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vampiresuns · 4 years

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Valerian Cassano | Death Sits In Their Garden, Death Rules Them All

Some lore fanfic about the ties of Anatole’s family with magic, and the most powerful witch among them all: Valerian Cassano, great grandfather to Anatole, and in the Cassano-verse, also grandfather to Valerius.

I have to thank Sabina, @arcanecadenza, for letting me borrow The Forge, from her very, very inspiring fic ‘I’m Not Calling You A Liar’, from her Pre-Canon Cadenza Series.

CW for child loss, and of course, death, necromancy and demons.

The painting featured is Vanitas, by Katherine Stone.

There weren’t many witches or magicians amongst both the Cassano and the Radošević. Magic was a scarce gift in their family, jumping generations or from one collateral to another, manifesting in specific gifts most of the time. Maybe more of them would be tied to magic if their political tradition wasn’t so strong, or if they simply knew better. It is hard to give a name to that which we don’t know, to that which we simply take as fact.

The topic was rarely openly discussed; it wasn’t taboo, nothing was between them. Instead, it had become something only those with magical abilities themselves discussed. As long as they were aware they had them, of course. Who else would understand?

So you had Anatole, the man of light and languages, the favourite of the Gods of the Sun, as his more religious relatives would say. You had Amparo, Lady Death, the girl of sand and glass. Milenko, the poet born in water. You had Vlad, the alchemist. You had had Anzano, may they find rest, the Priest. Yet, as present and even notorious as their magic could be, none of them bore the gift and the weight Valerian Cassano did.

Not many people knew about it.

Ironically, as the same would happen to his grandchildren Vlad and Valerius years later, Valerian was not raised by his parents but by his aunt Hyppolita Valperga. Hyppolita was a clever woman, who laughed little; ambitious and stoic, yet still warm in her own way. Valerian wasn’t much like her, he was much more like his mother Carmina, Hyppolita’s sister.

Yet he had gotten one thing from Hyppolita — other than what being raised by her gave him: her necromancy.

Hyppolita was an outcast of necromancing circles herself. The magical art had fallen in disgrace out of the greed and corruption of some, something which austere, upright Hyppolita (or ‘Lilita, as only her husband could call her) could not condone. “They,” she used to say with a weary sigh, “pretend to become Death themselves. They are not Death, for they rule nothing. We are simply messengers of death-energy, conductors of it. Everything which we bring back to this world is a loan, Death themselves has made us.”

“They will die again, Valerian. Everyone always does.”

The one indulgent thing Hyppolita allowed herself, was her orchid garden. Valerian remembered her sitting in it, humming a song to herself — a song old and arcane, belonging to her own Death God, or rather, the version of Death she approached.

“Death is one and the same, Valerian,” she would say among her abnormally vivid orchids. They almost seemed to whisper, almost alive. “Death is one and the same for everyone. The Death Arcana, the Gods of Death of different cultures — like Morana, your friend Elysian’s Goddess of death — they are all one Death. Death is equal, death is not boisterous. Death does not want you to die, why would it? You will die anyway, and wanting has nothing to do with it.”

Hyppolita’s Death was a, was a... was— Valerian had no words for it. Hyppolita had taken him through the realms thrice to meet Death, and once he had gone alone. To ask questions to a being vaster than he will ever dream of being, small and insignificant and mortal. Death seized him up like he was as light as air.

Hyppolita’s Death’s voice was a sound Valerian was never able to hear anywhere else.

“Something is happening to Death, something has already happened to it, Valerian. We are witnessing the Death of something which cannot be killed.”

As he grew up, he always thought Hyppolita was being unnecessarily ominous. When he became older he realised it wasn’t Hyppolita that was ominous, it was him who did not understand. It would be many years before he understood.

In the interim, he became of age, and with becoming of age, he chose a profession. He did not become a doctor, like Aunt Hyppolita was, instead he became an actor. To his surprise, his aunt approved of it: “An actor is a vessel, just like a necromancer is. You have a wonderful voice, Valerian, use it. Death will be always there to guide you.”

Hyppolita was right, in her own way. She tended to be. Valerian was 22 when he realised he did not see things as the majority of people did, that he did not affect things like the rest of people did. The more he studied, the better he became at acting, the more he practised, the better he became at necromancy. However, per his aunt’s request, he told no one. Those who knew would know, and those whom he hadn’t told but knew anyway are the ones Valerian should beware.

