#For those of you who’ve read the chapters I have you may remember that many people only know Erandir as Erran

[lady-merian]

Seeds of Community

finally finished my 2023 @inklings-challenge story! Once again a huge thank you to @valiantarcher, who has read this almost as many times as I have and caught many errors for me. Posting the whole thing from the beginning rather than reblogging the old post with the new parts added on.

>>——> 

The knock at the door gave Rose Bryar a start at first, but halfway to the door she realized it was probably a neighbor who had missed her family at the kirk services yesterday and was coming to check on them. 

It was not. 

Or not a near neighbor, at any rate, considering the young man on the doorstep only made it to the services once in a while. She knew his name, and that he had no family nearby, and lived some distance away, and very little else.

“Erran,” she said, hoping he didn’t notice her disappointment. If it’d been a concerned neighbor offering help she could’ve used it, if only to set her husband’s mind at ease that the work would get done. “Is there something I can do for you?”

“I thought, actually, that there might be something I could do for you.” Erran held up the bulging bag he carried. “I have so many apples on my trees right now, I’d thought to bring some to you all when I saw you on Sunday, and then I asked when you weren’t there and heard your husband had taken ill. I hope it’s nothing too serious.”

There was some trepidation in his bearing that hadn’t been there a moment before. He shifted awkwardly and rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand. 

Two surprises in one day. Whether because of the distance he lived that kept him from attending kirk services every week, or some other reason, he had not gained many ties to the rest of the community. Though he was a few years older than Alastair, her oldest, he had not seemed to have much in common with him, let alone any of her younger children. That he would take the time to visit when he hardly knew them was one thing, that he had cared enough to save some apples for them rather than sell his surplus was another. 

“Ill? Well, yes, in a matter of speaking.” She beckoned him in out of the chill wind. Erran’s tunic was looking a mite threadbare. Her oldest boys were out at their chores, but she’d seen to it they were well bundled before they set out. 

 “He was mending the thatch and took a hard fall. The broken leg would be hard enough, but he isn’t comfortable getting about on crutches just yet, the bruising was that bad.” 

Erran entered. If he had been afraid of the illness spreading it ought not to trouble him any longer, but a glance at him showed the same hesitancy.  He had to duck under the herbs that hung from the roof. Perhaps she’d misjudged and he was simply nervous and slow to get acquainted with his neighbors. 

But then he smiled and waved to the twins, to Lachlan, to Shona, and to Isie who was minding the youngest while she carded wool for Shona to spin. 

“They said at kirk that at least the harvest was well in, but I hear there’s never really a good time for a croft to be short handed. I’ve little experience but if there’s anything I can do…” He trailed off. 

She was, absurdly, filled with the urge to ease his mind. She took the offered apples.

“If it’s help you’re offering, I’d be most grateful, but it’s my husband you’ll have to talk to.” She smiled to show her appreciation. “He’s mending, but he’s anxious to be up and about and seeing to things himself. It’s been a hard thing to dissuade him. He knows what needs done and what Alastair and Tann can handle. Shona?”

Ten year old Shona looked up, her spindle still whirling and pulling the cloud of wool she held into thread. 

“Will you check and see if your da is up to a visitor?”

Shona gave a nod, and without a break in the rhythm of her spinning she darted into the other room. 

Meanwhile the sight of the visitor and his bag had caused some minor disruption among the story Isie was telling Lachlan and the twins as she carded. No longer would two year old Caden be content to sit and hear about the brownie who left because he thought the farmwife had insulted him. (Rose was surprised he had lasted this long.) Now he clamored over asking to see what was in the bag. 

“Is it all right if I give them an apple, or will that spoil their appetite?” Erran gave a nod towards the pot she had on the hearth. 

“I like apples,” Caden solemnly declared, reaching for the bag. “They won’t spoil anything.”

“How about we start with one to split with your sisters now?” Rose said, right as Shona returned.

“Da’s awake, and says aye, he’d be pleased,” she said.  

Rose selected an apple and handed it to Shona to split amongst them. Alastair and Tann could split one later, and she had a plan for the rest that she thought they would all like.

Erran held back a pace from her as she led the way in to where her husband Iwan lay, propped up on every pillow they owned to cushion his bruises and ease his breathing. He’d struck his side against the edge of the roof as he fell, and though nothing was broken there the bruises were an added hardship.

But he had a smile ready for Erran when they entered.

“Hello… Erran, isn’t it? Shona tells me you brought a treat for us,” he said.

Erran ducked his head, though there were no low-hanging herbs above him now. “Only some apples. I also came to see if there was anything I could do to help.”

Rose hovered in the doorway as Iwan gestured to the stool beside the bed.  “Have you ever thatched a roof, by chance?”

Erran sat. “I’m afraid not. I do have a decent head for heights and good sense of balance though. I’m willing to learn if there’s someone who can show me.”

Iwan looked up at Rose. “Alastair? Just to show him how?”

Rose relented. Alastair knew what to do, but after what had happened to Iwan she had been wary of letting any of them up there. But it was true, the task needed done, and if Alastair need not be up for long she could rest easier. 

“My oldest two are capable lads,” Iwan continued once she agreed, “but altogether ‘tis a lot on their shoulders. There’s also a large portion of the pasture fence needs mending. Normally I’d be seeing to that with them. The lads would be making sure the shed is ready to shelter the sheep and trimming their hoofs, keeping a watch for foot rot after this damp weather turned their pasture muddy.”

Aye, this damp weather, and Erran in need of warmer clothing if he was to be out in it. Rose left them to their discussion on what else Erran might help with. She had the beginnings of a new task nudging her to action.

>>——> 

The sun was high overhead, and unfortunately so were Alastair and Erran. Alastair should be climbing down any moment now, but he was inspecting Erran’s progress so far and looked to be enjoying himself.  

Twelve year old Tann fidgeted beside Rose as she looked on in concern. She had no head for heights herself, but it mightn’t have been so hard on her if it hadn’t been for the recent accident, and her husband the experienced one among them. Tann seemed envious of his brother, but one son and a kind neighbor was enough to be up so high for now. Alastair had sense enough to be cautious, but so had Iwan. It was a pity the part that needed mending was at the very top. She hated to think what would happen if Erran also slipped, let alone Alastair. 

She refrained from calling Alastair to hurry down and instead sized up Erran, comparing his size to her son since she couldn’t very well have asked Iwan to stand up beside him and she needed to know before she could proceed with her plan. Erran was taller, which had been evident from the first, but seeing them together it was also evident that he was broader in the shoulder. She remembered thinking of him as a lanky youth when he’d first made an appearance in town, all arms and legs, but he had grown significantly since then.

Erran noticed her scrutiny and gave a little wave, then said something to Alastair, who came down as carefully as even she could wish. 

“He’s doing all right,” Alastair said. His cheeks were reddened from the cold wind up there, but when she remarked on it he said it was warm enough up there in the sun. 

She’d been waiting for him to come down before she went indoors to finish getting the noon meal ready with an easy mind, but hesitated when she saw Erran still up near the peak. 

“Does he know he’s welcome to come down and eat with us,” she asked. “He didn’t come prepared, and surely he’s getting hungry.”

Alastair looked up, shielding his eyes from the sun. “I didn’t think to tell him.”

“Neither did I.” Erran had gone straight from visiting Iwan to the pasture to see Alastair about learning how to mend the thatch. They’d had a busy morning.

“Can I climb up just to tell him,” Tann begged.

Rose ruffled his hair. “You may go halfway up the ladder, I’m sure he will be able to hear you from there without you having to shout.”

He mumbled that it was not the same, he wanted to be at the top, like Alastair, but dutifully went no further than that. Even so the ladder wobbled under his exuberance as he climbed. 

Erran noticed its movement with a start and reached out to steady it as Tann called up the invitation. Erran called something back to Tann, who said something back before he bounded back to them. 

“He says if it’s no trouble. I told him of course it wouldn’t be.”

>>——>

Alastair and Tann went in to report the day’s progress to Iwan. His mind was already greatly eased with the prospect of help, even if it was inexperienced help, and he would be eager for news of how it was coming.

Erran’s awkwardness returned as he came in the house, and she thought at first that he would just as soon have taken his meal out on the roof, but it wasn’t long before he relaxed again. Bless him, he even wanted to help, and contributed by entertaining Lachlan and the twins and keeping them from running underfoot as Isie set the table and Shona sliced the bread. Erran taught Lachlan a silly rhyme about a bunny, with hand motions so simple that soon even Caden and Lissie could join in. It had them in fits of giggles and kept them for a time from running around in the house like wild things. She’d have to remember it.

It made her wonder about his family. He had to have had one once. What had brought him to their town all alone and so young? At the time he could not have been older than Alastair was now and had seemed even younger.  Too young to be without family. Mayhap it wasn’t shyness that had kept him from developing ties in the community, but grief. 

This occupied her mind while she portioned mutton and carrots onto everyone’s dishes and cut the youngest ones’ meat into bite sized pieces for them. 

“Is Master Bryar going to be able to come in to eat, or does he take his meals in there?”

Erran’s voice behind her startled her. Goodness, his tread was light. He moved as quietly as the cat. 

There was a bashful grin on his face.  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

She waved him off with a smile. “It’s all right. It is a lot of trouble for him to come to the table, so the older ones have taken turns eating with him, and keeping him company.  It’s a hard thing to eat alone when you’re used to being surrounded by family.“

He nodded. Not a flicker of anything showed on his face to confirm or deny her guess, but it seemed he understood. 

“I asked because I thought I might bring his in for you and sit with him a while,” he said, “but they should have their time with him. That would be something special, I’m sure.”

It was a treat for them, and she nearly said so aloud, but on the other hand, Iwan would probably enjoy getting to know Erran better as much as she would. And it would be a long recovery. There would be time for many such visits for the children. 

“I think he would welcome a visit from you as well,” she said. “Tell you what, it would be Isie’s turn, but I know she won’t mind waiting just a little longer for her turn.,” she lowered her voice so it wouldn’t carry to the table where the little ones were now sitting, “There’ll be a surprise after we eat. Isie can bring that in to him and she might enjoy that more because she helped me make it. Isie?”

Isie readily agreed to the switch, and so while Rose wouldn’t get to engage Erran in conversation and learn more about him during the meal, her husband surely would, and then there would be the apple tart she had made. 

>>——>

The only thing that didn’t go according to plan was that the children were so excited about the apple tart she’d made that all the talk around the table centered on apples. 

“I swallowed a seed,” Lachlan said. “Will it grow an apple tree inside me? Shona said it might.”

“I never did,” Shona protested. “I said that’s what Alastair told me when I was little, but apple trees need dirt and sun and rain to grow so it couldn’t work.“

Alastair snickered, and Rose shushed him. 

“They do, Love, so no, don’t fret, there’ll be no apple tree growing inside you.”

“Caden ate the dirt outside,” Lachlan said. “I saw him. And Isie made him wash his face and drink some water. All he needs is sun. Could he grow a tree inside him if he stood outside in the sun? He ate all his seeds. 

“It still wouldn’t work that way,” Rose said.

“Why?”

“You’d have to find a way to eat some sunshine to make it work,” Erran said. “And more dirt. Every day. That’s what my n— that’s what my family told me.”

There would have been the opening she was waiting for, but Lachlan hardly stopped chattering for her to ask.

“I saved most of mine ‘cause I didna want it to grow inside me. I want one outside. Can we grow one? Please?”

“We’ll ask your da,” she said. “I don’t know where we’d plant it, but he might have an idea. It would take a long time before it grows enough to give apples, mind you.”

All too soon, and before she could work the conversation back around to Erran’s family, the tart was gone, and the boys went back out to work. Ah, well. She would ask Iwan what they had talked of.

>>——>

Isie’s pile of carded wool varied, depending on whether Shona was spinning or plying. Lissie was too young yet to be taught how to card or spin, but she could and did chase after stray balls of yarn if they got away from Shona as she plied. She lined them up in neat rows and she and Caden practiced counting with Shona’s help. Caden could also chase after the stray balls but he would throw them wildly as often as return them, so that had to be discouraged—at least until his aim was better. 

Both carding combs and spindle were abandoned for a time when, after they ate and the boys went back out to work, Rose let her girls in on this new project. It wouldn’t be finished fast enough if only one worked on it, but if the three of them pitched in it could be done before long. Nothing very fine, just a serviceable tunic out of a sturdier wool. The linen he was wearing now was terribly frayed at the cuffs and had small holes at the elbows that would grow into bigger ones if left unpatched, besides not being warm enough for this weather.

She cut, using one of Iwan’s tunics as a guideline, and the girls began the seaming, taking turns at first the shoulders, then setting in the sleeves. She finished the bottom of the sleeves as they worked on the shoulders, and hemmed the bottom as they set in the sleeves. It left them all room enough to work. For a time, Lachlan, Caden, and Lissie were convinced to sit quietly and listen to more stories from Isie, Shona, or herself while they sewed. Sometimes they sang. The time passed swiftly.

The thatching was not finished that day. It was growing dark before the hems were complete, and Erran took his leave shortly before sunset, promising to return the next day, and the next, if it took that long. 

Rose paused her hemming mid stitch as she realized she had not given a thought to an important detail..

“Oh, but where will you stay?”  It was sure he couldn’t make it home that day. If there was one thing she did know about him it was that he lived too far from town to make the trip in a day. “If you need—“

“‘I’ve a friend in town who’s asked me to,” he assured her with a wry smile. “He often does, so that I won’t have to leave town before the evening services or travel at night. This morning he asked if I could stay longer and I told him I’d see about it. I can make it back there before dark if I leave now.”

He parted from them with a wave of his hand before she had time to ask after his friend or thank him.

Other neighbors had sent well wishes, and some had likewise visited and even brought gifts of food, but all had their own homes and families and tasks needing done and she’d understood. She had children old enough to take on some extra responsibilities, so there was no question that they could get by. Which might be why Erran’s offer of help felt like such a gift, despite his lack of experience. He could have looked at what they had and assumed that he wouldn’t be needed or wanted. He could have decided that his own responsibilities (whatever they might be, for surely he had to make his living somehow,) were more important, and yet here he was intending to see these tasks through. 

Working on the tunic till it was time to start supper brought them a fair ways toward completion. Shona and Isie each finished setting in a sleeve while Rose finished the bottom, then once the sleeves were set in place, the long sleeve seams were begun. They often stopped to compare progress and make sure neither of them strayed off course. If Shona had a slight advantage in age and experience over Isie, it showed more in speed than in neatness, and at the end of the day when Rose compared the sleeves they were both even. 

>>——>

The next morning, earlier than before, Erran was back and the work on the thatch resumed. He’d arrived with red cheeks, twinkling eyes, and three more apples for the children to share but his hands had been very cold.

She did raise her brows at the apples though. Where had these come from?

“Wynn Fullrede sends his greetings and says to say thank you for feeding me yesterday,” Erran said, rather sheepishly in response to her look. 

Rose smiled. Wynn must be the friend he had stayed with. A good man by all she knew of him, and a good teacher…and one who knew what it took to feed a growing lad. “You can return my thanks to him for these and for lending your help to me when I’m sure he’s missing his student.”

Erran lifted one shoulder in a half shrug, but smiled. It was enough of a confirmation of her guess, though he said only that he would pass along her thanks and no more before heading out to work.

>>——>

The tunic was coming along, but the ordinary interruptions of everyday life delayed them. Toddlers to keep out of mischief, fires to keep going, food to prepare. Those sorts of things. Even so, with at least one pair of hands always working away at them, the side seams were complete before noon. 

As it happened, Iwan hadn’t learned much from his conversation with Erran the day before. They’d talked mostly of the work, as she might have known they would. She pondered over what she’d gleaned from Iwan as she prepared food for the day: only a confirmation that Erran was not from the area, and that he had lived in a city before coming to live somewhere away west of town. An odd change to make, especially coming alone as he had. What sort of work had he done? Had he been apprenticed in a trade? Iwan did not seem concerned about his lack of experience. He was willing to learn and the fact that he’d offered his services at all seemed to speak well of him, and that was enough for Iwan.

“The lads know enough to teach him,” Iwan had said. “T’will be good for them as well. Don’t fret.”

It wasn’t that she disagreed, but something more ought to be known about him.  

Erran indeed had a good head for heights, and though she could not watch him work for long without a shiver, Alastair assured her that from what he’d seen Erran’s sense of balance was fine and he’d taken to the work quickly. 

In fact before the food was ready, Alastair popped in to say Erran was finished with the roof and they were ready to tackle the fence. As Alastair went to tell Iwan, Rose breathed out a sigh of relief and sent up a quick prayer of thanks for the job being finished without further mishap. She had seen Alastair wobble up there on the roof once, and once was enough. 

She had hoped to be finished with his tunic before this, but it was better that the roof hadn’t taken as long as she had expected. Now she needn’t worry about another fall. 

“Don’t start on the fence straight away,” she told Alastair as he headed back out. “All of you should wash up, lunch is nearly ready.”

>>——>

She learned little more from Erran that day in conversation during their meal. He was good at keeping a conversation going with her children, as well as with her, but so little of it told her anything about himself or his life before coming to the area.

 The more she observed him, the more his shyness seemed an unnatural thing to him. 

Lachlan had been deemed just old enough to be careful and take his meal in with his Da, though not of course to take in the tray himself. Erran had volunteered for that, and so when they finished at the table and while the dishes were being cleared away, Erran also retrieved the tray and brought it to her. 

“Master Bryar says to say it was delicious. Lachlan seconds it.”

“Thank you,” she said. She was surprised he’d thought of retrieving it for her. She’d thought he would be on his way back out with Alastair and Tann…but no, they were helping the girls clean the table.

“Thank you again for the meal,” he returned with a crooked smile. “My cooking doesn’t turn out nearly so well, and,” he lowered his voice just a little, “Wynn’s is better than mine, but he doesn’t have your knack either, so it’s not just a matter of experience.”

“Some of it is, I’m sure,” she laughed. “You do enough of it every day for growing children and it begins to come easier to you. How long have you cooked for yourself?”

He thought for a moment before answering. “It’s been a few years since I was doing all of it. A friend of mine stayed with me for a bit when I first moved near here. He was somewhere between you and Wynn in skill, and took more than his share of the turn cooking. He certainly enjoyed it more than I did.” 

He sounded a little wistful as he spoke. If she thought about it she ought to remember anyone else who had shown up at the same times Erran had, but another line of thought seemed more pressing at the moment and she had little time before he would be out again with her sons. What had brought him to Wettham, if not family?

“Erran, before you go back out, may I ask you something?”

She felt a change in his whole bearing as soon as the words left her mouth, though his expression seemed as open as before. “If you like.” He took hold of the cleaning rag she’d set down and scrubbed at a spot on her table.

“You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to, but until yesterday I would have guessed you preferred to keep to yourself, and yet after yesterday and today I think that’s not true, even if you do live away out there alone.”

She halted before getting to the question. The last thing she wanted to do was make him close himself off. What right had she to push?

“That is not really a question,” he said. There was enough of a smile to his voice to encourage her. 

“You’ve not once mentioned a family. Did something happen to them?

He let out a light breath, almost a laugh with that slight twist of his lips, but not quite; the wistful expression was back. “I should have known you’d be wondering about that. Aye, I did lose my father right before coming to Wettham.  Wynn was a friend of his, and helped get me back on my feet along with another of his friends. That’s the one who stayed with me.”

“I’m so sorry.” She instinctively put her hand on his arm. “And your poor mother?”

He twisted the rag in his hands. “Fever. Years ago… I was a child.”

To her eyes he was little more than a child now. This grief was older, but it was still a grief. To have lost so much and him scarcely older than Alastair…

Was this why he had come so readily to help when he heard about the accident?

Erran glanced up and his eyes were kind. “You were right about me though, I’ve kept to myself long enough. Far longer than is good for me. I’ve—“

“Erran!” Tann waved from the door. “We’re ready.”

She tried not to be disappointed at the interruption and took the rag from his hands. “Well you’re welcome here anytime, if that helps at all.”

His smile was quick.“It truly does. You have no idea how much.”

>——->

With renewed effort, keeping in mind the chill in the air and wondering how in the world Erran had managed thus far on his own, Rose threw herself into finishing the tunic.

She reinforced the neck opening with extra stitching on the border. Her boys were too often rough on that to leave it a weak point. And it might as well look nice. 

Shona and Isie resumed their carding and spinning. They all alternated mediating arguments between the youngest three. It didn’t help that today Caden wanted more than anything to be out of doors with Alastair and Tann, whom he was convinced were having fun without him. Rose had decided they had enough to do out there without minding Caden and ensuring he stayed warm enough. There would be time for that when he didn’t need so much minding to keep out of trouble.

The time flew by, and as the light outside began to dwindle Erran took his leave for the day.

She was prepared for his leaving this time. She handed him a hot pasty. “For the road home. T’will keep your hands warm until the inside is cool enough to eat.”

>>——>

The low-hanging grey clouds the next morning showed their respite from the wet weather was nearing its end and it was nearly time to bring in the sheep to their sheds and the smaller pasture where they could get into shelter themselves whenever they liked.

 Between the morning chores and breaking their fast they wasted no time since the weather did not appear willing to tarry long for them.

 Whatever sense of urgency was in the air, it had spread to Erran as well, as he arrived shortly after the boys left for the field. Rose wondered at how early he must have started off. Surely before it was light out. 

“Are you hungry?” She asked. “There’s plenty here if you like.” 

“Thank you, but I had something on the way here.”

She eyed him, but before she could protest that he’d be working hard and that “something” didn’t necessarily mean it would hold him till lunch, he had gone to catch up to Alastair and Tann. 

She came to fetch Iwan’s breakfast tray from him and saw a twinkle in his eyes. “Rose, when did we get an eighth child?”

“Oh, about two days ago. Don’t tell me you just now noticed?” She raised her eyebrows and he chuckled. “Not at all, my Rose, nor am I surprised.”

She sat with Iwan for a while as she sewed, sometimes in conversation with him and sometimes in companionable silence until she had to begin preparing the noon meal. 

>>——>

While Alastair, Tann, and Erran went back out to the pasture after lunch, Shona bundled up Lachlan and the twins and brought them out with her so they could play while she gathered more willow bark for Iwan’s tea. They came in with rosy-cheeks and high spirits. Rose nearly sent them back out to run around and spend that energy out of doors in case Iwan was ready to sleep again, but Iwan called out to them to come and sit by him and tell all about the games they had played outside.

“Is coooold outside, da.” Lissie could be just heard, plopping down to sit on the bedside rug.

“It isn’t that cold,” Lachlan said, with all the superiority of an older brother; older by three whole years, who could better tolerate the cold. “But it’s getting wet. And windy too.”

Rose looked out in alarm. It was only a little drizzle, not loud enough to be heard in the house, but she thought of the cold and the wet and the wind all combining, and the last thing they needed was for the boys to become ill, and then there was Erran in his thin, worn tunic. 

“Tis just beginning,” Shona confirmed for her as she prepared the bark for tea. “I imagine they’ll be in soon. Or would you like me to fetch them in early?”

Rose shook her head. “If it gets worse and they’re still not back, I’ll go. For now I’ll trust their judgment on how close they are.” She didn’t yet know the measure of Erran in this respect, but Alastair had sense enough to know when to push forward and when to stop.

She set a pot of broth to heat, and hurriedly put in the last reinforcement stitches on Erran’s tunic. 

She clipped the last thread with relief as well as satisfaction. Though it was too late for it to have given him more comfort in the rain, at least he could warm up afterward.

There was still no sign of them and the weather took a turn for the worse. Just as she decided she should go out to them the boys came in, soaking wet, having made sure the animals were secure in their shelters. They had been close, but not close enough and the fence was not yet finished. 

Alastair and Tann she sent to change out of their wet things straightaway, but she held Erran back a moment rather than send him along with the bundle she had already collected. By rights Shona and Isie should be there to see his reaction.

“I couldn’t help the trousers without borrowing from Iwan’s. They’re old and worn, but they’re dry. As for the tunic, well we had that sorted already. 

She presented him with the folded tunic. “From all of us, though t’was Shona, Isie and I that did the sewing. I only just finished it.” 

Erran held it up, looking intently at it. She could not tell what he thought. She waited with hands folded for him to say something, but though his mouth was open he was speechless. 

“Will it fit you, do you think?” She hesitated then added,  “I cut it loose for comfort but if it is too large we can fix it, Shona, Isie and I.”

Erran brushed his finger over the stitching. “You three made this for me?” He looked round at their grinning faces, his astonishment plain. 

