of your question demands, implicitly, that i need to unpack both my personal ethnic and religious history, as well as that of my family. i am either lying about being a jew or i am not qualified to talk about my own identity because i must be christian, or i am not qualified to talk about christianity because im a jew. both of those things, being jewish and christian, of which i am both and neither because i am an ethnic jew who has not been baptized but studies christianity theology, are fraught with generational trauma and a certain concept of privilege, in the sense that a non-jew would never be asked to justify their connection to judaism versus their connection to christianity, because non-jews are not subjected to the same level of biopolicing that jews historically have been. a non-jew can move in and out of the spaces of judaism and christianity at will. whether i practice judaism or i practice christianity, whether i get a rhinoplasty or change my name, whether i censor g-d or type out the name in full, i will always be a jew. someone who is not ethnically jewish can convert to judaism from christianity and leave christianity behind in full, but i cannot opt out of being a jew, nor can any jew. centuries of ethnic cleansing have cemented this as fact.

if jewish people- who practice judaism or who are non-practicing ethnic jews- want to criticize what i talk about they are welcome to, but i have yet to encounter any jews who do, on or offline.

to make it clear again: i don't have a problem with you specifically, but i've had this blog for nearly six years, i have been studying theology for four of those years, and every so often i get a bunch of messages like this that parrot the exact same questions i get asked by other christians in my theology program that very, very genuinely can be answered by googling "what is a jew?" rather than telling me how i should refer to myself. and i am kinda tired of it! i am kinda tired.

[soracities]

hi mim, i'm sorry if this comes across as rambling, but i wanted to ask you, how do you choose what to study/pursue when you don't know what you want? i recently moved to a new country with my family and i've taken a gap year to prep for an entrance exam back home, but i don't know whether i want to continue in the new country or go back to my home country, whether i should study x or y degree, i just feel torn both ways. and what makes it worse is that,secretly, i would love to study english lit or anything to do with languages, but my parents would never allow it unless it's a last resort. i just feel like i'm betraying myself no matter what i choose in the end. would really appreciate any advice on what the heck to do <3

Oh anon, this is such a tricky situation to be in and I can absolutely understand all the doubt, worry, and confusion you're going through. I grew up with a lot of friends in variously similar situations and it's never as simple as just telling you to "follow your heart" or "do what you want" because all the various considerations that you have to make and bear look different for everyone, and they cannot always be so easily dismissed or ignored.

I think one thing that might help in this is to focus less on what you want as a career, and maybe spend some time trying to figure out where your values lie and what kind of life you envision within those values--take the subjects that you enjoy most, for example: what exactly is it about those subjects that excite you? Do you value a host of different and new experiences, or do you prefer to deepen the experiences you've already had? If you enjoy working with or being around people, what capacity does that enjoyment reach its full potential for you? Is it in receiving new knowledge from others or being able to share new knowledge with others? Is it in providing aid, information, or comfort to people? Is it in working out a particular problem? How important is financial stability to you, and what are you willing to sacrifice or not sacrifice for that stability? What are the broadest possible options within that category? Do you want a stable 9 to 5 where it's easy for you to plan things out because you have a reliable routine? If not, why not? What does "stability" mean for you in the first place?

Some of these are all fairly vague questions, I'm aware, but I think it helps far more sometimes to isolate these things, rather than look at them in terms of what career you do or don't want, because focusing on "doctor" or "architect" or "teacher" or "accountant" disguises the day-to-day reality of what those jobs contain, and this reality is what will tally far more with the things you actually value. For example, my favourite subjects in school were languages, English, history and the sciences: my top two choices were biology and literature, but if I were to go to university now, I absolutely would not study English literature at all. I love it deeply, but what I love about it is not something that I can only get from a degree. What I value about literature is not necessarily something that would align with studying it as a degree. On the other hand, mathematics has always been something I had a very fraught relationship with; i also don't like the idea of being boxed in by expectations (my reading and watching habits are testament to that)--however: I'm not opposed to studying accountancy despite it being something most people don't associate with me at all. And I'm not opposed to it because the things accountancy involves--a fixed work week (which also means fixed free time), a particular set of problems requiring a particular set of tools (I enjoy that kind of focus)--are things I can see myself doing provided it's in the name of something important to me. Does this make sense?