That’s how he met Quaestor Valdemar.

The Quaestor was a void. Their skin dewy like the most alive of youth, yet ashy like a corpse in the mortuary. Their eyes open and alert, with some of the longest eyelashes Valerian had every seen in someone, which was saying something: not only he was dating Iovanus Cassano, who had very full eyelashes, but he himself was known for his eyes: almond eyes with amber irises, an impossible shade of grey-golden and eyelashes like a fan.

The eyelashes weren’t enough to set aside the off sensation in them, nor the feeling that their eyes weren’t just on their face, but everywhere at once. The Quaestor simply felt wrong. They went to his plays for mere three weeks, yet was never seen in the audience nor ever commented about the nature of the play they just saw. The actors were not of their concern, nor their jobs.

They were there for Valerian.

He mentioned this to Hyppolita after the second time they came, as Iovanus was very disconcerted with the behaviour. “Caro mio,” he had said, “no one is exactly sure what Valdemar does. All I know is that my father refers to them as the Palace’s cockroach problem.”

Hyppolita always saw her nephew’s plays. All of them on the opening night, and the closing night, but never in between, but the mere mention of the Quaestor made her go to the next one.

“That’s odd, Aunt, I didn’t know you knew them.”

“I do not, and I have no intention to.” Valerian did not understand.

What the Quaestor wanted of him was to give him a book: a leather bound journal titled The Forge. Valerian hadn’t seen Valdemar in the audience, but he knew they would come anyway. Something, no, someone could tell him. It was a whispering in the hallways which came from no one, it was the life energy pulsating in things, it was the prickling sensation in his gums, the eyes on the back of his neck. It was the shrill voice of his Aunt Hyppolita’s death murmuring: Double, double.

The Quaestor was in his changing room, as they always were when the play ended, fingers gloved and— holding a book.

“Quaestor Valdemar, did you enjoy the play?”

Valdemar ignored him. “Do you know what this is? I believe this will help you where your true talent lies. You have much of it.” They smiled. Had their teeth always been that sharp?

“Is it about acting?”

“There’s no need to pretend with me. Why don’t you just take it, Valerian?”

Valerian never took it, not from the Quaestor at least. Hyppolita made it to his changing room before he even had a chance, treating Valdemar like an unruly pupil, with short, precise sentences about how they could go now and drop it, as Valerian was her child. Valerian could tell in the way she stood without taking her eyes of them that Hyppolita was afraid. He had never seen her afraid.

To his surprise the Quaestor left, and a week later Hyppolita asked him to have tea with her, and lock the room behind her.

“That book, The Forge is a compilation done by a naive Necromancer who thought compiling all the knowledge of people who thought themselves Gods would help someone. I do not want our art to be lost, but losing it also means corrupting it.”

Valerian only listened, sipping his tea in silence.

“Everything that’s in it— Valerian listen to me: I have never downplayed your gift. Never have I ever seen a Necromancer with such raw potential as you. You could do everything that is in this book with the necessary application and beyond. Maybe for some reason that I cannot explain you are such a remarkale actor because you have unused potential as a necromancer. Maybe both gifts are not related.”

She sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose with her gloved hands.

Gloved hands, just like the Quaestor’s. Just like the hands of many necromancers he had met.

“Aunt why do you use gloves?”

“Because I’m a Doctor.”

“Aunt.”

“Necromancy takes a toll on you: either in your life force, if you’re too rash, or in what you practice it with. We use our hands. Mine are in a deplorable state. Valerian if you ever wish to know how powerful a Necromancer is, look at their hands. Have you ever wondered why your hands are freckled and marked like an old person’s despite belonging to young skin?”

Valerian looked at his hands. Seeing that Hyppolita was right he sat on them, making his aunt laugh.

“You’ll be fine, if you are not rash with your gift. You can read this book if you like, I will mentor you... but do not accept it from the Quaestor — I do not know what Valdemar is, but I fear the answer, or a hint of it, is in this book. There are many an occult thing in this word, the arcane is not to be meddled with without knowing the consequences: magic comes with a price, life exists on the basis of Death, Valerian. You die on stage to bring life to a character. Life is nothing but an extension of that.”