“Aye, we did. Go try it on and tell us if it will do.”

“Oh, but you didn’t have to do— I didn’t—“

“T’was not a question of us needing to,” she said. 

“But we didn’t even finish the fence. If I’d known more about carpentry I’d have been more help to you., but—”

“But someone who knows more about carpentry hasn’t come. You have. Go on and ask Iwan. He’ll tell you just how much of a load that has lifted off his mind. Besides, though this may have started out as a token of our thanks, tis now just a gift.”

 His gaze was drawn back to the stitching around the neck. “It’s very fine.”

“Thank you. Now go on with you!” She shooed him to follow Alastair and Tann. “Put it on and get out of your wet things.”

He shook his head and laughed softly. “All right, I won’t argue. Thank you.”

Tann emerged first with his wet things to dry by the fire, then Alastair, and very soon after Erran also returned, looking pleased with his new tunic. It was a good fit. Loose, as she’d intended, but not over-large. 

She gave them the warm broth to ward off a chill and they held a council. 

There was no question of them finishing the fence until it let up, and it showed no sign of letting up before dusk.

Likewise there was no question about sending Erran home in this weather, and even if it let up before dusk he wouldn’t make it back to town that night. No, it was better for all concerned if he stayed here where there would be a roof over his head. Even he had to see that an evening tramping out in that weather was unwise, though she had to dissuade him from camping in the sheep sheds with the flock rather than staying in the house. He had some idea about it being a bother. 

“I’ll make you up a comfortable bed by the hearth,” she insisted. “Tis no trouble.”

Erran finally relented to that on the condition that she let him help in some way. 

He could keep the little ones from being underfoot, clean up for her after supper, that sort of thing. Or anything else she might think of. 

To that she agreed readily. Less because there was anything she could think of that needed done, and more once again to put him at ease. She supposed in his place she would feel awkward about being an unexpected guest. The children had been in and out of the room where Iwan rested, as he’d been sleeping less and needing distractions more. She could tell he was awake now. Alastair had probably told him of the state they’d left the fence in as he passed on his way up to the loft he and Tann shared. 

“Why don’t you have a visit with Iwan?” 

It would, she thought, do them both some good. 

>>——>

For supper they all crowded in. It would end up with more cleaning, this picnic indoors, but it had been too long since they had all eaten together. 

And it would have been worth it for the look of utter contentment on Iwan’s face alone, but it was that good for all of them. The meal had a celebratory feeling. True, there was work yet to be done, and the boys were all disappointed that they hadn’t had a little more time to work on the fence, but they were dry now indoors with a freshly mended roof and laughing together. 

It was Caden who begged a story. He seemed to have been guessing at the approach of bedtime and was greatly interested in delaying it, and decided a story would be a fine way. 

Erran spoke up before Rose could think of one. “What was the one with the brownie that Isie was telling the first day I came? I only heard a little and I don’t remember ever hearing that one.”

“The one with the farmwife who insulted the brownie?” Isie asked. 

“Did she? Last I heard, she was pleased with him.”

“She was, ‘twas an accident. Do you know what to leave out for a Brownie?”

“Bannocks,” Caden said before Erran could reply, and at the same time that Lissie added “Cream!”

Erran grinned. “Bannocks and cream.”

“Well there are things you must never leave out for a brownie,” Isie said solemnly. “You must never leave money, as you can’t pay a brownie for their work as if they were a hired servant. They take great offense.”

“Ahh,” Erran said. “So she left money for him instead of bannocks and cream?”

“Oh no. She made him a suit of clothes, but to this  brownie at least that was just as bad as money! See, at great houses where they have servants, part of their pay comes as nice clothes to wear because everything must look fine in a great house, including the servants. And the farmwife knew none of that, but this brownie did.”

Erran coughed. He seemed to have gotten something stuck in his throat, so Isie paused until he took a sip from his mug and asked her to continue.

“Well that’s almost all of it. The brownie found the nice little suit and thought not only that the farmwife was putting on airs, but that she was considering him her servant and that he would never abide.

“Do the voice!” Caden said with a giggle. “Do it, Isie!”

Isie obliged with a twinkle in her eye and her high voice that she gave a cantankerous twist. 

“Give brownie coat, give brownie shirt, ye’ll get no more o' brownie's work!” 

Before the giggles had quite died down she resumed her storytelling voice. “And then he took himself off and ne’er returned again.”

“Never?”

“At least not that I ever heard,” Isie added in a normal tone. “It is a sad ending, don’t you think? But there. Brownies are a strange folk, and easily offended.”

Lachlan cocked his head, a furrow in his brow. “Erran, you’re not a brownie, are you?”

Erran blinked. Rose could almost see him trying to trace Lachlan’s train of thought to see where the idea had come from, though it was obvious to her, and had to suppress a laugh. Of all the stories to have told that night.

 “I’m rather tall for one, don’t you think?”

Lachlan shrugged. “I dunno. I never saw one.”

“Of course he isn’t one, silly,” Shona said with a laugh. “A brownie would be smaller than the twins.” 

“He came and helped,” Caden put in. 

“Brownies have magic, maybe he could make himself big!” Lissie stretched up her hands as high as she could reach. 

Erran had to have the input of the twins translated for him, as they’d spoken so quickly and their words ran together and he wasn’t so used to that yet. But he smiled and said “No, I’m no brownie. I’ve never seen one myself either but I do hear they’re very wee creatures indeed, and they don’t change their sizes like others of the fair folk can seem to when they’ve a mind.”

“That’s good. I wouldn’t want you to leave and never come back now that mama’s made you something to wear.”                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                    

Erran’s mouth dropped open in a startled Oh before he gave soft laugh and shake of his head. “Don’t worry. I won’t be able to stay long but I’ll visit. You can be sure of that.”

-Epilogue-

Late spring saw Iwan back on his feet with only a slight limp when he wore himself out. Which, knowing him, would continue to be often. One fine Sunday though they walked to the kirk and when Caden got tired Iwan carried him, as had once been their usual arrangement, and he only needed his walking stick towards the end of the journey. 

Erran was there by the door, greeting one of their neighbors. His eyes lit on them and he waved. A moment later he turned back and was on his way to greet them. The children met him halfway, even shy little Lissie.

“Erran!”

“You should see our apple tree!”

“It’s thiiiis big now!”

It certainly wasn’t as big as all that, but it had survived the winter and the sprout seemed hardy.

“You should come see it!”

Erran laughed, then crouched down to be on their level. 

“I’m glad it’s growing so well. I’d love to come and see it.”

“Da says it’ll take a while to bear fruit,” Tann put in. “And when it does they might taste different from yours even though they came from your seeds. When we get ours you’ll have to come and taste some.”

“Hear, hear.” Iwan called out. He was leaning on his walking stick a little now. Erran stood and offered a hand to help him at the steps.

To Rose it mattered less what came of the tree in the end, whether the apples were good for eating, or for cider, or if it bore nothing at all; she was at this moment giving thanks to the Almighty for one seed that had already borne fruit. 

[maximumwobblerbanditdonut]

It was the best of times; it was the end of times. But really what is time? For Caitríona Balfe, Sam Heughan, Sophie Skelton, Richard Rankin, and John Bell, it has been more than a decade of their lives making the time-traveling hit show Outlander. In October, the cast visited the SheKnows studios to reflect on the last 11 years and celebrate the almost end of the best party ever — their jobs. Based on the popular nine-book series by Diana Gabaldon, Outlander is now in its seventh and penultimate season, and officially wrapped filming in November, marking the big finale of a long chapter in their lives. Heughan and Balfe, who’ve brought Jamie and Claire Fraser to life, talked with us in the studio about their on-screen relationship and being off-screen work partners and friends for so many years. And after the shoot, we chatted in-depth with Balfe, Skelton, and Bell to learn what makes one of television’s greatest casts tick. Like a clock. There’s a time-travel joke somewhere in there.

Shortly after the shoot, Heughan left on a trip and is currently climbing Mt. Everest, as one does when they finally get some free time. His partner in time and crime, Balfe, opened up about what it has been like for them and what she loves most about working with the cast. Skelton and Bell reveal why they’ve loved working with Balfe and Heughan, how they’ve grown up on this show, and why the cast is like family to them.

So without further ado, read what the cast had to say about this amazing journey they’ve been on.

Caitríona Balfe — Claire Fraser

SheKnows: You all have been working together for 11 years. What you have loved most about working with this gang? Let’s start with John Bell…

Caitríona Balfe: John Bell is just light. He brings the light, he brings the glitter, he brings the shine. He is always up-tempo and in a positive mood, and he’s just such a sweetheart. Adore, adore, adore. First impression, he was a little baby. I mean, he was so young. We didn’t work together that much because our storylines didn’t really overlap. But I started hearing sneaky little rumors that he liked to have a lot of fun. When we were all in South Africa, I was working a lot, and he and the other people were having a lot of fun. So, I was like, “Oh, he seems like somebody I should get to know better.”

SK: I love it. Let’s move on to Sophie. What do you love about working with Sophie?

CB: Awwww. Oh, my God, I love so much about that woman. First of all, I was so struck by her, because when she first started, she was quite young, and she was so self-possessed and so smart, and I would look at her and I was like, ‘How is she? How is she managing to be so mature about all of this?’ Because I would just be an emotional mess about things, and she was just so poised and self-assured about stuff. Over the years, I truly feel like she’s become my sister. I adore her. She has got such integrity, and she is just such an amazingly beautiful human being, and I really adore her.

SK: And you guys have been together for 10 years!

CB: I know!

SK: Crazy. Okay, Richard!

CB: Richard Rankin! I adore Richard. I have to say, in the beginning, I couldn’t quite work him out. I’m not gonna lie. I was like, ‘Who is this guy?’ He was, you know, one of those cocky Scottish guys. But Richard is such a surprising human. He has got depth and such creativity and such an artistic nature. He continues to endear and surprise me. He’s such a sweetheart.

SK: I love how you said cocky Scottish guy. And then he’s the sweetest.

CB: He’s the sweetest, but I think sometimes, he, as we all do, we present something, and it’s not always our true nature.

R: So, for you and Sam, you’ve always both said, from day one you’ve had each other’s backs. Is there a story that exemplifies having each other’s backs that you can remember?

CB: Oh my God, there’s so many. Sam and I, I feel like we are truly family. And we may not always be the closest in terms of, like, we don’t hang out maybe as much as sometimes he hangs out with other people on the cast, or I hang out with other people on the cast. I think just because sometimes our interests divide, but we truly have each other’s backs. Like, truly are there for each other.

I mean, the first thing that comes to mind, I was having a tough time with a scene and a situation this season, and you know, Sam’s the first person to come to my trailer and be there for me and kind of talk me through it. And talk me down off my ledge and just support me and be such a good f***** human.

A reciprocal one… This is going back a few seasons, but we would do this stuff for each other. He was having a really hard time in his personal life about something, and right before we were getting to do a take, I saw he looked at his phone. And I could see that he was very upset about something. And so, I was like, “He needs a minute, but they’re about to go.” And I was just like, “Ahhhh! I have to go to the toilet!” And I ran out of the room just to stop things so that he could have his minute. And I’m sure everyone thought I had diarrhea, but I was willing to look like I had diarrhea for that man. So yeah, that’s how deep our love goes.

SK: Later on, did you tell anyone? Were you like, ‘I actually was fine.’

CB: No, no, I let it go, I let it go. I let it be.

SK: That’s true friendship love. Chemistry is such a funny concept, and I think a lot of people would say that you two define chemistry, but how do you define it? Looking back on the last 11 years, why do you think it works so well?

CB: I think because we both champion each other. Sam is not somebody who leads with his ego, and I try not to either. I’m sure we both have healthy ones that serve us in some purposes in other ways. But I’m not out there to try and be the best person in anything, and neither is he. We just want each other to shine, and we want the scenes to shine and the work to shine. And I think we always put the work first. I think that as actors, all you have to do is get out of your own way and just let the work speak for itself.

SK: And you have your signature head touch, all those things. Do you guys just do that stuff naturally?

CB: We’ve been working together for 11 years. There’s a language that’s unspoken, that has just evolved between us. My head is probably more full of Claire and Jamie memories of the last 10 years than of my own. We’ve had the privilege of growing with these characters, of living with these characters, and it’s just become second nature, and it’s having a deep trust in each other and a deep respect for each other and a deep love for each other.

SK: Speaking of, the show is ultimately about a love story, and it’s a long-running marriage, which I feel like no other television shows really do. It’s always about the couple—

CB: Roseanne did!

SK: Okay Roseanne… I know how you feel about John Goodman! [Ed: Balfe has admitted that John Goodman was one of her first crushes].

CB: [laughing] Somebody else can analyze that one!

SK: Yeah, we’ll talk about that in a different interview! What do you think sets this couple and this love story apart? And what was a favorite “couple” moment?

CB: Ooh, what sets them apart, I mean, Diana [Gabaldon] created this amazing recipe. You have two people who are very similar but couldn’t be from more different backgrounds. I mean, not even like socially different and nationally different. But also, I don’t know what the word for time in that context is! But, yeah, they’re just so different, but yet so similar in so many ways. And I think that that just creates this great tension between the love and the fight for control and the fight for understanding and all of those things that we want in our lives. I think everybody can see a bit of themselves in them. And they’re fallible, you know, they’re not perfect. They have many flaws, but they respect each other, and they push each other. And I think all of those things are what makes it so aspirational.

And the passion, I mean, we all want that passion in our lives, and we want that passion to sustain. I think most long-married people probably roll their eyes at that. [laughing] Still, everyone wants to believe that that is possible and manageable and attainable

SK: I always think of my grandparents, who were married for 75 years, and they didn’t even stay in the same room by the end. I mean, they really loved each other!

CB: I think love morphs and changes over time. And evolves over time, and what Sam and I were really interested in, was finding what that was in that context of Jamie and Claire’s relationship because it can’t just be the first, you know… lust is the most prominent thing in the beginning, but then passion can change, and passion can still be there, but exist in many different forms. And we were very interested in exploring what that was. The writers were too, and we would push them, and I feel like they would push us. And I think that that was a good, fruitful relationship as well, where in that tension between each side pushing each other, it creates something truthful, something honest.

SK: I love that. In 7b, like every season, Jamie and Claire will be ripped apart and inevitably have their big signature reunion moment. Looking back on all of your reunion scenes, how do you guys do that? There’s usually some big run, a kiss… Do you guys ever mess that up? How does that not go wrong?

CB: [Laughs] Weirdly, they don’t go wrong that much, although Sam is just so big and strong that quite often, I’ll run into him, and it’s literally like hitting a brick wall. So, I usually get a bit winded. I’m always like, ‘Oh God, ugh!’ [mimics running into Heughan], which you just make look like pangs of passion. I don’t know, again, it’s just that weird thing that we’ve been doing it so long that it just sort of seems second nature.

SK: Do you have a favorite reunion moment in all the seasons?

CB: I mean, just because it’s so… kind of cliché, but kind of amazing, and you always sort of want to do one of them in your life, but the running on the beach in season 3!

SK: Yes! I want them to release the behind-the-scenes for that, it’s such a beautiful shot.

CB: We did almost get drowned, as well. I can’t remember exactly, there was a photo shoot where we sort of replicated it. And in one or the other, we were having the kiss, and then we were on the beach, and then the tide was coming in, so we were getting washed and splattered. But yeah, that one has to be the most obvious romantic one.

SK: And this, this season, how would you describe the reunion-ish?

CB: Maybe not quite as well as Claire would have hoped. Definitely not as well as she hoped. Yeah, complicated. A little bit like, “Ooh, whoops.”

SK: Exactly, great description! How have you and Sam influenced each other in a good way and a not-good way? Like, what’s a bad habit you taught each other and what’s a great habit you got from each other?

CB: Ah, okay, I’ll go with the good habits first. I hope, I mean he’s taught me a little bit more about control and not popping off as much. And I hope I’ve taught him a little bit more about not avoiding confrontation as much. And the bad habits we’ve definitely encouraged each other’s absolute juvenile sense of humor far too much. So yeah, we descend into absolute juvenile rubbish.

Sophie Skelton — Brianna Randall Fraser MacKenzie

SK: Sophie, you and Richard started around the same time. Tell me what it’s been like to work together?

Sophie Skelton: It’s super-rare to come on to a show as a duo. We were really thrown in the deep end. I felt so grateful to have him through that. There’s a lot of laughter on set. Especially when we’re all together in scenes. They once had to send Sam and Richard off-set. Caitríona’s close-up, they couldn’t get through it. And so, it was just Caitríona and me. We turned around and Richard was clawing at the windows, “Let us back in!” We’d just come off a press tour, had landed really late on a Sunday night, and we went straight into reshoots at 4 a.m. Monday morning, so we were on another planet. We didn’t know our head from our bottom.

Another scene Sam and Caitríona did that I saw, they have to call the character “Fanny,” which in the UK means something that’s not as commonly used in America. We just all found this absolutely hilarious. The air in the studio is very dense, there’s little oxygen, and it’s very dusty, you get kind of quite lightheaded. So as soon as something is remotely immaturely funny, you’re just done. Caitríona has the most contagious laughter so once she’s gone, we all are.

SK: Is there a story you can share about Richard where he has supported you?

SS: When we were filming, we were staying in the north of Scotland at a hotel, and I was having a phone conversation and was sad. I hung up, then heard a knock on the bathroom wall. I thought, “Did I just hear that?” Heard it again, and thought, “That’ll be Richard.” I knocked on the wall, and he knocked back. So, I went to his front door. He opened the door, and he just gave me a hug.

SK: That’s a good knock. Let’s move on to John Bell!

SS: He and I have been like the kids of the Outlander world. We’ve grown up on this show. I love him so much. He has really good insight into the world. He always makes scenes fun. He takes his job so seriously, he’s like having a little brother on set, but then when you’re off set, he’s kind of like the fun uncle. He’s the one who plans things and will corral everyone, and he brings us all out of our hibernation mode. Because we are quite bad for that. He’s really good at just kind of pulling you out of your shell and making sure the fam sticks together. I love the relationship with Brianna and Young Ian. You know, maybe she should have said, “Yes.” [Ed: Young Ian proposed marriage to his cousin, Brianna in season 4].

SK: Wow. A little cousin marriage twist. You guys once did a TikTok on set. A cousin dance. Do you remember that?

SS: He’s very good at the Tiktok on set. But didn’t that one get taken down? I think because we were carrying (set) guns.

SK: I thought you had a broom.

SS: Interesting, I don’t know. I’m not on TikTok. I know nothing about TikTok. I thought it was spelled with a “C” like a clock, tick tock, until quite recently. I think Izzy has become his TikTok sidekick.

SK: Oh, you got recast.

SS: I’ve been bumped. That’s okay.

SK: It’s for the best. But you’re also a little bit of a grandma thinking it’s tick with a “C” Tok.

SS: I mean that could be on me, or they could have spelled it properly.

SK: Good point, you love good grammar. So, tell us what’s it like working with Caitríona?

SS: It’s a funny dynamic, because in real life, Caitríona, she’s one of my best friends. It’s quite weird to do the switch when you’re then on set and I’m calling her “Mama.” Same with Sam, you’re goofing around off-set, then all of a sudden you’re like, “Da!” I love the way Caitríona works. I really love when an actor gives you full-on eye contact, and you can just feel the energy between you, and everything else outside kind of dissipates. We are also protective over preserving that mother-daughter relationship shown on screen. We just know each other so well. Between takes, we’re always talking, you just never necessarily know what’s going to happen in a scene. I love that. It’s a cool playground with her. She’s one of my favorite people to work with.

SK: Did you screen test with her?

SS: I did! So many things on that trip went wrong. My first time to LA, my ear was completely perforated on the plane, I couldn’t hear properly at all. My Uber crashed right in front of me, it pulled up and had a crash. Luckily, I wasn’t in it. My phone stopped working. My car didn’t turn up to go to the audition.

In the audition, I remember just seeing Caitríona… I just felt I got her. I’d spent so much time watching season 1 over and over, studying her and Sam’s body expressions, facial expressions, little tics that they have, and things that they do. Because I’d ingrained that into my muscle memory, it just kind of came out, and I didn’t have to think about it. There’s a scene where Claire goes to touch Brianna, and I just batted Claire’s hand away. Caitríona said after, “That was when we decided it was you.” Because no one else dared to do that. I was like, “Get off me!” We were just both so in the scene. Clicked with her straight away.

SK: Is there a story you can share that shows how Caitríona has supported you over the years?

SS: She and I used to go to yoga on Saturday mornings, we’d force ourselves. But now it’s very sweet. She lives just around the corner. Sometimes she’ll just know if I’m going through something in my personal life. She’ll just pop around for a glass of wine, we’ll order Indian. She knows so much that’s going on in my life, and I feel she can see more than I can, patterns I’m repeating. She always has this classy, beautiful, supportive way of telling me that but not doing it in a way — she’s never trying to edge me to a decision, and she never says too much. Sometimes she knows me better than I know myself. It’s really beautiful.

SK: How about Sam? What do you love about working with Sam?

SS: For Sam, Caitríona, and I, it’s not very easy for us to let our guards down. It comes with the territory of the job. You’re always on guard with mobile phones. The world isn’t always a safe space. With the three of us, from early on, we had that dynamic, that safety. I get to see a different side of them. Especially with Sam, he’s such a nerdy little kid, and a little dorky, and it’s so fun. We’ll be weird dancing between takes, and all of a sudden, it’s Jamie and Brianna.

SK: Will you release some footage of this dancing between scenes? I think you did release one.

SS: I did! I will take them to my grave unless he wants otherwise. But I have many a video of Sam Heughan jamming out with his dance moves to Taylor Swift, skidding across the floor.

SK: Skidding across the floor?! What song does he love the most that he has rocked out to that you may or may not have video footage of?

SS: ‘Shake it off.’

SK: A classic!

SS: Once, I had some friends over, and Sam was round. We were playing Taylor. It may have been quite loud. There may have been a knock at the door that we didn’t hear. Then another knock. We all just hid! I hid behind the oven. I don’t even know how I did that. One hid under the table. Sam’s in the hallway, standing against the door, and we voted him to be the one to speak to the man. The security guy was like, “Look, guys, can you just turn it down a bit?” So we turned it down, but maybe not quite to his satisfaction. But it’s Taylor!

This was in London and Caitríona had been at the place earlier that day. She’d just left. I remember putting Sam in an Uber in the evening. When I woke up in the morning, all the water had been shut off! I messaged Sam. We were just in fits of giggles. They shut off the water because we were playing Taylor so loud. I think he just didn’t like Taylor Swift, and he was having a moment.

SK: Did you two ever succeed in getting Caitríona to love Taylor as much as you do?

SS: Yeah, but I inadvertently went about it in a two-pronged approach. First approach, now that we are all in one make-up trailer, I would just play Taylor. Exposure therapy. The other, I may have played it for her son and gotten to her that way!

SK: Well played. I feel like you, Sam, and Caitríona have always had this kind of threesome (not like that!), this great relationship. You three hang out more than Jamie, Claire, and Brianna have.

SS: We were just saying it’s so rare that just the three of them get a scene! I know we say a lot on the show that it feels like family, but those two are my family. We were coming back from a fan convention in Paris. Caitríona, Sam, and I were at the airport. We nearly missed the flight, because they were helping me through something and just kept talking. It’s those kind of friendships where you can be a broken record, but no one gets sick of hearing it.

SK: How about a chaos story? There must be many.

SS: At the height of lockdown, when you couldn’t go inside, Sam and I were in Caitríona’s back garden, and she’d set up this really nice cocktail thing outside. And maybe I hadn’t used a cocktail shaker for a long time. I forgot to put on the lid, and I got super excited about shaking it. I overzealously went for it. The whole thing went all over Caitríona, the three of us were just covered in booze [laughing]. And I was just like, “Oh, good job. Good thing we did this outside.”

SK: So, you’re a very unreliable bartender is what I got from that story.

SS: Wouldn’t trust me with knives or appliances or my own hands and feet.

SK: Did your first impression of Sam and Caitríona line up with how you feel about them now? Were you intimidated by them when you first met?

SS: They’re such warm people. Caitríona sets a good precedent. I remember one of the first days of season 3, she just walked in the morning, she looked around at the whole set, and she said, ‘Good morning, everyone.’ And it sounds like such a normal thing, but not many people do it. And I thought, “Oh my god, she does that too!” Sam’s the same. He knows everyone’s names. They ask about the kids, they just set a really friendly, respectful, equal set. They’re beautiful. They really hold the reins so well.

