#(this was technically a medieval faire but still)

[revanchistsuperstar]

Things that have happened recently:

1. Got my hair cut into a 15th century bowl cut

2. Made myself a jaunty little 15th century outfit

3. Went to a faire that’s set 300 years earlier during the reign of Richard I called Sherwood Forest and had a lovely time.

[misguidedasgardian]

The Winter Sun (21)

21. The dangerous Road

MASTERLIST

Summary: War came at a heavy price

Pairing: Cregan Stark x Fem!Targaryen Reader 

Warnings: Cursing, medieval and asoiaf customs, AGE GAP, Cregan is 12 years OLDER than reader), arranged marriage, death of a character, war and all that comes with it, mentions of pedicide (killing of a baby), threats of non-con, technically adultery, might miss some warnings

+18, MINORS DNI

Wordcount: 3 k

Notes: Like I said, the pace is picking hehe, and it will get dark for a couple of chapters. SO SORRY FOR THIS LOVES

“I bled once”, you whispered to the maester, “but the symptoms hadn't stopped, I thought to be with child”

“after the birth of a child it could be tricky”, he warned with a warm smile, “forgive me my lady but I must check you out” 

It was an uncomfortable afternoon with the maester, but afterwards, you left his tower to search for Sara

The test that he had made you do was going to take time to… “develop”, so you had a couple of days before receiving any news 

Sara, and you, had started a quick net of communication throughout the North, you had contact with White Harbor, with the Lady Mara, and the Lady Bolton from the Dreadfort, all the way up to the Bear Island, even down at Widow’s watch, you exchanged ravens regularly, you even created, with Cregan, the “Dragon watchers”, dragons were faster than ravens, but you had placed outposts with huge beacons of fire that were to be lit as soon as they see or hear them, so as soon as it is lit, the next one will light them also, creating a line of fire to be seen miles away in Winterfell

You were nervous, the people were nervous, you had yet to receive news of Cregan, but if you think about it more carefully, it could be dangerous for him to be writing where they are and where theta e going, letters can be easily intercepted, an the last months you realized people who believe a man should have priority to ascend the Iron Throne over a woman is bigger than you expected.

You could have Aegon royalists within Winterfell without even knowing 

When you found Sara, you gasped

She was a mess, clutching to her own chest, heaving and crying by the window in her room

“Sara!”. you called for her name, running to her, hugging her, “what happened?”

“I don’t know!”, she managed to whine, “I saw something”

“What did you see? What happened? are you alright?”, you were so confused, she was distraught

She weeped in your arms, and you hugged her to comfort her, you directed her to sit on the bed, and you cuddled her. She eventually calmed, but she still shook with the sobs

“I don’t know what happened”, she whispered, “one minute I was here, and another…I was somewhere else”

“What do you mean?”, you asked her softly

“That somehow, I was somewhere else, I was something else”, you believed in magic, you believed in people who could dream about things that were going to happen, everyone in your family knew the tale of Daenys the dreamer and how her visions saved the Targaryens from The Doom. Once you were hiding from the boys with Helaena, and she couldn’t stop whispering about stars in the middle of the day, you didn’t listen and when the boys found you you ran from them, failing to see the edge of a wooden furniture and banging your head against it, you passed for several minutes in which you could see silvery stars under your eyelids 

But this was something else

In the book Cregan had lent you, you had read about wildlings north of the wall that could take the body of animals and use them as their own… but it was only a tale, wasn’t it?

“I was in the skies”, she continued, “I was flying, I was big, I saw Dragonstone”

“Dragonstone?”, you asked

“I think it was, I- I had never seen it”, she explain, still catching her breath, “it was big and dark, seemed like it was built front he rock itself, and… had many dragons sculptures all over”, that was a fair description of the castle of your family

“What else did you see?”, you asked

“I took flight towards the west”, she said shakily, “over the seas until I could see a castle, surrounded by a powerful wall, and a small village, under the protection of another wall”, she said, she was with you, but her eyes were seeing something outside of the room, they were lost in her memories, “the castle was made of gray rock with reddened tiles in their towers”, you paled then, “a banner was hanging from the biggest one, two black wings over a white banner, in front of a checkered black and gray field”

“House Staunton”, you whispered, “a house front he crownlands, loyal to Rhaenyra”

“They were under siege, and I was going to help them, but then…”

“Sara…”, your heart was pounding in your chest

“Two huge beasts, Vhagar, and another golden dragon flew down upon me, jaws open, a breath of fire and I…”, her eyes filled with tears again and she wept in your arms, “I could smell the burnt flesh, and the reek of death!”, she weeped again, and you held her against you

“Shhh, it’s alright”, you whispered, “it is alright”

But it was not

You could feel it 

And you were made certain the very next day

“See that he is bathed gently”, you said to the main maid that took care of RIckon, “Even though he likes the heat, just like a little dragon”you giggled, playing with his feet, “I would bathe him myself but I have a meeting with the master at arms”

“Yes My lady”, she said gently, you liked her, she was sweet and cared for RIckon as he was her own, she took him gently and accommodate him in her arms

“Who is this handsome boy that needs a bath?”, she cooed, “let’s take a bath and let mommy focus on her meeting”, she said as she walked away

You smiled as you saw her leave the rooms, but were called by a pup, Rickon’s pup as he barked at you playfully, moving her triangular tail

“Don’t believe you are free of a bath!”, you chided playfully, and he barked again but ran to hide from you with a whimper. 

You giggled

They were really clever animals Direwolves 

But as you were preparing to leave your rooms to your meeting, there was a knock on the door

“Yes?”, you asked cheerfully, as you were the Lady of Winterfell, and you needed to show yourself strong, but the face the maester had, it immediately told you something was wrong

Very wrong

“I have letter for you, My Lady”, he said, he sounded apologetic

“What is it?”, you whispered

“One if from Dragonstone, but the other… is it from Harrenhal, from Aemond Targaryen”

You palet

you received the two small scrolls, your hand already trembling, you didn’t know which one to open first, you decided, that the one from Dragonstone

It surprised you to see it was from Rhaena, you had never had a personal relationship with her, but still you read the few lines she wrote

And as you did you whimpered, bitter tears falling from your eyes

Rhaenys was dead

Her and Melys had been burnt by Aemond and Aegon in both their dragons

Just like Sara described

Rhaena goes on saying  she wanted you to hear it from her, because she knew how dear you were to her grandmother and vice-versa

“No, no, no please”, you cried, clutching your chest, falling to your knees

“My Lady!”, the maester fell to the floor on his knees beside you, clutching you tightly, “Are alright?” he placed his hand on your forehead 

“No!”, you whined, you let out a scream of pain as you felt your heart was ripped from your chest. Sara showed up, taking the place of the maester by your side, grabbing you tightly 

“I will bring you a special tea, to calm your nerves”, he left the room

“She is gone, Aemond killed her”, you whined, grabbing into Sara, “my aunt is gone”

“I’m so sorry”, she whined, “I should have seen it sooner”

“It’s not your fault”, you whispered, your voice as broken as your spirit. You then looked at the other scroll that had fallen by your skirts, this had to mean something… something else…

You couldn’t resist, you couldn’t

You opened it

What you found there didn’t surprise you, there were threats, a warning, and a demand

You whined at the sight of his poisonous words 

But now… you jumped from the grief, straight to the anger

It was him!

The source of all your pains, all your traumas, it was him, for taking your baby nephew, and now your dear aunt

It was him

And you were the only one who could stop him

Sara looked at you, petrified and scared of what she found in your eyes

“No”, she whispered, when you looked straight ahead, tears were no longer falling from your eyes, all it was there was fire, and bloodthirst, “whatever you think you need to do…”

“I have to”, you answered barely, standing from the floor, your hands made fists

“No! you need to stay here!”, she cried, “please!”

“I am the only one who can stop him, stop this”, she took the scroll from your hand and read it, and she whimpered

“Its a trap!”, she said

But you were already on your feet, grabbing your riding gear, the thickest pants you could find and the upper part to go with it

“Please! think of Cregan! of Rickon!”, she insisted 

“Is for them I’m doing this”, you said, all emotion in your voice disappeared

“Please! they can fight him”, she insisted

“I can get close to him and kill him, I’m the only one who can”

“But at what price?”, she asked

“the debt is high already”, she whispered, “and it will only take me”

“please!”, you turned to look at Sara

“Tell Cregan I’m sorry”, you whined, tears falling down your cheeks again

“You tell him yourself!”, she insisted

“Take care of my son”, you cried, “please love him as your own”

“You will!”, she said, now desperate, “you will love him, and see him grow!”

“I did the best I could for the North, I’m sorry if it wasn't enough”, you cried

“It was! but is not over!”, she grabbed your arms, “please!”

“I’m the only one that can stop him”, you insisted, “I can kill him”, she knew there was no convincing you, she can see it in your eyes

“Please”

“No one else is going to die for me”, your voice again a flat line, “Cregan will be spared, and the crown will belong to Rhaenyra”

“But please let’s wait until we can reach Cregan”

“You know what his answer is going to be”, you said, but you realized Sara was not going to let you leave, so instead, you agreed to wait

Only to sneak out in the middle of the night, after telling the nannies to take RIckon for the night claiming you needed to be alone, they took him without question.

You couldn’t dare to see Rickon for one last time, if you did, you would second guess your decision and you couldn’t

This was more important than yourself

This was about the future of the seven Kingdoms and the future of your family and everyone you loved

This was bigger

Vhaelar was waiting for you outside the Winterfell gates, she roared into the night air but at this point you didn’t care if everyone listened, you will be in the air by the time they think they can do something to stop you

So you climbed on top of your dragon, Aemond’s words burning inside your brain

“I killed Rhaenys at Rook’s Rest, it wasn’t personal, but I know your husband is marching down with his army, you have three days to come to Harrenhal, if you do not, I will burn them alive, and then I will ride North and take you anyways. Spare the Starks, give yourself to me”

You had to answer his call

It was true, you can come to him willingly, you had a dragon, you could hide a blade in your undergarments, and after, you could slay him in his sleep or something, anything, but when he said it was the end of house Stark, it meant your baby as well, pedicide is not something you would put past Aemond. You knew he was capable and able to do it

For Rickon

For Cregan

And for Sara and the North

Yourself was a small price to pay

The night was long but you didn’t plan to stop as Vhaelar flew decisively under you

You believed you had until morning until Winterfell wakes up and sends a raven to Cregan, if you manage to fly over them it will be too late also

In the air, atop your dragon, nothing could stop you

Unless perhaps, another dragon

All night, all the way south, your mind was blank, there was only grief, pain, and rage.

You did not deemed yourself as vengeful person, and yet, you wanted it, desire it, you felt a fire growing within you, that wanted to burn everything in your path

You felt such heat within you you barely felt the still cold air that hit your face in the heights, and before you even knew it, the sun was shining in the horizon.

You felt no hunger, no tiredness, no nothing

Only the rage

It was Midday when you saw the unmistakable burnt towers of Harrenhal

Your dragon growled, like she was in pain, feeling your anger

You led her to descend upon the castle with a velocity that made your stomach drop, but you didn’t care about that, you cared about vengeance

But you were in a close distance, you felt the fire burning within you, one command and you could burn Harrenhal and the Green forces within them, Aemond probably was there, inside 

“Dra-!”

As you were going to give the order, you were interrupted by a low growl. Vhagar appeared from nowhere, pushing your dragon and you in the air

Vhaelar whined as she struggled to keep in the air and you knew then and there, that against the monstrous Vhagar, you could do nothing. Even if your dragons was one of the largest 

The Queen of dragons growled in greeting and you could feel Vhaelar’s nervousness as your own.

Or perhaps you were your own

Some people would say that you are more lamb than dragon, because of your mother’s house

But they were wrong

You were a dragon he awakened 

You landed heavily by the gates, you could see the restlessness of the soldiers in you and your dragon’s presence. You abandoned the want to burn everything, against Vhagar you couldn’t win. you had to be smart about this, she had the upper hand, the surprise factor was ruined 

“WHITE DRAGON!”, they chanted all over the walls, but you didn’t attacked them

Perhaps that is what you should do.

Burn them all

But the retaliation from King’s landing and the Greens could be worse

Aemond appeared by your side, he did not hide his smile, his happiness of seeing you there. 