“The realm of the Arcana are only 22, that is a limited number for such an infinite universe. Do not wander off. Do not become great at the price of becoming something you are not. This book whispers, and whatever voice you feed is the voice that, in your own self, becomes louder.”

From that day on Valerian studied with the same zeal he applied to his acting, and to those things in life which mattered to him. Valerian married Iovanus, and he studied necromancy. Valerian and Iovanus had a daughter, and he practised. That daughter, Matilda, grew and Valerian began using gloves — his hands hadn’t deteriorated as much as he feared, something his husband was grateful for, but he was afraid he would accidentally harm Matilda. He turned 31, slowly walking away from acting to involve himself with the affairs of the City, and he practised.

Many things happened in his life: his daughter became an adult, she married herself, she had a child too young, and refused to take responsibility for it when Valerian or Iovanus were there, or her husband’s brother, Mircea, and his own husband, her cousin Florentino. Through doubt and fights, through love and reconciliation, Valerian lived between the living and the dead, his craft never leaving him.

Until his daughter died.

He didn’t remember anything of the first year after her death — after Mircea and Florentino decided they would take the children in, he sat on his grief and there he stayed numb for a year. The obsession came to him on the second year.

What had he done wrong? Hadn’t he been affectionate and educative as Hyppolita had been with him? Hadn’t Iovanus been attentive and had he not lead with example? No matter what they did, everything always went wrong, and Death...

Death. He knew Death: he could bring his daughter back. The thought ate at him, always in the tip of his tongue, always in the back of his mind. His hours melted and slipped away from him, his sleep was fitful, his meals scarce; every waking hour of many months blurred together into one question: what if they could do it all again? What if this time, they did it right? If this time Matilda would understand the duty of parenthood and the Consulship, so Iovanus never had to deny her the position, so her children knew her mother.

He could fix it, he could—

He looked at his hands. He had never noticed he had Hyppolita’s nail-beds. He could bring his daughter back, but at what cost? Would she be her? Would he bring her back only to repeat every single mistake? Were they mistakes? What was the price, how would he explain it? He would be a fool if he pretended to know everything that was out there, in every single realm. Bringing Matilda back would not change anything, but himself.

From that day on, Valerian stopped practising.

In the spot where he sat flowers bloomed the brightest, plants seemed to never wither or die. The rest of his family — the ones who do not know of his magic — as well as the waiting-staff of the Palazzo Cassano have stopped trying to make sense of it; old Valerian Cassano is pushing past the centenary in terms of age and is, by all means, well conserved. Most people assumed it has less to do with Valerian himself, and more to not having led a life of excess in his youth, aided by the resources the family he had married into had.

They were all wrong.

Valerian, well into the first decade over the hundred years of age had many reasons to live: he had Vlad, who had grown from an angry, hurt teenager, into a wonderful father and attentive husband. He had Valerius, so unlike his mother while having the same attitude of hers. So full of mistakes like himself, slowly trying to heal from things he did not speak of. He had Anatole, his bright, so very alive great grandson. He had Milenko who always read his poems to him, and he had his most wonderful pupil, Amparo.

Her magic was nothing like his, and for that Valerian was grateful.

He had stopped practising necromancy altogether. Only once he was close to admitting to anyone the reason why — a reason he hadn’t even told his husband, now dead. Valerius had come to him, sitting with him in the winter garden with his glass of wine in hand.

“You knew,” he said. A statement, not a question.

“Yes, of course I knew.”

“Why didn’t you say anything? You could’ve told anyone, you could’ve told Ae— you could’ve told Aelius.”

“I think he also knew, in his own particular way, but no one would gain anything from it. I did what I could, trying to make you open up for once in your life, but you’re stubborn as a ram.”

Valerius was quiet for a long time. “Can I tell you something?”

“Always, my child.”

As he spoke, he stopped being Valerius, the Consul, and instead became Valeriy, his grandson, confused and lost, prideful and complex as he had always been. Valerian listened as he told him about wine drinking rams, and realms beyond the realms they inhabit. Of goats and hungry devils.

Valerius stopped mid-sentence. “You already know this too.”

“Valeriy, have you ever wondered why haven’t I died yet?”

“To annoy all of us, surely.”

Valerian laughed. “You have Matilda’s attitude. Don’t look so guilty, I know you don’t remember her. That is her fault, not yours.”