SK: Didn’t the four of you (Caitríona, Sam, Richard), get tacos or something for the set?

SS: Yeah! I think Sam and Caitríona got like an ice cream truck for everyone. There was one year we just ordered loads of pizzas for everyone just because the food isn’t great on set. Sam, Caitríona, Richard, and I actually have a group chat, and we will just send each other bad lunches. We’re going to set up an Instagram account at some point!

John Bell — Ian Murray

SK: John, ready to chat all about your co-stars? Let’s start with Caitríona. What do you love most about working with her?

John Bell: I think Caitríona creates a really super fun and playful environment on set that I respond to really well. She’s someone that really has your back when it comes to creative decisions, if you’re thinking about improvising stuff. She’s always up for play, finding something unique in the scene, and she doesn’t exactly tell you what to do, but if you start talking to her about an idea, she’s very good at guiding you and helping you find the words. She’s a facilitator.

SK: Oh, that’s great. Do you remember your first impression of Caitríona? Were you nervous to meet her?

JB: I remember the first time I met her. She was in bed. I think they had just finished an intimate scene, and it was my first day! First impression was she was incredibly friendly and warm, despite the slightly vulnerable situation that she was in, but also kind of hilarious, because she was like, ‘Welcome to Outlander.’ [laughs] For our scene… I was very nervous. It was my first day on Outlander, my first day back acting in a while as well. But she just immediately put those nerves at ease, and it became a very special day.

SK: I think that was when your character thinks she’s a prostitute?

JB: Yes, yes, happens to her a lot!

SK: Is there a story you can share specifically when Caitríona supported you early on?

JB: Even through rockier times in our lives, Caitríona’s been there for all of us. In South Africa, I remember I was going through a breakup, and she was there for me and helped me. We chatted on the beach one day all about it. She always has time for you. It’s hard to think of just one, but she’s been my first port of call for personal and professional moments, and will continue to be, honestly. I’m seeing her tomorrow.

SK: So, you’re a forever friend!

JB: Yes, she’s not getting rid of me!

SK: You once told me a story about your dynamic on set, and you said that you got a look from Caitríona that kind of sent shudders up your spine. Tell us what happened.

JB: It is a funny story, we laugh about it a lot, and it was a lesson learned. There’s time for play and there’s time for work, right? On that day, it was one of those dining scenes. We were all having a laugh. When we’re all together, something happens between us where we get a bit drunk on each other’s energies. But what I didn’t realize, in my naivety, was that play time was over, and that we were going on to rehearse on camera. When we rehearse on camera, that means stop mucking around. It’s time to lock in. And I made a joke, and Caitríona, looked at me with such ice [laughs].

SK: Was it like “mom dagger” eyes?

JB: It was! It was Big Sis dagger eyes. The whole set, not even just me, the whole crew. Everybody was just like, “Oooh.” And I think she said (very calmly), “Would you like me to do that again?” I have never felt so embarrassed in my whole life. However, I just kind of went, “Sorry, sorry, Caitríona!” And she did it again. Then after we finished, she playfully gave me a little tap on the head, and it was just one of those moments where I was like, “I get you. I get what you were trying to do, you were letting me know. You were teaching the young pup.” And it never happened again!

SK: Lesson learned. For Sam, what do you love most about working with him? First impression?

JB: Sam is similar, the playfulness and an ability to kind of work through things really impressed me with Sam. He has such a natural leadership quality to him that you always feel really taken care of in scenes with him, I’ve always thought that Sam is one of the most generous actors on our show. He gives you his 100 percent, whether the camera’s on you or the camera’s on him. His generosity is something that I love about him.

SK: Were you nervous meeting them? He and Caitríona are sort of like gentle giants.

JB: I was more nervous to just find my place on this show, and they both helped with that. So actually, meeting them wasn’t nerve wracking, per se, as much as it was curiosity. They’re just people at the end of the day. I didn’t have a lot of time to build up who these people were before starting, so I just kind of took them as their first impressions, and my first impressions were that they’re a couple of goofballs. So, I was like, this is going to be so much fun.

continue to the next post…….

Posted 12th December 2024

[marilynthornhilllover]

When you call my name, do you think I’ll come running?

CHAPTER 8 [ The Battle Of The Village : Good vs Evil ]

{Finale Chapters coming this winter}

With the cold comes the hurtful memories, the pain, anger ….. but in the midst of it blooms peace……

In a village where shadows crawl and darkness devours innocent souls, good will rise—not with the force of magic or the fall of the lords, but with hearts unyielding in the face of fear. For it is not the sharpness of the sword nor the roar of the storm that decides the war, but the quiet, steadfast flame of love—unseen by many, unbroken by despair and hope. In the end, it is love that outlasts the night of this battle, binding the shattered and the lost, not with force, but with hope that endures beyond even death itself. And so, even when the world trembles beneath evil’s grasp, remember: victory belongs not to those who fight hardest, but to those who love deepest……

This Christmas… new character and new entailed backstory.

Stefania and rosa walk up to you from behind and place a map on the table. Stefania sighs as a look of fear moves across her face but she speaks up when Rosa gives her a look of urgency.

“ we found a way to get to mother Miranda’s power base, if we’re gonna do this we need to do it together” she says looking over at Rosa.

“ it’s really risky—the entire mission is, and if we do this…. If we fight against her and the black gods magic we may not come back…..” Rosa whispers.

“ I’m doing it for her” you say, because it’s the truth, you’re doing this to save Alcina…… because this winter she has everything to lose but she’s not a monster.

A/N: I wanna give my deepest appreciation to those who came all this way from chapter 1 right here to this chapter finale, thank you to the ones who’ve been here since day 1, I know we’re all heartbroken but good things must come to an end🥹, I’m so thankful for all of you who’ve shown your utmost support towards this series it meant the world to me and for those who loved the relationship between Alcina and the reader, I’m sorry this has to be the final chapter but I will be working on other series like this with different characters and maybe some other ones with lady D, I’m planning to do a “love can be a killer” PT 2 and see how that goes this is not the end guys I can always do backstories and bonus chapters now and then. But really thank you all so much especially @willalove75 because the inspiration came from her chaptered lady D series and just her in general so thank you to her and her never ending support, and also to all my other mutuals like @m1lfsh4ke , @ilovehugslikealotalot who have been nothing but kind and have showed love and compassion. And to the entire tag list persons like : @ilovehugslikealotalot @willalovexx @milkiedimitrescu @willowshadenox @enchantressb @mositblobfish @nclgsticore @vampire-s61914 @snkskyler15 @milkkyshakeez @luisa323 especially Luisa, thank you for taking your time out to read this fanfic this sometimes i honestly didn’t wanna post because I thought no one would read or it would be cringe😭 but you guys always made such funny comments and showed so much enthusiasm so I wanna say thank you again this series wouldn’t have been possible without your continuous support and love <3.

And I know i usually end with my signature on all my posts like - Sincerely, The Mother Of Smut. But today I’m - Sincerely Your Best Friend. ✨💕

[dwampyverseawards]

PYXEHASTOOMANYINTERESTS VS AGENTLIZARDOFOWCA

@pyxehastoomanyinterests

Relevant reason for being submitted: https://archiveofourown.org/works/44009515, https://archiveofourown.org/works/37760605

Propaganda: I am Pyxe but I think I do pretty good with writing and art! I co-created the deity au and made the mad scientist au, plus I think I’ve done neat art. Apologies if it’s selfish to submit myself, I just thought it would be fun to play along.

@agentlizardofowca

Relevant reason for being submitted: Her fics are always enjoyable to rewd

Liz is one of the most skilled and dedicated writers in the community, which is immediately evident to anyone who reads her writing. She specifically writes (human) Perryshmirtz, but shares the love for many of the PNF cast throughout her work on Ao3. She’s a writer who is immediately memorable to those who’ve read her fics, from large scale intrigue plots to 1-2 chapter character driven self-indulgence, her work always stands out. I would say she’s especially relevant having recently participated in the tumblr pshmirtz wedding event, and having concluded her novel-length “Better Left Unsaid” fic in late 2023.

Propaganda: Let's not forget that even Dan Povenmire himself acknowledgements that plot B enjoyers is a specific subset of the fandom on his tiktok

I met her because she decided to write a fic about a Perryshmirtz comic I made that got shared a bit and messaged me with it in dms, and was so nice that we never stopped talking. Manages her adult woman real life job and still has a creative out put rate higher than most people will accomplish in half the time. I can tell you she puts lots of love and research in to them too. I recently made her a 2 part floor plan for an upcoming PnF mystery fic she’s writing, just because she wanted to be absolutely sure where everything and everyone was to plan the story more effectively. Girl cares about the quality of her writing! And did I mention english isn’t her first language? She’s a God amongst men. I also remember her researching the state of Ohio to be accurate in “Better Left Unsaid” (my favorite thing from her,) which she really didn’t need to do. Always going the extra mile.

Contestants may add their own propaganda however they see fit, provided it does not put down the person they are against, and if they continue it will be added to the next poll they are in. All round 1 matches were randomly generated, and anyone may drop out at any time.

[rxinrxinxx]

prisoner!Donquixote Doflamingo x fem!MarineOC

One Piece has come into my life to stay and invade every corner of my mind and that's why here I am, writing fanfiction for the first time in so many years.

what to expect from this fic: a lot of angst, a lot of manipulation, a lot of opposite feelings. It starts off soft but things get quite a bit off track.

the original character: I wanted to describe Rain as little as possible so that everyone can imagine her as they want, but there are certain things about her that are pre-established (some by self insert —sorry not sorry— and others by requirements of the plot) fem!Marine, has the position of Commander within the organization, adult woman, relatively tall (180 cm, 5'11''—and yet she's nothing next to Doffy—), she smokes. The only other physical characteristic besides than height that I"ll include is that she has long hair, and in the future a description of an old scar will also be included. Rain is an user of a devil fruit that can turn her body into crystal, among other crystal-related abilities.

warnings: future dark content, Spoilers of Dressrosa arc. Use of she/her pronouns. Talks in Impel Down. Doflamingo teasing OC. There are no further special warnings in this first, but there will be NSFW content in future chapters. Only for +18, if you are minor, don't continue reading.

words: 3109

English isn't my first language so I'm really sorry for grammatical errors or inconsistencies.

ᴅᴀʏ ᴏɴᴇ

“Has old Tsuru already tired of watching me?” The distinctive grin of the man chained in the cell fills the entire place. Rain sighs, without taking her eyes off her book, which completely covers her face from the prisoner's gaze. The silence had been pleasant until that moment, when he decided to break it. She was having a very quiet first watch, too quiet to be real. “Come on, don't tell me that my new toy’s mute, that’d be a misfortune” his deep voice sends a shiver through her, a shiver she struggles to hide. Her lips curve into a smile that hides everything but joy. «The irony’s deeper than you know» thinks bitterly. She knew it wouldn’t be an easy task and yet there she is, determined to do her job. The silence bothers the chained man, who laughs again before speaking, taking his time to let his voice fill everything, as if his presence were, in fact, everywhere, and not in the darkness of the cell. “You shouldn't treat me like that, I may be locked up but I'm still Donquixote Doflamingo, you should show a little respect, Commander Leela” says smirking, the chains shake and ring with that characteristic metallic jingle. But his words achieve the desired effect for the first time. “Or do you prefer that I call you Rain? Is it appropriate if I call you by your name?” His chuckles flood everything again.

Rain lowers the book to inspect in the darkness of the cell the enormous silhouette of the blonde man, whose eyes are covered by opaque glasses, which prevent any attempt to study his gaze. That gives him a clear advantage from the start. Thick chains wrap his arms, his legs and his abdomen, giving her a feeling of control, which with each passing second she feels becoming thinner, and senses that, at some point, it’ll threaten to disappear. But Rain already knew it wouldn't be easy. “I know perfectly who you are, Donquixote Doflamingo, but I don't remember telling you my name at all” Rain answers in her calmest tone, giving the man the attention he was waiting for.

“If you know who I am, you should know that as a former warlord I liked to be informed of my allies” the man tilts his head. “That includes knowing at least who all the Marine officers are. Especially those who’ve participated in a meeting in the past”.

Rain sighs. So Doflamingo did his homework all that time. Well, so did she. Rain half smiles still looking at him. “How attentive you are” answers with sarcasm in her voice, covering her face with the book again. «Does he just remember my name or does he also remember me, from those warlord meetings he just mentioned?» It doesn't take her long to hear the man's grin again, which seems to have an annoying edge at the end. She looks attentively at the page but hasn't read it for a while —since he started talking— and is sitting in a chair that’s not comfortable, but her posture is relaxed.

“Oh, no, no, no. Now that we know our names, the game begins” Doflamingo's voice sounds calm, like he's really having fun with every word. Rain wonders if he really finds it funny, or if it's just another one of his tactics, aimed at never letting you know what's really happening in his thoughts. She knows she can’t trust anything in the presence of that man.

«But the game started a long, long time ago, didn't it, Doflamingo?» “You must be very bored there, right?” Rain talks back in a calm voice, noticing a certain tension in the prisoner's chuckling.

“You can see for yourself that there isn't much fun around here. They’ve emptied all the adjoining cells, and left me lonely” Rain watches from the side of the book as Doflamingo curls his lips downwards. «Is he really trying to sound sad?» thinks pressing the pads of her fingers against the leather of the lid. “Lucky for me, now I have a beauty to talk to”.

«What in the hell was that?» Rain moves the book away from her face again and looks at Doflamingo with a frown. She didn't expect the man to go down those paths but it's just a confirmation of how bored he is. And he's only been in there for a couple of weeks. “I'm not a beauty, as you well know I'm a Marine commander, and one of my bosses must really hate me for assigning me this job” reproaches in a calm voice.

Doflamingo seems to be amused by her sarcasm for the way he's laughing now. “Believe it or not, you have a captivating charm” Rain doesn't say anything, just looks at the chained man's glasses, who decides to speak again due to the lack of response. “You should feel grateful, it doesn't happen often that someone like me notices someone like you”.

Rain's frown turns into a smile. Now she’s the one who tilts her head. Slowly leaves the book in a huge covered wooden box next to the chair she’s sitting on. “That would’ve some value if there were more people around here, don't you think?” says without much encouragement.

“No, you're wrong about that” a dramatic pause fills the cold place with silence. “This way I can focus all my attention on you” the prisoner chuckles again, entering the Marine's ears.

Rain smiles at Doflamingo for a few seconds, as if she was truly flattered by his words. «Cheap trash». Reaches one of her hands into the pocket of her trench coat and pulls out a pack of cigarettes, from which it takes one, leaving the pack on the wooden box as well. “Oh, but I don't need your attention” now it's her turn to make a dramatic pause to take a lighter from another of her pockets and light her cigarette. She takes a deep drag which Doflamingo watches in silence. As if he was remembering something. “I need you to be a good boy and stay quiet in there. Ok?” Rain's smirk widens. What are the chances that she —or any other stupid person in this world— could say that to Doflamingo, without him slitting her throat before even finishing the sentence? —If he were out of the cell, definitely—.

They both know that the chances are none. And so he chuckles again, even though he's clearly upset, because Rain’s also enjoying that little moment. “There’s a small problem with your request, Rain” she observes how the man moves his arms, and the chains rattle again. “I’ve never been good at following other’s orders” «That-freakin’-laugh-again». Rain closes her eyes for a second, has to start getting used to that sound if she wants to do her job correctly. She must avoid at all costs that he gives her those chills, and much more, avoid that he notices it at some point. Must maintain her composure at any cost.

“And I guess that's why you're here” Rain's tone is innocent, as if she hadn’t read that man's file more than one hundred and fifty times. Cigarette smoke drifts up around her head.

“Actually that’s a point” He replies with a calm voice. “And as you’ll understand, I’m having a hard time here being good…even if I have patience.” Adds, trying to sound nostalgic. “But things can always get interesting, right?”

“It depends on what you consider interesting. For example, I find this book very interesting.” Rain points to the object, although she continues to stare at the prisoner moving only her hand.

“That's because you're not giving me the chance to show you how interesting I am, Commander Leela” Doflamingo sighs, feigning tension, a tension that disappears in a matter of seconds. «How many facial expressions can the bastard make per minute?» “Maybe you’d end up surprising yourself by enjoying my company”.

“Oh, yeah? Do you have more stories than a book?” She knows the answer to that question, and yet her voice sounds curious, naive.

“Many more than you can think” He answers pleased.

“And they’re all terrifying, I imagine” Rain returns without thinking twice. He denies as she laughs.

“Oh no, Rain, not all of them. I’ve had a great time throughout my life, not only filling my hands with the blood of those who dared to challenge me” he doesn't stop smirking, but she detects a threat miles away. And that feels like one. “I can tell you some good stories if you want” Rain smokes again and Doflamingo's smirk grows wider. “But first…I’d like to hear a story from a Marine Commander, I'm sure you also have interesting adventures.”

«The game is still on, right?» “They’re not as interesting as those of a pirate and king. Surely you already know very well the tasks of a Marine Commander”.

Doflamingo's chuckling is loud again. “A pirate and king… I like the way that sounds on your lips, say it again for me” Rain rolls her eyes at his demand. For the first time since she’s been there decides to get up from the chair she occupies and takes a couple of steps forward, carefully observing the prisoner from top to bottom, taking her time to answer.

“You’re more out of reality than I expected” she remarks after a few seconds of silence.

“Are you sure I am?” Doflamingo chuckles darkly this time. “Will you not please the simple request of a poor chained prisoner? You’re a cruel woman, Rain” shakes his head, abusing the drama once again.

“I must be really bad if you’re the one who says it” she answers with sarcasm, a sarcasm that hides all the truth that exists in her thoughts about him. He smirks back at her, watching every step she takes towards his cell.

“Since you seem to know me so well, I must tell you that evil usually recognizes itself, Commander Leela” Rain crosses her arms as she listens to those words, with the cigarette hanging on her lips, a little surprised. Her face remains impassive, trying her best not to show any reaction, but her eyes betray her showing that internal surprise.

“What makes you think that?” Asks with all the innocence she can feign. Doflamingo sighs heavily and settles against the wall. The chains echo in the silence.

“There’s something in your gaze that tells me” his words sound calm, and clicks his tongue before continuing to speak. “Or are you going to say that you’re one of those who buy into the idea that the Marines are fair and everything they do is moral?” Lets out a chuckle. “Sorry, are you going to lock me up for saying this?” He mocks clearly, raising both hands. Rain can't help but laugh too. A really sincere laugh that Doflamingo listens to attentively without her realizing it.

“You, on the other side, believe that we’re all puppets at the service of power. Don’t you? You know a lot about puppets, I suppose. More than the Marines I’d say” she replies back without losing her smile.

“I think that at least we both agree that there can be no middle ground” the prisoner seems amused by that conclusion. “The question is, which extreme are you on, commander?” 

Rain takes another few steps closer to the cell. She appreciates that he waits for that question in silence, a silence that she enjoys for a few seconds before answering. Takes a deep, final drag before removing the cigarette from her mouth, which is about to end. “I have my own vision of justice. When I was young, I thought it didn't exist, then somebody taught me that it doesn't necessarily have to be that way. That people can do justice where there seems to be none.” A devastating memory overwhelms her mind but she tries hard to keep her face from reflecting it.

“I see. Who taught you that?” Rain can't tell if it's true curiosity, what that tone of voice conveys to him. «It's just your imagination». Not to confuse things for her at this moment is decisive. But the worst thing is that she has doubts. She smiles, puts the dying cigarette one last time to her lips, burning it slightly her bottom lip with the last drag, and throws the butt with too much force to the ground, a movement that doesn’t go unnoticed by Doflamingo's attentive gaze, still hidden behind his sunglasses.

“Does that matter?” Rain tries to deflect the question.

“It must be someone very important if it made you change your mind so drastically” he assumes, completely ignoring her question. “Hasn't the time you've been a Marine made you change your mind again? I'm sure you've seen a lot of things.”

“Oh yes, I’ve seen many things, and that has strengthened it. Justice is only stained paper if people don’t ensure that it exists”. «What the hell are you doing talking to him as if he were an old friend?» She reproaches herself. “But I'm not here to talk about moral issues”.

“I can't talk about the weather being locked up here” Rain sighs at the man's marked sarcasm. “I need to entertain myself with something”.

“Good luck with that, I think I'm going to continue reading my book” she turns to come back to her chair and hears a heavy sigh behind her. That reaction almost made her smile. Almost.

“Wait”. Rain stops walking and turns around in her own footsteps, once again facing the prisoner's attentive gaze. “I propose something to you. I’ll tell you a beautiful story of those that I mentioned before, and you’ll tell me a horror story from your years as a Marine” his chuckle fills the entire space again. “I'm sure you have more than one, and so in the end, by the time I leave here, we’ll see that we’re not as different as you may believe”.

Rain can feel another shiver run down her spine. There are too many sensations that thought she could control, some that she expected and others that still cannot identify, but there’s something running inside her that doesn't allow her to maintain all the calm that her position requires. In other circumstances she’d be different, very different. She’d like to say that his words are only to scare her, to tease and mock her. But the calmness with which he talks about himself and his future makes her extremely nervous. As if he already had one foot out of the cell, as if he was taking a vacation from destroying everything around him. She's not sure how much time it takes to respond, but in that time Doflamingo calmly studies every slightest movement of her face.

“I’ve to admit that your optimism surprises me. But you're not getting out of here”. Her voice sounds calm as she says those words, at least she’s putting all her effort into making it so. But still doesn't know which of the two she’s trying to convince.

“I'm going to take that as a compliment, Rain, and you don't know how much I like it” He teases her once again. “But I’m going to get out of here. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow” Doflamingo's back leaves the wall to lean forward, his huge legs bent in front of him. Rests his arms on his knees, his glasses pointed directly at Rain's face, and laughs deeply and slowly. “But one day I will, and who knows, maybe that day I’ll take you with me”.

Rain doesn't know if it's a warning, a threat, or if he's just making fun of her. She doesn't like any of the options. “I’ve nothing to do with you, much less outside these walls”. Responds dryly and seriously. The mere thought sends her a searing pain to the bottom of her head. Calmness is not an option anymore.

“You're entertaining, you like to tell me things that you know you couldn't tell me if I weren't chained” he shrugs his shoulders, his words sound prideful. “I think I liked it, for once in my life. You seem so confident...I wonder if you’d be the same if circumstances were different. I’d really like to see that” he finishes his words with another deep chuckle. “And I also think there are many things we can do”.

“What a shame, ‘cause the only thing that interests me is keeping you in there” she smiles widely, enjoying every word, noticing the man's annoyance at cutting off that poor attempt at flirting from his part. “Besides, I'm sure you can do much better” Rain catches herself reproaching. «The plan wasn’t to enter straight to his domain, you genius».

“So now you wanna play” he smirks darkly, ignoring the previous annoyance. “Better for me” Doflamingo leans his back against the wall again, with nothing else to do but study the new fly in his net. Rain sighs in denial.  She raises her left arm to look at the watch on her wrist, and a smile forms on her lips. «Saved by the bell» thinks for her own gloating.

“As much as I’d like to stay and try one of your twisted games…” Tries to feign pity, although she's not as good at it as he is. “It's time for me to go. It’s already late out there”.

Doflamingo stops smiling. He doesn't seem too happy with Rain's sudden turn of events. “Yeah, it's a real shame, now that we’re starting to have fun” Rain shakes her head and turns again to begin her walk towards the employee area. Her steps are calm, posture relaxed, picks up the book and the pack of cigarettes from the wooden box as she passes by without saying a single word. “I guess we’ll continue tomorrow”. Insists Doflamingo.

“I guess you're not giving me a choice”. Rain answers amused. “Rest, Doflamingo”. Says without turning to look at him as she walks away from the cell. «’Cause education talks about yourself and not about the person in front of you» says to herself somewhat annoyed.

“Good night, Rain”. She hears the mocking tone of the man behind her, which makes her take out another cigarette and put it between her lips. «Not so bad for the first day» tries to comfort herself when arrives at the prison employee area, ready to try to sleep as much as possible. This is just the beginning, something tells her that she still doesn't really know how annoying the man can be when he has nothing else to entertain himself with.

Sorry this man drives me absolutely crazy and this is just the beggining of the fall for Rain. Lets pray for her.

𝙃𝙤𝙥𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙚𝙣𝙟𝙤𝙮𝙚𝙙 𝙞𝙩.