Bold, you assumed, as you were near your dragon, you could burn him, here and now

The temptation was great

“You came”, he greeted, “good girl”

“I came to the call of your insanity”, you growled, he came to you, quick on his feet, you took a step backwards, still he grabbed you by the back of your neck

Vhaelar growled, dangerously, but VHagr was there, right by her side, she grabbed your dragon by the neck, furiously, dangerously

“NO!”, you screamed

Vhaelar whined in agony, and Vhagar released her, it was only a warning, but her black blood flowed profusely from the injury in her neck

“NO!”, you wanted to go to her, but Aemond held on to you tight

“If you don’t want me to finish her off, you will come with me”, he had to drag you towards the castle, as you could hear her whines of agony as her pain as if was your own

He dragged you through the halls, the stench of dead was clinging into you by every forceful step, and you whined under Aemond’s brutal hold

He threw you into a room. It held no windows, no nothing, but it was furnished with the very best he could find in his proximity, you realized. A luxurious big bed, with small tales on each side, many candles all over the room to light it up since it had no windows, and a table with chairs on one corners, tapestries on the floor and hanging from the walls to give it a more comfortable feel to it, but it didn’t hide what it was, it was a prison, only made for you

“A room for a princess”, he said mockingly, closing the door behind him, “you will stay here”

“I did as you asked”, you said, trying to regain control, “I came, I did as you said, promise me you will kill no one else”, you whined, “please”, he only smirked

“I promise I will no seek the death of anyone else”, he pleaded with a hand on his chest and another raised, but all seemed like a mockery, “I only wanted you, it is good that you finally saw this”

“I don’t understand”, you whined, “why me? after everything”

“That is not for you to know, now put on the dress I selected for you”, he said, taking your shoulders and directing you to look upon the bed, where a very revealing dark green dress was waiting for you. “You are to please me, since you are married, since you didn’t want to marry me, you will be nothing else, but my whore”

A single tear fell down your cheek as you contemplated what you willingly let your life turn into. 

@severewobblerlightdragon @missusnora @stargaryenx @poppyreader @chainsawsangel @court-jester-stuff @batprincess1013 @eddiepicker 

@lyannesworld @arujee @kamisunshine @​​mss-nthng @partypoison00 @grimistangel @elleclairez @may-machin @prettykinkysoul @justagurlwithships @champomiel 

@laura-naruto-fan1998 @zoleea-exultant @devotedlythoughtfulanchor @zoleea-exultant @llleon666 @dark-night-sky-99 @bitchigoteverythingissues @harrypotteranna23-blog

@esposadomd @ajanauia @phantomtea19 @let-love-bleeds-red @kishie8 @dreamingofyourmoons @esposadomd @sandronebabyy @kemillyfreitas @​​trifoliumviridi @dreamingofyourmoons @darling-jace @biblichorr @ivvypg @mendes-bae @borikenlove @tssf-imagines @praline357 @alitaar @prettykinkysoul @aelora-a @a-mexican-waffle @ateliefloresdaprimavera @alexa4040 @lrboyd @anditsmywholeheart  @weaselyssss  @scarlettqueen190 @deeeeexx @cloudroomblog @dreaming-of-the-reality

[fancoloredglasses]

[RERUN] Gargoyles (Gettin’ medieval for the kids)

[All images are owned by Disney. Please don’t sue me]

(Thanks to Jan Schmelter)

(If you would like to see the wall of text that was the original review, you may do so here)

In the 90s, before there were a ton of cable stations devoted to cartoons and kids’ fare (The Disney Channel and Nickelodeon were it) and you could still watch a ton of cartoons between the time that kids would be coming home from school and the time parents came home from work (every TV station not affiliated with the “Big Three” (Fox was not yet the major network it is now, and its stations were often regarded as “independents” that happened to have Fox programming a few nights a week) had this format in the afternoon)

(Thanks to DuckTales Wiki)

In 1990, Disney decided to get in on this action with The Disney Afternoon, a two-hour block of cartoons using series previously aired on the Disney Channel, with such well-regarded shows as Duck Tales, Chip & Dale’s Rescue Rangers, Darkwing Duck, TaleSpin, and Goof Troop.

Then in 1994, Disney took a serious risk with its block. Instead of the kid-friendly mild adventure (and outright comedy) reruns, they premiered a show with a much darker (though still kid-friendly) tone that included characters being wounded and (gasp) killed! Needless to say, this got the immediate attention of my college-age friends and myself!

The cartoon is about a group of gargoyles (hence the series’s title) from the 10th century who, despite a symbiotic relationship with Celtic nobility (they defended the nobles’ castle at night and the humans protected them during the day when they were stone and helpless), were feared and shunned by the very humans they helped protect (almost sounds like a metaphor for racial tensions, much like the mutants in X-Men)

The clan of Gargoyles (well, the ones who the series centers on) consists of 7 warriors

...led by Goliath, the only one of them with a name (voiced by Kieth David who went on to voice Captain Anderson in the Mass Effect video game franchise)

...along with his mate (voiced by Marina Sirtis…we’ll get to her in a moment)

...his mentor (voiced by Ed Asner, who played Lou Grant on The Mary Tyler Moore Show)

...three younger warriors

...and a gargoyle-dog (dog-goyle?)

There are others, but as you’ll see they’re not that important.

When their main ally among the humans betrayed them, (though, to be fair, he was actually betraying the nobles. He assumed the invaders would leave the gargoyles alone after they won. WRONG! The invaders smashed the majority of the gargoyles while they were stone, killing them in a way that was technically kid-friendly) and the nobles blamed them for their defeat (Why? The invaders attacked during the day!) The court mage (who is known as the Magus) cursed the gargoyles to remain stone forever “until the castle rises above the clouds”. What dicks!

Fortunately, the nobles realized who really betrayed them, but unfortunately the mage could not undo the spell, so they took it upon themselves to care for the unborn gargoyle eggs as they fled (This will become important later)

Fast forward about a thousand years, when billionaire industrialist David Xanatos (voiced by Jonathan Frakes…I swear I will address this!) has the castle carefully taken down and reconstructed (making sure to use every piece) atop his skyscraper. Sure enough, this meets the conditions of the spell and the gargoyles awaken at dusk. Goliath discovers his mate was not demolished by the invaders, but was somehow still alive (after a millennium? Given Goliath’s mentor is old, they are obviously not immortal!) and told Xanatos about the spell.

As thanks, Goliath agrees to work with Xanatos, until it’s obvious that Xanatos isn’t exactly on the side of the angels.

Nor, apparently, is Goliath’s mate, who had grown more cold and ruthless (and has developed a hatred of humans) in the past thousand years (again, how? I mean, it is sorta-kinda explained in later episodes, but for now it’s a mystery). Eventually, the pair turn on the gargoyles.

(Thanks to Tooth)

About this time, Goliath meets...

...(and accidentally nearly kills) an NYPD detective named Elisa Maza.

Elisa becomes a fierce ally to the Gargoyles, eventually helping them find a new home since living over Xanatos’s roof could be hazardous to their health (and sorta-kinda becoming a mate to Goliath? Well, at least a romantic interest in a “will they/won’t they/is the biology even possible?!” kind of way)

Elisa is also inadvertently responsible for naming the rest if the Gargoyles. When she asked Goliath’s mentor what his name was, he was exasperated that humans needed to name everything, and asked if a nearby river had a name too. She replied it was the Hudson. He then threw his hands up and declared that he, too, might as well be called the Hudson, which led to the rest of the clan to choose their own names...

(Thanks to Chris bentley)

OK, time to address the Enterprise in the room. A lot of actors affiliated with Star Trek gave their voices to the series (the fact that Sirtis and Frakes played villains when so many associated them with the crew of the Enterprise-D was surreal at the very least) Every chapter in the Trek mythos to date was represented, with TNG being the most heavy.

(Brent Spiner voiced the fae known as Puck

…and LaVar Burton voiced a spider god), though there were voice actors from...

the original series (Nichelle Nichols voiced Elisa’s mother)

Deep Space Nine (Michael Dorn voiced an undead cyborg gargoyle (yes, the series had some weird characters) known as Coldstone)

Voyager (Kate Mulgrew played Xanatos’s lover’s mother,

...as well as Queen Titania of the fae)

…and even the movies! (Paul Winfield, who played the captain of the USS Reliant in Star Trek II, played a recurring role as blind man who befriends Hudson)

The show’s creator has said that, while he did cast Sirtis and Frakes for the roles, it was not originally his intent to fill the series with voices to please the Trekkies, but he did seem to favor Trek actors more as new characters were written.

Many sci-fi and (urban) fantasy tropes were visited, including time travel (again with the time-travel…however, I like how the series handled the concept: you aren’t altering the past by going back in time, events in the past happened as they did because your present self traveled to the past!)

The series was very well-written, especially for its time (X-Men showed that younger audiences could handle more mature content and could follow a continuing storyline…plus a series written as such could draw in an older demographic that could afford all the merchandising)

As always, let me know if there are any episodes you would like reviewed.

[maniculum]

Bestiaryposting Results: Bawigrat

This one is kind of odd in general, but also notable in that it's a mythical creature that has not, to my knowledge, made its way into modern pop culture, but is kind of on one of the upper levels of the metaphorical iceberg for people interested in Medieval Bestiary Trivia just because of its... rather memorable ability. So let's get into it.

If you don't know what this is about, you can check out https://maniculum.tumblr.com/bestiaryposting for an explanation and previous installments.

The art you are about to see is all based on this entry here:

And if you want to get in on this, the current entry up for interpretation is here:

(bit of a long one there)

And without further ado, art for this week is below the cut:

@silverhart-makes-art (link to post here) has given us a sort of bovine with recognizably skunk-like features. They note that they focused on giving it an appropriate pose (more details in the linked post), which I think they pulled off well -- I would absolutely believe that this creature is about to fire dung at the viewer.

@sweetlyfez (link to post here) has a shaggier bovid here, with a notably calm expression. The peace of mind that comes from knowing you have a terrifying defense mechanism? Also we see that the emphasis here is on the fiery nature of their dung-based defense, as shown by the flames at the back there. (And thank you for including alt text.)

@coolest-capybara (link to post here) has done a bit of malicious compliance here. Yes, it has the head and size of a bull, the maned neck of a horse, sure, but otherwise this is clearly a giant bombardier beetle. You know what, that's fair. I like it. I also appreciate that it is, to quote Coolest-Capybara, "seen here incinerating some Stylized Plants." (And thank you for including alt text.)

@pomrania (link to post here) has a bull/horse hybrid thing for us, but notes particularly the distended belly, saying that they figure that whatever kind of internal chemistry is going on here might have externally-visible effects. They also question the "acres" thing, as it seems to imply "a creature which can basically do sniper-range attacks with its poop".

I am thrilled to tell you that it's even worse than that. The phrasing of this entry aside, an acre is technically not a measure of distance, but of area. And this isn't a modern contrivance, it's always been area: the definition of "acre" that our medieval writers would be familiar with is "the amount of land that a man can expect to plow in a single day with the help of oxen". Three acres is, according to a quick conversion on Google, 130,680 square feet / 12,140.6 square meters). So it's not a sniper-like attack, it's blanketing an entire city block (or most of one, depending on your city) in burning fumes & poop.

Implications for the fertilizer industry are, I assume, still under investigation.

@cheapsweets (link to post here) apparently decided to roll with the "three acres" thing and has drawn their Bawigrat... um.. burninating the countryside. Which is very funny to me, as a person of a certain age who grew up on the Internet, but the rest of y'all will have to Google it. Reasons for domesticating the Bawigrat may expand from agricultural to military, though that does seem like a dangerous proposition. (And thank you for including alt text.)

@wendievergreen (link to post here) also decided to go with a bombardier beetle, as the animal with the most similar defense mechanism in real life. (This one is also giant; note the banana for scale.) They've made it more unambiguously insectoid, as the "horns" are clearly antennae and the "mane" is a sort of ridged plate. I really like the stylization here and the inclusion of the alchemical symbol. For more information, and a video that shows off the glittery ink used here, check the linked post. (Also thank you for including alt text.)

On to the Aberdeen Bestiary:

Yep, that beast is sure farting fire onto some knights. If you look for other medieval images of it, this is a pretty common way to show its defense mechanism. I think my favorite is this one:

(Bibliothèque Nationale de France, lat. 3630, folio 78r)

Tell me that doesn't look exactly like the face a creature with weaponized flatulence would make.

Anyway, this is the bonnacon.

As mentioned previously, this is a mythical beast that for obvious reasons failed to really catch on in modern pop culture, but remains a favorite in Bestiary Trivia -- any Internet listicle about obscure mythical creatures is almost certain to mention the bonnacon.