Valerian looked at his nail beds, then straight ahead. “Once I had a great teacher, she taught me things I cannot teach you, don’t ask me what it is — she told me not to become great at the expense of becoming someone I am not. That is all I can teach you from this. Do not try to become someone you’re not.”

Valerius would ask him if he reminded him of her, to which Valerian would say no. As unlikely as it could be, his grandson did have a conscience, unlike his daughter. Valerius reminded him way more of the men who had raised him than his own daughter. Valerian had made his peace with it.

He remembered her, and that was enough. Even in death she was impossible to contact, but in all honesty Valerian hadn’t tried: he preferred to remain the father of a dead, irresponsible daughter, than become someone who trespassed the limits of his own craft so much, he became someone he could not recognise.

“Honesty can hurt,” Hyppolita had told him once ,“but those who run from pain are doomed to lose all capacity to remain human.”

#my writing #the arcana #the radosevic-cassano #valerian cassano #valerius #he has a cameo #death cw #child loss cw #please have them i love this family so much #aunt hyppolita

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sineala · 4 years

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Queer novel recs

[A repost from my Patreon.]

By request of the one person who is pledging at a Patreon tier that lets them make meta/review requests of me, some recommendations for queer novels. Fiction-wise, I read pretty much exclusively science fiction and fantasy, with the occasional excursus into historical fiction, so that's what you're getting.

SF/F these days is, happily, getting queerer and queerer. As a general recommendation, a good place to start is the lists of winners and nominees of the Otherwise Award (formerly the Tiptree Award), which, according to their website, "encourages the exploration and expansion of gender." There's also the Lambda Literary Awards, which are awarded to both fiction and non-fiction LGBT books across various categories, including genre (mystery, romance, SF/F & horror). It's obviously not going to be a guarantee that you'll like any particular one of these books, but at least it means that somebody did.

A whole lot of the Hugo award nominees and winners this year coincidentally happened to be queer fiction, especially in the longer categories. The Best Novel winner, Arkady Martine's The Memory of Empire, is a sprawling space opera starring a diplomat who incidentally (very incidentally) happens to have some Feelings for her cultural liaison, and it's a really good book, anyway. I actually voted for Tamsyn Muir's Gideon the Ninth, which is billed as "lesbian necromancers in space," and it is pretty much exactly that. It's a murder mystery, which you'd think would be less mysterious in a book where half the characters are necromancers, but this doesn't actually help them much. I thought it was delightful and I have the sequel sitting here on my Kindle waiting for me to read it. But had Gideon not stolen my heart, I would have voted for Kameron Hurley's The Light Brigade. Everything else I have read by Hurley -- well, okay, that's just the Bel-Dame Apocrypha series, actually -- has starred kickass queer people, and this one's no exception. It's military SF in the vein of Starship Troopers or The Forever War with a really well-done time travel plot, in which the twists just keep coming. The narrator's gender is intentionally obscured for about 95% of the novel, and for added fun, they're bisexual. (Charlie Jane Anders' The City in the Middle of the Night also had queer characters but it didn't really grab me.)

(I have to admit I bounced off a lot of the Hugo novella nominees this year, including most of the queer ones, but Amal El-Mohtar & Max Gladstone's This Is How You Lose The Time War (lesbian time-travel agents) did win, although it wasn't really my thing, and Rivers Solomon's The Deep (lesbian mermaids) appears to have gone on to win this year's Lambda instead, although that one wasn't really my thing either. Becky Chambers's To Be Taught, If Fortunate also had some lesbians and I liked that a bit better, but none of those got my #1 vote.)

I have not read it yet and cannot vouch for it but my wife is reading N. K. Jemisin's new short story collection and she says they're very good and a lot of them are queer.

Okay. So. What about less recent queer SF/F, you ask?