[alessiopetti01]

Maternity Photoshoot Services in Melbourne

Boudoir is about liberation, celebration, freedom, and just being. It’s a container to explore yourself however you want to, to be the version of yourself you want to be.Watch and read what other women have to say after their boudoir experience with Le Chat Noir Boudoir.

5 Reasons to do a Bridal Boudoir Photoshoot Before Your Wedding

1.To Celebrate Yourself You’re getting married! This is such an exciting time, it’s not uncommon that your big wedding day might also be one of the most overwhelming things you will plan in your life time. Doing a boudoir shoot is a great opportunity for you to slow down, let yourself be pampered, and enjoy some “you” time to celebrate what a vivacious bride to be you are!

2.It’s the ultimate Grooms Gift! One of the most spoken reasons women do a boudoir shoot is to gift their boudoir photos to their significant other on the day of the wedding! Even if you are doing a boudoir shoot mostly for yourself, there is no denying that a bridal boudoir album is hands down THE ultimate grooms gift. Not to mention, a jaw droppingly unforgettable surprise! It’s intimate, thoughtful, timeless, stunning and incredibly sexy. It’s the gift of YOU that you and your lover will cherish forever.

3.To boost your confidence!

For many women, fitting their wedding dress, walking down the aisle in front of all of your friends and family, and standing before the one person you’ve been dreaming of spending the rest of your life, can bring out tons of emotions! You want to look and feel your best on a day that you’ll remember forever.

Doing a boudoir shoot is a great way to boost your confidence before the wedding! It may be a step out of your comfort zone — but that’s a good thing! Doing a bridal boudoir shoot can help you get used to being in front of the camera before your big day. If you’re brave enough to do that in sexy lingerie, and show up for yourself just as you are right now, then this shoot will surely help boost your self-esteem before the wedding!

Listen, your future forever one has already seen so many parts of you — likely one’s you’ve shown no one else (good days and bad days). They are CHOOSING you for the long haul — right? For better or for worse, to love and cherish you unconditionally. They accept you for you, see you for all of your strengths and your beauty… A boudoir shoot can help you see that, too!

4.To capture your special moment.

As a bride to be, you are getting ready to embark on a new chapter. This is a pivotal moment in time and a season of life that evokes some pretty incredible feelings!

A boudoir shoot is a great way to capture those feelings right now, and be reminded of this beautiful time of your life every time that you look back on your photos.

5.An excuse to buy lingerie!

Your bridal boudoir does not have to be taken just in bridallingerie, but bridal sets are among some of the most beautiful and intimate pieces of lingerie you’ll ever own! And have fun with it! If you really want to make it a spectacle, surprise him wearing the same lingerie you took your boudoir photos in on your Honeymoon!

What do other women say about their Boudoir Sessions?

With my love for boudoir, I could go on for hours about why every woman should book a session. The best part is you don’t have to just take my word for it. Check out some of these amazing testimonials and live videos from clients who’ve had the experience!

[slightlyrebelliouswriter23]

Writing smut without cringing the whole time? How do you do it.

Writing Smut 101: Overcoming Smut Shame

CONTENT WARNING: NSFW RELATED CONTENT BELOW.

The short answer, nonnie, is: you don’t. 

That is to say, writing smut is always kind of cringe—especially if you’re new to it, or simply “not in the mood” to write. 

But rest assured, feeling embarrassed is completely natural. The trick is learning how to overcome the cringe when it does happen, instead of letting it deter you.

I’m going to break this up into a few sections: 1) Why you might be feeling this way, 2) How I, personally, combat the issue, and 3) Some more tips that might help you get the ball rolling.

1. Why You “Cringe”

It’s important to find the root cause of any form of writer’s block so you can pull the weed out instead of just trimming it back. Smut writer’s block is its own special brand, and generally, the main issue writers have when it comes to smut is stigma.

Speaking openly and honestly about sex, in Western society, is still very much a taboo.

No matter how “progressive” we like to think we are, the inherent shame surrounding pleasure-seeking experiences, and the detailing/consumption of them, has been ground into us since we learned how to understand the concept of gratification.

And I’m not just talking about sexual gratification. This applies to everyday things, as well. Eating, shopping, relaxing (or doing virtually anything in capitalist society that does not directly contribute to capitalism).

So it makes sense that you would feel any amount of embarrassment, awkwardness, or “cringe” when writing smut. It’s something our society teaches us is wrong to want. Unfortunately, that shame translates to writer’s block when we sit down in front of the computer.

A lot of this blockage might stem from not giving ourselves permission to write the thing.

We’re staring at the blank document, knowing we want to write smut, and suddenly the thoughts start streaming in: This feels wrong, is this wrong? What if someone comes in and looks over my shoulder while I’m writing? Am I describing this right? Is this too unrealistic? I have NO idea what I’m doing, and everyone is going to know it.

These are all perfectly normal thoughts, and definitely ones I still have from time to time. But they’re also probably the direct cause of why you feel so blocked. Luckily, I have some bits of advice to give you on how to unblock yourself.

2. How I Combat Smut Block

✦ First, when the intrusive thoughts occur, instead of ruminating on them, think of each one as an impermanent object. You can use any metaphor, but I like to use the imagery of leaves:

Each negative thought is a leaf floating down the river of your mind. If you focus only on the leaf, you’ll exert a lot of energy running to try and keep up with it, consequently miss everything else around you. But if you acknowledge that leaf as a temporary part of the scenery, and let is pass, you can process and appreciate the beauty of your surroundings a whole lot better.

Remember: you are separate from your thoughts. You are not defined by them. The things you think sound stupid might be incredibly exciting to someone else. 

If you can string a sentence together, you can write smut. This is all part of giving yourself permission to write the thing that makes you feel uncomfortable.

✦ Second, I’d suggest giving good thought to how you personally experience embarrassment, how you experience excitement (of the sexual variety), and how those two might sometimes commingle or feel similar.

For me, they are very comparable, like different shades of the same emotion—but there are differences which are important to note. 

If I’m making myself blush from excitement, this is a very good thing for writing smut. It means that what I’m writing feels real enough to evoke something in the reader, even if the reader, like me, knows what’s going to happen.

If I’m making myself cringe, however, it may be time to take a step back and readjust my perspective.

✦ Third, ease yourself into it! Don’t jump straight in the deep end and expect to know how to keep your head above water if you’ve never swum before.

The way I eased myself into smut was first by writing “Steam”—a category of fic I made up because the current vocabulary lacked an efficient term for fics that straddled emotional romance and explicit content. 

Essentially, steam is smut-adjacent but not explicit, and here’s a step-by-step example of how I transitioned myself smoothly from one genre to the next:

I first wrote my fics Wicked Game and You Are (both of which feature either a heavy make out session or teasing + lots of sexual tension) with this “steam” concept in mind.

I wrote the first chapter of Fine Line, which has brief but explicit descriptions of fantasies, framed by a very sexually charged scene.

I released my fic Crashing, which is probably more of a bridge between Steam and Smut, and features soft-focus fingering. Nothing in it is explicit—it focuses more on the emotions than explicit detail—but it’s very clear what is happening.

After I wrote those, I felt just confident enough to make that final stride over the threshold into smut. I wrote my fics Holy, King, and the second chapter of Fine Line all within weeks of each other.

And trust me when I say, once you get the momentum going and receive that validation from people who’ve read your work, it becomes SO much easier to sit down and start writing. 

You just have to finish that first piece.

✦ Finally (and I know I’m going to sound cliche when I say this), just like any other skill, the more you practice the more confident you will feel and the better you will get. 

So practice, practice, practice! 

If you’re nervous about posting smut for the first time, have a trusted friend/mutual Beta read it for you. It’s the online equivalent to someone holding your hand before jumping off the cliff, and works wonders for the nerves.

3. Keep The Smut Rolling

Now that you have some tools to help get you past the blockage of writing smut, here’s how to keep the inspiration flowing.

✦ Start by incorporating smutty fanfiction/erotic fiction into your regular reading rotation- 

Of course AO3 is a fantastic resource for smutty fanfiction. 

If you’re a fan of TFOTA or ACOTAR and want some of my personal fic recs, visit my fic rec masterlist.

In terms of erotic fiction, my personal favourites are anything Anais Nin (specifically Henry & June and Delta of Venus), The Thornchapel series by Sierra Simone, The Godwicks series by Tiffany Reisz, and The Original Sinners series by Tiffany Reisz.

There are also sites like Literotica and sexstories.com, which play host to explicit short fiction (not fandom based).

✦ Next, I’d recommend having a designated digital space for smutspiration- 

This can be a list of “smutty” words/phrases kept on a separate document on your computer, for those days when you just can’t think of the right way to describe something. 

Or you can create a private side-blog or Pinterest board for your favourite smutty fanart or other kinds of visual smutspiration.

✦ For that matter, try following some smutty/18+ blogs (ONLY IF YOU’RE 18+) here on Tumblr-

Many of them have a plethora of what I like to call “lemony snippets”, a.k.a. short text posts that describe (usually in conversational language) explicit scenarios. 

This is useful because it will normalise the concept of sexual fantasies in your brain, making it less weird for you when you try to come up with ones of your own to write into smut. 

Not to mention, your dash will be rife with inspiration.

✦ I would also suggest checking out 18+ ASMR on YouTube (AGAIN, ONLY IF YOU’RE 18+). 

My favourite account is Professor Cal Official, but Auralescent also has some good content. 

Headphones are highly advisable for this, as their stuff is very dangerous for work.

So, nonnie, I hope this has provided you with at least one helpful tip. Whether you took anything away from this or not, just know that the feelings of embarrassment when it comes to writing smut are entirely normal. And the best way to keep those feelings at bay is to confront them head on. 

-Em 🖤🗡

Writing Advice Masterlist

Writing Masterlist

2K Celebration!

[mearcatsreturns]

Okay, so you KNOW I'm now inevitably forced to ask for the actual fic prompt of Ivan trying to give his boss romantic advice, casual-like. (No need to confine yourself to 100 words. I mean what.)

I thought I could just write a thousand words of jokes, but then all these fools came and had the audacity to put feelings up in here. *Ivan voice* Disgusting.

Initially I was going to have this all as one chapter, but it was getting crazy long and I wanted to publish it tonight, so you get chapter 1 of 2, with the rest to follow in the next day or two.

Without further ado, Ivan, Interrupted:

Looking back, he should have seen the signs. The Sun Summoner is trouble and has been from day one.

He called that one, at least.

It’s not his fault. How is he supposed to recognize the stupidity of heterosexuals? He and Fedyor fell in love as young teens and haven’t parted in anger since. They look out for each other and try to spoil each other in all the small ways the other enjoys.

The General and Alina Starkov are a different story.

&&&

Ivan is there when the oprichniki drag Alina into General Kirigan’s tent in Kribirsk. She looks all for the world like the otkazat’sya he’s fought near the border of Shu Han. He can’t hold it against her, though; he knows better than anyone that appearances can deceive.

What he can hold against her is her denial. Even after twice showing that she can indeed summon sunlight, the little fool somehow believes she’s not Grisha. General Kirigan, a human amplifier and probably the most powerful Grisha on the planet, touches her and confirms it, and she still clings to her past. Ivan can’t understand why someone would want to deny something so intrinsic.

More worryingly, he sees his commander’s face as he tries to figure out the Starkov girl. It’s not a look he’s ever seen on Kirigan’s face, and it fills him with dread. The bemusement at her reply to his questioning about what she is turns to something...joyous and darkly yearning, in the General’s understated way.

People consider Ivan stoic and difficult to read, but he learned from the best, and his boss is the best.

Ivan is very discomfited to see Kirigan showing signs of experiencing emotions.

&&&

His unease only grows when Kirigan commands him and Fedyor to escort the Sun Summoner to Os Alta.

“Ivan, I need you and Fedyor to accompany Miss Starkov to the Little Palace. Make haste, and use all your formidable talents to keep harm from coming to her.”

“But the mission to West Ravka—”

“Will have to wait. Everyone in a twenty-mile radius saw her light show, and that may well include some of Ravka’s enemies. She—this—is more important than anybody knows. Keep her safe, and I’ll keep you and Fedyor off the front lines for six months.”

Ivan clears his throat.

“Yes?” Kirigan asks with a lift of his brow.

“Will you be staying, or do you need me to send word ahead that you’ll be arriving as well, sir?”

The General’s face smooths into its usual mask of power and calm. “No, I imagine I may well arrive before you all, as you’ll be taking my carriage.”

“As you say, General.”

Kirigan dismisses him, and he stomps off to find Fedyor so they can leave posthaste.

Ivan’s exasperation only grows when the Starkov tries, of all things, to stay and find some tracker friend of hers, tries to deny who she is. She even questions the General’s judgment, something not even Ivan dares to do.

(Privately, he agrees that this whole endeavor is a mistake. Alina Starkov is trouble, and he has an uncomfortable feeling that all their lives are about to change in ways no one can predict).

He hauls her into the carriage, plopping her on the seat across from the one he shares with Fedyor. Perhaps one of them ought to sit next to her to make sure she doesn’t get into any further foolishness, but Ivan’s crabby enough he wants to sit next to his husband.

Once they get out of Kribirsk and on the Vy, she settles down a bit, but she radiates nervous energy and it puts him on edge.

Fedyor, bless him, does his best to put the Sun Summoner at ease. But she’s resentful and afraid, and it irritates Ivan. He knows he should try to be understanding, but with all the fear and resentment he’s put up with from the otkazat’sya—his own family, even—he struggles to find the patience to explain why she should trust in the General and the Grisha. Nonetheless, he tries to soothe her the only way he knows how: by reminding her of the power she now holds.

Ivan’s thoughts drift to what might await them all in Os Alta, but his ruminations are interrupted by the shouts of the oprichniki warning them of a blockage in the road.

The dread he was feeling dissipates in the face of the familiar. He’s ready to fight against an ambush by Ravka’s enemies. He’s not ready to confront the existential questions Alina Starkov brings.

And fighting side-by-side with Fedyor never grows old. His blood sings, his heart pounds with the fierce excitement of a fight with his beloved at his side.

The fucking Fjerdans. Ivan hates the drüskelle for their hatred of the Grisha, and that fire burns hotter when Fedyor is hit in the leg. Fear twists in his belly as he examines Fedyor’s wound, though he claims it’s fine. Ivan, the most feared heartrender in Ravka, can’t concentrate enough to tell how many their enemies number, so he delegates it to Katya. He remembers the Summoner in the carriage, and issues a command for one of the other Grisha to protect her, but the screams fade into the background of his mind as he does his best to heal Fedyor.

Then he senses the shadows that accompany Kirigan—the reason the people mutter in fear, call him the Darkling—and the Fjerdans melt back into the wood. Shame mixes with his fear for Fedyor, and Ivan swears to himself when, after a few moments he hears the General speak to one of the Etherealki who’ve made it back to the carriage.

“Tend to the wounded. Then tell Ivan to make sure everyone gets back to Little Palace as quickly as possible and report to me. I’ll be waiting.”

“Yes, sir.”

Shit. He had one job, and she’s now riding off in the General’s arms.

Alina Starkov is definitely trouble.

&&&

They finally arrive back at the Little Palace late that night. Once everyone, the Grisha and the horses, are all seen to, Ivan makes his way to General Kirigan’s rooms. The oprichniki guarding the door nod at him and make way for him to knock. The General calls out in that even tone of his for Ivan to enter. He does so, anxiety and defiance mixing in his chest.

Nonetheless, Ivan is deferential. “Sir.”

Those dark eyes sweep over him from head to toe, and where there’s normally amusement or quiet affability, he’s unreadable as he is when meeting with the tsar and tsaritsa. “I see you’ve made it back. Are you well?”

“Yes, sir.” Ivan begins to sweat under the woollen collar of his kefta.

“And Fedyor?”

“Much better. He’s recovering.”

“Good,” the General says, pausing for a long, uncomfortable moment before continuing, “now, perhaps you could explain why you disregarded my clear, express orders to guard Alina.”

Alina, he notes. Not “Miss Starkov” or “the Sun Summoner.”

Ivan’s jaw tenses. “My apologies, moi soverennyi. Fedyor was shot while we were attempting to protect the carriage. I thought we’d be better able to protect her with both our powers.”

The Darkling—for that’s who he is at this moment—turns to face the windows. It’s black as pitch outside, but it wouldn’t surprise Ivan if Kirigan could see through the shadows of the night. “I don’t want excuses, Ivan. Had I not been nearby, Alina would have been lost, and Ravka would have lost its greatest hope in centuries.”

Ivan waits, knowing there’s little he can say.

Kirigan turns back. “See that it doesn’t happen again, or I will see to it that you and Fedyor are put on different assignments for the foreseeable future.”

Anger rises in his throat, but Ivan stomps it down. It will do him no favors to argue. The only thing he can do is go to bed, hold Fedyor close, and hope things settle soon. “Yes, General.”

&&&

The next day, a contingent of the Grisha accompany General Kirigan and Alina to the Big Palace. Ivan is used to walking by the General’s side, but Alina is there instead. With Fedyor still recovering in their rooms under the care of the healers, Ivan is alone, distant from the group. He feels a pang of melancholy so fierce it threatens to overwhelm him.

The Sun Summoner looks much better today than she had when he last saw her, and it seems Kirigan thinks so too. After he greets the King and Queen, he can hardly take his eyes off the girl, that same awed, wondering look in his eyes again.

Through the shadows his boss conjures, Ivan sees the way he looks at her, the way he leans over to whisper in his ear, the gesture nearly a caress. The Summoner lights up the darkness, and Ivan can’t take his eyes off the two of them. Alina Starkov smiles at Kirigan, and instead of the polite, unknowable smile he’d normally return to a courtier or even one of his rare mistresses, Kirigan looks back at her like she’s his every dream come true.

After the display is over, the King tries to bumble his way through negotiating over Alina’s training. And in front of the entire court and a good number of the Grisha,the General claims Alina. She will stay in the Little Palace with him, Kirigan states, his tone brooking no argument, not even from the sovereign ruler of Ravka.

Kirigan takes Alina’s hand and leads her away from the throne, and the two pause to speak in quiet tones. Ivan can’t hear them, but Alina’s eyes glow with admiration and the General is looking back at her with...warmth.

It’s not right, Ivan thinks, even as the General departs and the Grisha welcome Alina. This situation is getting more and more troublesome.

&&&

When Ivan arrives back in their room, he’s relieved to see Fedyor awake, though he’s lying in bed with a book. Fedyor sets the book on the bedside table and smiles at him, and Ivan feels some of the tension in his shoulders melt away.

“Why so grumpy, my love?”

“Not grumpy, Fedya. Worried.” He takes off his boots, middle of the day be damned, and climbs into the bed next to his husband.

Fedyor opens his arms, and Ivan goes to him, snuggling in and leaning his head against his shoulder. “About what, Vanya?”

He shrugs as best as he can while in his favorite person’s embrace. “The Sun Summoner is dangerous.”

“So are all of us Grisha, and even the otkazat’sya with training.”

“Not like that. I mean...I-I think General Kirigan has feelings.”

Fedyor had been running his hand through Ivan’s hair, but he pauses. “In general? Or for Alina?”

“For Alina. Fedyor, it was very strange. He looked warm and like he wanted to kiss her, in front of all those people. And then he held her hand.” The Darkling has had lovers, and Ivan is very aware of this, but he’s never seen him act this way around any of them.

With a huff that might be a laugh, Fedyor says, “He deserves a chance at love, too, especially after he’s been so good to us. He tried to help us when we were younger and more foolish.”

That’s true; Kirigan has been nothing but supportive of them when not everyone else has. He even tried to advise Ivan when he was sorting out his feelings for Fedya more than a decade ago. It hadn’t been good advice, but an attempt had been made, at least.

“He seems...lonely,” Fedyor continues.

Ivan nods. “There is no one like him, no one at his level, so who could stand beside him?”

“Maybe Alina.”

Fedyor seems to like the girl, but Ivan isn’t convinced. Is she strong enough to stand next to their leader who has done so much for not just the Grisha, but for Ivan and his beloved?

&&&

The next day, Ivan joins the rest of the Grisha for dinner. Kirigan is off doing something statecrafty and Ivan has the place of honor at his boss’ right hand, so he is ostensibly in charge of the gathering in the General’s absence.

Except he knows Alina was given the choice to sit in Kirigan’s seat in his absence, or to sit at his side were he here. Instead, the girl chose to sit with the other Etherealki. She’s there laughing with Marie and Nadia, indulging in this opulent meal provided for the Sun Summoner, because apparently their usual hearty peasant fare wasn’t good enough.

Resentment curdles in his stomach as he reads out the casualty list, staring down Alina the entire time. She looks stricken, but her concern seems to be more for the otkazat’sya than her fellow Grisha.

Something in him snaps. “Why are you here eating figs? Hmm? You should be training every waking moment to tear down the Fold.”

But when he sees her face, hurt and downcast, he feels a pang of regret for how he handled this.

Kirigan will not be pleased.

&&&

It turns out that Fedyor isn’t pleased either. He had accompanied the General to the dinner he’d gone to, as Fedyor is far more diplomatic than most of the senior Grisha. It’s because of that diplomacy and open friendliness that it takes him less than three hours to hear about Ivan’s outburst.

Ivan is sitting in his chair in front of the fire, doing his best to wind down after the day. Fedyor enters the room, closing the door behind him.

“How was dinner and politics?”

Fedyor scowls at him, and his heart sinks. “Don’t try to be cute and solicitous. I heard about what you did to that poor girl. Badly done, Vanya, badly done.”

“Can we go back to the part about me being cute, please?” Ivan rubs his hands over his face. He and Fedyor rarely disagree, so when they do…

“No. Alina Starkov just found out days ago she’s Grisha, and she’s been pulled away from the only life she’s known, from her friends and comrades. She’s fended off the volcra, almost been murdered by the drüskelle, and has had to get used to a new training regimen for skills she barely knew she had, to say nothing of the high stakes of her every move now.”

“She’s an orphan of Keramzin. How is this not better than anything she’s ever known?”

Fedyor stops pacing for a moment. “Ivan, that’s why we should be kind. She’s never known the love of a family beyond that of the First Army. And you know what they whisper about the Grisha. We were children when we got here, and our families sent us here out of love. It was easier for us to adjust. She’s grown up her whole life hearing the lies most of the otkazat’sya believe about us. She needs time and understanding.”

“But we don’t have that much time. Zlatan is agitating in West Ravka, Fjerda is worse than ever, and Shu Han is causing as many problems as ever. Why can’t she see that unless she is at her best and soon, Ravka is in danger? The Grisha are in danger?” Ivan is furious, but more than that, he’s exhausted.

At that, Fedyor softens. “Ah, my love. You carry a heavy burden. But she’ll have to bear an even heavier one soon,” he says, coming over and placing a warm hand on Ivan’s shoulder.

Ivan reaches up, placing his hand over Fedyor’s. “I just want her to be ready.”

“She will be.”

With a sigh, Ivan pulls Fedyor into his lap, nuzzling his neck. He’s ready to make up.

“Ivan?”

“Hmm?”

“You do realize that people also have to eat in order to be able to train, don’t you?”

&&&

He knows he should, but Ivan can’t bring himself to apologize to Alina. He does try, however, to be more understanding of the enormity of what she faces, the pressure on her to succeed. He tries to be kinder, less abrupt. But he can’t change who he is.

Fortunately, General Kirigan seems more amused than anything else at Ivan’s dinner outburst. It’s a week or so later, and Kirigan is ready to dismiss Ivan for his next couple of days off. “I would tell you to enjoy your time with Fedyor, but maybe you’ll be training instead, since that’s apparently what we all must be doing every waking moment.”

Ivan shoots him a panicked look, but calms down when he catches the amusement in the General’s eyes.

“Indeed. We will train ceaselessly and closely, moi soverennyi.” Somehow, he manages to keep a straight face.

Kirigan just snorts, and Ivan is extremely disgruntled when he mutters under his breath about needing some of that kind of training of his own.

[sitaarein]

None Stand Equal In This Dark World

A/N: Officially my largest ever fic so please. Just read it and be nice sob because I’m kinda proud of some of it

Written for @grishaversebigbang 2021!!!

Corporalki: @homicide-depot​

Materialki: @generalnabri (x), @kolarpem (x), @aivicart (x), @maximumbluebirdpatrol , @niadrawing (x)

 (Summary: A murder mystery AU featuring Zoyalai, twists and turns, moral dilemma, and then some more

Read on AO3

Chapter One

The apartment door was wide open.

 In retrospect, that alone should have set off the alarm bells in Zoya’s head. No one left the door to their place wide open. She can’t imagine why she simply dismissed it. 