Beyond that, I really don't have much to add other than reiterating that I think it would be pretty funny to include attempts to domesticate the bonnacon in your fantasy worldbuilding.

[tyrantisterror]

Fantastic Rants and Where to Find Them

So, back when the Herbie Porber movies were still being made, Warner Brothers saw the cash cow on their hands and decided they had to lock that shit down as much as possible to make sure they could milk it until its teats were chafed and withered to nothing. To that end, they bought the rights to every book the Terf Queen had written by that point - which included all the Henry Pansley wizard school mystery books, but also two gag books set within the Henry Pansley world: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, which was presented as an in-universe biology textbook for wizard children, and Quidditch Through the Ages, which was an in-universe book of trivia for a fake magical sport.

And at the time everyone with a brain who'd read those two books was shaking their head and thinking how dumb those corporate executives were to do that because, like, those aren't novels or novelas or short stories or narratives of any kind. They are, and I cannot stress this enough, a fake textbook and a fake trivia book about fake things written in a slapdash manner as a cheap gag. They existed for three reasons:

First, to sell something Herbie Porber related at a significantly lower price point than the actual novels so the Terf Queen could get more of that sweet, sweet Scholastic Book Fair money by having something poor kids could buy.

Second, to give a portion of the proceeds raised from that poor kid book fair money to charity so the Terf Queen could get some nice tax writeoffs.

And as a distant third, to expand the world-building of the Henry Pansley setting a teensie bit.

Now, as far as I'm aware, they succeeded at the first two well enough - tons of kids bought those cheap-ass thin as shit paperbacks when I was a kid, myself among them. Well, ok, I only bought Fantastic Beasts and skipped Quidditch because even during the height of my Herbie Porber fan days I thought the Terf Queen's imaginary sport was really fucking stupid and every time it popped up in the books I was bored as shit and tried to skim it as quickly as possible to get to the interesting stuff. I think I looked over the book once in a Barnes and Noble and thought, "Wow, I knew I thought real sports were boring as shit, but it turns out fake ones are even more so."

But back on track - goal number three was... kind of successful, I guess? Like, I don't know if you know this, but bestiaries of fictional animals are one of my big interests. I love a big book of made up creatures, and have collected many in my long life of thirty-four years. And as I said, I got a copy of Fantastic Beasts - technically several, because those cheap ass paperbacks disintegrated if you read them more than once, and I haven't met a bestiary that I haven't poured over several times, no matter how shitty. And despite how often I read it, Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them was, well... pretty mid, honestly. It's a book that's 99% world-building, and like all of the Terf Queen's world-building, it's overall mediocre and undercooked.

Like, in pure Herbie Porber style, it's mostly concepts that have been done in fantasy fiction and mythology dozens of times before with no real original spin on them whatsoever, often stripped down to their most recognizable elements alone. There are a smattering of original ideas that are actually interesting an novel, a few more original ideas that have potential but don't seem very well-thought out as is, and then some that are clearly just there to be a joke and are amusing for, like, a second, but also would quickly become annoying if they were given any focus.

I'll give a very me-specific example. As a fan of vaguely medieval european fantasy tropes, one of the metrics by which I judge a bestiary is "How does this handle dragons?" Because, like, I don't know if you know this, but I love dragons a lot, and the sheer variety of dragons in fiction is one of my favorite things in the world. There is a smorgasbord of different dragons a person can choose from just in folklore and mythology alone, and that variety is reflected in a given bestiary, the higher I think of it.

The Terf Queen's bestiary gives us ten dragon breeds... and they're all more or less the same except for scale color and minor variations in size. Oh, and their names, which are all based on different dog breeds because the Terf Queen thought that was funny. It's the worst of both worlds because it gets your dragon-loving hopes up that there'll be lots of unique dragons but no, they're just different colors, ho hum. Even the Chinese Dragon sticks to the same basic bitch wyvern body plan as the rest, when, you know, Chinese dragons have SUCH a different body plan than any of their European counterparts. It's downright insulting to the variety and creativity of this iconic folkloric archetype to reduce it to such a samey-set of monsters. Absolutely the most disappointing dragon entry in any bestiary I've ever read, just infuriating.

BUT, BACK ON THE INCREASINGLY DERAILED TRACK: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them was never meant to be a "great" book. Remember goals one and two: it was a cheap cashgrab, a gimmick, a gag book. It was meant to be a disposable bit of fun - "Tee hee, here's a goofy textbook from this goofy wizard story that you kids will likely grow out of in a few years, you can read it in twenty minutes and not feel bad when you pitch it because there's very little substance to it, and it only costs three bucks."

The Terf Queen doesn't write textbooks, gag or otherwise, she writes novels, narratives, and in its original form Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them was clearly just her fucking around with something whimsical and stupid for shits and giggles (and money, sweet sweet money). The original version of it was published with notes in the margin written by Henry Pansley and Donnie Stoat themselves, the two wizard hooligans writing little jokes and messages to each other with further references to other characters from the series, both to add more humor and because, again, the Terf Queen writes novels, and it was clear she couldn't commit to the "fake textbook" bit without working in some characters riffing it for her own sanity. And that makes it work as a gag book - you get a few laughs from the wizard hooligans playing MST3K with their shitty textbook, learn a little about the (undercooked and poorly thought out) ecosystem of the wizardy world, and then when you reach the back cover the spine of your cheap as shit pulp paperback book falls apart and, unless you've got a weird obsession with bestiaries, you throw the dying book in the garbage without a second thought. Three bucks spent well enough.

BUT, TO GET BACK ON THE INCREASINGLY DERAILED TRACK AGAIN: Warner Brothers bought the rights to this cheapo cashgrab gag textbook, and goddamn it, they were/are determined to squeeze Herby Porber's sore teats until every last drop of money milk spills from his chapped and bleeding nipples. They announced they were going to make a Fantastic Beasts movie towards the end of making the Herby Porber novels into films, and everyone with a brain sat there and thought, "Well, that's going to be a stupid cashgrab. Bet the Terf Queen's laughing her ass off at how dumb it'll be, too."

But the Terf Queen was not laughing, at least not for long, for once the Henry Pansley movies wrapped up, she was left with the horrifying knowledge that people didn't care for her non-wizard books all that much, certainly not enough to keep her rolling in sweet, sweet money. She needed that mega millionaire cash, and she needed it in abundance and she needed it quick. So when Warner Brothers asked her to write a movie based on her cheapo cashgrab gag textbook, she said, "Yeah, I can make a novel out of that! I - I'm a talented writer! People love my writing! They definitely love my writing and they'd love to pay money for things I wrote that don't directly feature Henry Pansley!"

So now she had to pretend that Fantastic Beasts, the cheapo cashgrab gag textbook about made up animals in a made up world, has a narrative. Not just any narrative, but a grand, sprawling narrative, one to rival, nay, SURPASS Herbie Porbie and the Seven Books of Wizard-Themed Coming of Age Nonsense. Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, she assured us, was to be a magnificant tale, and one she planned all along, and CERTAINLY not a marriage of convenience to a completely stupid idea for a film that she was desperately sculpting into a narrative it had no ability to support for the sake of trying to recapture her already passed glory days as a writer.

And I think, in retrospect, this is a great illustration of the Terf Queen's great character flaw. She just can't fucking admit to a mistake, even when it's obvious to everyone that one was made. She will hop on board a sinking ship and keep doubling down on trying to get it to sail even as the water is up to her neck. Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them is a serious narrative now, not a gag textbook written to wring a few more dollars from school children goddammit!

Recent editions of Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them took out the Herbie and Donnie commentary, by the by. They also added many of the new half-baked monsters that were introduced in the movies, in a shoddy attempt to pretend this was the plan all along, and that Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them was always meant to be the seed of something great.

But it wasn't, and no matter how hard the Terf Queen pretends otherwise, it's obvious it wasn't. It's a cheapo cashgrab gag textbook, and that's all it really had to be, until greed and ego demanded otherwise.

[lya-dustin]

Shock and Delight

Chapter 15

Cw: medieval-ish reasonings of aromanticism and asexuality(technically demisexuality and demiromanticism because this is a romance fic), nudity, bad puns.

It troubles him how easily they fool everyone here.

Even the Morning Scandal was completely fooled by them, and no one could get away with that these days. That woman, whoever she was, knew everything except one thing.

He enjoys her company, the way she confides and treats him as if he were as dear to her as her infernal siblings. Friendship is easy with her; he knows her since they were babes, and she knows him as good as his own sister.

“That is not fair! How come you get your book first?” Aemma playfully took his hand after his manservant brought him the wooden box containing the first published edition of Archmaester Fomas’ The Lies of the Ancients.

“Because mine comes with an apology from your brother.” He skims through the heartfelt letter the prince then puts away for later. Aemond had not been expecting that, he will need someone unbiased to make sense of it.

While he has overcome the loss of his eye at Luke’s hand, he is not sure he is ready to forgive him for it, even if it was a terrible accident.

Aemma would tell him to forgive because she was also there and knows he did not want nor mean to do it anymore than Aemond wanted to hurt everyone that night while his mother would tell him the brat doesn’t mean it and it’s a ploy to weaken him.

Sylvi was completely unbiased about it and would allow him a moment of peace away from his family.

Away from Aemma who he has become too fond of as of late.

He had never been comfortable with showing any sort of affection with anyone save maybe his mother and sister and this morning, Aemond had leaned against her as they sat under tree and used the excuse of a few stray curls to touch her face.

The prince has no idea what gave him the impulse to do that, nor why he is looking forward to be in her company again. He thinks of her too often these days, of what she her opinion would be, or how she would laugh with him instead of at him.

Even worse, Aemma is prone to affection, and Aemond has no clue as to when he begun to crave it.

Like now that he told her of the book knowing she is dying to read it and how he will let her borrow it even if he’s said he wouldn’t. Because she would, squeeze his hands, hug him in gratitude or even kiss his cheek like she does with her brother and Aemond has no idea why he wants that.

He had attributed his desire to have her in his company alone to his selfishness, but now that they are alone in his room, he knows its not that.

They are friends, confidants, kin. They are not sweethearts, no matter how good they are at pretending they are.

He couldn’t be falling for her. It was impossible and she was meant for someone else, always someone else.

Aemond couldn’t be falling in love with her because he is incapable of it.

Now that the Queen has apologized for sending Lyonel her way, Aemma has a lot more freedom to do as she please.

Aemma only accepts it to be polite and puts the matter behind her. The queen is vying for her mother’s inheritance after all and there was that whole unpleasantness during her childhood because the king neglected his family and Alicent took it out on her when she could.

Still, it is nice to have access to the family library at any time she wants, and no interference in her and Aemond’s scheme. So far it has not gone well, the prospects have not managed to inspire anything in her save some inside jokes between her and Aemond at yesterday's ball.

Like at night when she can’t sleep and the narrow tunnel in the parlor leads here. There were not many new books here, well, ones that pique her interest. There were a lot of religious texts, very explicit pornography hidden in Aegon’s copy of the Seven-Pointed Star and some novels older than her. Everyone had their own books in their own bookshelves, for their privacy as one should.

She’d kill for her novel half-finished and forgotten at home.

Maybe she could borrow a book from him, his chambers were just on the other side of the library. The tunnel she came through led to his antechamber if she remembers from all those times they would sneak in and out of his rooms when they were little.

Aemond had gotten a copy of Lies of the Ancients this morning, since he is out tonight, he will not notice if she borrowed it and gets to sate her curiosity before hers arrives in a moon or so.

The Pearl of Dragonstone thinks she has been successful in her quest only to find the book’s owner wearing his leather coat cinched by his sword belt like a dressing gown. He had not noticed her in the antechamber, if he had he wouldn’t have removed his belt and tossed the leather coat onto a chair.

“Stealing books now, Aemee, what would Teora say?” He acts as if he weren’t caught in definitely stranger circumstances.

They were kin, no one would think it strange she would be here unchaperoned to borrow a book when she lives down the hall, but what was strange was Aemond sans eyepatch…and sans clothes?

“Why are you naked?” Aemma asks, trying her best not to look. She had gasped and turned around while shutting her eyes from the sight of a very naked Aemond, but the curiosity of getting a second glance at his chiseled body was putting quite the fight.

“I left my clothes at the brothel.” He answered vaguely and hurried to dress himself in his sleeping garments as quickly as he could. “You are welcome to look, Aemma, everyone there already saw me in all my naked glory. You may as well see why I am the most sought-after bachelor at Court.”

He must be quite the sight if he is bragging about his looks to her of all people.