I started reading SF/F in the mid-90s, and there wasn't a whole lot of queer SF/F out there in the mainstream SF market, so I imprinted pretty heavily on what there was that I could find, which was basically, at first, the blink-and-you'll-miss-it gay dragonriders of Anne McCaffrey's Pern series. Pern is what The Youth these days would probably call problematic in several ways, but there wasn't much else out there. I also then read Mercedes Lackey's Valdemar series, which is basically iddy iddy whump fic with magic telepathic animals who love you, so I'm not saying it's a complete literary masterpiece but Confused Baby Lesbian Sineala sure spent a lot of time wondering why she was identifying so very hard with Vanyel from the Last Herald-Mage trilogy. (I also really enjoyed Marion Zimmer Bradley's Darkover books, especially the ones about the Renunciates (the lesbian ones), Heritage of Hastur (the gay one), and The Forbidden Tower (the one where a telepathic orgy solves everyone's problems) but owing to the, uh, terrible things we all found out about MZB after she died, I don't think I can recommend them. Or read them ever again.

Other older queer SF/F that was beloved among my friend group: Ellen Kushner's Swordspoint and its sequels are about a duelist and his boyfriend and a lot of people liked this one, but I never liked it enough to keep up with all the sequels. The first few of Lynn Flewelling's Nightrunner books, however, punched me straight in the id; the protagonists are a pair of spies and thieves who are, more or less, this fantasy world's version of elves. There are a whole lot of grätúìtôūs dīåcrìtïcs and after the third book everything gets a little too horrific for me, but I really loved the first three.

But if I had to pick a top three list of authors who have written queer SF/F, this would be my list:

(1) Diane Duane. She is pretty much my favorite author ever, so I am biased here. I first discovered her work with her Star Trek tie-in novels (which, if you like Vulcans and Romulans, are amazing) and then her YA series Young Wizards, which is about teenagers who can do magic and use it to make the universe a better place and it's about ten thousand times more meaningful to me than Harry Potter ever was. But, anyway. She also has a fantasy series called The Tale of the Five, which is an everyone-is-bi-and-poly series started back before that kind of thing was even cool. Also there's a group marriage involving, like, six people, one of whom is a fire elemental. There are three books out in that series, she's still writing novellas set in it, and she swears that she's going to write the fourth and final book that we've been waiting about 25 years for.

(2) Melissa Scott. Everything I have ever read by Melissa Scott, either as a solo author or with her late partner Lisa Barnett, is queer as hell and has amazing worldbuilding. I first encountered her work when I randomly picked up Trouble and Her Friends (lesbian cyberpunk) at a used bookstore and ended up adoring it. Her other works include Shadow Man (set in a future where humanity has a whole lot more intersex people), The Kindly Ones (which has a protagonist whose gender is never specified), and The Armor of Light (alt-history involving Kit Marlowe and a demon). But my favorite series of hers is the Astreiant series, which is a Professionals AU with the serial numbers filed off, but they're filed off really well. It's a series of police procedural mysteries set in Fantasy Matriarchal Renaissance Netherlands, starring a m/m couple, and the fantasy gimmick here is that astrology is really real and really works. They're a lot of fun.

(3) Nicola Griffith. All of her books are about queer women. She has a few that are modern-day thrillers that I didn't so much care for, but I really love her SF. The first book of hers I read was Ammonite, about an anthropologist who gets sent to a planet of only women to try to figure out how they reproduce and ends up going native instead. I really adored it. I also remember really liking Slow River although I no longer remember the actual plot, except that the main character worked at a sewage facility. And it's historical fiction rather than SF, but she's probably most famous for Hild, a novel about Hilda of Whitby. I liked it a lot except for the part where it annoyed me that Griffith invented out of whole cloth the idea that women would have a special female companion and made up a name for it in Old English and everything, and most people who read the book probably believed it was a real thing. But, uh. I did really love Ammonite. I am so weak for planet-of-women books. (This is why I am so sad that I can't ever read the Renunciates of Darkover books again.)

That's about all I can think of right now. I hope some of those recs are, at the very least, new!

#posts i actually wrote

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potentiallymrsdevorak · 6 years

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In Fields of Flowers (The Arcana)

Chapter Two: Pink Camellias (Longing for You)

Pairing: Julian x Nijah (my female apprentice)

Summary: Nijah just found out that she had slept with her new mentor. How will he react when she tries to reach out? Will an old flame she had long forgotten spark something new in the doctor?

Word Count: 6,176 (a little less bc no smut soz)

Author’s Note: finally, here is the next chapter! I’m really enjoying writing this series, even though I’m...not very consistent. Lol. I do wanna let y’all know that there is a scene in here that can be very triggering to readers. If you’re uncomfortable with a man forcing himself on a woman, then you will want to skip a certain part with Luka and Nijah about to go out and about the Lazaret (slight spoiler). But otherwise, please enjoy!