I also want to add that whatever degree you choose, whatever job you settle on, is not a life sentence: just because you choose engineering or data science doesn't mean you will be an engineer or a data scientist for the rest of your life. You can, at any point in your life, at literally any age, change course or pursue something new or something radically different. You don't come with an expiration or a use by date--as long as you are still here, the world will still be here and the opportunities you find within it along the way are endlessly broad and full of surprises. It's a conversation that's cropped up quite a few times on this blog so I have an entire tag for it here, which I hope will go some way in giving you some hope, anon (and if it helps, I never went to university, but here I am losing my mind over literature on the regular and subjecting you all to it, too 💗).

As for the issue of what you want to study and where--I don't know how immense the pressure is from your parents, or how open they are to compromise, or exactly what their own reasoning for their stance is (I'm not saying that it's fair, only that it may help to know what "education" and a degree mean and symbolise for them, and if, once you know that, there's wiggle room available for you), I also don't know what your financial situation is or how much freedom you have in that regard and these are all things only you know. I will say though that it's important for you to make a list of concrete differences, pros and cons, and considerations between studying in your home country and studying where you are: what will accomodation look like for you? what universities are in your options and what do you value in those universities? what are the financial constraints between the two countries, if there are any? Are you able to mix programs between faculties so that you can do a major / minor degree? one that will allow you to compromise between what your parents expect and allow you to pursue a subject important to you?

I think the last one is something I would advise you to try and look at in line with all the questions from above (and you can absolutely add in more questions of your own for yourself). I don't know if your parents are set on a few, very specific courses by focusing on specific careers (i.e., the usual Big Three of Medicine, Engineering, Law), or if they are a bit more open and just looking at degrees themselves (which would be broader, if not by much). If it's the latter I think it is absolutely worth seeing if there is something that can align with the values most important with you and somewhat placate your parents also--just as an example, if they insist on something technical and scientific, there are a range of options in linguistics which also open up the pathway to languages for you: additionally, languages and multilingualism is something important and if it's something that helps broaden your prospects for employment (I hate talking in those terms, but you know what I mean) it might be worth bringing up, especially if you can tie it in or find a course that allows you to bridge the gap, even somehow, between your own interests and your parents' expectations.

Again, I'm sorry that you're in such a difficult position, anon, and I'm sorry too that I can't offer more to you. I really do hope, though, that some of this has been useful to you, even in just a small way. Sending you all my support and best wishes. Regardless of what you decide, please don't ever think that you are done for after decision. The world is so much bigger and so much broader than you can even imagine right now, I promise 💗

[i-did-not-mean-to]

Week 2 - Waterside

Ah, here's Boromir's arrival, an excursion, and a tad of romantic tension!

Prompt: Waterside

Pairing: Faramir x Éowyn, Boromir x OC

Words: 2 320

Warnings: Denethor is an ass, Boromir is sad, growing pains, trauma

When his phone rang, Boromir held up a staying hand, much to his father’s visible displeasure.

He’d wondered how his brother had settled in, and Faramir’s prolonged silence had started to stir apprehension and guilt within his heart—Boromir knew his brother too well not to worry that he’d be miserable on his own.

It was not so much that Faramir was exceedingly social—he was definitely not—but rather the quiet certainty that his younger brother preferred having at least one trusted person around to whom he could talk periodically that burdened Boromir’s heart.

He was afraid that they’d done more harm than good by sending Faramir away to rot in the countryside.

Denethor, the esteemed patriarch of their family, had just been plunging into a long diatribe about some irrelevant but aggravating subject or other, and he didn’t appreciate being interrupted before he’d said his piece.

Boromir cared nought—he’d been about to inform his father that he was leaving active service and was glad for every distraction.

It would be a disagreeable discussion, fraught with guilt and reproach. Understandably, he wasn’t eager to broach the subject, preferring to throw himself wholeheartedly into a hopefully pleasant exchange with his beloved sibling.

“Hello little brother, how is the wilderness treating you?” Pointedly ignoring the way Denethor drummed his fingers on the dinner table impatiently, Boromir refilled his wineglass and leaned back comfortably to listen to a much more interesting exposé.