“No thank you. I should leave.” If only he wasn’t near the door. And because she is trapped here until he has left the stairs that lead to the library, she asks, “Did you walk here with bare feet?”

“Only you would not ask why you are leaving a brothel naked, or why are you at a brothel in the first place.” He snorts at the strange question, because of course she would ask about that.

Ever since she saw greyscale on the foot of a servant, she’s dreaded ever walking without the right footwear. Especially in Kingslanding where everything is just so filthy. They had amputated the servant’s foot; the disease would’ve killed them all and spread its plague to everyone if they had not. Aemond knows of her fear of getting a disease like that, and the asshole loves to mock her for it as if greyscale had a cure.

“You wouldn’t answer them anyways, Aemond. Anyways, are you dressed so I may leave?” she makes no mention of the book in her hands. His teasing demands he lets her read the damn book.

“You are not leaving with my book. It is not so difficult to wait a month, little queen.” He answers her question by sneaking up behind her and making her jump when he suddenly speaks. The One-Eye fails to reclaim his book and the princess takes a mad dash out of there with a stifled laugh.

They could get into so much trouble, but it’s been a long time since she has had this sort of fun.

“But it’s terribly difficult for a man to wait until marriage given you sought out a whore. What was the name of the fine establishment you left your clothes in, dear uncle?” She doesn’t mean to say that, or at least sound like it bothered her while returning fire.

They are only friends. Just friends fooling everyone into believing they are courting. Nothing more.

Still, he rolled his eye as he settled on the longer of the couches in the library. “You can read my copy as long as you do it here, right now.”

“You will regret it.” The princess sits across from him so he can’t see where she is in her reading. It is a good deal… for her. Aemond will regret it at once, Aemma could annoy even the most patient of people with her incessant questions. “So, what made you run out of there bare as a buck?”

“Don’t push your luck, sweet niece.” He sighed knowing there was no escape. Besides from what she’s gathered Aemond doesn’t have any friends. He must be so lonely here. “Aegon happened to come with his lickspittles, tried to humiliate me and I left before the milk of the poppy made me forget I am not to use my fists to resolve all my issues.”

Aemond had earned a reputation after the Morning wrote how he beat Lyonel for her in Helaena’s drawing room. He is the gallant hero with perfect looks and a good strong fist.

Their false courtship was working like a dream. The queen was now trying her best to gently guide the more exemplary men at court her way to keep Aemond from her.

There was a raven from Dorne even, seeking to thank the Realm for some act of bravery from Daemon and his men by having Prince Qyle present it himself.

A match with Dorne would keep the peace between the Marcher lords of the Stormlands and the Reach with Dorne. Even if Qyle’s sister, Aliandra, was the heir, he brought the two Ps Viserys was known for: peace and prosperity.

But until Aemma finds a good husband, she and Aemond must play two youths in love.

“Gods, that’s terrible!” she cannot help her response and he nods in agreement. “I thought Helaena said he was past such horridness?”

“He reverts to that when things don’t go right, like how my mother used to put you down when father ignored us and made you diamond knowing no suitor would come because she feels threatened by your presence.” The prince explains things as if he were talking about the behavior of a pet and not the shitty things his brother and mother did to them. “It’s simply their nature.”

“Again, that’s terrible.” The princess reiterates and her companion shrugs it off. To him its something that occurs often and cannot be fixed, to her its something that needs to be fixed.

“I don’t want your pity anymore that you would like mine, Aemee.” He refuses to even look at her expecting pity.

“It’s not pity, you do have my sympathies, I know how awful it feels to be the target of something you never asked for. As you said, your mother and your brother are prone to taking out their insecurities on us and it won’t end until they decide to grow up.” Aemma left the chair and used the book as an excuse to sit with him. She wasn’t going to remember anything she read on it, not that she read much of the first chapter anyways. “But enough about them, well, him. You get to leave the coop and do as you please, what fine establishment did Aegon follow you to?”

She doesn’t really care to know, but her question has him snort and even for a moment forget his troubles.

“It’s not appropriate for a lady, let alone a princess to know.” He tries to dissuade her from needling him about it but gives in when she reminds him that she is also his friend and kinswoman who lives with Daemon and the boys.

Even in the dark the princess can tell he is embarrassed, if she could touch his face, she would find his cheeks warm.

“The Cock Inn, despite the name it is rather---”

“Eggs-cellent.” She finishes the sentence for him making her friend break out in silent laughter.

“Fuck you.”Aemond has a nice laugh, hardly does it and perhaps that is why the princess takes it upon herself to make him laugh even if they would be fucked if they were to be caught here by the wrong people.

“You are terrible, Aemma. I should have known you would mock a woman’s most prized possession.” He is smiling as he playfully chastises her for her stupid pun.

“Someone has to make you laugh, Aemond. Until I marry and leave, I shall take on that responsibility even if you forbid me.”

If only Aemma could have this easy companionship with her suitors. After that moment days ago when she suddenly felt attracted to him under the tree and hoped to replicate it with the other young men, she’s come to fear it will never happen again.

“I shall have my revenge at your next ball, mark my words, sweet niece.”

If Aemma didn’t know any better she’d think there was something there. Something he feels too, she’s sure of it.

[paradoxcase]

The Traitor Baru Cormorant, Chapter 4

This chapter kind of mentally transported me back in time 20 years to when I have vague memories of doing a little bit of reading in the plucky-teenage-heroine-in-medieval-fantasy genre - here we are going to a ball and wearing a gown we don't feel comfortable in, and then throwing a little fit about life not being fair. Not that I think this is going to be that kind of story, but it does remind me of that

The humans don't count, huh? Although I am slightly mystified by what he means by "higher terrestrial life", here. Does he mean no animals deemed smart enough to be pets or working animals? No large mammals? Something else?

It seems like where the Masquerade is concerned, these are probably actually the same reason

I like that there are multiple languages here, and that it seems like they will be playing a role in the coming intrigue, and that the story isn't going to just resort to "oh, everyone just speaks Aphalone, so there's no language issue"

Does it make sense for Iolynic to still be a creole? Based on what we know so far, it sounds like it'd be some kind of Tu Maia/Stakhi creole, but we also know that Aurdwynn has been being variously invaded by those two groups for a very long time now. Is a creole still a creole 500, 700, 1000 years after creolization took place? I'm actually not sure. But I guess it could just be being used in a more vernacular, less technical sense here

Kind of interesting that we've been told by multiple people at this point that women are only respected if they wear skirts/dresses, but this duchess is not shunned for showing up in riding gear. I wonder what the full story is behind Aurdwynn's gender roles

I would have guessed some sexual implication, but I don't know, this second bit makes me double-guess. And it's interesting that she guesses it was Cattlson who offered, but doesn't know for sure. So maybe something political, then? She seems like she is trying to get Baru in her court, or at least gain some hold over her

So Heingyl's house name seems to be the same as his family name, but hers is not. I guess this probably works like European nobility, where their houses are named after placenames, and sometimes they adopt the placename/house name as their family name, and sometimes not? And the family name is Maia, while the house name is Stakhi, which sort of suggests that maybe some Maia dukes conquered this place with a Stakhi name sometime in the distant, or maybe not so distant past

Baru seems to interpret this as a threat, but I wonder if it is actually a warning? I kind of like this character, I want her to turn out to be... well, I don't know if there are actually going to be any good guys in this story, but like, a protagonist. Let's go with that

So we have like a European aesthetic here, but we are eating with chopsticks. That's fine and cool, but now I am wondering about the food - if it's chopsticks, then surely this venison and duck is not being served like it would be served in a medieval Europe setting as an entire animal or large hunk of meat on the serving plate that pieces are carved off of, because that's not super manageable with chopsticks. It would have to be already cut up into smaller pieces, right? I guess this could technically be like some kind stir fry thing with venison and duck as the protein, but it kind of sounds like we are still going for the medieval Europe aesthetic here

Does Baru actually know that Ffare Tanifel was born in Aurdwynn, or is she just assuming? Because that name does not look like is from Aurdwynn. We've been introduced to Tu Maia names, which are all very short, often one syllable, and have at least as many vowels as consonants, and Stakhi names, which seem to be characterized by stark-looking sequences of consonants, and presumably names like Heingyl that have a more generic fantasy feel and use Y as a vowel are meant to be Iolynic, and "Ffare Tanifel" doesn't really look like any of those, and the only doubled letter we have in all of Aurdwynn is the double n on the end of "Aurdwynn", which is a pretty different letter in a very different part of the word. In most books I would be like, well, the author is obviously generating character names with some sort of fantasy name generator and this doesn't mean anything, but in this book, we actually have names with different origins that look recognizably like other names with the same origin, we have X at the beginning of a character name that seems very likely to show up pretty often in the rest of the story, we have Mb at the beginning of the second word of Oriati Mbo, which indicates that the author knows about prenasalized stops, we already have multiple languages mentioned and playing a role in the plot, and we even know the genetic relationships between several of them. And there ain't no one coming up with generic fantasy names that start with "ff" as the first two letters, that's pretty much only reserved for Arthuriana stories where all of the names are meant to be in Welsh. Like, some obvious thought and research into linguistics has gone into the naming conventions of this story. So I feel reasonably comfortable saying that just based on her name alone, I do not think Ffare Tanifel was from Aurdwynn, and I'm sure her treachery was probably more complicated and more interesting than Baru is assuming here. I wouldn't be that surprised if this turns out to be "Baru finishes what Ffare Tanifel started" or something like that, to be honest

I wonder why Baru expects or wants this translator to be a woman? I don't have a good sense of this. It doesn't seem like she's at all concerned about the security of this information, and it doesn't seem like there's a lot of gender expectations for this profession that we know of

On the first readthrough I was utterly mystified by what he was suggesting here, but on the second readthrough, I think Baru might be going to rope Aminata into translating these notes?

[recoveringdreamer]

TIMING: current LOCATION: felix's boiler room PARTIES: @zombiebabysitter, @gossipsnake, @ariadnewhitlock, @notstinky, & @recoveringdreamer SUMMARY: a group of rhyming allies come together to break a curse. CONTENT WARNINGS: descriptions and discussion of snakes eating

The rhyming had become… almost fun, if Felix was being entirely honest with themself. There was something kind of entertaining about it, even if it was technically a curse. It didn’t seem to be hurting anything and, as a bonus, it seemed to annoy Leo enough that he’d been avoiding conversation with them. If it were only Felix cursed, they might have just… let it continue for a while. But they were pretty sure some of their friends were getting tired of it, and it didn’t seem fair to subject all of them to a life of rhyming just because Felix didn’t mind it. 

So, they’d called together a strategy session. A few of the people who were cursed — and no one who wasn’t. The last thing they wanted was to spread this thing even further, so it seemed way safer to only include people already involved. It wasn’t like someone could be cursed twice, right? 

The boiler room was a little cramped, not really meant to house this many people at once, but that was okay. They wouldn’t be in here long, hopefully. Felix had set the glass orange in the center of the room, like they all might need a reminder about why they were gathered here today. He squinted at it suspiciously from where he sat on the single office chair, elbows on his knees and hands folded and propping up their chin. 

“We need a plan of action,” Felix announced. “So far, nothing we’ve tried has had any real reaction. It can’t be broken. And once you’ve touched it, rhymes must be spoken. But every curse has to have an out. I think we all know that without a doubt. So, what should we do? I want to hear from all of you.”

—

As far as Charlie was concerned, rhyming kinda fucking rocked. He had been a lyric-writing machine as of late, speaking the words aloud and then writing them on paper if they sounded good. Yeah, Finn was annoyed any time Charlie opened his mouth to speak to him, seeing as how everything that came out of his mouth was a fucking rhyme, but that wasn’t his fault. How was he supposed to know that ugly as sin Faberge egg was cursed with a rhyme scheme curse?

So that’s how he’d ended up in Felix’s boiler room apartment after a shift at the pit, tired and a little out of sorts. Charlie looked around at the others in the room, then let out a sigh. “Well as far as I’m concerned, there’s nothing that we’ve learned. We’re stuck in a rhyme which is, as far as I’m concerned? A total fucking crime. But also, I’ve been writing a lot and I feel kinda like a robot. So I can go either way, I write music by day.” He shrugged his shoulders.

As far as Charlie was concerned, this was a gift. He was able to write his music and not have to wrack his brain for rhyme schemes when he was cursed to do it automatically. It was great! He’d written so many songs in such a short amount of time that he was allotting himself a break after all this was cleared up. 