Tagging: @drunkenomnist, @juliandevoraknsfw

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Nijah’s nerves had never been so strained.

Just the night before, she had lost her virginity, a very intimate act, to the Dr. Julian Devorak? The man that she would be training under to help cure the plague?

If she wasn’t still wearing her plague doctor’s mask, she would have covered her face in her hands by now.

But Dr. Devorak seemingly kept his composure, continuing to read off the list of names.

“Katja Kuznetsov.”

“Present.”

The voice comes from the desk next to Nijah. She glances over to see the wavy hair of the girl who spoke pinned back in a loose ponytail. She seems nice, she thinks, as Dr. Devorak’s voice pulls her back to reality.

“Luka Pavlov.”

“Present.”

Wait a moment. I know that voice, she thought, turning around her shoulder to see where the sound came from. Luka slid off his mask, sending a wink in her direction.

She remembers him well. Luka was her first crush in primary school. He was also the first boy to ever reject her.

“Well, it seems that everyone has arrived safely.” Dr. Devorak concluded. “Now, if you all get in a single file line, I will take you through the Lazaret. Leave your personal belongings behind, they will get picked up and placed in your new rooms.”

Everyone else follows his command, as if he’s put everyone under an eerie spell. Nijah follows suit, finding herself standing right behind Katja. It looks a little strange, Nijah thought, to have all of us in a line wearing the exact same thing, huh. If she didn’t know better, she would have thought it was a funeral march.

Katja turns her head a little bit and whispers just so she can hear.

“Are you nervous?”

Boy, if she really knew.

“A little bit.”

“You’re Nijah, right?”

“Mhmm.”

“Okay, we should stick with each ot-”

“I did not ask you to speak.” Dr. Devorak glares at Nijah and Katja through his mask. Silence echoes through the room as no one dares to make a sound.

“Then, follow me.” The doctor demands as he takes the lead, opening up the door to the rest of the Lazaret. The apprentices follow behind, accepting their new fate.

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The tour through Lazaret was...frightening, to say the least.

The walls, though made of brick, seemed colorless and void of anything but darkness. The patient’s wing was rather depressing, seeing so many citizens of Vesuvia essentially sentenced to their deaths with no way of escaping. They were to die in the darkness, away from their families, their loved ones...it nearly broke Nijah’s heart, wishing that she was with her family right now.

She did get a little excited when she saw the medical lab. Various tools and tables were set out in the space, letting Nijah’s imagination run wild. She wondered what sort of tests and examinations she would be conducting in this room, and if she could potentially find a link to help cure the plague.

“My office is right next door, here.” Dr. Devorak continued, pointing to the door with his name written on a large sign. “Dr. Satrinava and Dr. Valdemar’s offices are further down, but they are not always here. If you need assistance or have any questions, please feel free to ask me.”

Oh, believe me, I have questions, Nijah thought as she rolled her eyes, thankful that they were still wearing their plague masks so her sarcasm could not be detected.

Torches lit their way up the stairwell the doctor was leading them to. “And up here is the apprentice wing. This is the only space that you are guaranteed not to catch the plague.” With that said, he unfastened his plague mask, letting his curls fall in front of his face. “You may take your masks off now.”

One by one, every apprentice began to take their mask off. Nijah felt the stale air hit her face as she blinked to adjust her eyes to the dim lighting. She began to take in the faces of her fellow comrades, and tried her best to not focus on the man she found between her legs the night prior.

Katja turns around to see everyone else around her, and Nijah is nearly struck at her natural beauty. Her skin is the color of deep honey, her eyes shining a deep hazel. Her wavy ponytail frames her face perfectly. A simple golden nose ring hung from her septum. She looks like she would be a character in a storybook.

“Strange to see the masks off, hmm?” Katja commented.

“Yeah…” Nijah trailed off, eyes lingering on Dr. Devorak for a moment too long. Her new friend notices.

“Seems you’re a little shocked with the looks of the good doctor.” Katja winks, nudging Nijah in the ribs with her elbow.

The group continues up the stairs until Dr. Devorak reaches a tall, wooden door.