“A horse you say?” he interjected after having heard of the fascinating first night Faramir had spent in his new abode. “Frieda, my bad, please proceed.”

Humming and hawing at appropriate intervals, he was then treated to the impeccably succinct and detailed account of a former captain about the lay of the land, the people Faramir had dined with, and the small town in which he’d purchased “the best boots” he’d ever possessed.

A jumble of emotions arose within Boromir’s mind—he was proud of the meticulous manner in which Faramir, ever the military man, had taken stock of his surroundings, but he was also touched by the genuine fondness that coloured his every word.

“I’m relieved to hear you speak so highly of it,” he finally said when his younger brother had finished his tale of violent storms, cheeky horses, and beauteous women. “We’ve been worried you might feel abandoned and isolated.”

Even though he said “we”, everyone knew that Denethor had probably not second-guessed his own decisions and plans a single second.

“Are you still stationed?” Faramir asked in a sly tone Boromir knew only too well.

“No, I’ve just had dinner with Father. Why do you ask? Do you miss me already? Despite all the ladies—on two or four legs—that positively throw themselves at you to care for your old bones?” Boromir replied with patient amusement.

“Indeed,” Faramir, who’d never been one to play games, acquiesced readily. “I might have insinuated that you’ve considered visiting me in my exile, and everyone seems very eager to meet you!”

Glancing at their father’s dour face, Boromir let the idea take root in his mind.

He could stay here and play along for the old man’s sake—Denethor would speak of things he was sure Boromir would achieve and his devoted son would pretend that he’d accomplish the impossible in his father’s name.

Or…

Or he could escape. This time, he’d not claw himself through the army ranks in a desperate, covert bid to free himself of his father’s crushing expectations, though. No, this time, he’d openly and undeniably run away to a land of rolling, verdant hills and wayward horses.

“Boromir?” Denethor asked sharply, for he knew the expression of grim determination now settling on his firstborn son’s face only too well. “What is the matter? Is Faramir quite all right?”

“So he says,” Boromir said gravely, covering his mobile phone with his entire palm to stifle any sound coming from the other end of the line. “Nevertheless, I’d gauge his actual state of mind with my own eyes, if you could dispense with my company for a while.”

“But you’ve only just arrived!” Denethor exclaimed, scandalised.

“If I find Faramir in good health and spirits, I shall return before you’ve even noticed I’d been gone,” Boromir promised in a tone that brooked no argument.

Retracting this hand, he consequently informed Faramir that he expected to arrive at the cabin around noon of the following day.

“Oh, lovely!” Faramir exclaimed. “Miss Drea, Éowyn, and I had planned a picnic by the waterside. It’s not an easy trek, but—with a bit of luck and enough apples—we’ll make good time.”

In his mind, Boromir was already establishing a list of what to pack, and so he only fully processed what he’d been told after he’d said goodbye to his brother.

Trek? Apples?

With an unexpected jolt of pleasure, he realised that he’d probably meet this mysterious and enchanting Frieda, and that laughably frivolous but wonderfully innocent idea gave his tired spirit wings.

“Thank you for your hospitality, Father,” he exclaimed heartily. “I must away—there’s much to be done yet and so little time.”

“Extend my warm greetings to your brother,” Denethor grunted in the coldest tone available to him.

“Will do,” Boromir called over his shoulder as he all but flew out of the dining room.

Even without pouring rain obscuring his view, Boromir had to admit that the drive was far from easy or pleasant, but he only allowed himself a few short naps in the driver’s seat before pushing on relentlessly.

The picture his brother had painted sounded so alluring that he couldn’t wait to arrive and ride out through endless fields of green and blue.

As a trained soldier himself, he was used to sleepless nights and the nascent fatigue settling behind his eyes barely dampened his fervour.

When, at last, the sun came up and the landscape morphed from miserable, grey highways into soft, muddy roads, he sighed a breath of relief and let his mind wander.

A short time later, he espied his brother—his hair blowing in the wind—standing at the foot of a short driveway, leading up to a cosy, little cabin.

“Right on time,” Faramir cheered and waved him up the uneven path with astonishingly expansive gestures.