 Scratch that, she knew why. She’d been tracking this idiotic Grisha for a month now. She was tired and desperate. 

 But it appeared that- who would’ve thought- not being at the top of your game has consequences. 

 Consequences like staring down a man who’s been tied to a chair and gagged in the middle of, what Zoya guesses is, the lounge, eyes wide with terror.

 Zoya is mad at herself for not managing to guess it was a red herring- the damn door - and very, very mad at the Grisha who has, once again, slipped right through her hands. 

 She nods to one of her men, and he immediately drops to the man’s level to untie and presumably interrogate him. Zoya doesn’t stick around for the details- she trusts her people to give her good reports. Instead, after a cursory look around, she tips her head back to face the ceiling, taking in a deep breath, and leaves the apartment. 

 The weather outside took a dramatic turn in the fifteen minutes she was inside- it had been sunny before, or at least as sunny as Ravka ever could get. But now, the sun has all but ceased to exist, and the bitter cold is back once more. 

 Zoya prefers the cold. 

 (She doesn’t, not really, but no one needed to know that.)

 Zoya starts walking, pulling her coat tighter around herself. Her mind races, trying to connect all the dots, trying to figure out where her investigation had gone wrong. Start from the beginning. Don’t miss anything. The most minor of details are the most important.

  The beginning. A woman showed up to their headquarters about her missing family. Those cases were usually dismissed completely, handed over to the police forces- Zoya’s force was Grisha-centric, other cases, no matter how large or important they were, did not concern them. But this case was different.

 The woman was Grisha. 

 Her family weren’t, evidently- and neither did they know that she was. They’d been missing for six weeks, and the odds were pretty heavily stacked against them still being alive. The woman was detained (she was Grisha, this was Zoya’s job ) and a group of officers were dispatched for a search and rescue.

 The officers never returned.

 Alarm bells were now ringing, and the General assigned Zoya to the case. In the time since she officially took over, twenty more disappearances were documented, and all of them in Os Kerva alone. Saints knew what was happening in the rest of the country.

 But Zoya had never believed in Saints, so she found out what was happening in the rest of the country.

 The total number of disappearances in all of Ravka that had this case’s signature mark- an eclipsed sun left wherever the victims were seen last- was an estimated three thousand . Zoya couldn’t believe no one had connected the dots before her. Then again, the entire of the force were filled with incompetent idiots, so maybe it shouldn’t have surprised her. 

  The series of events . Zoya travelled up and down the country with the best of her underlings, talking to anyone who knew the victims, searching their last known places with tooth combs, building up working hypotheses, using all the resources they had available. Zoya was not an idiot. She knew exactly how capable she was. 

 And she also knew when she was fighting a losing battle.

 And so, when she got a call from one of her top detectives about a confirmed Grisha she’d been trailing for some time now who’d begun suspicious activity, she was clutching at straws and willing to take anything that came her way. She met up with her agent, and a few days later, they got the address of the apartment she was currently pacing in front of.

  The present . This part could be summed up fairly quickly. Zoya is, once again, at a fucking dead end . 

 Before she can kick something (or someone) out of frustration, A faint ringing reaches her ears, and frowning, Zoya stops in her tracks. Her phone is never not on silent. Calling Zoya Nazyalensky for anything was utterly pointless- she never picked up. 

  But the GIA has ways of getting into contact with its members regardless.

 Muttering a curse, Zoya digs around her pockets, looking for the infernal device with its grating, high-toned ringing. Finally locating her phone, she jabs the answer button without looking at the caller ID.

 “Yes?” she asks bluntly. 

 “Zoya,” Alina’s voice greets her.  

 Zoya immediately forgets everything that had been on her mind. When Alina calls, it’s rarely for a friendly chat. 

 “What’s wrong?”

“You need to get back here. As soon as possible.”

 “Understood. I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”

 Alina hangs up immediately, and Zoya pockets her phone, mind racing.

 She orders one of her lackeys to send her a report when they're done, grabs the keys for the van they’d used to get to the apartment from a rather distracted officer, taking off.

 Zoya reaches the Grisha Investigation Authorities in approximately half the time she’d given to Alina, and she may or may not have disobeyed quite a few traffic laws to get to her destination as quickly as she did, but that was frankly unimportant. 

 She strides through the doors, not bothering to acknowledge the many who’ve halted their paths to nod to her or, in the case of a few particularly stupid (or courageous, however you wanted to see it) people, attempt to strike up a conversation with her. She didn’t break her pace even once, until she’d reached the door to the meeting room they usually used to meet up for serious issues. After taking a moment to compose herself, Zoya pushes the door open.

 Inside, she finds all of her fellow Commanding Officers assembled- Adrik, Leoni, Alina, and Genya. Frowning, Zoya scans their faces, and mentally shifts whatever’s happening even higher on her scale of terrible shit to take care of immediately.

 Because not even Leoni, who can find positivity at a funeral, is smiling right now. There’s barely a hint of her optimistic and eternally cheerful personality in her countenance. 

 Zoya carefully takes the seat left for her around the circular table. Her gaze flits from one worried face to another, and she decides to be direct.

 “How bad is it?”

 The question seems to jolt Alina out of her reverie. She looks up, and Zoya feels her breath catch, because she looks so… helpless. Terrified.

 Genya takes it upon herself to answer Zoya’s question with another question, her mouth set in a grim line. “How’s your investigation going?”

 “We lost the suspect,” Zoya admits, her earlier frustration returning with the reminder of the infernal case. “We’re right back to where we started- but without the hope and the general idea of where to start.”

 “I’m not surprised,” Adrik mutters. “Considering who your delightful suspect is…”

 Zoya furrows her brow, and glances back at Genya. “Explain.”

 Genya looks as if she would rather do anything else, but after coming to the realisation that no one else is about to, she sighs and does so.

 “I’m presuming you remember Alina’s case that went cold about two years back?”

  A little too well. Even years later, that case haunts her- the truly horrific killings, from corpses with their body parts stuffed down their throats, to children who had clearly been still alive when burnt, the utter dead ends, Alina’s far too close brush with death, and… the person behind it all.

 “You don’t think it’s the same person??” Zoya demands, horror spreading through her veins.  She can not handle another Kirigan. 

 In lieu of replying, Genya nods to Leoni, who pushes forward a large envelope. Dread pooling in her gut, Zoya opens the package to find pictures from Alina’s investigation.

 “We revisited these when your disappearances started,” Genya says. “And… found more similarities than we’re frankly comfortable with.” 

 Zoya shifts the photos around, and then freezes at one, having caught sight of a mostly blurry but still distinctive calling card. “That’s…”

 “The eclipsed sun,” Adrik provides grimly. “You’re screwed.”

 “Hey, now,” Leoni protests. “We don’t know that.”

 Adrik snorts. “Don’t we? Need I remind you of the damage this person wrecked to the GIA and our country?”

 “How do we know this isn’t just a copycat?” Zoya breaks in. “None of the bodies of the victims this time around have been discovered,”

 “Copy cats still tend to have their own twists on kills, a signature, a mark that’s theirs. While none of the killings for either case have many similarities, they also don’t vary in terms of said signature.” Genya says.

 “Killers are proud creatures,” Adrik inputs.

 “And this one’s no exception,” Leoni says, eyes grim. 

 Zoya looks up. “What do you know?”

 Leoni hesitates, but then gives in. “We got a note this morning. A photocopy should be in the envelope too.”

 Zoya overturns the envelope, and sure enough, a piece of paper falls out. She picks it up, reads it, and crumples it up. 

 “You’re sure this isn’t a stupid joke?”

 “It was in the Director’s office.” Leoni says. 

  Shit.  Zoya glances back down at the crumpled mass she’s still clutching. You will burn on your mistakes. What mistakes? 

 She ignores the faint voice in the back of her head. You know what mistakes.

 Zoya takes a deep breath, focuses her thoughts, and then exhales. “How’s the Director doing?”

“He’s terrified.” All of the COs seemed to be equally startled to see Alina was the one to speak. Her mouth is set in an angry line, and Zoya can guess the track of her thoughts, because they were the same ones that had crossed her mind upon hearing the words- who is he to be terrified? What right did the Director even have to feel scared, when he himself never so much as interacted with the cases???

 Adrik sighs, leaning back in his seat. “Which is what has led us to our current predicament.”

 “And what do you mean by that?” 

 Genya exhales in a huff. “He wants the Mentals on this case along with all of us.”

 “He what.” 

 Alina, lips twisted in a sardonic smile, gestures to nothing in particular. “You heard correctly.”

 “Why ??? This is my case, and I will handle it.”

 “He doesn’t want a repeat of the bad press that came with my failing last time, I’m guessing.”

 “Bad press,” Zoya spits out. “I wonder how much bad press he’ll get when I-”

 “Do not,” Genya warns. “This could be helpful to us.”

  But also a personal disgrace , Zoya finishes the sentence in her head. The Mentals were practically a legend of the GIA- they were special, elite investigators, a whole mix of people ranging from scientists to- if the rumors were correct- ex-spies, who ended up with the cases no one else in the force could solve, and somehow, without fail, solved each of them within a week at the least. 

 It was irritating as hell.

 And having them assigned on your case meant that the Director did not trust you to be successful on your own. 

 Absolutely wonderful.

 “So when are these... spectacular detectives arriving?” Zoya asks. 

 Genya opens her mouth, and then closes it, before starting, “Well-”

 “I hope I’m not too late to this marvelous party?”

 Zoya swivels to see who this truly abnormally cheerful person is, and then blinks. She turns back to face the others once more- Adrik still looks glum, Leoni is smiling her most polite smile, Alina seems to have perked up and Genya is genuinely smiling. They all look… unsurprised.

 Of course they were hiding more secrets up their sleeves.

 “ What,” Zoya finally breaks and asks. “Is the damned PR guy doing here?”

 The aforementioned PR guy pouts. “Is that really what I’m known for around here? My PR duties? That’s quite depressing. Why would you focus on that when you could talk about my stunning good looks, or my undeniable charm, or even my ability to-”

 “Nikolai,” Alina interrupts. “Shut up.” she looks at Zoya, a hint of dry amusement in her eyes. 

 “Zoya, this is Nikolai Lantsov, and he is indeed our PR guy, but he’s also… head of the Mentals.”

 Zoya blinks. He’s what??? And then, wait… they knew who the special investigators were? How long have they known? Why was I not informed?

 She doesn’t voice any of her thoughts, choosing instead to stare, unimpressed, at the blond, who grins at her in response. 

 “If I had known you possessed such astounding grace and beauty, Miss Nazyalensky, I would have made your acquaintance sooner! I’m sure these upcoming days will prove to be an absolute pleasure, provided I get to spend them in your delightful company.”

 “Saints save me,” Zoya utters faintly. “The Director assigned an idiot to my case.”

 “Hey, now!” Nikolai protests. “You haven’t even met the rest of my team yet!”

 “An idiot who talks too much,” she deplores. 

 Genya and Alina both snort at that. In fact, all of her fellow COs seemed to be taking far too much pleasure in this situation. Zoya hates all of them. 

  “Well, now that we’ve gotten the pleasantries out of the way,” Nikolai says, to which Zoya distinctly hears Adrik mutter “pleasantries?” under his breath, “I think now would be a wonderful time for me to introduce you to my brilliant team,”

  Genya sits up immediately, looking eager. Zoya wonders what that’s about. 

 She finds out fairly quickly.

 Nikolai ushers in a group of people, and she recognises one in particular, one who she has, in fact, known since her college years -

 David. Genya’s husband, David Kostyk, is a part of the Mentals. Harmless old David. Zoya can’t believe her eyes. 

 She scans the rest of the group, but the others barely seem familiar. The two Shu right in front of David look similar enough to be twins, apart from the height difference. Right next to David is a woman that, with a jolt, Zoya recognises as Adrik’s sister from what she’s heard and seen of her. Bringing up the rear is a man who vaguely resemblesNikolai himself, ducking his head shyly as he enters the room. 

 “Now that your merry party is all assembled,” Adrik says glumly. “Any ideas where to start?”

 “Shouldn’t we at least get to know each other first?” Adrik’s sister asks.

 Adrik stares at her. “I’ve known you since I was born.”

 “We’re not the only ones in the room, Adrik.”

 “Oh, aren’t we ? I can’t say I noticed.”

 Nikolai interrupts their glaring match to finally provide Zoya with names to all the unfamiliar faces. 

 “Tamar, Tolya, Nadia, and Isaak, meet the officers we’ll be working with for the next few weeks or longer- Alina, Genya, Zoya, Leoni, and Adrik,” he gestures towards each person in turn. Zoya briefly wonders how he already knows their names, before realising that just because the GIA didn’t know who the special investigators were didn’t exactly mean they didn’t know the GIA either. 

 “And now,” Nikolai beams. “Let’s get comfortable. It’s time to discuss our present conundrum!”

[ianthe-is-a-bitch-and-i-love-her]

On Education

An excerpt from Memoirs of a Flesh Eater, never published.

Previous Excerpt

Next Excerpt

I think every parent struggles with the question of when they should teach their children hard truths. At some point, every child needs to learn about death. They need to learn about hatred. They need to learn about the horrors people will inflict on them for being different. This is something that is as true for ghouls as it is for humans. For most people, it is a fact of life that someone will hate you for existing.

Human-on-human prejudice is still something I don’t fully understand. At least humans have a reason to hate us. I don’t know why they go looking for reasons to hate each other too.

Educating ghouls is a challenge. We need to know about ourselves, of course. We need to know about our kind - our needs, our history, our ways of moving through human society - but we need to learn everything that humans learn too. The more we can fit seamlessly into the human world, the safer we are. You probably don’t know this, what with how much the news loves a story about a ghoul living in secret among humans, their murders exposed to the shock of their friends and acquaintances, but those of us who are brought up among humans don’t get found out very often. It’s the feral children, the big city packs that still hunt most of their food, the all-ghoul communes, that are easier targets for the exterminators. Those of us that are fully integrated are much harder to sniff out, unless we seriously fuck up.

{Editing Note: Don’t say fuck. Even though it’s a really good word}

The best way to make sure a ghoul can pass as human is to start us young. Get us into kindergarten, then elementary school, and keep going all the way through college. There’s nothing better than hands-on training. That’s what my mom did for me, mostly. I was raised in human society, in the human public school system, and I’ve never had a true close call. I’ve never caught the eye of an exterminator, and no human has ever asked me pointed questions about my habits or diet.

For the sake of completeness, I should say that I was in the human public school system for everything except for middle school. It’s not like that’s a great loss, though - everything I’ve heard about middle school sounds like hell. I don’t know how any of you survived going through puberty in front of all your peers.

{Editing Note: I am not talking about ghoul puberty unless I can find a reliable human to tell me what their puberty was like. If I wrote about something that I thought was ghoul-specific but is actually normal I’d die on the spot. I’d call a fucking exterminator on myself.}

Conventional schooling might be the best setup for success, but it’s also the most dangerous route. Kids talk, and that’s as true for us as it is for you. It takes a lot of work to make a child understand that there are some things you can never tell anyone, not even your closest friends, not ever. It’s not a fun burden to grow up carrying either. I’ve known the fear of death for literally longer than I can remember. I’ve known that letting myself be truly honest and vulnerable with any of my classmates would bring it to me and my parents before the day was over {Editing Note: True vulnerability is what I need now, though. I should find a place to talk about my dad}. It’s more loneliness than any child should ever grow up with. I was lucky; I found Scarlet in 4th grade. There are plenty of ghoul children that don’t find each other until high school, if there are even any other ghoul children to be found.

Some parents decide that the risk is too great. They’d rather have alive children than well-adjusted children, so they homeschool them {Editing Note: Okay, that’s way too harsh. Don’t be biased}. I did get to experience this approach for those couple of years when I wasn’t in middle school, and it does have some advantages other than safety. When I was in public school, my mom had to find time after school to teach me about our people. In a homeschool setting, ghoul studies could actually be integrated into our curriculum. It wasn’t completely asocial, either - ghoul parents often use their Society connections to find other ghoul children that are homeschooling so we can learn together. I met my second best friend, Scorpio, because we were homeschooled together.

{Editing Note: My friends are going to read this. I need to make it super clear that Scorpio is the second best friend I made chronologically. I’m not ranking my friends in front of the entire world.}

Scorpio’s a good friend, but he’s also a good case study for the drawbacks of homeschooling. He was homeschooled K through 12 and he is definitely the worst of my friends at passing. He has no idea what’s normal for ghouls vs normal for humans, so he compensates by either saying nothing or saying the most obvious, outlandish lies you could imagine when childhood comes up in conversation. In his defense, those lies are usually pretty funny, and he does connect pretty well with the right kind of people. Scorpio’s got a bunch of very specific subjects that he knows a ton about and loves to talk about. He and Scarlet can go on for hours about literary theory.

{Editing Note: That’s too meandering. I’m just trying to explain why some ghouls homeschool and some don’t - I don’t need to put my weird friends on blast.}

There’s another kind of formal schooling for ghouls that’s much, much rarer - the ghoul private school. The only one I even knew of, St. Raymond’s, was shut down last year by exterminators. Normally I’d tell you to take the lurid details you hear on the news with a healthy pinch of salt, and I still would, but that many rich young ghouls, completely cut off from the rest of humanity… it’s hard to predict what becomes normalized in that kind of echo chamber.

Fortunately, my patron knows more people than I do, so I have more to offer you than grim speculation. According to her, these kinds of places always have a very small student body, rarely breaking a hundred. The lesson content is pretty similar to homeschool - fully integrated ghoul curriculum, plus a few specialized lessons on blending into human society. Out of necessity, they’re almost always boarding schools. It’s easier to keep a low profile if you don’t have a bunch of ghoul kids not used to hiding going to and from the campus every day.

Apparently, it’s that kind of logistical challenge that makes these schools so rare. Aside from all the money you need to run a school in the first place, and how careful you need to be to pass scrutiny from the Board of Education, providing discretely for the needs of that many ghouls is an organizational nightmare. I mean, there’s a reason that ghoul families are so small, a reason why even our extended households rarely do more than scrape the double digits. There’s only so much flesh that can be safely obtained in one area at a time. There aren’t a lot of ghouls that have the resources and the inclination to put one of these schools together.

There is, of course, one more ways that ghouls are educated - the school of hard knocks {Editing Note: That’s such a trivializing way to put it. Have some sensitivity, me}. Given how short our average life expectancy is, it’s inevitable that some ghoul children have to fend for themselves from a very young age. I doubt it comes as a surprise that most of them don’t manage to integrate into human society very well. The lucky ones figure out early on how to kill discreetly, how to hide their nature from observers, and how to vary their hunting patterns enough to avoid the attention of the exterminators. The rest either starve quietly or die violently.

Most of these feral ghouls who survive to be teenagers eventually find each other and form packs. From a pure survival standpoint, this is a bad move. A group of feral teenage ghouls have a much harder time covering their tracks than they would as individuals, but for most, the chance at companionship is too tempting. It’s miserable, being alone in the world. Packs offer most of them the best chance to escape loneliness that they’ll ever get. And for most of them, it ends in a shallow grave within a year. Putting down a pack of feral ghouls is a good headline for an exterminator, and it’s a lot less work than trying to ferret out those of us who’ve figured out how to pass. That isn’t how the majority of ghouls die, but it’s how a plurality of us do.

For those few feral ghouls that survive to adulthood, their lives take one of three paths. Sometimes they find a patron and fall in with a household, and they do their best to heal from the trauma of their childhood. They do their best to find a happy life in human society, just like those of us who were luckier. Sometimes they become true Hunters, living their lives on the outskirts of our Society; still embraced by us, if only at an arm’s length. I’ll talk more about them later.

And sometimes, they become the Lost. Not that ghouls from any walk of life are immune to that fate, but… I’ll get to them later too. You may not have heard of them by that name, but I guarantee you’ve heard of the Lost.

{Editing Note: That’s a really grim note to end the chapter on. I should play with the structure a bit and find a more uplifting note to leave this subject on.}

{Editing Note: Or I could ask Kestrel. I’m sure she’d have ideas on how to better write the section on feral ghouls, and she could help me strike a more authentic tone. But… I don’t want to upset her. She doesn’t like to think about it, and I don’t want to hurt her. Is this important enough? Would she think it’s important enough?}

[ramblings-of-a-mad-cat]

do you think any of the r members will get redeemed (not counting merula)? like before the end of the story & before we’ve taken r down or whatever ends up happening. i thought they were kinda going that direction with shiratori for a little while but that didn’t last very long at all. maybe ch 37 is meant to serve as a kind of redemption for r*kep*ck, who knows how well it’ll do though. i haven’t seen that many of those who’ve already read it forgive her. i know i sure don’t. :/

Oh, I promise you, no one forgives Rakepick after Y7CH37. I got enough anons telling me as much to know that. I don't even think that chapter was intended to be a redemption for her...not a full redemption, anyway. It's possible that this is supposed to be her first steps toward that path, because she's made ever so slightly more human, far more than she has been for her previous three appearances. In essence, they may have been trying to nudge her character toward a state where redemption is even possible. The tiniest baby step. But I don't think it will work.

Not counting Merula...I don't know. I really kind of doubt it, though. Verucca won't be redeemed - the story has told us in many ways that she's just pure evil. Both directly, and with more subtlety. I do not like how instinctively afraid of her Merula seems to be. Especially considering that they are, in all likelihood, family to one another. Burke won't be redeemed, he's canon and has that connection to Borgin and Burkes. Shiratori? Nah, he's much too arrogant, and he's out for himself first and foremost. He might not be an enemy from here on out but I don't think he'll ever be an ally. I don't expect MC's father to be some unsung hero, either. Given his connection to MC and Jacob, I'm sure MC may want him to be redeemed, but he's simply done and overseen too much horror for it to reasonably be possible. I mean, forget Verucca, the Leader has been established to be a terrifying presence. I'll never forget Vault Rakepick's fear of failure...

If anything...I mean, does Zenith Xeep count as an R member? If so, I could see her being genuinely helpful to MC if and when she remembers everything. But nah, at the end of the day, the real redemption story of HPHM is going to be Merula. That's who they're going to focus on, I am certain of it.

[not-poignant]

Hi Pia!! I love your work and have consistently been reading it for over a couple of years, currently every TIP update u post makes my days a bit brighter 🥰

It is also thanks to you that I started posting fics last year after more than three years not doing so. While some of my fics have been wildly popular in a fandom some others don't seem to have landed as well within the same one, so I wanted to ask, what do you do about those stories that excite you but that don't seem to have found an audience yet, or that they never will?? How do you work through the fear of them not being worth your writing time?

Have a lovely day 💚🍀

Hi anon,

This is a hugely complicated question.

For a start, for writing that is for income, if I think it won't do well, I don't write it (although only to a point, I wrote The Gentle Wolf because asexual representation mattered more to me than sales, but it still hit hard when that turned out to be true). I don't like to mess with things that pay the bills. I hate that I have to look at metrics in that sense, but I do. But thankfully we're not talking about original fiction:

For fanfiction, things are different, and there might be a lot of different things going on.

For a start, almost always, when people ask me this question they are still getting some interaction on their fics, just not as much as they wanted or imagined. It can really help to like, remember to be grateful for every person who interacts, and not just the 'quantity' of interactions.

I think like... I am a big fan of 'write for yourself' but it's also true that I write for interaction on AO3. Just... only you can decide how much of the former will compensate for not much of the latter. There are people out there who are like 'if I was only writing for myself I'd keep it in my computer.' I'm not like that, and I don't vibe that way. I write for myself but enjoy sharing it, in case something that worked well for me, works well for a stranger. Everyone is different and that's eventually going to be what the crux of this post is, lol.

Popularity is influenced by the fact that some fandoms are more dead than others and lack interaction across the board in general (Persona 5, for example, is notorious for this). Some fandoms like certain tropes more than others. Some fandoms are massively popular for three weeks and then die almost immediately. And so on and so on.

Ultimately fandom is fickle, it's loyal to the stories they like more than the authors they like, and you can't predict what will be a flash in the pan and what won't be, and it doesn't always have anything to do with the quality of the fic itself or the tags you used. (This is sort of like how sketches will sometimes get tens of thousands of notes and a 300 hour single piece of quality art will get 400 notes, while a professional artist tears their hair out in pieces).

Sometimes, a fic will be more interesting to me than the reality of fandom interaction and I'll write it. Touching and Melting for Houseki no Kuni is a good example of that. A tiny fic for honestly an extremely quiet and tiny western fandom in terms of fic, which looks like it had a lot of interaction 3 years on, but had almost nothing in the first few months. And sometimes the fic idea won't be more interesting to me than the reality of the fandom interaction, and I won't write it. I go story idea by story idea.