__

Thea had found a nice patch of damp for herself, tucked against the wall of Felix’s possibly still rat-infested boiler room. For hundreds of years, humans had been rhyming (probably, Thea had done no real research regarding the topic). But the couplet itself dates back to like, the medieval era, right? (She really should’ve googled) Regardless, Thea felt connected to her poetry slinging ancestors in that she was certain she had poetry slinging ancestors. Really, could anyone confirm that she wasn’t related to William Shakespeare? The rhymes said otherwise. There was a history of art she was connected to; a history of verse and meter and kids teasing each other on the playground rhyming ‘fart’ with ‘smart’. It was all really normal, when she thought about it. 

Still, her ability to hold conversations was severely impaired and that ability was struggling before the rhyming. “What if the answer is a visual enhancer? Perhaps the answer is…more advancer than basic thinking?” Thea had been testing the bounds of the rhymes; as long as they existed—slant, couplet, alternate, ballade, enclosed, triplet, limerick, villanelle—the form didn’t matter. ‘Hickory Dickory Dock’ was as valid to her tongue as ‘I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead; I lift my lids and all is born again (I think I made you up inside my head)’. She wasn’t surprised that this had led to creativity for Charlie. “I’m pinking.” Thea brought her cold hands to her hot face; it was hard to say what she was about to but the truth was clear to her. 

“I-It might be that state of head clear, so-called.” Thea gestured to her hair (which was growing in nicely!). “That state of bald to which I was once appalled; in case any here recalled. That is to say, to our problem enthralled, perhaps we all must go bald?” 

—

The English language was complex and often confusing as a non-native speaker; and that was without being cursed to rhyme anytime one opened their mouth. Of course, as Anita had learned, the rhyming wasn’t limited to speaking in English. Spanish was a much more beautiful language and lent itself better to forced rhyming in her opinion. But in this strange grouping of Felix’s friends, Spanish was not a realistic option. Despite her usual propensity to yap she had resigned to being slightly more silent to try and avoid having to rhyme. Being forced to do anything, even something as simple as rhyming, was not something she had interest in. It had grown old and at least in silence Anita felt like she was in control. 

Both people who had spoken so far seemed strange and Anita didn’t know them much at all. When the one sitting against the wall suggested they all go bald, Anita’s face scrunched into a disgusted frown as her eyes rolled to the side in the direction of the woman. “No, we are not entertaining that for one moment; and I surely hope I am not that suggestion’s only opponent.” 

Moving somewhat suddenly from where she was standing near Felix, Anita picked up the orange egg from the table and threw it against a wall on the other side of the small boiler room with all her strength. It, of course, didn’t break. They’d tried that many times before. She sighed, walked over to pick it up in defeat and then placed it back in the center of the room where it had been. “It doesn’t break. And nothing happens when you feed it to a very large snake. I don’t know much about curses and I’m sure there are some exceptions, but the ones I do know of can last for generations.” 

—

Rhyming wasn’t the worst, but Ariadne had never been a big fan of Dr. Seuss. That was too much, and she preferred an occasional rhyme rather than constant ones. Which was probably rude to say and think, but she couldn’t help it. At least rhyming didn’t seen to cause her or anybody around her any actual harm. That would’ve been too much, and wouldn’t have been something that she could so easily deal with. Some of the nightmares she’d had to cause even wound up rhyming, which was a bit of a headache and had made for some less effective nightmares – something she’d have normally been thrilled about, because less effective meant less harm, but it also meant she wasn’t as quickly satiated, which meant she had to do more, which ended up meaning more harm.

But right now she was here to help Felix. Not to make things about herself and have some sort of a pity party about all of it.

“You’ve all got good thoughts.” Ariadne began. “I guess we’ve just gotta figure out how to connect the dots.” She winched. “I’d rather not go bald, if it’s all the same to you. I bet there’s something else that we can do!”

—

Okay, so some of the suggestions so far weren’t the best. Felix wasn’t really sure how going bald would help anything, and they rubbed a hand absently over their hair at the thought. Their mother used to shave their hair in the summers, but it had never looked quite right. Their brother always insisted it was because they had a lumpy head. Felix wasn’t sure if that was true. They hoped it wasn’t. “I’m not sure going bald is the best solution,” they said hesitantly, flashing Thea an apologetic smile. “I’m sure, between all of us, we can find another resolution!”

But, of course, throwing the orange wasn’t helping much, either. Felix winced as it hit the wall uselessly, falling back onto the ground without breaking the same way it always did. They weren’t even sure if breaking it would actually lift the curse. For all any of them knew, that would make things permanent. “We can’t afford to be pessimistic! How many of those generational curses are linguistic? I know we can find a good way out. There are some really smart people here, so I have no doubt. We know trying to break it won’t work. If we keep trying the same thing, we’ll all end up going beserk. Let’s try to think of things we haven’t done yet! I’ll start up a list so we don’t forget.” They pulled out their phone, typing in the notes app. Breaking the orange was at the top of the does not work list. They added a last resort list and typed bald beneath the heading. “Has anyone tried anything on their own? Let me know so I can put it into my phone!”

—

There was a brief moment that Charlie considered the bald thing, a hand shooting up to his hair, and then thought better of it. “I’d rather rhyme forever than be bald.” He decided, pulling a face. He fell silent for a long moment, wracking his brain for ideas of how to be free of the curse. Sure, it was useful to get songwriting done, but it was a nightmare when trying to have a serious conversation with someone and you’re acting like fucking Dr. Seuss. 

He frowned at the mention of generational curses and large snakes, looking at Anita a little funny before shaking his head and going back to the task at hand. Breaking the curse. “What happens if we dull its shine?” He asked, staring at the tacky object. “Surely if we find a way to tarnish it, we’ll all be fine.” Charlie scratched at his head, unsure if that was a solution to anything or just a way to take his frustrations out on the orange.

Had he tried something on his own to break the curse? He thought about it for a minute, looking over to Felix’s phone. “I tried rhyming all the words I could think of that would rhyme with red. Took a while, but… it didn’t work and I was filled with dread.”

__

Having an idea rejected was not a good feeling; having it rejected in rhyme was somehow worse. Thea slumped against her moldy pitch of wall. Yes, she’d also rather rhyme forever than be bald and yet, she couldn’t stop thinking that ever since her hair started coming back, her life was weird. Mostly that was because of the strange hair serum she insisted on but what if it was because she angered some baldness god by not respecting the bald? What if this curse was yet another warning from the bald man above? Thea sighed; probably not. Wait… Thea shot up, waving her arm in the air as though this were a classroom, but spoke despite anyone calling on her. She pointed to the older, very attractive woman. “Snickity snackity make, what’s this about a snake?” Thea leaned back again. “We’ve gone through it, if a snake can’t do it, maybe we quit?” But Felix was trying so hard, and no one wanted to rhyme, or be bald. 

“Yes.” Thea shrugged at Charlie’s red rhyming plight. “What a mess. Technically everything rhymes. I don’t have lactose digesting enzymes.” Thea shook her head. “No, what I mean to say—not to play—is that rhymes slant, are still rhymes you can grant. Words imaginary are not a rhyming scary. It is true, though it makes me blue, that the English language has…” She paused. “Words known as…” She paused again. “Unrhymable.” She sighed. “I thought I was able…to break rhyme with these words fabled…instead I became unstable.” Thea lifted a finger up. “Listen: purple. What rhymes with purple? Purple rhymes with purple. Circle is not a perfect rhyme for purple. Jimminy jemminy nurple, I still rhyme with purple.” Thea hugged herself, trying to soothe the pain of purple rhyming. “My point is that rhymes imperfect, are still rhymes you can perfect. And so what does it matter? What’s the point of all this chatter? For a curse that will never shatter?” 

—

Anita didn’t care for being pointed at, but she did grin softly at the suggestion that if a snake couldn’t solve this that it was perhaps unsolvable. A sentiment she, as the snake in question, wanted to agree with but also one she knew had to be untrue - because she knew that there had to be a way to stop this awful rhyming even if she wasn’t the one who was able to figure it out. “Why are you both trying to rhyme colors? Red, purple … and all the others. You seem to be making this harder on yourselves than this all needs to be. Don’t you see? You don’t need to be Shakeperian with the words that you say. They just need to rhyme at the end of the day. It is harder in English that is no doubt, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t a solution we can’t scout out.”

It wasn’t something that she would admit aloud, but there was part of Anita that wondered if this was a permanent curse. Her ability to transform into a snake, the gift of the lamia, was technically a curse. An unbreakable one that traveled through a family for generations. She didn’t really want to have a second curse upon her forcing her to rhyme until the end of time. “Maybe if we source this orange back to its origin we’ll find a solution before we become permanent jesters. Preferably before the start of the new semester. It’s one thing to have to rhyme, but I don’t wish to feel like the lorax trying to find words that rhyme with antenna, glands, and thorax.” 

_ 

Ariadne did her best to stay mostly silent. All the rhyming was giving her more than a bit of a headache, and she wasn’t always great with words to start, so suddenly rhyming perfectly was a bit unsettling. Which, again, was maybe a rude way of looking at things, but she couldn’t quite help herself. It was important to try and think of ideas though, and she scrunched her face up, trying to think of more ideas – Thea and Felix and Anita and the dude called Charlie were all having really interesting ideas, and she wanted to do her best to at least try and contribute something.

“Maybe if we ask it to stop? I don’t know if that idea’s a flop.” But it couldn’t hurt to suggest. Ariadne was always down to ask people, animals, or – objects, in this case, to do their very best. Give them the choice, even though she wasn’t sure if this orange had a thought process – conscious – but if she could come back from the dead then maybe decorative oranges could think for themselves.

“Thankfully if I have to rhyme when I do ballet – I shouldn’t have to think all day.” Ariadne nodded, “Plié rhymes at least mostly with chassé, and so on.” So that much was a relief, that she wouldn’t sound too weird during class. Though she was sure that some way would come about to make things sound weirder than they should’ve. “Uh, we could also leave it be? Go away and come back and maybe offer another plea?”

—

This really was a mess, wasn’t it? Everyone was going back and forth about their experiences, and Felix’s feelings towards the curse were souring the more they realized that their friends were probably having less fun than they were. Charlie was full of dread, Thea was rambling about unrhymable words and baldness, Anita had classes to teach, Ariadne had ballet… but that was why they were all here, weren’t they? If they banded together, they’d surely find a way to break the curse. 

Glancing up at Ariadne, they offered a small smile. “Talking to it was one of the first things I tried,” they admitted. “I asked it to let us stop rhyming, but it never replied.” They’d tried that tactic for longer than they’d like to admit, in various different ways. Begging, pleading, making empty promises to the reflective glass… nothing had really done what they were hoping for. “I’m not sure making it dirty would do much, either. It’d probably work as well as breaking it, and we tried that for so long that I had to stop to take a breather!” Breaking it seemed mean, anyway, and Felix didn’t want to be mean. They squinted at the egg, inspecting it carefully.

“Maybe it wants us to make a specific kind of rhyme,” they suggested. “Something to do with the thing itself this time? There could be some kind of secret password. Or maybe something we need to try to say backwards? Or it could just have to do with the egg. Or maybe we have to take it to the leg!” Could the leg be related? Leg did rhyme with egg, didn’t it? Except… “I guess it doesn’t look much like an egg, when you really look at it. The shape isn’t quite right, so the word doesn’t really fit.” They turned it over in their hands with a sigh. “I guess… it’s really more of an orange. I didn’t even know they sold glass oranges, but apparently they do. Isn’t that weird to think about?” They were rambling now… and unaware that those rambles no longer rhymed. Still turning the egg over, still perplexed, and just as clueless as always.

—

There were a lot of ideas being thrown around, and Charlie wasn’t sure which one would make sense. Well, the orange egg thing wasn’t lonely, so appeasing it seemed to be out. Rhyming words with difficult words to rhyme made sense. He was so lost in thought that he tuned out most of what was going on, only coming to when Felix began speaking again, going on and on about different rhymes.

Charlie stared at Felix as he rambled on, noticing that his words slipped from rhyme to just regular speech. “Wait.” Charlie pointed at Felix, shaking his head. “Nothing rhymes with Orange! Which means…” He paused a moment. “Felix, you fucking genius!” Charlie surged forward and shook his friend by the shoulders, grinning brightly. “That’s it, nothing rhymes with orange! We’re fucking free!” He placed his hands on either side of Felix’s face and nodding his head excitedly before letting go and doing a little dance now that he wasn’t stuck rhyming everything. Now Finn wouldn’t be reduced to murdering him for his rhymes! Amazing!