Boromir had been used to the small, jerking motions that would have suited an aged doter better than his young, forceful brother, so he was taken aback by this renewed vigour in Faramir’s movements.

“I’m afraid I only have a single bedroom, but you can have the couch, or maybe Éowyn and her brother can put you up in one of their guest cottages,” Faramir prattled on cheerily as they walked back the way they’d come to turn into the main road.

“I’ll be all right,” Boromir laughed. He found that his brother’s restored joyfulness was infectious, and so he was grinning broadly when they ambled into a wide, roundish courtyard.

“Ah, you must be the brother,” a warm voice called.

Boromir turned sharply on his heels and saw a young woman, tall and straight as a reed, walk towards them. She was wearing riding leggings and high, scuffed boots, but even that lacklustre attire couldn’t mar her natural beauty.

Her smile was as generous, sunny, and open as the land she inhabited, and the way she smiled at Faramir made Boromir’s skin tingle with the premonition of wedding bells.

“Boromir,” he introduced himself, bowing smartly.

“I’m Éowyn,” she replied with easy grace.

“I thought the lady of Faramir’s heart was called Frieda,” Boromir joked, and—as if recognising her name—a tall, well-shaped dappled mare trotted out from one of the stables, her saddle hanging lopsidedly on her back.

“Blasted equine cow,” a man cursed, racing after her. “You could at least wait until you’re fully dressed, you debauched beast!”

“Ah, there she is,” Éowyn laughed, intercepting the runaway horse and tightening the straps with the ease of habit while grinning at the two handsome brothers. “Drea should be ready soon too. Are you a solid rider, Boromir?”

Boromir shrugged sheepishly.

“Oh, it would be ever so comforting if—for once—I’d not be the worst,” another voice came from behind Boromir, and, once more, he whirled around.

In the glaring light of the midday sun stood a woman after his own heart. Where Éowyn was high in colour and ruthlessly competent, this lady seemed wreathed in the demure magic of days gone by.

Her light hair was bound into a neat braid, and her elegant facial features were arranged into a bashful smile that made his heart skip a beat.

“My brother, I have no doubt, shall guard you like a hawk,” Faramir grinned.

“Oh, I can hold my own,” Drea riposted firmly but without anger.

“I don’t disbelieve that but throw the old boy a bone. In the name of friendship, I’m begging you to share in the burden of his ever-mindful regard.”

Shooting a disapproving glance at his cocky brother, Drea turned to Boromir and inclined her head charmingly.

“I’d be delighted to keep you company—Éowyn and Faramir have a tendency to become quite absorbed in their little spats, so we shall have plenty of time to get to know one another better.”

Having been relieved of the ungrateful task of getting Frieda ready, Éomer had turned his attention to the other mounts and was now leading two placid-looking horses by the reins towards the waiting group.

“Allow me,” Boromir said gallantly and gave Drea a boost onto a black-and-tan mare who didn’t move an inch during the undeniably clumsy ordeal.

“I can manage,” he then said to Éomer who was attempting to keep the gelding he was still holding from prancing around in anticipation.

After he’d swung himself up in the saddle, he caught his brother’s mocking gaze. They’d had riding lessons as children, and Faramir—of course—remembered that Boromir had never displayed quite the same amount of enthusiasm when watched by a sour-faced riding master than he had now when the gleaming eyes of a beautiful young woman were trained on him.

“Don’t say a word,” Boromir whispered urgently and watched Faramir heave himself into Frieda’s saddle without any assistance.

Was this the same man who, not so long ago, had barely been able to get out of a chair without groaning in pain?

“You could have told me that you’ve made so much progress,” Boromir said accusatorily when the infamous Frieda pulled up beside his horse.

“I wanted to call you; I’ve resolved to do it a thousand times, but something always distracted me,” Faramir admitted shamefacedly.

“Someone, you mean to say?” Boromir jeered, jerking his head at Éowyn who took an impressive leap to get atop a huge, brown stallion.

Faramir merely rolled his eyes. “Try to keep up, old man,” he cheered and raced out of the courtyard, making Éowyn grunt in frustration and give chase almost instantly.

“As I said, stick with me,” Drea laughed and clicked her tongue gently.