But I've also taught myself to really think about a) the way I talk about interaction and b) to really value every individual that leaves a kudos, or comments, or public bookmarks. When I sort of started out with Shadows and Light, I remember being so bummed when a story didn't do as well, and thinking that meant it was doing 'badly.' Let's be real, Game Theory when it started out had less than a tenth of the interaction of SALverse, and I thought I had failed. If I'd given up at that point, well... all of this wouldn't exist.

And then just looking at fanfiction, it's like.. well, sometimes fics do a lot worse than other fics, there's usually at least one person who will read it and leave a kudos. I remind myself that to that person, the story mattered or meant something, which meant I didn't just write it for myself anymore, there is interaction.

This is much harder on stories that have zero comments, and zero kudos, obviously, no one likes to feel as though they are shouting into the void. But it's also my experience that writers who've had popular fics, don't often have 'zero kudos fics' when they say a fic is doing really badly. They just..maybe need to value the individual interactions alongside how good a 'mass' of interaction can feel, or alongside how good 'quantity' can feel. I do really think that's a skill that a lot of like...enthusiastic fanfiction writers have mastered or at least are learning.

Sometimes it really helps to have somewhere in private to vent to when you feel emotionally overloaded or insecure, and honestly sometimes it can help to re-evaluate.

For some people, writing fic when a certain threshold of interaction isn't reached, just isn't worth it. I can't convince people like that to keep writing. If there's a deep seated 'this isn't worth it' then stop doing it.

If there's 'this is insecurity and I'm not good at valuing everyone and I feel down right now but it'll pass' then...work quietly and patiently and compassionately on strengthening your resilience and your trust in your own writing, and your ability to value individuals who interact and engage on your fics. If you don't do this, you may end up bitter and resentful, and that can influence your entire relationship with fandom, and worse, the people who interact with your fics.

Also, finally:

How do you work through the fear of them not being worth your writing time?

In fanfiction, I do not base whether something is worth my writing time on the quantity of people who will interact with it. It is worth my writing time because I'm really excited to write it, and I want to share it, even if people don't respond immediately, or even if only one person ever comments.

I don't...have this fear that you have based on the things you're basing it on - my fears are different to yours. It's fanfiction. It's worth my writing time because I'm eager to write or fix or alter something in canon or I want to make the two boys fuck because no one else was going to, and because I can generally trust that one person out there will probably read it, even if I go back over 10 years ago and my Livejournal fics were only getting like one comment per chapter. If that.

If your metric for 'worthiness' is 'quantity of interaction' then - I'm the wrong person to talk to, I'm literally motivated to write fanfiction by completely different factors to you. I didn't start SAL knowing it would get popular, I thought people would hate me because I killed Jamie in the first chapter, and up until that point none of my fics had been popular.

I can't convince you on the things that convince me, when our foundational motivations are different. If you want quantity and that's what 'worth' means to you, I don't know what to tell you, I would never have written SAL in the first place if I hadn't been the kind of person to just write fanfic for almost no / or no interactions, and still enjoy that single person who said 'I really enjoyed this thank you for writing.' I didn't spring into being as someone who was writing fics that got a lot of interaction, that came...years later, y'know?

So what is worthy to me sounds like it's also just different to what is worthy to you. Ultimately, there are people only writing fanfiction on the basis of how many people interact with them, and...I don't know how those people keep choosing to write honestly, and I think a lot eventually abandon it, because there's no algorithm to crack in order to be successful every time. Maybe...remind yourself that you've had popular fics in the past and therefore you will again? And that you can't get to that point without less popular fics on the step ladder in the meantime? Therefore, even a fic that doesn't feel 'worth your time' will be a stepping stone to the one that is?

Imho, I think my fics are worth my time because I enjoy reading them once they're finished. And then I think they're worth my time because other people enjoy them. Having a popular fic is fun and nice, but honestly, often a fluke, and doesn't always say anything about the quality of the writing (some of the most popular Yuri! on Ice stories with 10,000+ kudos were like...not always...the most well-written stories, but people were desperate for Content, and it was certainly that).

But yeah, how I think about fanfiction is very different to how I think about 'fiction that has to earn an income.' Ultimately I don't want to apply the latter philosophies to the former, other people do. If you're applying 'this needs to hit a certain threshold of interaction to be worthy' as your basis for writing fanfiction, then...we have very very different motivations for creating content in fandom! And I'm the wrong person to ask.

As I said, it's complicated, lol.

[thewhitefluffyhat]

Witches and Fragments in Original Higurashi

<< Introduction

If we want to talk about witches, we actually need to start with Higurashi proper. Bernkastel and the Sea of Fragments are introduced in the original Higurashi visual novel, but they were almost entirely left out of the anime. This section covers anything anime-only viewers may be missing.

Reading List: Highlights

Matsuribayashi Secret Ending [ Video ]

Bernkastel grants young Miyoko a miracle in advance.

Bernkastel-Birth and Poems [ Video ]

A roughly six minute compilation of the Bernkastel references in Saikoroshi plus all of her Higurashi poems.

Reading List: I want it all

Minagoroshi-hen / Massacre Chapter

Matsuribayashi-hen / Festival Accompaniment Chapter

Saikoroshi-hen / Dice Killing Chapter

Wiki pages

https://07th-expansion.fandom.com/wiki/Sea_of_Fragments

https://07th-expansion.fandom.com/wiki/Frederica_Bernkastel/Character

The Sea of Fragments

-In the prologue to Minagoroshi, it is revealed that all of the previous arcs are "Fragments" (aka “shards” or "カケラ / kakera") - separate, parallel worlds that appear as crystals floating in an abstract void.  

-The general term for this void space is the "Sea of Fragments."

-In Higurashi, the only characters who usually exist in this space are Rika(s) and Hanyuu. The Minagoroshi prologue confusingly implies there are many Rikas in this space, but this gets retconned by how it is depicted in Umineko. (I’ve heard the Higurashi manga matches the Umineko depiction.)

-The start of Gou Episode 2 takes place in the Sea of Fragments, as does part of Episode 14 and the last part of Episode 20.

-Gou is the first time the Sea has had the Furude Shrine floating in the background.  Or any ground to stand on, for that matter.

-The Sea does not contain just Higurashi timelines; presumably it contains infinite variations of infinite worlds.

-In both Umineko and Gou Episode 14, characters leave to explore further reaches of the Sea. In particular, Bern and Lambda’s games are created out of sections of the Sea, either a single Fragment as seen in “The First and Last Gift” or many related Fragments as in Higurashi and Umineko.

Frederica Bernkastel in Higurashi

-First "introduced" as the attributed author of the poems that preface each Higurashi arc.

-There is a (very old) character guide that includes “Message from Frederica Bernkastel” where Frederica teasingly denies being Rika. See this Reddit discussion for more context.

-However, in Minagoroshi, we see Rika recite one of "Bernkastel's" poems, as well as Rika making several references to thinking/acting like a "hundred year old witch."

-The Saikoroshi arc explores this contradiction in detail:

While being trapped in a dream of a perfect Fragment, Rika begins to consider her mature personality - essentially her memories of other worlds - as a separate being from the “Furude Rika” she replaced in this Fragment. She names her current, looping-aware persona "Frederica Bernkastel".

After Rika reawakens in the Matsuribayashi Fragment, she resolves to abandon thinking like “Frederica Bernkastel” and live fully as the “Furude Rika” who only has this one world. However, she speculates that her other persona might still live on in a higher plane of existence.

At the end of Saikoroshi, Hanyuu ambiguously mentions making a new friend. It’s possible to read this as implying that “Rika” and “Bernkastel” have fully split their consciousnesses.

-Because of that “higher dimension” idea, most people use "Frederica Bernkastel" to refer to the Rika that appears in the Sea of Fragments, i.e the narrator at the beginning of Minagoroshi who names each arc.

-This same narrator also talks to the reader/Hanyuu during the Connecting Fragments puzzle in Matsuribayashi, even going as far as to describe Hinamizawa and the characters within as a game board and pieces.  

-She also appears in the secret ending to Matsuribayashi, where she enters a Fragment as a mysterious adult woman who sets young Miyoko on a path to a life where her parents don't die.

Lambdadelta

Neither Lambdadelta nor Featherine appear by name in Higurashi.

With Lambda, in hindsight, you could perhaps argue that some scenes in Takano's backstory (where she references wishes and the power to write fate) might be alluding to and/or influenced by her. However, in interviews, Ryukishi07 has poked fun at the idea of Lambda existing in Higurashi. For example:

“I admit there's a character named Bernkastel in Higurashi, but I don't remember there being a character named Lambdadelta. Why does anyone think [Lambda] has appeared in Higurashi? When human beings encounter an unknown thing, they would automatically regard it as something that exists in their memory. Those who've played Higurashi might have directly fallen into a trap.”

(Source: Interview with Ryukishi07 (2009))

Featherine

With Featherine, the absence is complete (before Gou) - while Hanyuu and Featherine share some similarities, even Hanyuu’s adult form from the past had no direct connection with witches. (At least as far as I’m aware - people familiar with the console arcs or Kamikashimashi, feel free to correct this!)

However, those similarities are vague but intriguing.  Most notably, in Saikoroshi, Hanyuu says that the “her” of the dream Fragment ascended after being satisfied with how the human world. It is then implied that she may have done the same herself at the end of the arc, allowing Rika to live a normal life. (Another case I’ve heard is more explicit in the manga.)

In addition to likely being the explanation for Hanyuu’s disappearance in Gou, this ascension is something referenced in Featherine’s backstory as well...

Next (Witches and Fragments in Umineko) >>

[crystalninjaphoenix]

Wyvernlair

Fantasy Masks AU: Chapter Three

A JSE Fanfic

Ta-da! Another chapter! :D This is the one I was talking about, with a lot of worldbuilding and new characters. It’s also one of my longer stories, and I had to cut out a scene near the end, but don’t worry, you’ll see that next time. Now that Chase is officially part of the Masked Phantoms, it’s time for him to get to know the layout of Wyvernlair, meet new people, and learn new things. So get ready for a whole lot of all that. Hope you guys enjoy!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

It was clear that Jackie was eager to have someone new to show around Wyvernlair. He led the way, pointing out important features of the camp. Most of the center area was taken up by tents for people to stay in. In addition, there was an area dedicated to cooking, with campfires and stacks of pots and dishes, a wide, clear area for people to practice sword fighting and other combat, and a large space for storage.

All this was fairly normal for any camp. Or at least, that’s what Chase figured, considering he’d never been in a camp of any kind. But he was pretty sure that the massive skeleton made Wyvernlair much different than any other camp. Every bit had been planned around the bones embedded in the ground. The tents were encircled by the dragon. The cooking fires were dotted around the leg bones. The combat field was spread out along the wings that extended out from the rest of the body. And the storage was inside the oversized ribcage, canvas stretched over the gaps to keep out the weather.

Inside the ribs was the most incredible place Chase had ever been. He kept his head craned upward, following the curve of the ivory bones, each one big enough that it would take three full grown men to encircle it. The storage inside the ribcage was much less impressive in comparison, though he did have to admit he’d never seen this amount of weapons, armor, parchment, and foodstuffs in one place. Not to mention all the miscellaneous items as well, like lanterns and chests for storage.

“Oh, you need a jacket!” Jackie suddenly said, bringing Chase back to the conversation. “You can take one of the communal ones, over here.” He grabbed Chase’s hand and pulled him to the side of the ribs, where the chests were full of various clothing, each labeled with types and sizes. “Unless you’re a cloak person?”

“Uh, no, I...jackets are good,” Chase said dazedly.

“Great! What are you, a five?” Jackie waited for Chase to nod, then headed over to the appropriate chest. “We don’t have that many fives left...a lot of people have measurements around there.” He flipped open the chest lid. “Um...yeah, there’s just one. Hope you like yellow.” After a bit of rummaging, he pulled out a dull flaxen jacket and tossed it in Chase’s direction.

Chase fumbled for a bit before catching it. It was a fairly normal jacket, and he quickly pulled it on. Autumn in the mountains was not a time to walk around without one. He’d been chilly all through their walk.

“Alright, all that’s left is the skull,” Jackie said. “I don’t know how often you’ll be in there, but it’s good to—”

“I’m sorry, I’m still caught up on the fact that I’m inside a dragon skeleton,” Chase interrupted.

Henrik, who’d been following the tour quietly and letting Jackie do all the talking, suddenly burst into laughter. “I told you. It is shocking, isn’t it?”

“Well...yes!” Chase looked back up at the curve of the ribs above him, slowly shaking his head. “I heard dragons were large, but I didn’t really...picture it, before this.”

“Technically, this is not the skeleton of a full-blooded great dragon,” Henrik said.

“What?”

“The dragon that most people think of, with four legs and two or more wings? That is a great dragon,” Henrik explained. “I’m sure you noticed this one only has two legs; it was likely a wyvern/great dragon crossbreed.”

“Hence the name ‘Wyvernlair,’” Jackie added.

“What’s the difference?” Chase asked.

“Wyverns only had two legs and larger wings. They walked a bit like birds do,” Henrik continued. “And they were usually much smaller. There are some accounts of humans riding them. So this was either an abnormally large wyvern, or it was a crossbreed with the great dragons. Which, yes, could grow as big as this, but that was not so common.”

“Elders,” Chase muttered. The fact that there were once creatures as large as this roaming the land, big enough to encircle half a town...it made him glad they weren’t around anymore.

“It was really lucky that we found this place,” Jackie said. “Not because of the skeleton, but because of its location. There are no trees growing near the bones, so we have room to spread out, and we have our backs to a rock wall, which makes it more defensible.” He paused. “Anyway, the last part on our tour is the skull, and then we can set you up with a tent. Oh, actually, the spare tents are kept here. Let’s grab that now.”

“I get my own?” Chase said, surprised.

“Of course, we have plenty to spare,” Jackie said casually. “We brought a whole bunch up, but recruitment has been slow.”

“Nonexistent,” Henrik muttered. He reached into one of his belt pouches and took out a small flask, taking a quick drink.

“Well...yes,” Jackie admitted. “But let’s go, we’re almost done!”

The skull was just as massive as the rest of the skeleton, with wicked sharp teeth as tall as Chase. He stared at them as Jackie and Henrik led him around to the back, where there was a slight gap where the skull met the spine. They passed through that gap and ended up inside. Much like the ribs, the skull had been converted into a room, with canvas blocking the eye sockets and nasal cavity to make a rough roof. This wasn’t as large as the storage, but it was still at least three times as large as Chase’s cottage. There were more chests in here, and a few rickety desks where people—masks always nearby—sat, reading and writing on parchment. They all glanced up as the three men entered the room, then looked away.

In the middle of the skull was a large circular table, made of solid, dark wood and surrounded by chairs. Various maps were spread out on the surface of the table, held down with weights.

Chase glanced at the largest map, and immediately recognized it as a map of the kingdom of Glasúil. A detailed one, too, covering almost all of the island. The Dragon’s Teeth mountains ran down the center, with the smaller Northaven range branching off to the east, along the northern shore. The Southern Moors were present, slowly merging into the sea. Rivers and forests he’d never heard of crossed the parchment, and each major town and city was represented by a labeled black dot. The only part of the map left blank was the area to the west of the Dragon’s Teeth, which simply had “Wyldwood” written across it.

“Oh hey, you like the maps?” Jackie asked, noticing Chase’s attention. “We use those for planning stuff. A lot of strategy and meetings happen here. This is also where we keep all our records and sort through all our messages with other Phantom locations. Since you’re part of the group now, you’ll eventually go on missions, and if that’s the case, you’ll have to write a report and deliver it here.”

“Missions?” Chase repeated. His head was starting to swim a bit with all the new information.

“Well, if you want to,” Jackie said awkwardly. “I mean, you could stay here and do medicine with Henrik, or be part of our administration—”

“Administration?” This time, Chase laughed a bit when he repeated the word.

“Organization is very important,” Schneep emphasized. “There are a lot of us, and we do a lot of things. If we have no organization then we do not know what we’re doing!”

“Yeah, and those things we do are...missions,” Jackie said.

“Alright, what kind of...missions?” Chase asked.

“Depends. We might need to investigate someplace, or something, or someone. We might need to go in and stop an act of injustice, or rescue people who’ve been hurt.” Jackie paused. “If...if we’d heard about the King’s plans for the mountain villages to burn, then we could have...shown up. In time.”

Chase felt his stomach twist at the mention of the burning villages. There was guilt in Jackie’s voice; he clearly felt awful that the Phantoms couldn’t do anything to prevent that. “Well.” Chase took a deep breath. “I guess we’ll have to make sure things like that don’t happen again.”

Jackie nodded. Henrik placed a hand on his shoulder, and that seemed to steady him. He drew himself to his full height and stiffened his posture. “Exactly. The King may think he can get away with any of this, just because of his position. But the people will not stand for it. We will not stand for it. As long as his actions cause death and damage, we will work to remove him.”

For a moment, Chase was in awe at the resolve Jackie showed. He wasn’t that physically intimidating, being almost a head shorter than Chase and a head and a half shorter than Henrik, but he had a commanding aura. Maybe the strength of his conviction was catching. “Exactly,” Chase said. “That’s—that’s what I want to do.” His simple statement sounded lame in comparison.

Jackie smiled. “And that’s why we’re so glad to have you.” He relaxed a bit, looking over at Henrik. “And if Schneep likes you, then I do, too.”

Chase couldn’t hold back a laugh. “I-I’m sorry? What did you call him?”

Henrik’s expression fell. He took his hand off Jackie’s shoulder and pushed him with his shoulder. “I told you, stop using that.”

“But it’s so fun to say,” Jackie said cheerfully. “Chase, did you know that Henrik’s surname is Schneeplestein?”

Chase fought to stifle his giggles. Now he remembered that particular fact from his first meeting with Henrik. “That’s—well, I’m sure that’s a usual surname in Alterde—”

“It is not,” Henrik said wearily. “It sounds just as ridiculous over there. Go ahead, laugh about it. Get it out of your mind now.”

“No no, I’m fine, I promise.” Chase coughed a bit, clearing his throat of laughter. “At least you have a surname.”

“Ah, it is common to have one where I am from,” Henrik waved away the comment. “I know here it is a nobility thing, but not in Alterde or its neighbors.”

“Really?” Chase said, interested.

“Really. And it is much easier than your family names,” Henrik said bluntly, turning to leave.

“Hey! Wait for us!” Jackie took Chase’s hand and the two of them followed Henrik out of the dragon’s skull.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Chase? Are you awake?”

The first thing Chase heard when waking up was someone calling his voice. Instinctively, he rolled over and stretched his arm to the right. Only to be met with nothing but empty space. Oh. Right.

He opened his eyes to a canvas wall and ceiling. He’d gotten his tent yesterday, and Jackie had shown him how to set it up in a spot near the dragon spine. From there, the rest of the day had passed slowly. Awkwardly, too, as Chase didn’t feel up to approaching any of the masked people who were part of the Phantoms. It felt...strange. Like he was constantly intruding on something. So he just spent time in his tent, and when dinnertime rolled around, he showed up to get some stew from the cooking fires then went off to eat on his own. Eventually, the sun set, and he figured that was time to go to bed.

“Chase?” The voice called again.

“Henrik?” Chase asked, sitting up and wiggling out of the bedroll he’d been given.

“Oh, you are awake. Can I open the flap?”

“Go ahead.” It wasn’t like he was indecent or anything. He was actually still wearing his clothes from the day before. Maybe he should check out the storage, see if they had anything else he could use.

Henrik pushed open the flap of the tent and ducked inside, pushing his owl mask up onto his forehead. “Ah, good. I have something for you.” He held out a folded piece of parchment.

Puzzled, Chase took it. “What is this?” He asked as he unfolded it.

“Well, now that you are a Phantom, there are some things you need to be familiar with,” Henrik said. “Jackie put together a schedule for you for today.”

Chase silently looked at the words. He blinked. Then squinted. Then looked back up at Henrik. “Um...I’m sorry, but I...can’t read this.”

Henrik didn’t even have a response for that. “You...cannot read?”

“I can, but only a little,” Chase admitted. “I know the alphabet and numbers, but as for words, I can read what I’m familiar with. Food, animal names, archery gear. Things like that.” He trailed off into a mumble, somehow embarrassed. Reading had never been an issue before. Everyone in town knew enough to get by. But now, he wondered...was that not normal?

“That’s okay,” Henrik said, picking up on Chase’s tone. “Jackie was the same way. We had to teach him.” He chuckled a bit at the memory. “I will explain, then. After breakfast, you will meet with Nemet in the infirmary, she will give you a basic medicine check. To see what you know and fill you in on anything you need. Then you will head down to the tip of the tail, and meet a man there called Tripp. I understand you do not know that much about magic, so he will give you an overview. Then there will be lunch, and then you will head to the combat field to start training with Holly and Lukas.”

Chase started. “What was that last name?”

“Lukas,” Henrik repeated. “You will probably be working with him more, since you seem inclined with bows, and not closer combat.”

“Right.” Chase nodded. That name sounded familiar, like he’d heard it recently...

“Then come back for dinner, and I will check up on you,” Henrik continued. “And by then, hopefully you will know what you want to do most in the group. Medicine, organization, and such. And we will get you a temporary mask.”

“So, why masks?” Chase asked. “I like the idea, but...why? Who came up with it?”

“Oh, the mask concept was Jackie’s idea, but the animal part was added by—by someone else,” Henrik said. There was an odd pause there...was he going to say something else? A name, perhaps? “We wear masks so people will not recognize us. Many of us have friends and family who would be at risk if the King’s people knew we were working against him. Like, for me. You know I am a traveling doctor, yes? Well, when I met you last year, I was already working with the Phantoms. Can you imagine what would happen if someone recognized me as a rebel?”

Chase shivered. “Yea, I can.” If the King was willing to burn down the mountain villages for an unknown reason, what would he do to find one of the rebels? With that thought in mind, he slowly stood up. “So...I’ll get started, then. Meeting with all these strangers.”

“Do not be nervous, Chase,” Henrik said gently. “Everyone new we find has to go through something like this. And these are some of our best people.”

“Thanks,” Chase said. “That’s good to know.” Still, his stomach was slowly tying itself in knots as he headed towards the cooking fires, about to start the day.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After a quick breakfast of toasted bread—light, but with those stomach knots, still hard to get through—Chase headed up the gentle slope towards the infirmary cave in the rock wall. Slipping through the flap in the canvas, he found it unchanged from the day before, when he’d been discharged. Nobody was inside, except for...

“Ibis?” Chase asked.

“Hello, Chase.” Ibis smiled at him. Her mask was off, revealing her features and round, dark eyes for the first time. “It’s good to see you again. And please, my name is Nemet.”

“Oh! Oh, I’m supposed to meet with you.” That explained why she was standing near the entrance, she was waiting for him.

“Yes, yes.” Nemet nodded. “Henrik has told me to give you a basics in medicine.” She turned and headed towards the back, indicating he should follow. “Come, come. This shouldn’t take too long.”

Nemet had set three chests on top of each other, making a sort of rough chest-height table. On top of the flat surface of the chest-table were a series of bottles and bags, each one neatly labeled. “Here. These are some of our common tonics and medicines we use here. Tell me what you recognize.”

Chase considered the layout before him. There were probably about thirty in total, if he had to guess. “This is for colds, right? And fevers? And this one, too. And these dried leaves, they’re for nausea. Oh, and this will put you to sleep if you put it in water or stew. This is a salve, also for fevers. And this is a balm for sores. And this will stop infection on cuts and scrapes. And...that’s what I know.”

“Impressive,” Nemet nodded.

“Really? That’s only a fraction of the total,” Chase said doubtfully.

“Most people who join up only know redleaf, bainruish, and seedbane.” Nemet indicated each medicine as she listed them. “Fevers, cuts, and...well, I’m sure you know what seedbane is for, even if you said nothing. You are married, after all.” She laughed as Chase slowly turned red. “Ah, my apologies. The point is, you are ahead of most others.”

“Do we really need all of these?” Chase asked, quickly moving on.

“Oh, yes. You know that when people gather together that sicknesses spread easily. Many of these will help to cure a specific disease, while others are a general tonic, like redleaf.” Nemet paused, then picked up about ten of the medicines and put them on the floor. “Henrik says you are not so much caught up on magic, so we will leave these ones out of our discussion for now.”