__

“No, technically things do rhyme with orange.” Thea said quickly, ignoring the more celebratory aspect of Charlie’s words. “There just aren’t perfect rhymes. But what’s a perfect rhyme even mean? What does it—I mean—what I was saying was…” Thea paused, staring at the group. She wasn’t rhyming. Felix wasn’t rhyming. Charlie wasn’t rhyming. Their problem was solved! And yet, watching Charlie celebrate made her feel decidedly empty. “I guess we’re free?” Her words were back to being bland; her cadence was clumsy again. She was Thea. She frowned. What rhymed with free? “Uh, I guess we have knees? Uh, tree?” It wasn’t the same—she had to think about her words, she had to bear the ugly sound of her voice echoing in her ears. She was Thea, as she had been before all this. Rhyming wasn’t so bad, when the alternative was this. Thea forced herself to perk up. “Hey! Good job, Felix!” 

Pushing herself off the ground, she swiped dirt off her legs. “Now, what do we do about the orange?” Thea pointed at it. “It is really nice, and I think it matches with the Garfield posters, but maybe we should, like, break it or something? Or put it in a case that says ‘don’t touch unless you want to rhyme’? Or, uh, something?” Thea winced at herself; she’d gotten used to the more eloquent rhyming. 

—

For as much as Anita cared for Felix, she did not much care for this group of their friends and she cared even less for their ramblings and ideas regarding fixing this curse. Clearly there were no solutions down in this boiler room. Mentally planning a swift exit before things devolved into listening to the girl suggesting they go bald, Anita had not even noticed that people stopped rhyming until the excitable one burst across the room (not that it took much to burst across a room that size) and was exclaiming that they were free. She frowned, a bit annoyed that everyone was still talking about rhyming with colors. Hadn’t they gotten past this. 

“Tons of words rhyme with orange in Spanish,” Anita muttered, mostly to herself and whomever else in the room spoke Spanish. “Naranja. Toronja. Corrija. Esponja. Puta.”  As she listed of Spanish orange rhymes the realization of what the others were talking about settled in. Had the ridiculousness of the English language just saved them from this rhyming hell? Gross. She’d cogradulate Felix on the success later, maybe, it was their fault everyone was rhyming to begin with anyone. She certainly wasn’t going to do it in front of these strangers, though. “Did you not see what happened earlier? How do you expect to break this thing? No, no. This thing must be locked away in a box of some kind, taken to a remote location, and buried a minimum of 12 feet underground. And then the key must be destroyed.” 

_ 

“Aw, well…” but it did make Ariadne smile that Felix had already tried her idea. They were really great, and the fact that they didn’t just immediately brush her idea off. Because there were plenty of people who might’ve done that. She wouldn’t judge any of them for brushing it off, because that was just how things worked, sometimes, and there wasn’t a reason to be judgmental about it right back to them. That wasn’t kind, and she wanted to be kind whenever she could.

“That’s – we’ll think of something, I know it. We’ll figure stuff out.” Except she did a double-take, listening to everyone else. They weren’t rhyming anymore. “I sort of like blue. It’s a nice color.” Ariadne shook her head. “Sorry, was – I just wanted to try it out, to see if I’d –” she smiled. “If there was still rhyming going on. “That’s true, orange is a tricky thing – word – to rhyme with.” She signed, but nodded to Thea’s idea, and Anita’s. “We could lock it up. Just to be safe?”

—

The rhyming curse was broken, it seemed, as easily as it had been cast in the first place. Touch an orange and rhyme. Speak the word ‘orange’ at the end of your sentence and free yourself. It didn’t make a lot of sense but, then, curses rarely did, did they? Felix felt a rush of… pride, maybe, as Charlie called them a genius, even though they’d had no idea what they were doing when they broke the curse. They hadn’t meant to free anyone any more than they’d meant to curse them in the first place, but maybe intentions didn’t mean much here. Maybe it was enough that they’d broken the curse at all.

There were other matters to attend to, anyway. Felix looked to the orange skeptically, shifting their weight uncertainly between their feet. If Anita wanted to bury it, maybe they could bury it. But… “I’m not sure I can dig a hole that’s 12 feet deep. Maybe we should just, um, chuck it into the ocean or something?” Did it still have its power? If they touched it again now, would the curse start anew? It was hard to say. “I can take care of it. Um, one way or another. I can make sure no one else gets cursed.”

—

Staring at the orange with a look of hesitation, Charlie frowned and crossed his arms over his chest. “Maybe you should handle it with a pair of tongs, yeah?” He suggested, looking over to Felix with a raised brow. “I mean, can’t risk touching it again, you know?” He looked to Anita, nodding his head. “I definitely think the deeper the hole the better off we are, bury that shit away and hope no one digs it back up. The ocean is an idea too, throw it off the side of a boat Titanic style.” Charlie wiggled his brows, remembering the scene where she threw the necklace into the ocean. 

“Just don’t get yourself cursed in the process of getting rid of it. Because if you curse yourself and then throw it into the ocean, you’re fucking screwed, you know?” Charlie decided it was important enough to point that out, god forbid that poor Felix be stuck rhyming for the rest of his life.

__

“What if the fish start rhyming?” Thea asked with complete and honest seriousness. “When you throw it into the ocean? I mean, and, you gotta think about—like…” She hated not rhyming. Everything sounded harsh and wrong. “…like, pollution. There’s a lot of garbage in the ocean already, it’s not nice to dump things in it.” She frowned; maybe none of them really cared about the environment. And yes the ocean was vast, but that thing totally looked like it would just float and then what? “It’s like, you know in Oops, I did it again? They have that whole part in the music video. Which, um, yeah—“ Thea gestured to Charlie. “Yeah, like Titanic. I know that’s not your point but people find things in the ocean eventually. Someone could find it.” The attractive woman was sure that it couldn’t be broken—even if Thea thought they just needed to try harder—and Thea couldn’t argue with an attractive person. It wasn’t much better to bury it either; there would be rhyming worms. 

Thea shrugged; rhyming wasn’t the worst thing to her. “I trust you, Felix. Whatever you want to do with it, that’d be good.” She agreed more with Ariadne, and the idea of locking it up. “Even if it slightly contributes to the declining environmental state of our planet.” Felix was allowed a little climate crime, she thought. They were owed that. 

—

“Oh my god!” Anita finally exclaimed, astonished and exhausted by all of the talking and discussion about what to do and how it might make the fish start rhyming. It was like the curse was lingering, trapping them into a cycle of hypotheticals and hesitations on how to destroy the stupid orange thing. She had given a perfect solution but its feasibility was questioned. Fine. But she was not going to sit around in this room any longer and have a philosophical discussion about how throwing the orange in the ocean may impact the environmental state of the planet. 

Walking up to the egg again, Anita allowed her neck, jaw, and inner digestive tract to shift into the mojave rattlesnake. She did not know these people, and typically would not have exposed herself so obviously, but none of the questioned an orange figurine making the rhyme and they were all friends of Felix’s, in the boiler room of the Grit Pit - if there were ever a space safe from hunters this was it. Opening her mouth wide, she inhaled the orange and allowed it to travel through her body where it would hopefully, finally, meet its end. 

Anita whipped her mouth after shifting back to her human appearance, scanned the room, making eye contact with each of the individuals present. “Now that that is settled, let us never speak of this again.” She paused, waiting to see if the orange in her stomach was going to make her rhyme again, “And look at that, no compulsion for poetry.” She grabbed her bag and made her way to the exit, seeing no need for her to stick around for even a second longer. 

_ 

Ariadne found herself distracted by her relief, up until a lady partially turned into a snake? Or snake-like? Which caused her to do a fairly significant double take. “Or… that. That works too.” It did work, so long as it didn’t hurt the woman who’d eaten the orange and didn’t hurt the orange, either. Even if it had caused all of them to just keep rhyming non-stop. Wynne had found it cute, maybe even charming, but it had been a bit dizzying.

“I won’t say anything about that, I promise.” Ariadne held up her hand, Girl Scout salute and all.

“I know I could use a rootbeer float, if anybody wants to come along?” She turned to leave. “Felix, if you want, we can go shopping for decor together sometime.” Ariadne nervously shifted from the ball of one foot to the other, wishing she had on shoes that were more flexible, desperately wishing to go by her dance studio. “But we did it. That – good job, everyone!” She winced at herself.

—

Thea made a very good point. What about the environmental impact of a cursed glass orange sitting on the bottom of the ocean floor? Felix grappled with the lack of a perfect solution, heart stuttering uncertainly as they tried to come up with some magical answer that might resolve the issue with no kind of negative impact. Burying it in the dirt might find someone else digging it up, keeping it locked away always ran the risk of it being found. What options were available to them? How could they get rid of a thing that didn’t seem to be able to be destroyed without risking someone, somewhere finding it and using it for some kind of poetic evil? 

Their heart was pounding with the pressure, panic threatening to suffocate them, when Anita stepped forward. She made a quick beeline for the orange, and — she ate it. Felix blinked, watching it disappear down her throat. She spoke, not in rhyme, and Felix blinked again. The orange was gone. No one was cursed. This was the closest thing to a best-case scenario they’d gotten in a while, wasn’t it?

Their eyes scanned the group, wide and maybe a little confused, but no longer quite as stressed. Ariadne spoke up with offers of root beer floats and shopping, and Felix nodded. “Yeah,” they agreed. “Yeah! Okay! Root beer floats. I’ll pay for everyone. Um, as an apology. For the curse.” Wow, it still felt weird to not speak in rhymes. A slow smile spread over Felix’s face, in spite of everything. They sighed, content, and walked towards the door. “Next time,” they mused, leading everyone out into the hall and closing the door behind them, “I think I’ll buy a glass apple.”

[good--merits-accumulated]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Spread the self-love ❤

(if you want to!)

:0 Thanks for the ask, Lee!

1) Hymnal To The Year-Turn

This one is very predictably my absolute favourite. Fantasy-medieval setting (AKA, historical accuracy is a thing of the distant past, and I'm playing dress up with different time periods) AU where Todd is a court bard exiled from an enemy country, Neil is a knight, and court intrigue ensues. Fraught sibling relationships included for free!

2) Berth

Very short oneshot exploring the "Neil and Todd run away from Welton" possibility, set on the train to New York. Not remarkable, but I like some of the prose in it. :]

3) tick tick

An epistolary (text messages) companion to all the episodes of Qi Hun, as well as expanding past the last episode because Guangliang just got kind of... out of hand. Waves hands. You know how it is. Silly and fun to write!

4) To Overtake A Scald-Crow

... Not actually technically a fic I've written, because it's a WIP. Still one of my favourite! AU where Todd, in the 1910s, gets sucked through a portal and ends up in the world of the fair folk. Massively about the importance of oral storytelling (+ being gay and doing crimes).

5) ... Another unnamed WIP (sorry!). More fantasy (are we sensing a pattern LMFAO). Tonally (and wrt to some plot points) an AU of the The Dark Is Rising sequence by Susan Cooper, because I got nostalgic and really wanted to write something in that particular style of British children's fantasy fiction. Snippets for the WIPs below:

^ To Overtake A Scald-Crow

^ unnamed WIP T_T

[mermaidsirennikita]

Favorite groveling efforts in historical fiction? Grand gestures and not, where the hero has to win the heroine’s forgiveness after screwing up in some way?

Yes!

Generally, I always recommend Untamed by Elizabeth Lowell. This is a medieval romance with a true alpha hero. He is shitty to the heroine (mostly in the sense that he suspects she was sleeping with her friend before their arranged marriage, so he refuses to consummate the marriage until she has her period and also just like... holds that kind of shit against her) but not in a way that any Elizabeth Lowell hero isn't a shitbag at points tbh! And his grovel is extremely OTT in the best way.

The Bride Goes Rogue by Joanna Shupe has a great one. Technically two, because Preston does his whole "wet cat grovel" before screwing up again. And having to do something more debasing the next go around lol. The Prince of Broadway by Shupe also has a good grovel!

S.M. LaViolette books have some good grovels. The Footman is my favorite, because he's just... pathetic. And he should be--he really fucked up! But yeah, this guy just sort of whimperingly approaching like an embarrassed dog while she looks down her nose at him is my FAVORITE thing. Selina has a good "she's fucked off and now I don't know what to doooo" grovel. Hyacinth has something of a grovel; I feel like it's a bit more on the "chase her down to prove my love" side, but it's good.

Oooh, His Valet has a grovel with the hero literally on his knees begging. That shit is good.

How to Steal a Scoundrel's Heart by Vivienne Lorret gives good grovel. I mean, the man brings a puppy.