It was a pleasant ride, taking them over wide fields and through dense forests, and Boromir felt the compounded stress and fatigue of his deployment, his reunion with Denethor, and his headlong drive slough off his bones little by little.

This was in great part thanks to Drea who was witty without being crass, charming without being coquettish, and shy without being pathetic. All in all, she was a perfect conversation partner, and Boromir caught himself wishing that their journey would go on for hours yet despite his aching backside and cramping thighs.

Alas, it was not meant to be.

“The river is just ahead. We better dismount and lead the horses,” Éowyn announced in a loud, assertive voice.

Boromir did not miss the fact that his brother leapt off Frieda to assist their guide, and he decided to emulate his chivalry.

“Watch this,” Drea whispered conspiratorially. “Frieda doesn’t even need to be led; she’ll just follow the man around like an overgrown dog.”

Doing as he was told, Boromir observed his brother’s bond with both the beauteous equine lady and her owner with a strange feeling that he only identified as envy when he looked back at Drea.

It had been too long since he’d last been able to rely on anyone so genuinely and innocently—in his line of work, he had to trust others because his life depended on it.

He’d not told either his father or his brother of the monumental change about to overthrow his life yet, but—for some unfathomable reason—he felt the overwhelming urge to confide in this patient, gentle woman by his side.

“This place seems to be doing him a world of good,” he started hesitantly. “Mayhap, I should consider extending my stay.”

“Oh?” Drea’s soft lips formed an almost perfectly round “o”, but she didn’t press him to go on. She simply allowed the distance between them and the potential lovers ahead to widen progressively.

“I was a soldier,” Boromir confessed without daring to look up.

“Was?” she prompted cautiously.

“I’ve decided to pull out while I still can,” he went on, giving her a short, thankful smile. “Faramir’s injury made me realise that there were hopes and dreams I’d buried for a brighter day. It now seems to me that his day might never come if I don’t actively work towards it. Does that make sense?”

“Yes,” she sighed. “We’re not so different. I’ve also recently given up a career on which I’d wasted many years, countless tears, and the better part of my sanity.”

With a low, melodious chuckle, she lifted her water bottle in a persiflage of a toast. “To new beginnings and brighter days ahead, yeah?”

Hearing her laugh, Boromir thought that he could well be closer to that lofty aspiration than he had only a day ago.

“To us,” he nodded.

@fellowshipofthefics

-> Masterlist

[the-one-who-lambs]

Hello! Your works among many other artists inspired me to write my own Cotl fanfic. The plot is ready for the first part but my main issue is that I struggle to write action and fighting scenes. Do you have any advices to give me?

Hi!! That's so lovely! This is probably one of my most favorite things to hear.

Honestly, action and especially fighting scenes are difficult, even for me! When I'm writing them, I try to bulletpoint what happens during the fight in order before I attempt to write it for my rough draft to get an idea of a flow. Once you have the fight outlined a little, I try to think about what each character is feeling, thinking, what sensations they can feel in their body, and especially navigate their character traits as a way to set the pace for the fight. That way, a fight scene doesn't just seem like a list of actions; it's more interesting when the characters are processing something internally and have that drive the narrative!

Also think about what you want the fight scene to achieve. For example, in the chapter of Care and Keeping of Eldritch Gods where the older bishops are trying to teach Heket a lesson about cooperation, Narinder and Shamura are a very well-balanced team whereas Kallamar and the argumentative Heket who wants the match to go her way and insists that everything will be great as long as Kallamar follows her instructions exactly... struggle a lot. When Heket inevitably becomes frustrated with Kallamar, Shamura allows them to discuss strategy and come up with something together before letting them win when Heket works with Kallamar as part of a team so she can learn that it's okay to not always be right Shamura and Narinder are defeated fairly after the two have a brief tear in communication.

The fight scene accomplished a couple things: first, young Heket gets some important character development, and second, it foreshadows how Narinder and Shamura's relationship will begin to strain before his revolt (an event that is not in the work itself because it takes place much further before canon, but is central to shaping its themes and plot points! While the Bishop family does care about each other... They do have an underlying sense of competition and especially their interactions are fraught with miscommunication, which will ultimately destroy them).