Chase started at that. The concept of mixing medicine with magic made him...uneasy. He may not know that much about magic, but he knew it could be dangerous. “I was wondering, Nemet, what did you do before you joined the Phantoms? I know Henrik’s a traveling doctor, are you the same?”

“Not exactly.” Nemet shrugged. “I was a student of medicine back home.”

“And where was that?”

“A land called Kha’Nyphthis.” Nemet grinned a bit at Chase’s confused expression. “You would not have heard of it. It is to the south, on another continent, but not the same continent as Henrik’s Alterde. We have great schools and libraries there, the best in the world. I was learning to become a doctor, and had almost finished my schooling, but one of the final requirements was to learn the medicine of another land. I chose here, Glasúil, because you are well-known for your medicine. But then I arrived, and saw the state of things, and...ah, well.” Her expression fell for a moment.

“I’m...sorry,” Chase said awkwardly. “Do you...ever think about going back?”

Nemet nodded briefly. “Of course. I have family, friends. But I cannot just abandon things. It’s not in my nature to leave things unsettled.” She took a deep breath, and moved on. “But as for your basics in medicine, let me start by getting you familiar with the ones you didn’t know.”

It was a while later before Chase left the infirmary, his head feeling stuffed with all the new information Nemet had drilled into him. Already, some of it was starting to slip away. And he immediately knew that he could never be a doctor. If these were the basics, he couldn’t even begin to think about what would be required to complete the training to become one.

But he didn’t have time to let all that new knowledge sink in. Judging by the sun’s position, it was getting close to noon, and to lunch. He still had to meet up with someone else before it was time to eat. So he hurried onward, running along the curve of the dragon’s bones, following them as they got smaller and smaller, until they eventually merged into the packed ground. Chase slowed to a stop and looked around, confused. This was the end of the tail, wasn’t it? So...where was—

“Hey you’re the new one, right?”

Chase yelped and spun around. A man was sitting between the spine bones of the dragon, almost unnoticeable in the shadow between them. “Yeah, that’s me,” he said slowly. “Are you, uh...Tripp?”

The man nodded, hopped to his feet, and walked over to Chase. Standing up, he was short, even shorter than Jackie. He wore a dark brown cloak that reached his knees, and of course, a mask. This one was shaped like a ram’s head, complete with curved horns, and the black symbol on the forehead was actually four different symbols arranged in a diamond formation. After a moment of looking at them, Chase realized they were the suits often used on playing cards. How...odd. The man reached up and took off the mask, ruffling his golden brown hair and revealing dark eyes. “Tripp, son of Seamus,” he said shortly. “And you are...?”

“Chase. Son of Brody,” Chase said automatically. “Henrik told you I was—”

“You’re not up-and-up on magic and need a course, yea,” Tripp interrupted, swinging his mask around his finger. Chase took a step back despite already being far away. If that went flying, those plaster horns would do some damage. “And he asked me to do it ‘cause I’m our second best guy.”

“You’re the—?”

“What do you know already, Brodyson?” Tripp continued. “Ever met a magic-wielder?”

“There were a handful in town—”

“Sorcerer, wizard, enchanter, oracle, witch?”

“I...what?” Chase blinked. “I...think they were all sorcerers.”

“How many?”

“Only a handful, about six or seven?”

“For a village of four hundred or so people?” Tripp laughed. “Everyone must’ve been magically impotent.”

“Could you slow down?!” Chase snapped. “I thought you were supposed to teach me about magic, not make fun of me for not knowing anything!”

Tripp paused. Then grinned. “It’s just banter, Brodyson. I didn’t mean offense. But hey, you called me out. Good on you for that. My apologies.” His grin faded. “But I’m not jokin’ about that. There should’ve been at least four times that number of magic-wielders in a town that size. What happened? Were the seekers bein’ lazy for the past few years?”

“...Seekers?” Chase repeated, puzzled.

Tripp looked up at the sky. “Oh, elders. They haven’t been showin’ up at all, have they? If you don’t even know about them—alright, we’ll start from the beginning, then.” He sat down on the ground, folding his legs under him. Slowly, Chase sat down across from him. “You know of the five branches, right? I’m pretty sure everyone in the world’s at least heard their names.”

“Yes,” Chase said, nodding. Wizards, sorcerers, enchanters, oracles, and witches. He mostly heard about them in stories, and was especially fuzzy on the details about those last three.

“A common mistake people make is thinkin’ these are all different things.” Tripp started drawing in the dirt with his finger. “When really, all magic is the same. It’s like a tree—just because each branch might look different, doesn’t mean they don’t all come from the same trunk.” And, in keeping with that metaphor, he drew a rough outline of a tree with five different branches. “All magics can work with each other, and there’s a lot of similarities in between them. For example, do you know the difference between wizardry and sorcery? They’re the two most well-known of the branches.”

“Um...if I’m being honest, I’d always been under the impression that wizardry was more powerful,” Chase said tentatively.

Tripp snorted in disbelief. “Some wizards would like to think that. But no. More varied, yes. But not more powerful. Here, it’ll be easier if I go over them all one by one.” He started to draw symbols by each of the branches, starting with a crude stick figure. “Sorcery is the most common magic besides witchcraft. It crops up in people at random. If you got twenty-five people in a room together, one would probably be a sorcerer, even if they didn’t know it. Its source is inside the person themself. And what it does is manipulate the world. Like...this.”

He pressed a flat hand against the ground next to him. After a moment, the dirt started to move. Then suddenly, pillars of rock shot through the dirt, rising from underneath the surface. Chase gaped as the solid stone started to twist, winding around each other to form a braid of rock. Then Tripp removed his hand, and the rock froze, as if it had never been moving in the first place. For a moment, Chase was stunned, then he managed to ask, “S-so you’re a sorcerer, then?”

“Exactly,” Tripp grinned. “Why d’you look so surprised? You said you knew sorcerers before.”

“Well...yes, but I hadn’t...seen their magic too much,” Chase admitted. He remembered one time when Gwen, the weaver’s daughter, had pulled water out of the well. It just streamed out of the depths and sailed right into her bucket. But occasions like that were few and far between.

“Hmm.” Tripp scrunched his face up, thinking. “Well, besides that. Each branch of magic has its strengths and weaknesses. Sorcery’s strength is that it comes from within. As long as a sorcerer doesn’t drain too much energy, they can use their magic forever. And its weakness is that you need a material to manipulate. Like just now, I reached down and pulled rock up from underground. But there’s a limit to the range where your magic can affect things.”

Chase nodded. “What about wizardry, then?”

Tripp sketched a rough outline of a necklace next to another branch of the tree. “Its strength is its variety. Wizards aren’t limited by what things are present, they can conjure out of thin air. But its weakness is in this: the ‘focus.’” He tapped the necklace drawing. “Unlike sorcery, wizardry doesn’t come from within. Wizards are channelin’ it from outside, from the layer of magic that coats the world. But to do so, they need a specially-made thing called a focus. It’s usually a necklace, ‘cause that’s handy, but it can be any shape, as long as it’s made the right way. These dragon bones, for example. They’d be real good to make focuses with.” He knocked on the nearest bone. “About one in fifty people are able to channel wizardry.”

“And now we reach the end of my knowledge,” Chase mutters. “What’s the next most common?”

Tripp paused. “Enchantment.” The image he drew in the dirt now was a misshapen lump. “Damn. That’s supposed to be a brain.”

“Ah. Right. Because enchantment is the magic of the mind, isn’t it?” Chase recalled, casting his memories back to the stories he’d heard that included enchanters.

“Hmm. Yea.” Tripp pursed his lips. “How do I explain them...Well, strengths. They’re the only magic that can work with your mind. Illusions, talking in your head, things like that. But as for their weaknesses, enchanters can’t change the world for real.”

“Is it true that enchanters can control your actions?” Chase asked. “There’s a story, the Dark Damoen—”

“The crazy old man who made Erinthold worship him as a god? That’s a famous one.” Tripp nodded. “Well, it’s true. Some could change your thoughts and make you do things you wouldn’t. But that takes a lot of power, and besides, most enchanters are decent people, like all the rest of us. It’s just that we remember the bad ones because they shock us. And only about one in a hundred people are enchanters, anyway. Don’t worry about it. There are a few Masked Phantoms who are enchanters.”

Chase nodded slowly. The thought of the old story sent shivers down his back, but he should probably trust the magic-wielder. He clearly knew more “What about...the oracles?”

Tripp drew a symbol of an eye in the dirt. “Those are the rarest one. You only get an oracle one in a thousand, if you’re lucky, and they’re not usually that powerful. You’ve probably heard that they issue prophecies of what’s to come, or that they might even be able to manipulate time itself. Well that’s all bullshit.”

“Wh—” Chase was so surprised at the frankness that he choked on his own gasp. After a few moments of coughing, he continued in a hoarse voice. “What do you mean?”

“Oracles can’t manipulate time, that’s the most insane rumor goin’ round about magic there ever was,” Tripp stated. “They get visions of what’s most likely to happen. It’s not for sure, and really, most oracles are wrong. But huge strength there, knowing the most likely future. And it comes with a big weakness. A couple, actually. One, they have to speak their visions out loud while it’s happenin’. It’s a magic...what’s the word?” He snapped his fingers for a bit. “Compulsion. That’s it. They’re literally forced to do it, can’t stop that. And two, the visions are all they can do. They have no other magic. And because of that, some say that oracles are cursed, not gifted.”

Chase thought about that. If he had the choice, would he take knowing the future for being forced to share it? Maybe. Maybe if he knew what could happen next, he could stop terrible things. Like...his heart panged, and he shied away from the thought. No, that didn’t sound too bad. People would also know what the future held, what of it? He’d take that risk.

“And the last magic,” Tripp said, snapping Chase out of his thoughts. “Witchcraft. It’s actually the most common.”

“Really?” Chase said doubtfully.

“I bet you’re goin’ by the stories, where witches are old people that stay in shacks and give out potions,” Tripp said, drawing a bottle next to the final branch. “But really, the magic of witchcraft isn’t in people, like all the others. It’s in the land. It’s part of the world’s magic. Plants with strange properties, the parts of magical animals...these can be mixed together to create amazing effects. And anyone could learn how to do it. In fact, most of us here have.”

Chase suddenly remembered earlier, how Nemet had put away some of the medicines during their meeting. It was because he didn’t know much about magic...“Wait, you mean anyone could make potions? Become a witch?”

“Well, not anyone,” Tripp muttered. “If you have magic of your own, you can’t learn witchcraft. The knowledge just slips away, and if we try anyway, nothing works, even if it should. You can’t use more than one magic. It’d be like tryin’ to hold onto every single branch of a tree.”

“If the tree was small, though?” Chase joked.

“It’s not. The magic tree is big, and the branches are the type where you need to hold on with both hands,” Tripp said firmly.

“Oh. I...see.” Chase cleared his throat. Clearly, using more than one magic wasn’t something to make light of. It was too impossible. “And...what about those seekers you mentioned earlier?”

Tripp was eager to move on. “Seekers are wizards that can sense the presence of magic. What’s supposed to happen is that these seekers are supposed to stop by every town twice every year. In practice, that’s faded away. Most towns only see them once a year, and the farther away you get from Suilthair, the less often you’ll see them. My town where I grew up, they came by every three years. But if you don’t know what they are, then...have you ever seen them?”

At that, Chase had a vague memory of a group of strangers visiting Hilltown when he was a child. They were dressed finely, and the image of an elaborate brooch one of them was wearing flashed in his mind. The next day, Hanson, an old friend of his, announced to all the kids that he was going away for ‘special school.’ “Not in years. Long enough for me to forget what they are.”

Tripp huffed. “I bet it’s not worth the effort to come all the way up here. Bunch of nambies.” He rolled his eyes. “Seekers are employed by the royal family. They find young magic-wielders and offer to give them schoolin’, to learn how to use their magic. Schoolin’ that’s funded by the crowns. It’s not required—I never went—but it’s encouraged. Otherwise you might end up having magic shootin’ out of your—”

“Is that why most wizards side with the King?” Chase asked, remembering what Henrik said about the source of the village fire.

“Part of it. But wizards especially have a reason to keep on the King’s good side.” Tripp paused. “Those focuses I told you ‘bout, that wizards need to use their magic? The crowns fund the makin’ of those, too. And the sellin’. And everything about them.”

“Oh.” Chase’s eyes widened with realization. “So...if a wizard decided to oppose the King, then there’s a chance that...they wouldn’t have access to a focus anymore? And...their magic?”

Tripp nodded. “That’s why most of us magic-wielders in the Phantoms are sorcerers and a few enchanters.”

“No oracles?”

“Oh, elders, no. You heard how hard they are to find. Wish we had some, though. That’d be helpful.” Tripp stretched his arms, then stood up. “Anyway, that’s all I have to say. You got it all?”

“I think so, yes,” Chase said slowly. He looked up to the sky, mentally reviewing everything he’d heard. Sorcery, wizardry, enchantment, oraclulary, and witchcraft. All very different, all with things they could do and limitations that slowed them down. That made sense. He nodded to himself...and then noticed the position of the sun. “Shit!” Chase shot to his feet. “It’s noon! I have—after lunch, I—”

“More meetings, huh?” Tripp raised an eyebrow, then pulled his ram mask back on. “Let me guess...Lukas and Holly? Better hurry, Brodyson. Not good to be late for those two.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chase swung by the cooking fires to grab some food, then hurried over to the combat fields, along the dragon’s wings. Originally, he wondered if the wing bones would get it the way, but apparently the dragon had died with its wings spread out as far as they could be, leaving ample room in between the bones. The packed dirt was lined with targets, crude dummies made of sacks of hay tied to sticks, and racks of wooden training weapons. Occasionally there were random chests or tents set up to create obstacles to fight around. As he ran out onto the fields, he passed many people, some sparring in groups, others practicing on their own. None of them paid him any mind.

Now that he was here, he wasn’t sure where to go. The fields took up all of the space cleared by the wings, which was, as it turned out, quite a lot. Maybe he should have asked Henrik for descriptions of the people he’d be meeting with. Feeling his nerves eating away at his stomach, he turned to the nearest person, and asked, quietly, “Excuse me, I’m looking for Lukas and Holly?”

The person turned around, looked down at him, and smiled. “Oh, it’s you! You’re the new one!”

“Um...yes,” Chase said slowly. It was just now occurring to him how...big this person was—this woman was, actually, judging by her voice. She towered over him, and her sleeveless tunic showed off the muscles of her tattooed arms. Strange to be wearing no sleeves in the chill mountain air, but she probably wasn’t bothered.

“I’m Holly.” Her smile widened. “Daughter of Rose.”

“Oh!” Chase blinked. That name didn’t fit her at all. But alright, he wasn’t one to say anything. “Chase, son of Brody.”

“Lovely to meet you.” Holly grabbed his hand and vigorously shook it. She wasn’t wearing her mask, but it hung around her neck. A bear. And the symbol on its forehead was the same as the one on Jackie’s wolf mask: a circle with two dots inside.  “Me and Lukas, we’re in charge of combat up in Wyvernlair. Speaking of which...” She turned around. “Luke! He’s here!”

Chase leaned around Holly to look at who she was addressing...and suddenly felt cold, despite his jacket. Now he remembered where he heard that name before. While he’d been sick with the shivering in the infirmary, he’d overheard a conversation between Jackie and a man in a fox mask. That man had wanted to throw him out of camp, but Jackie had refused...and now, Chase was staring at that very same man.

“I can see that,” Lukas said shortly. He was facing a series of targets, and didn’t turn to look at Holly and Chase. Instead he merely took another arrow from a quiver on his back, nocked it on his bow, and shot. The arrow flew straight into the center of the farthest target, which was barely the size of a hand spread wide.

“No you can’t, you didn’t even look!” Holly scowled, and turned back around. “Sorry about him, Chase. He’s been snippy.”

“Well I wouldn’t be snippy if I hadn’t been standing out here for an hour, waiting for someone who didn’t bother to show up on time,” Lukas snapped.

“I’m not an hour late,” Chase protested weakly. Even behind the fox mask, Lukas’s expression was twisted with frustration and annoyance.

“It’s a matter of principle,” Lukas said, finally turning to face Chase. When he did, Chase noticed the symbol on his mask for the first time: an X, with a dot to either side.

“Let’s just get into it,” Holly said, folding her arms. “Now, Chase. You’re a hunter, yes? So you have some experience with shortbows.”

“I can shoot, yes,” Chase agreed. “But I’ve never heard the term ‘shortbow’ before.” Lukas rolled his eyes, a motion that was partially hidden by the mask but still visible enough for Chase to catch.

“It means a smaller bow, in comparison to Lukas’s massive beast of a longbow over there.” Holly gestured towards Lukas’s bow; it was almost as tall as him. “Shortbows are better for mobility and closer range, while longbows are more suited for staying stationary and shooting long distances.”

“Ah.” Chase nodded. That made sense; bigger bows were more powerful, but also harder to draw back and move around. Amabel once tried to shoot Chase’s own bow when she was seven, and couldn’t pull the string even a little.

“I’m assuming you’re a fairly good shot,” Holly said, rubbing her chin. “So you’ll probably need to work with me more. I’m in charge of close-range combat, while Lukas handles the long range, with bows. So if we’re to—”

“Hold on a moment, Holly,” Lukas interrupted. “I want to see what he can do.”

Holly shot Lukas a dirty look. “There’s no need—”

“Of course there is. We should know what our starting point is.” Lukas turned and walked towards a nearby weapons rack, picking out a smaller shortbow and a quiver of matching arrows. He headed back to the others and thrust the tools at Chase. “Show me how well you hunt.”

“...alright. I will.” Chase took the bow and quiver slowly. He didn’t like being tested, especially not when the test was proposed by a man who clearly thought he was some sort of spy for the King and might be looking for an excuse to kick him out. Should he pretend to be worse than he actually was? No, that would just be complicated. He’d shoot normally.

He stepped up to the place Lukas had been standing, facing the targets, and strapped the quiver onto his back. For a moment, he examined the bow. Solidly built. Looked newer than the one he used back home. And had these odd curves...was this a recurve model? He’d heard of them, but never used one before.

“Soon, please!” Lukas called.

Holly promptly hit him on the back of the head. “Take your time, Chase! Don’t worry!”

Chase nodded. His mouth was suddenly very dry. But he swallowed his nerves, adjusted his stance, and nocked an arrow. He hit it against the back of his head in the process of taking it out of the quiver—not being used to wearing it on his back—and glanced back at the two watching to gauge their reactions. Holly looked supportive, but Lukas was unreadable. He looked away again.

There were ten arrows in the quiver and ten targets set up in front of him. He must need to hit all of them. So he drew back, aimed, and let loose the arrow.

Ten arrows.

Five of them hit the closest targets. Two of those hit their target’s center.

One hit the edge of one of the farther targets.

The remaining four missed.

Feeling a sinking feeling in his stomach, he turned back to Holly and Lukas.

“Wow. That was the most utterly average thing I’ve ever seen,” Lukas said bluntly.

“You hit more than I can!” Holly said positively, giving him a short round of applause. “That’s great!”

Chase nodded silently. “I...I’m not used to this bow.”

Lukas hummed. He went to collect the arrows, giving Chase a side-eyed look as he walked past. It seemed as though his suspicions hadn’t been assuaged. If anything, he looked even more wary.

Holly walked up to Chase and clapped a hand on his shoulder. Chase promptly lost his balance from the force of the contact, and Holly helped him right himself. “Sorry about that,” she said. “And sorry about Lukas. He’s just...he has a hard time trusting people. I’m sure you’ll win him over.”

“It’s fine,” Chase said distantly. “I mean, not everyone’s going to immediately welcome someone new into a group like this. You need to keep secret. There are risks.” Still, Lukas’s distrust, combined with his mediocre shooting skills, left him feeling a bit down. Like a cloud passing over the sun, everything just seemed...disappointing.

Lukas returned, arrows in hand. “Do it again,” he said.

“Elders and Sisters, Luke, we don’t have all day,” Holly protested. 

“He needs to practice,” Lukas said, stone-faced.

“He needs to start with me! You can’t handle all your problems from a distance, especially in our situation. What’s he to do if a King’s man jumps him from behind and all he has are arrows?”

“It’s fine,” Chase repeated. He rubbed his arm; they hadn’t given him an arm guard, and despite the jacket fabric, his skin still stung from the bow string. “We have until dinner.”

Holly gave him a look, but sighed and stepped back. “One hour of shooting, then it’s my turn.”

Lukas nodded. “Deal.”

Chase sighed a bit, and took the arrows from Lukas. It was turning out to be a long day.

[soundsof71]

So, considering you are a passionate fan of music released in 1971, I feel justifiably obligated to ask you what you think of Buffy Sainte-Marie's 'She Used to Wanna Be a Ballerina' album. 😂 (Also, it would make me beyond happy if you could post more about Buffy, my friend! Thank you! ❣)

Buffy Sainte-Marie + Crazy Horse - what’s not to love? LOL I confess that it was the Crazy Horse connection that caught my attention first. I had a general idea who Buffy was, had seen her on TV a few times, but I was a big Crazy Horse fan. News that they were her backing band for this album was easily enough for me to scoop it up.

They weren’t doing anything much with Neil Young in 1971 (other than this album, on which Neil also appeared!), but they had released a tasty solo album in February 71, produced by Jack Nitzsche (who also produced this, and would later marry Buffy), and featuring Ry Cooder (also featured here, although did not marry Buffy). 

(btw, the first place that Buffy, Ry, and Jack worked together was on the Nic Roeg film Performance, starring Mick Jagger. People obviously remember Mick in that, but musically, Buffy was the best part!) 

She Used To Wanna... also features Jesse Ed Davis, a Native American guitarist and singer who was a frequent “usual suspect” at these sort of “sure, invite everyone!” jam albums of the era, and played a prominent role at 1971′s biggest concert (at least in the US), The Concert for Bangladesh on August 1.

(I know you know  RUMBLE: The Indians Who Rocked The World, the documentary about indigenous music’s influence on rock and roll, which has chapters on both Buffy and Jesse Ed. I just watched it again recently, and love it! A reminder of Buffy’s pivotal role in classic rock history. Not mentioned in the film: she relentlessly championed the work of her fellow Canadians Joni Mitchell and Leonard Cohen, helping them get their first record deals.)

I haven’t listened to She Used To Wanna Be A Ballerina for a while, so I definitely need to do that, along with posting more pictures of Buffy.  (I can’t believe I’ve only posted two!) 

But I’ll tell you what still stands out to me about that record years later. “Smack Water Jack” is an underrated track from Carole King’s Tapestry that got a ton of airplay at the time. Quincy Jones did an instrumental cover as the title track for his terrific 1971 album, too, but it has somehow faded to obscurity since then. Buffy takes a playful trifle, and turns it into a powerful fable of men of color who explode into violence in response to the violence visited upon them, and self-satisfaction of whites in authority who answer their demands for better living conditions by killing them on the spot. 

No need for a trial when you can murder them in the streets, right? “You can't talk to a man when he don't wanna understand / And he don't wanna understand” hits different when Buffy sings it, and in 2020 for that matter. 

It’s also just a terrific performance whose combination of soul and rock and roll and driving piano in a sort of Old West-sounding context would have made this sound right at home on a record like Elton John’s Tumbleweed Connection  or something by The Band. I’m limited to five video embeds per post so I can’t embed it here, so I'm linking instead: anyone who hasn’t heard this definitely needs to.

Her cover of Neil’s CSNY track “Helpless” has things I like even better than Neil’s original, including Merry Clayton standing in for CSN. Buffy’s version is more muscular (thanks again to Crazy Horse), and taps even more deeply into the isolation of the song that the star power of CSNY somewhat obscured. 

Buffy’s version also made a brief but memorable appearance in the 2018 film Hotel Artemis, starring Jodie Foster. A weird little movie that I loved maybe more than it deserved LOL but I recommend nonetheless:

I know that this album gets attention because of the unusual number of covers, including one by Leonard Cohen, and a cover of a cover that Leonard had made famous on top of that, called "Song of the French Partisan” (hers is the far superior version imo, a song of French resistance to Nazi occupation from the perspective of a woman hiding a resister), but there are a couple of standout originals too. 

I love the title of this record, and the title track is a delightful little stomper that playfully cautions against equating the intentions of grown women with the childhood fantasies they’ve grown out of. More Merry Clayton goodness here on backing vocals too. 