A Rogue's Rules for Seduction by Eva Leigh is a book-long grovel because the hero left the heroine at the altar and now must win her back while they're trapped at an island house party.

The Notorious Lord Knightly by Lorraine Heath is another one that's sort of like... a book of the dude making up for leaving her at the altar lol. I personally like this one more, as they are more combative initially, and his grand gesture is really good. But the one above is also solid!

Heath's The Earl Takes All (aka Gorilla Twins) has a big grand gesture/grovel. I love it, and boy did he need to do it. I'd also recommend Beyond Scandal and Desire, and in a different kind of way, When the Duke Was Wicked (I mean lol... he certainly does a grand gesture).

The Mistress Experience by Scarlett Peckham has a good one, especially since it's another one where it actually takes the hero a minute to REALLY realize how badly he fucked up.

The Day of the Duchess by Sarah MacLean has one of my favorite book-long grovels because the hero has actual real adult shit to make up for her--he cheated on the heroine. (To be fair, he is groveling after she leaves him for two years, which I think helps.) Big grand gesture. Other MacLean books with good grovels include A Rogue By Any Other Name (my favorite MacLean) and Daring and the Duke (which I think works better if you read the other two books in the series first, even though they're all technically standalones).

Stacy Reid's When the Earl Met His Match has one of my favorite grovels. Another one where he hits his knees. In the rain. In the mud. Wicked in His Arms has a really unique grand gesture as well.

Any Duchess Will Do by Tessa Dare has a grovel I like quite a bit!

The Hawk by Monica McCarty gives good grovel--I mean, it's a GESTURE. Like, "grovel via kidnapping" vibes.

Lady Isabella's Scandalous Marriage by Jennifer Ashley is a book-long grovel with the hero deciding to get his wife back three years after she left him. He's gotta prove himself!

The Duke by Gaelen Foley has a RIDICULOUSLY OTT grand gesture grovel right at the end. It's camp. I enjoy it lol

If you're down for an nb/nb historical romance with a grovel, Something Spectacular by Alexis Hall has a unique grovel in that like... the one person didn't mean to hurt the other and was reacting in a trauma response manner... But an apology was still necessary. Knees are hit. Tears are shed. It is raining. One party says to the other like "oh my god it's raining and you're going to hurt your knees, get up".

[taliesin-the-bored]

To add a little clarity, Jenny Rowland in that book isn't actually saying the poem is bad; she finds it very interesting and is mostly analysing it from a detached perspective for the antiquarian traditions it records. There's some commentary on the poetic skill, both positive and negative, which is where the section I posted is from; it's mentioning there's slightly less metrical, technical skill vis a vis the rules and forms of medieval Welsh poetry than some other saga *englynion*, supporting her proposition this dialogue dates from after the form's heyday. I just screencapped a bit I thought was funny out of context because I have a mutual who likes Gwyn a lot and thought they might enjoy seeing him getting kinda bullied, ahah

Fair enough, I can agree with that, and I probably should have read into it further before reblogging. I suppose from my own reading I've become accustomed to vicious authorly attacks on Welsh anti-blorbos. Like this:

Wow, Laurence Main, tell us how you really feel with those sarcastic parentheses on "St" Illtyd! (For the record, I have met that author, and he is a delight to know, but he does not hold back about "Old Ill-Tide" or Gildas and also hates Taliesin with a burning passion).

Or this, from Adam Ardrey:

More sarcastic quotation marks and more hate for Gildas, who was not gentle in his own works and didn't mention King Arthur in any of his surviving writing and is still getting flamed for it around a millenium and a half later by people who are Maelgwyn fans, are trying to prove Arthur was real,* or both. I have written mediocre Gildas fanfiction at two in the morning with this as the fuel, because I think he probably gets too much hate, though having never met him, I can't judge any better than the people who claim he burned his praise of Arthur for petty reasons.

Anyway, this post went off the rails a lot, but all that is to say that literary scholarship can get incredibly opinionated, it's easy to fall into one viewpoint or become overly cynical about it in general, and I think I have mostly done the latter. Also, that Jenny Rowland book sounds rather interesting; I might have to check it out.

*For the record, I have no firm stance on the matter, since as far as I can tell it can't be proven or disproven. In my head, he both was and was not real. Schrödinger's King. Or warrior, rather.

[seriousbrat]

Interesting answer as always!

Tho my argument is that because magic can be so active, kids need a sport to stay fit and able to do it. The real reason Neville could never produce a patronus is because he didn’t get that post-10km endorphin rush.

Of course I’ve read your fic and I remember the Rosiers hunting werewolves. Here’s an idea that you’re free to take or reject: would the self-loading crossbows have a tracking spell intheir arrows, in case the game runs gets shot but runs away?

I can imagine muggle weapons being one of those things that wizards don’t need, but they just really like, almost as a fetish. I suppose the sword of Gryffindor is an example.

Speaking of werewolves, I always thought you don’t give Professor Ninja Warrior Circuit Lupin enough credit. Canon Lupin is actually quite active, not only in his practical lessons, but also in high-risk Order moments like the department of mysteries and 7 potters. I don’t think he’s waking up at 5 am to do laps in the lake, but I also don’t think he’d pass out from exertion after a run or a game of quidditch.

lmao I forgot about Lupin's ninja warrior obstacle course! Good point. And yes I mostly just meant that he's always described as tired/pale/exhausted in canon from his transformations, (which is technically not a healthy state) and it is still an illness so I just wouldn't describe him as healthy. I don't think that he's an absolute weakling haha, he can obviously hold his own duelling etc quite well. Although I did once have Sirius describe him as 'Remus fucking glass bones Lupin' in a fic haha, but that was just Sirius being mean. (also it was a muggle au. in which remus was born with glass bones and paper skin. and every morning he breaks his legs. )

It's not a bad point. I'm not sure how physically taxing actually casting magic is supposed to be itself, like if it requires physical stamina as well as willpower. I'm sure though that being fit in general helps a lot, especially with more active forms of magic like duelling where you usually to have to run around a lot haha. It might be helpful for them to do endurance training at Hogwarts lol but between that and the stairs and the classes I think I'd be exhausted! There's so much activity at Hogwarts that doing some kind of physical training is probably more useful for adult witches and wizards honestly.

About the crossbows, that's a great idea! I always pictured the bolts as vanishing and reappearing instantly on the crossbow but there could definitely be some sort of tracking charm on the animal if the bolt didn't fell it instantly. Although tracking would also be what the hounds are for.

I'd thought about whether the crossbows would have inbuilt aiming charms but decided against it because I think the "fun" of it is in the skill, so it would kind of defeat the point if you never missed, and similarly I think the 'fun' would be chasing down the poor animal in a bloodthirsty way with your bloodthirsty hounds. Maybe these are charms that can be toggled on/off somehow haha, like they exist for training crossbows and for amateurs but most true enthusiasts don't use them.

Also yes, Hagrid uses a crossbow (which isn't self-reloading lol, that's for lazy posh people like the Rosiers) and obviously we've got the sword of Gryffindor/other goblin weapons, plus many suits of armour around Hogwarts. In 'the fountain of fair fortune' Sir Luckless uses a sword and shield, and Sir Cadogan, who was a wizard, uses both wand and sword. So I think wizards would be familiar with/enjoy medieval weaponry at least. And like magical crossbows, Cadogan, and Gryffindor's sword, maybe pre-statute of secrecy it was more common for muggle weaponry to be combined with magic.

[grailfinders]

Csejte Halloween Trilogy megamix!

have you ever wanted to play an entire party of just one person? now you can! I know this isn't quite a full event, and there's no servant with an official event boost, but fuck it, 99 elis attack.

Elisabeth Bathory, the build that started it all. hush ignore the first draft. move fast, look good, and blast peoples' brains to bits via the power of rock. bard/fighter is always a pretty fun combo.

Elisabeth Caster: what if instead of splitting our focus between fighting and singing, we just... didn't? set up your stage in the sky and have your backup dancers do all the hard work.

Bathory Brave: more fighty, less singy, but still very Elizabethan. maybe don't actually show up to a fight in a bikini tho.

Mecha Elis MKs 1 & 2: Raining down missiles from above in a medieval fantasy game feels like cheating, but if you DM gives you trouble just summon your giant robot to make it feel downright fair in comparison.

Carmilla: the extra crispy version of the elis. contagion is a fucking terrifying spell- if you want to play a villain, this is a good build to take notes from.

Carmilla (Rider): technically less villainous, but you can summon a ton of dogs to the field if you want to give your DM an aneurysm. also worth noting she's one of the most social builds on this list despite not even being a bard.

[orangeoctopi7]

Alright, my turn for wild speculation about Pokemon ZA

I think the majority of us agree that the game is going to take place in the Pokemon equivalent to Haussmann's Renovation of Paris. The official Pokemon page also stated that the game is going to take place entirely within Lumiose City.

With no more evidence than a quick glance through the Wikipedia page for the Haussmann’s Renovation of Paris, Vibes, and “I Think It Would Be Neat”, I have a few observations and ideas.

Lumiose City is separated into five sections around a hub. This is clearly shown on the blueprint/map that we see in the teaser.

The map for Legends Arceus was five areas around a hub. (Ok technically it was seven if you count Jubilife Village and Volo’s camp as areas, but I don’t)

What if, in the game, we are exploring/documenting the Pokemon in these five areas before they are redeveloped? I can see this happening in a couple of different ways.

These five areas are more or less undeveloped and unpopulated by humans at the start of the game. We’re recruited to go in and catch/document the pokemon that live there to help the urban redevelopment team better understand how to construct each area in order to fulfill the “Vision of beautiful coexistence between people and Pokemon”. The city expands into these areas as the game progresses.

The main evidence against this idea is the teaser specifically says “Urban REDevelopment Plan”. Unless they see imposing human construction on the environment so that it is friendly to both people and Pokemon as redevelopment.

This would be the obvious tie-in to Zygarde, the Pokemon that’s supposed to be the protector of the ecosystem, probably not happy about people expanding into and trying to redesign the natural ecosystem. 

These five areas are populated by humans, but like the medieval parts of Paris that were renovated by Haussmann, they are dark, cramped, and falling apart. We’re basically dungeon crawling through a half-abandoned medieval ruin, catching Pokemon as we go and helping the people who still live there relocate. The renovations expand into these areas as the game progresses.

This would mean exploring the crumbling medieval Lumiose, renovating buildings that had been standing for 3000 years. We get to learn more about the lore of the ancient war without having to actually set the game during that time period, which would be a little much for an E-rated Pokemon game.

This one seems more likely to me since it’s more in-line with the Haussmann Renovation, but it’s also important to remember that this is a fictional game set in a fictional world that only borrows elements from our own. It’s not going to match up one-to-one. 

In fact I’m hoping the game also incorporates elements of the 1889 World’s Fair and the completion of the Eiffel Tower, even though that takes place after/towards the tail end of the Haussmann Renovation.

These five areas are populated only by humans, and people are reluctant to let Pokemon in, like in Jubilife Village in Legends Arceus. The city is being redeveloped to make it more habitable to Pokemon, and we are recruited to capture Pokemon and bring them into the city. The renovations expand into these areas and we see more Pokemon in the city as the game progresses.

This would be less sad than forcefully relocating people and Pokemon, but I still really want to explore a crumbling medieval Lumiose City.  

[ma-lark-ey]

The Extraordinaries As Shit I Heard People Say In High School.

Nick: Are you suggesting we euthanize people? Owen: I'm not not suggesting that.

+

Nick: Can I name his dad John Locke? Is that from anything? Seth: Please tell me you're kidding.

+

Seth: I'm just passionate about things. Including hating Owen.

+

Gibby: By Walking Dead Logic, the sexier you are the more likely you are to live. We just have to bimbo-ify Seth and he'll live!

+

Gibby: No! See, see Nick can twerk! Not that white-boy moving your back non-sense. That man can shake. his ass. correctly!

+

Jazz: Okay. Who has the booty and who has the looty? Gibby: You're richer than me, so technically you have the looty.

+

Seth: You give off scoliosis vibes. Owen: What the hell does that even mean. Seth: Figure it out.

+

Owen: What's your favorite candy, Gray? Seth: Circus peanuts. Owen: You seem like a circus peanuts kind of guy. Seth: Is that supposed to be an insult? Owen: obviously. Only psychopaths and supervillains eat circus peanuts.

+

Nick: Just because he was gay and did crimes does NOT mean he WANTED to do crimes!

+

Owen: Hot take; we could purge the Bill of Rights.