I'd also suggest studying what writers you look up to do for fight scenes, and trying to find what you enjoy about them... But looks like you already have the right idea by reaching out!

Good luck!

[houndfaker]

weird swap au infodump incoming !!!

i was slightly anxious while thinking on other characters in the swap au but given i already made the decision to be a litte Weird with it i guess it’s not too much of an issue. everythings not really a 1:1 swap

not every single character has a swap because i want to center in on the primary cast. maybe that’ll change later and we’ll get ideas for less relevant characters and how we could change them around but for now try not to expect things like idk “ikutsuki and elizabeth swap” or some scary shit like that

i am admittedly struggling with what to do w the twins (the protags are twins in this au like with every other thing i make) outside of them still having the connecting line of losing their parents to an accident on moonlight bridge. they just didn’t get death sealed in them this time. but uh hey you don’t need that to happen to you for the events to result in Deep Issues. i think there IS something interesting there in that they wind up coming back to iwatodai all those years later, and they get roped into sees because of course they do. i think it’d be interesting to explore them through the lens of being normal party members at least. the only thing is that you don’t really get a solid ‘swap’ situation with them since mitsuru maintains some of their canon qualities while still not exactly moving from her typical role as heir to the kirijo group. more on that as me and the bestie talk details over

we actually are planning some pretty fun stuff with ryoji?? the wonderful thing is that ryoji is by all intents and purposes just a normal fucking guy in this au given all the appriser stuff goes to yukari. but as a general rundown here’s what he has going on

childhood friend to the twins, loves them dearly. was very sad when they moved after the accident, and overjoyed after they transferred back.

has a younger brother named pharos:)

the mochizuki family was close with the takebas, particularly eiichiro was close with them. you can imagine where im going with this. his death was a tragedy to them, but more than anything it spurs something on in ryoji as he grows older. the alignment of the accident resulting in eiichiro's death and the death of the twins' parents occurring in such a close span of time bothers ryoji. for something that had such a massive negative impact on the lives of two people that are insanely important to him to potentially have more behind it than meets the eye, it becomes a vague obsession. which of course, eventually leads him to sees.

his role replacing yukari in this au gives him a fraught relationship w mitsuru. his distrust is very…intimidating, because it’s not nearly as outright as canon yukari’s. when he’s pointing out inconsistencies in what info mitsuru lets them have, he’s calm, sporting a smile, but emitting coldness. mitsuru herself of course isn’t Unaware of the effect the kirijo group’s work has had on him, but i think being incapable of getting a proper read on ryoji a lot of the time definitely does her no favors.

next lets talk about aigis! i had a little too much fun adapting her.

taking after canon kikuno's role, aigis was a human child sold to the kirijo group. she has a naturally-awoken persona (something something ergo research offers a higher payout to her parents because of this)

after the failure of the persona experiments resulting in strega, aigis is adopted by a handful of scientists from ergo research (this is essentially a timeline where the events of aigis the first mission dont happen, at least not the same way. i figured itd be fun to give the characters introduced in that game an active role in this au). she lives in yakushima with them.

her upbringing has left her socially awkward and distant, and trust is hard for her to fully feel. the intention on behalf of her guardians was to make sure she wouldnt have to give herself to the group as a weapon if she didnt want to, while having a family that cares for her and is able to meet her needs as someone with a very unique situation. she accompanies them if they need to do something during the dark hour because shes capable of protecting them with her persona.

aigis is still recruited to sees during the yakushima trip. a la the movie, she protects mitsuru and ryoji from a hoard of shadows after they leave the kirijo estate at night without their evokers. knowing of sees due to how long shes been in proximity to the group, she asks to be transferred into their unit so that she can help directly combat the dark hour so it wont be a danger to her family anymore. she would still very much view herself as a weapon raised by the kirijo group despite her adoptive family trying so hard to help her unlearn it. she experiences some pushback about it of course because its inadvertently feeding into something she is meant to be unlearning, but she wants strongly for it so its not like they can fully deny her.

thats everything we've got cemented so far...we still have to figure out the other members of sees that need swapping but for now you can have these doodles. a kiku + some concepts for human aigis and non-protag femc