“Soldier Blue” is a powerful song first written for the 1970 film of the same name, billed at the time as “The most savage film in history” -- and maybe it was. It used the 1864 Sand Creek Massacre as a metaphor for Vietnam, and it's still shockingly brutal. It was the third-highest grossing movie in the UK in 1971, though, and the single became a top-10 hit for Buffy there. 

It didn’t do as well here, either the song or the movie. Perhaps not shockingly in retrospect, Soldier Blue was pulled from American theaters after a few days, the Vietnam metaphor not at all lost on the Nixon administration. 

As horrifying as it was, this is about when I was reading Bury My Heart At Wounded Knee (first published in 1970), and Soldier Blue resonated with me in a whole lot of ways. Here’s the song in the opening credits of the movie.

I was also really struck by “Moratorium”, which is the story of “Universal Soldier” (from her 1963 debut, but a bigger hit for Donovan in 1965), coming from the opposite direction. In the earlier song, she blamed war on the soldiers who think that fighting is honorable, but here, she has empathizes with the young men, boys really in many cases, who’ve been lied to by their countries, their parents, and even their friends. They’re not vainglorious. They’ve been duped by people they trusted. 

(I don't think she takes enough into account how many men sign up to fight because they want to embrace and celebrate their worst, most violent impulses, which was of course an undercurrent of “Universal Soldier”, but I appreciate her empathy here. More than one thing is true at a time.)

Buffy goes even farther, though, calling on soldiers to support and validate demands for peace as explicitly supporting them, summed up in the unforgettable cry, "Fuck the war and bring our brothers home!" 

1971 was the peak of antiwar demonstrations in the US, with the biggest crowds ever seen in this country until the 2017 Women’s March. The May 1971 demonstrations pretty much shut down Washington, culminating with Vietnam Veterans Against The War throwing back their medals on the steps of the US Capitol, incredibly powerful stuff to see on TV in my formative years, and Buffy was right there in it. Anti-war songs were a cottage industry for sure, but nobody was writing with the nuance and empathy that Buffy was.

Here’s a 1972 performance of “Moratorium”, Buffy and a piano, and more emotionally bare than that:

There’s obviously lots more to say about Buffy, far outside the realm of protest music that was actually just a small part of her musical palette -- her pioneering experiments with electronic music, her educational philanthropy starting in her 20s, Sesame Street, you name it. Her commercial peak was still in front of her, and while I can’t say that this is my favorite of her records, it does have some of my favorite songs of hers, and 1971 and She Used to Wanna Be A Ballerina is definitely where I went from knowing who Buffy Sainte-Marie was to being a fan. 

I'll also note as I do now and again that while this blog started as an offshoot of a book on 1971 that I’d started but abandoned, I mostly listen to music released now. That’s always been my policy, including in 1971. When 1972 rolled up, I was mostly listening to music from 1972, music from ‘80 in ‘80, ‘91 in ‘91, 2018 in 2018, etc., to name just a few other favorites. (Plus The Beatles, okay? LOL I still listen to The Beatles every day. No apologies.) Honestly? It took me until 2011, in my fifties, when a whole bunch of 40th anniversary editions of 1971 albums got released all at once that made me think, “Wait a minute, this was maybe THE pivotal year in classic rock history!” 

So yeah, the historian in me dug into 1971, but even though I happened to be alive and enthralled by music in that year, what I’m doing here has nothing to do with nostalgia, or any idea that that was the *best* year in music, even if for the narrow slice of music that is classic rock, yeah, it absolutely is. For soul/R&B too, and for the explosion of women artists outside the even narrower confines of pop as well. This is not subject to debate. No year like it, before or since. It's just that classic rock is a such a narrow slice, and I like my slices wide. LOL Which is also why my blog has less and less 1971 content as I go along. 

While my general policy is that my favorite year for music is THIS year, this particular year hasn’t left me as much energy as usual for listening to music. Some of it is These Trying Times™, some of it is my bipolarity and schizophrenia getting the better of me in waves, as is the way with these, uhm, things. (Keep taking those meds, kids!) I listen to music and post about the people making it as a creative act, not a passive or reflexive one, and I just haven’t felt as creative as usual.

(This is also has everything to do with why so many Asks have been piling up unanswered. I apologize if you’re one of the many kind and indulgent souls who’s gotten in touch, but I swear I’m gonna get to ‘em all!)

To get an idea of what I’m ACTUALLY passionate about right now, my “to be edited later” running list of 2020 favorites randomly added to a playlist as I encounter them, to be properly curated later, is at Spotify, cleverly entitled “2020″ -- 94% women, which is about right. LOL 

But since I do in fact listen to old stuff (by which I mean 2019 LOL), I made a list of mostly 2020 bangers from women rockers with some tasty treats from 2019 that I haven’t been able to let go of just yet, inspired by a post I saw at tumblr saying that punk music by women is just plain better (also beyond debate), called “Women Bangers: A Tumblr New Classics Jam”. I’ll be posting an essay with a YouTube playlist soon, because god forbid that I only talk briefly about anything LOL and most of these women need to be heard AND seen.

Like Buffy Sainte-Marie, whom you'll both see and hear more often on my blog soon. Thanks for the reminder! Always a pleasure to hear from you and be challenged by you. :-)

Peace, Tim 

[layce2015]

The Last of Us Part 2 (Joel x Reader)

Chapter 10: I Know You Wish Things Were Different

Chapter 9

*2 Years Earlier*

"She hasn't changed the strings." Joel said as he looks over the guitar. "I'm sure she didn't know." I said as I stir the stew in the pot, keeping it from burning. "Hmm, maybe..." he mutters and I give a small smile at him. 

We were out in a cabin, just for lookout and patrol. It was just me, Joel, Tommy and Ellie out here, Aiden and Ethan were back at Jackson with Maria, who wanted to watch over them. Right now, Tommy took Ellie out to find any infected around while Joel and I got back in the cabin from our patrol and I decided to cook dinner as it seemed we might be out here for awhile.

"I just don't know about her." He said and I look back at him. "It just...it seems she doesn't want to talk to me anymore. Has she talked to you?" Joel asked me. "No, she hasn't. But in all honesty, honey, she's at that age where kids don't want to be around us old people anymore." I explained then we heard some gunshots off in the distance and both of us look out the window, towards the mountain.

"Must've found some infected nearby." I remarked and I lower the heat on the small portable stove and let the stew simmer. I look over at him as he looks a bit sad while he strums his guitar.

I go over to him then placed an arm around his shoulder, lean down and kissed the top of his head. "She'll come around. I promise." I said then he looks up at me and gives me a small smile. I smiled back at him then I lean in and kiss him on the lips, he places his right hand on my neck then he slides it to the back of my head so he could hold my head in place as our kiss became deeper and passionate.

"I love you. You know that, right?" Joel said, softly, once I pull back from the kiss. "Of course I do. I love you as well." I said as I smiled, gently. I stand up and he removes his hand off of me and I make my way over back to the food.

"I mean, who else is gonna deal with your grumpy ass." I said, teasingly, and Joel chuckles as he strums the guitar. I went back to stirring the stew again when Joel starts to play a song that I recognized. A song that I remembered we danced to so many years ago at our wedding.

I turn to him and see him smirking at me as he starts to sing the song.

You may think that I'm talking foolish

You've heard that I'm wild and I'm free

You may wonder how I can promise you now

This love that I feel for you always will be

But you're not just time that I'm killin'

I'm no longer one of those guys

As sure as I live, this love that I give

Is gonna be yours until the day that I die

Oh, baby, I'm gonna love you forever

Forever and ever, amen

As long as old men sit and talk about the weather

As long as old women sit and talk about old men

If you wonder how long I'll be faithful

I'll be happy to tell you again

I'm gonna love you forever and ever

Forever and ever, amen

"Joel..." I said, my eyes tearing up a bit, and his smile grew wider at me when we heard footsteps and voices. I wipe away the oncoming tears, just as Tommy and Ellie come in. "That was y'all shooting out there, right?" Joel asked them. "Oh, just some stragglers. Ellie got to try out my scope." Tommy said as he and Ellie go to sit down at a table near us.

"Really? How'd you like it?" I asked Ellie. "Yeah. Feels good." She said, rushed. She sits there and looks away while Tommy sits down and starts to kick back. 

"I see you, uh...haven't got around changing the strings yet." Joel said as he stands up and walks over to Ellie, still holding the guitar. "I didn't know I was supposed to." Ellie said as she looks up and chuckles, awkwardly. "See? I told ya, Joel." I said. "Well, we'll get you some new ones." Joel said and he leans the guitar against the table and walks over next to me as Tommy picks the guitar up.

"There's that music store down there. I bet they got guitar stuff." Tommy suggests and Joel, Ellie and I all exchange awkward looks. "I mean that area is long overdue for a sweep anyway. I can keep watch." Tommy said as he looks over at us and Joel looks over at Ellie.

"What do you say, kiddo?" He asked her. "Sure." She said, shrugging, then Tommy begins to play the guitar. "And that's our que." I said as Joel and I walk out while Tommy chuckles.

Joel and I go to one horse while Ellie follows us. "Alright. Let's go." She said. "Okay. Follow us, kiddo." I said and Joel gets on his horse and helps me up as I sit behind him and Ellie mounts her horse. Then we began to gallop away. 

"So, you and Tommy cross anything when you was out?" I asked her. "Just a few we saw from the ridge. You?" She said. "Uh, you know....found two runners in a house." Joel said to her then it went silent again.

"Jesse tells us you're handling your own quite well on the group patrol. He's even recommended you for paired patrols." I said. "Though I still think you're a bit young for it." Joel said. "I'm a better shot than almost all of them. And I have more experience than most of the new recruits who've..." Ellie started to argue but Joel talks over her.

"Look...if you think you're ready, (y/n) and I trust you." He said. "Okay. Thanks." Ellie said, a sound of relief in her voice. "Just do us a favor and start with the shorter routes for awhile, Y'know. See how you handle them." I said to her as I turn to her and see her smile. "Alright." She said and we keep trotting on.

"You remember those Savage Starlight comic books that you're into?" Joel asked her. "Yeah?" Ellie said. "Tommy, (y/n) and I found some when we were moving through that school the other day." Joel said. 

"Did you guys like 'em?" Ellie asked us, curiously. "Oh, you know, it's not really my cup of tea. But (y/n) seemed to enjoy them." Joel said and I rolled my eyes. "Hey, what can I say? My inner child came out when I read those books." I said.

"I didn't know you were into that kind've stuff, (y/n)." Ellie  said, shocked. "Oh yeah. When I was a kid, a bit younger than you, I was really into reading comic books, science fiction being the big thing for me." I explained.

"Really? What made you stop reading them?" Ellie asked. "Life, honestly. It just started to get really hectic once I hit 18. Got a job, having to help my mom out while my brother was in the army, trying to decide whether I wanted to go to college or not, went out with a few friends." I explained and Ellie nods.

"Then I met this weird guy, who came in at my workplace one day, fell in love and married him." I said and Ellie chuckles a bit. "Yeah and I married a clumsy waitress that spilled iced tea on me." Joel said and my face heats up in embarrassment. "That was one time!" I exclaimed while Ellie laughs outloud at this and I hear Joel chuckling.

"Anyway...Dr. Daniella Star, I mean, she's pretty..." Joel started to say before Ellie talks over him, after recovering from laughing. "She's a savage." She said. "Yeah, what she does to Captain Ryan in that Death Match..." I said, chuckling, and Joel nods at this.

"Yeah, I mean, he definitely deserved it but..." Ellie started to say but she stops before Joel talks. "Well, it was a nice twist on how they escape, though." He said and Ellie giggles. "You're funny." She said and I smiled at her just as we make up to a fence and the old motel building. 

"Music story's up that way...we're gonna have to leave the horses here." Joel said as we come up to the fence. "Yeah...sounds good." Ellie said and we stopped then got off of the horses and jumped the fence.

"There's that music store." I said, pointing at the tall sign a few miles up ahead. We walk up to two large vehicles blocking the road before Joel turns to Ellie. "Need a boost?" He asked her. "I got it." She said and she climbs up the old moving truck and gets on top of it then gets on the other side.

"Uh, I don't think we can go this way." We hear her say. "What?" We said, confused, and Joel and I climb up on top of the truck and see that the area was dried out and the road was sunken in. "Well, damn. Used to be able to swim across this...." Joel said, disappointed. "So now what?" Ellie asked us and I looked at the motel building next to us.

"Well, if you're up for it, we can try cutting through that hotel." I said and Ellie nods. "I'm up for it." She said as she climbs back up on the truck then we head over to the hotel building.

We make it to the front door and Ellie tries to open it but it wouldn't budge. "Damn it." She grumbles and I sighed. "Of course." I said. "Oh, that might be something." Joel said and we turned and see him staring at a crawlspace under what looks like a collapsed roof.

"Think that you girls could fit in there?" Joel asked as I kneel down to look at it. "Hmmm...maybe. Worth a shot, though. I'll go first and then Ellie can follow me." I said and Joel nods then picks up part of the collapsed rubble and I crawled through into a room then looked around.

"I'm through, come on, Ellie." I said then I hear her crawling through and I turned and hold my hand out to her to help her up. She takes my hand and I help her stand up. "Made it!" She said. "Hang on, big guy. We'll let you in." I called out. "All right." He said and both of us walk out of the room and look around to make sure no infected were nearby then I see the front door.

"Ellie, keep an eye out. I'll go let him in." I tell her and she nods as I head to door and began to unlock it. I open the door to see Joel standing there, leaning to the side as his left hand was braced against the doorframe. "Well, hey there." I say to him and he gives me a small grin. "Howdy." He said, making my heart flutter.

Even after all these years, he still knows how to make me feel this way. Make me feel like that young woman he met all those years ago. Then an old memory came to me and an idea popped in my head and I smiled.

"Damn, if being sexy was a crime, you'd be guilty as charged!" I said and Joel lowered his head and shook it as he chuckles. "Cheesy pick up lines? Really?" He asked me as he raises his head up to me, but with a smile still on his face and his cheeks were turning a bit red.

"Why not? I mean...we used to share cheesy lines when we first got together." I said and he chuckles then he starts to walk pass me. "I'm too old for this cheesy shit..." he mutters and I rolled my eyes. "Uh-huh...sure you are." I said, sarcastically, and he chuckles then he pushes a strand of hair away from my face, leans in, then kisses me.

"Hey, guys. I think I've found a way through. But there are spores". Ellie said as Joel and I break the kiss. We smiled then we head over to Ellie as she stands in front of a snack machine, that was covering a giant hole.

"Okay, well girls, put your masks on." Joel said and we started to put ours on but Ellie looks over at us, annoyed. "Do I have to? It's just us." She said. "What if we run into someone?" I pointed out to her and she sighs. "Okay. Fine." She said and she pulls out her mask and puts it in while Joel pushes the machine aside.

He goes through the hole in the wall then me and finally Ellie. "You gotta be smart about this. You stop wearing that mask, kiddo, and eventually you're gonna slip up in front of someone you shouldn't." Joel tells her. "I never slipped." Ellie said, firmly, as we walked through some rooms. "You haven't told anyone new, have you? Like Jesse or Dina or --" Joel started to asked but Ellie shakes her head. "Of course not!" She said. "Okay, good." Joel and I said and we continue on.

"You guys ever been in here before?" Ellie asked us after climbing through a hole and landing into another room. "No. We've just patrolled the streets." I replied. "Feeling like a bit of an oversight now..." Joel said. "Maybe." Ellie mutters and we see a dead Clicker that's stuck to the wall.

"Looks like it was shot here awhile back." Joel pointed out as he looks at the Clicker. "When'd did the last patrol go through here?" Ellie asked us and I shrug as Joel said. "Not sure."

"Is it one of us?" Ellie asked and I sighed. "Only people went missing from Jackson are them teenagers from last year. This one's too old. Probably just roamed in." I pointed out then Joel stands up and we continued through until we come up to these large double doors.

Joel opens the door, slowly, and we could hear some infected and Clickers inside. "We are on patrol, right?" Ellie said and Joel and I share a look before I nod. "Alright. Let's take 'em out." He said and we head in what is the lobby area and, quietly, take out the few infected and Clickers inside.

"Guys, I think we did it." Ellie said after a few moments of silence. "Yeah, I think so, too." I said, breathless, and Joel nods. "Good job, kiddo." Joel congrats and Ellie nods. "Yeah, you too." She said. "So, what do you guys say we give up on those strings for today?"

"Couldn't said it better myself." Joel said as I look around the room. "I think our only way out is forward now." I said and we go through another set of doors then through some more rooms.

"This looks like something." Joel said as he comes up to a crawl space in the walls. "Following you." Ellie said and Joel squeezes throught then me and Ellie. Joel and I duck down under this pipe and kept going when we heard something break. 

We look over and see that the pipe broke and Ellie stared at it for a moment and we stopped moving, looking towards the wall. We could hear a noise and then a roar before there was a crash and a Bloater burst throught the wall and grabs Ellie. "Ellie!" Joel and I screamed and we get out of the crawl space just as the Bloater tossed Ellie on the floor. 

Joel and I pull out our shotguns and fired at the monsters. "Leave her alone, you sonuvabitch!" I shouted and the monster started coming at us but we back away. Ellie threw a molotov at it and it roars in pain then turned to her. The flames died down in it and more infected started coming at us.

I went and shot at them while Joel shot at the Bloater until it grabbed Ellie. It pulled off her mask and tried to grab her face until Joel pulls out his machete and sliced at it's arm, making it let Ellie go, then stabbed it, repeatedly, until it died. I run over to Ellie and help her up to her feet.

"Shit." She whispered, shocked. "You okay?" I asked her and she nods. "That was too close." Joel said. "Sure....but we fucking did it." Ellie said and Joel and I chuckle a bit. "We sure did." Joel said and we started to continue on. "You guys good?" Ellie asked. "Other than being really old, ain't nothing a solid night of sleep won't shake off." I said and Joel nods. "I wanna get outta here." Ellie said, exasperated, and we agreed and continued on.

We make it to another set of doors and Joel and I move the couch that was barricading the door. "Wait, what if there's like two Bloaters on the other side?" Ellie asked, worried. "It'll be fine." Joel assured her as we move the couch out of the way then we opened the door, our guns drawn and we look around to see nothing, not even spores.

"Spores are clear." Joel said and Ellie shuts the door behind us as Joel and I take off our masks. "Quiet the fight we had back there, huh?" Ellie said as we walked down the hallway. "Not often we get a Bloater around these parts." Joel said.

"Yeah. Jesse and Dina are going to lose their shit when they hear about this." Ellie said. "What's the deal with them two, anyway? They're dating, right?" Joel asked her as walked through the old kitchen area. "Uh, on and off. Why?" Ellie asked. "(Y/n) and I hear the way Jesse talks about you." Joel said to her.

"No. Jesse and I are just friends." Ellie said. "Now, now, now, I've got a pretty keen eye for these sort of things." Joel said and I rolled my eyes. "Not so keen with this one." Ellie said and Joel chuckles. "We'll see." He said and I scoff.

"Keen eye, huh? Remind me again, honey, who was the one that took months to ask who out?" I asked him. "Well, I had to make sure...get you warmed up to me and then I'd ask you out." Joel said and I snorted. "Really? That was the plan? And not, Sarah coaxing you to ask me out after you were too nervous to ask?" I asked and I hear Ellie chuckling under her breath. "Yeah, that's exactly right." Joel said and I scoffed. "Mmmhmm, okay....Whatever floats your boat." I said, sarcastically, and we head up to this door and Joel goes to open it but it only opens a few inches.

"Think you can squeeze through there?" Joel asked Ellie and she nods and goes through the door. "See what it is?" I asked her. "Yeah." She said and I hear her move something. "Okay." She said and Joel opens the door wider and we walk into an old coffee shop as Ellie walks to the middle of the room and sees a dead body.

I hear a noise then look over to see a Clicker, with no legs, start crawling towards Ellie. "Ellie!" I shout and I run over to the Clicker, put my foot on it's back and shoot it in the head, killing it. "Thanks." Ellie said and I nod at her as Joel comes up to me. "You okay?" He asked me. "Yeah." I said.

"Hey, guys. I think it's them. The couple that ran away last year." Ellie said as she points at the dead body. Joel and I kneel down to the body and look it over. "Think you're right." Joel said. 

"Jackson is a wonderful place....but we got tired of hearing the stories of people suffering everywhere else..." Ellie said and we look up to her to see her holding a note. "We wanted to save lives, we had good intentions...we didn't make it an hour before running into a horde. Now we're bitten. We've decided we're gonna end our lives instead of turning. Please tell our family and friends that we're sorry. Love Adam and Sidney." Ellie said and I lowered my head, closed my eyes and shook my head at this.

Joel and I stand up and look back at Ellie as she flips the note to the back and reads some more. "I shot her. I can't take my own life I'm a fucking coward. Adam." She reads and I place my hand over my mouth in shock. "Jesus." Joel mutters, horrified. 

"If only they were immune, right?" Ellie said as she sets the note down and looks at the body. I lower my hand and Joel and I exchange a nervous look before Joel clears his throat. "Well, let's...let's go get Tommy, and we can take thse bodies back to Jackson." He said and he pats my arm and we start to walk towards the front door.

"After you guys took me out of the Firefly hospital...you two said that there were dozens of people like me." Ellie said, making us stop in our tracks then turn to her. "Yeah. Yeah, that's what they told us." Joel said to her. "I've never met another immune person before. Have you?" She asked us then Joel and I share a quick look before I turn to Ellie. 

"They could be hiding it. You do." I said, shrugging. "Do you guys believe that?" Ellie asked, questioning, and I raise an eyebrow at her. "Is now really the time for this?" Joel asked her. "We traveled across the entire country to bring me to the Fireflies....I had so many questions for them." She said and I could tell she was getting angry.

"Why did you guys pull me out of there while I was still unconscious?!" She asked, loudly. "Because we let them run their tests, and when (y/n) and I saw that they were useless, both of us got all three of us out of there...." Joel said.

"How do you know they were useless? Maybe if you guys woulda given them more time, they could have figured something out--" Ellie yells as Joel walks over to her and stands in front of her while I was standing behind him.

"Ellie. There was no cure." Joel said to her, firmly. "There's nothing that could've helped these people or anybody else. I know you wish things were different--(y/n) and I--we wish things were different. But they ain't." He said and the two stare at each other, my heart beating like a jackhammer, before Ellie, her eyes welling up, looks away then down.

"We need to get these kids back to their families." I said and they look over at the bodies before Joel looks back at Ellie. "Is there something else you like to rehash?" Joel asked her and Ellie looks back at him. "No." She said. "Good. C'mon." Joel said and we start to head out.

That night, we made it back to Jackson and brought those bodies back for the families, which of course they were sad about, then we made it back home. Ellie was in her little shed in the backyard and I had already tucked Aiden and Ethan into bed for the night.

Joel was already passed out but I couldn't sleep so I sat up on the edge of the bed and ran my hands through my hair.

This lie we keep telling Ellie just tears me up inside the more time goes on and the more times she keeps questioning it; I know she knows that we're lying, she just doesn't know exactly what it is.

"(Y/n), honey?" I hear Joel groan behind me and I turn to him to see him waking up. "Everything okay?" He asked, softly, as he rubs the sleep out of his eyes. "Yeah...just couldn't sleep." I said and he starts to sit up then sits down next to me and places an arm around me. "What's wrong?" He asked me and I sigh. 

"I'm...I'm just thinking..." I replied. "About what?" He asked and I bite my lips. "This lie we're telling Ellie." I replied and I hear him sigh, heavily, at this. "Oh Lord, not this again." He grumbles. "Joel, she's already questioning our story. Whether you like it or not, she's gonna find out. She's a really smart girl..." I said and Joel looks down.

"She's not gonna find out." He grumbles. "Yes, she will. And that's what's heartbreaking, Joel. Cause I can see this go either way. Either we tell her and she has her heart broken about it, maybe lose her trust or she finds out herself, still has her heart broken and not only we lose her trust, but also we lose her forever." I said.

Joel frowns at this, knowing I'm right about the potential consequences of holding back the truth from Ellie. He sighs and pull me close, resting his chin on my shoulder. “I know honey...but it’s for her own good.” he said and I frown then sigh as he kisses my shoulder.

"I know it's for her own good...it's just...I'm just worried and scared of what's to come. I don't want to lose her." I said. He pulls me closer to him, his arms wrapped around my shoulders, and I place my hands on his arm as tears rolled down my face. "Neither do I." He mutters and we sit like this for awhile before both of us get tired and fall asleep.

@fangirl-inthe-us