+

Nick: Your heterosexuality is currently dormant. Seth: Wow thanks captain obvious, it's almost like I'm actively kissing a man.

+

Nick: It's just logic! Neurodivergents are more likely to be kinky! Otherwise, they'd get bored.

+

Seth: You can't talk about Owen Burke--- I'm trying to have a good night.

+

Nick: Smash. Smash. Sma--- Jazz: Hard smash. Gibby: What are you doing? Nick: Playing Smash Or Pass with the WWII propaganda. Seth: ... Don't do that.

+

Seth: Have you ever like, thought of just pretending to be a good person? Owen: Is that not what I'm currently doing?

+

Seth: There are two wolves inside of me. Twink and Medieval Viking. And sadly, the Viking is always winning.

+

Jazz: By the way, Burke is in our fifth period. Seth: *catholic crosses himself* that's fine.

+

Owen: Did you hiss at people as a child? Nick: Bold of you to assume I don't still hiss at people.

+

Seth: why do you hate to see me winning? Owen: It's not that I hate to see you winning. It's that I love to see you slightly below winning for brief periods of time.

+

Seth: Instead of being made with love it was made with the tears of a depressed seventeen-year-old.

+

Nick: Billie Eilish is American? Gibby: Wait, for real? I thought she was British.

+

Gibby: Lizzo or gay rights. One has to go. Nick: sorry gay people. The answer is always Lizzo. Seth: Nick, you're literally gay. Jazz: See! This is what I'm talking about! we live in Joe Biden's America, and in Joe Biden's America you cannot proudly proclaim your love for Lizzo! You must support his liberal homosexual agenda. Gibby: Being a lesbian has only brought misery. Being a Lizbean has made me feel alive.

+

Nick: It's like--- y'all are on board games and I took a left turn to Wii sports.

+

Nick: Why am I not depressed this year? Seth: You got medicated. Nick: Oh yeah...

+

Jazz: As demonstrated with Seth and Nick--- the solution to homophobia is gay chicken.

+

Gibby: It's kind of like lesbian sex. Nick: You're telling me this as if I've seen lesbian sex.

+

Nick: I played Genshin Impact for four hours yesterday. Gibby: Is this your mental health awareness statement?

+

Nick: Oooooh ~ lubricants ~ Seth: Those are for a car. Nick: And ALSO--- Seth: For a car.

+

Jazz: I mean, who would date Owen? It's like, you have no standards. Nick: Well, I have standards. They're just not very high

+

Owen: how're we doing, gays and gals? Seth: I'm having an allergic reaction to being in your presence.

+

Seth: I'll eat a breadstick Nick took a bite of. I'm not eating breadstick Nick deepthroated. Jazz: to be fair, I didn't expect him to actually do it. Nick: I am nothing if not committed to a bit, Jasmine

+

Nick: Hear me out--- we make a Grindr account. Gibby: No good plan starts with 'we make a Grindr account; Nick: fine then! Step one. We fill his house with sulfur monoxide--- Seth: Absolutely not.

+

Seth: A good 40% of the time I think you're flirting with me, you're talking about Shadow Star.

+

Seth: You know, being caressed by tiny hands is not the weirdest thing Nicky's done to me. Jazz: I'm taking away the tiny hands.

+

Nick: I could make so many sex jokes. Gibby: Nicky, this play is about racism.

+

Gibby: There's this crunchy Christian vibe in Nova city. Nick: Crackheads, cops, and Christians are what makes Nova city Nova city.

+

(during a board game) Nick: What do you mean we can nuke Mars and not face any ecological repercussions? that's definitively not hot nukes work! Gibby: Well, I'll trade you some slavery for sheep? Seth: Can we please do something ethical.

[hezzabeth]

Part 3

Summer 3056,

The deep rainforests of Valles Marineris: Mars

In the real world, adventures are offered, littered with thousands of dull little moments.

The stretches of time where nothing much happens. Hours of exhaustion. Weeks of frustration. Moments of failure. Thankfully, this is a story. In a story, we can skip ahead to the good parts.

A sticky foul summer night. Heat from the equator of Mars crept upwards in damp waves. The trees, covered in dew, blocked most of the light from the two moons. Branches were weighed down heavily with strange mutant fruits and flowers. The rainforest of Valles Marineris was a deep and secret place. In the distant past, terraforming scientists from Earth had planted the trees. They were trying to tinker with the planet's atmosphere, and they were only eighty percent successful. Valles Marineris was now thirty thousand kilometers of suffocating and bewildering rainforest. Urban legends whispered it was full of mythical tigers and snakes. This was despite the fact nobody had seen any tigers or snakes in almost five hundred years. The only people who lived in the rainforest were the Jaṅgala upajāti. As far as Revati knew, they had been living in the canyon for over eight hundred years. The only people who visited the canyon were hikers and nature tourists. Even the appliances had avoided trying to invade the place. Which was why the glowing light Revati could see from above was so strange.

Time had passed. Revati was aware of this when she occasionally saw herself in the mirror. Her face was thinner now. Her once long wavy hair was now half shorn off from an accident involving a killer baby doll .Pimples had vanished from her forehead. The scar across her left cheek from when she hit her face on the concrete wall in the medieval Faire was thick and white.

"How many hair dryers can you sense?" Revati asked the woman standing next to her. Despite the oppressive humidity that was causing Revati’s hair to spring up in curls, the woman was covered in a massive cloak. It was a cloak designed to hide the fact that the woman wasn’t a woman at all.

"Three," the android replied, her voice slightly muffled from her mesh mask. During their first month traveling together, they realized that hiding the android's true nature was probably for the best. That was after Revati got stabbed in the leg by raiders, and the android almost lost one of her hands.

"Four! For an operation this big? Normally there would at least be sixty," Revati hissed back.

"I don't know what to tell you! There are only four signals coming from that base! Now hurry up before the DNA trail turns cold," hissed the Android.

The Android. It had been four years of searching, four years of near misses, and the Android still insisted on being nameless. Technically, the mind inhabiting the droid was called Princess Sakshi Menel.

Revati carefully descended further down the valley walls heading towards the light. The android was shuffling above her like an alien spider, its limbs peeking out of the cloak. Names; it had once told her were for the living.

With a small hop, Revati landed on the ground a hundred or so meters away from the light. The practical military-grade boots took most of the shock. Even Revati’s clothes had changed. Gone were the mishmash outfits made from all park costumes.

Now she wore abandoned outfits stolen from the long-ago dead. A frayed deep red kurti, with a scarf as a makeshift belt worn over baggy utility pants. The pockets were bulging with healing patches, bits of string, tape, and half-eaten food.

OKThe only jewelry Revati wore was the precious necklace and the bangle. The bangle that now read 800 credits. Strapped to Revati’s back was her weapon. The android landed with an elegant swish before standing up, the cloak settling around her shoulders.

They both nodded to each other. It was a well-known wordless nod that belonged to those who were forced to constantly work together. Revati pulled her weapon off her back. It was a long mace with a solar flare orb castled to the end. It had cost two thousand credits.

The light was coming from a brand new building. A brand glossy red building made from mowed-down native trees. If Bridgadeiro had been there, he would have burst into tears, Revati thought. Bridgadeiro was always a soft touch when it came to dead trees. The light was spilling from the front of the building. A hair dryer was standing guard, a small slim purple metallic hair dryer floating a foot and a half off the ground.

"Oh please! Can’t you just leave us alone? We let the children go! You killed my parents!" The hair dryer screamed as Revati approached, holding the weapon.

"Let the children go? Wait, are you telling me this is an illegal power camp? In the jungle?" Revati hissed as she got closer to the hair dryer. Up close, it looked almost pathetic.

"It’s not like the children were real people! They’re not appliances," squeaked the hair dryer and then it made a beeping sound.

"Wait! You’re not the bringer of annihilation," the hair dryer squeaked, sounding relieved.

"The bringer of what?" Revati had to ask.

"She who stalks the currents! Who tears us apart with a mere glance!" Cried the hair dryer with a quiver.

"Oh her; no, that’s not me… that’s my sister," Revati replied before stunning the hair dryer with her weapon. The weapon squeaked and crumpled with a small sigh.

"Three more to go," the android remarked as Revati stepped over the hair dryer. Illegal power camps had become quite common all over the planet. Usually, they were set up in rural neutral areas where appliances normally didn’t have access to power. Revati found herself walking around a rather sophisticated one. Exercise bikes and walking machines had been installed next to large floating screens.

Medical equipment, including intravenous water devices, had been placed next to each of the machines. There were piles of black crystal sand lying all over the place. A little girl, no older than five or six, was sitting next to one of the piles, building a castle with it.

"Don't touch that! That sand is incredibly dangerous," Revati snapped, and the little girl burst into tears.

"Oh, don't cry; I'm not an evil monster! I'm just trying to stop you from getting your hand blown off," snapped Revati, and the little girl sniffed, wiping her tears.

"I can't understand you," the little girl said in fluent Bengali. Of course, she couldn't. The Jaṅgala upajāti only ever interacted with outsiders when tourists came to visit their one main town. Most Jaṅgala upajāti never installed universal translators, used teleporters, or communication bracelets.

"Please forgive my companion; she doesn't mean to be frightening; she's just terrible with small children," the Android said in Bengali.

"Hey... alright fine, but to be fair the only children I interacted with used to chew the walls and pee on lampposts," Revati pointed out. In fact, until Revati left Olde Landon, she assumed all small children behaved that way. She was sure it was her mother who must have taught her how to be a civilized human being.

"Are you with the glowing goddess? You look like her," The little girl asked, wiping her nose.

Glowing Goddess. Everyone who encountered Dityaa seemed incapable of describing her like a normal person.

"Did the glowing goddess help you, little one?" The android asked.

"Yes, we were all very tired... she flew in and turned all the machines into sand, then flew away," the little girl remarked. Revati's eyes trailed towards the girl's feet. They were bruised and swollen with bloody toenails.

"And what happened to everyone else?" The android asked, gesturing around the room.

"My friends ran away, my brother went to get help for my sore feet," the little girl shrugged.

Revati immediately reached into her pockets, pulling out two medibandages. "You're going to waste those on her? They were expensive," the Android remarked, now speaking Hindi.

"Her feet are messed up! For someone who's excellent at pretending to be polite, you have zero compassion," Revati pointed out as she slapped the bandages on the girl's feet.

There was a rustling sound from behind one of the larger screens. "Ēkhānē thākuna," Revati said, exhausting the little Bengali she knew. Her cerebrolingua universal translator was excellent but it technically didn’t teach her new languages. It just helped others with the installed software understand her.

Powering up her mace again, Revati slowly walked towards the screen, peering behind it. Another hair dryer was lying on the ground, hot hair billowing out of its mouth. It twitched feebly, small sparks erupting from its base.

"I suppose you're here to finish me off," growled the hair dryer, sounding like a cranky old man screaming at the clouds.

"That depends; what can you tell me about the goddess?" Revati asked, leaning down.

"The goddess? Don't you mean the Amped predator? The electric assassin?" The hair dryer asked, its voice wheezy and soft.

"Yes, her; you're dying, but if you tell me exactly what happened, I might be kind enough to switch you off and dump you near a major city's repair station," Revati lied.

"The predator did what she always does, she flew in and destroyed! She flew away, I was left to tell the story," The hair dryer said.

"How long ago?" Revati asked, and the hair dryer wheezed a gust of cold air.

"Four hours ago," he groaned, and then suddenly the electric lights in his base died.

Four hours. Damn. If it had been less than an hour, they might have stood a chance at catching her.

"Well," the Android asked.

"She's long gone," Revati admitted as she carried over the dead hair dryer. Revati pulled a small screwdriver out of one of her pants pockets and opened the side panel.

"Then we will return to camp and wait for the her DNA signal again," the android said as the little girl stood up, jumping up and down.

"Really? Last time you made me wait, it took weeks! She seems fine; she's running around the planet acting like some sort of superhero," Revati pointed out.

The little girl pointed one of her healed toes and then giggling with delight ran out of the building into the jungle.

"You swore an oath," the android said, its eyes changing from green to a deep red.

"I swore I would help you find Dityaa when we thought she was kidnapped! That was three years ago," Revati snapped back as she scrabbled at the hair dryer's insides.

"Perdita has not been given her true destiny yet! She is more than a floating gun," the android pointed out as Revati successfully pulled out a small bright orange piece of plastic.

"Here, a new rust-eating cartridge! Happy Apple day," Revati said, throwing the cartridge at the android's feet.