“This is as far as I am taking you,” he states, “for this is the apprentice dormitory. You will all share this space together, which is why it is imperative that no one brings the plague up here. This is the end of the tour. I expect all of you to be seen in the dining hall at sundown for dinner, which is on the floor beneath you. Do not be late.”

With that, he opens the door, the apprentices filing in one by one. Nijah thought that possibly, for one second, she would catch his gaze as she walked by, or possibly a smile…

But she saw nothing, not even a passing glance.

Disappointed, she stepped into the apprentice’s wing, eyes widening at the sight of the windows streaming sunlight in the room. A smile crept over her face as she stepped towards one, the city of Vesuvia far away from her now. Even though it was terribly far, it gave her hope. Hope that she would one day return.

“Nice, isn’t it?” Katja placed a hand on Nijah’s shoulder. “I swore we would be locked in a dungeon the entire time.”

“Me too.” Nijah turned her head to see Katja’s profile, illuminated by the light. She was glad to have gained a friend today.

“Well, we don’t have much time to dwell.” Katja said, sitting on the bed next to her. “Looks like we’ll be right next to each other!”

Nijah looked at the foot of the bed, noticing her bags and violin case were placed there carefully. She sits on the mattress, immediately feeling the stiffness in her spine.

“Oof…” she mutters. “They never said it would be the most lavish way of living…”

As the two women conversed, a figure that Nijah remembered all too well approached them. He looked almost the same, except his facial hair had grown in, trimmed perfectly for a gentleman, and his hair no longer sat on his forehead, but was styled upwards. On top of that, he had definitely grown and spent some time working on his...physique.

“Nijah,” Luka chuckled, extending his hand for her to shake, “It’s been some time, huh?”

She accepted it, giving it a strong shake. “It has. I’m not the little girl with the crush on you anymore.”

“Really? Aw, that’s too bad.” He smiled playfully, sitting on the mattress next to her. Katja shot Nijah a confused look, watching over Luka skeptically.

“Katja,” Nijah explained, “Luka and I were in primary school together. He moved after we had met, so I hadn’t seen him since.”

“How old were we then...around eight? Nine?” Luke pondered, running his fingers over his beard. “That seems like forever ago.”

“Yes, so it seems,” Katja replied, rather coldly. It was clear to Nijah that she did not like him.

“So, what do you guys have planned for the next few hours?” Luka asked, running his hands along the wrinkles of his doctor’s coat. “Anyone up for a little exploration?”

“Pass.” Katja spat, pulling a book out of a bright yellow bag and burying her nose into it.

“Okay, how about you, Nijah? For old time’s sake?”

Nijah pondered his proposal. She definitely would not mind spending time with him (as a friend, of course), and reminisce on their old times. But, she knew no one would be bothering Dr. Devorak right now, and there were some questions that she desperately needed answers for.

“Sorry, Luka, I have a few medical questions to ask the doctor.”

His shoulders slumped as a small frown crossed his features. “I understand. I’ll catch you at dinner, okay?” He patted Nijah on the back as he left her alone with her thoughts.

I have to do this now, or else I never will, Nijah told herself as she stood up from the mattress, sneaking out of the apprentice’s wing without a sound.

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Nijah approached the office of Dr. Devorak quietly, anxious to see him once again. She was worried that she wasn’t going to get the answers she wanted. She rehearsed what she wanted to say to him over and over again, but knew that it would never be perfect.

She raises her hand, allowing her knuckles to rap among the door.

Knock, knock, knock.

A disgruntled sigh.

“Enter.”

Nijah opened the door to see Dr. Devorak sitting in a chair over his desk, facing away from the door. A lone candle was the only source of light in the room, leaving a warm glow around his sihoulette. A cot laid on the side of his desk, complete with a pillow and two blankets. Does he sleep down here?

Dr. Devorak turned over his shoulder, his expression one of surprise. “Nijah. Shut the door behind you, please.”

She listened, letting the door slam with a dull thud behind her. “Ilya, I-”

“Don’t call me that here.” He interrupted her, his voice growing menacingly low. “No one ever calls me that, ever.”

“Oh, sorry…” Nijah twirled a strand of her hair in her fingers. This already isn’t going well, she thought. “Uh, Dr. Devorak, I can’t help but ask you a few things.”

“If you are going to ask of the status of our relationship, don’t even bother.” He turns back around, scribbling something rather quickly. “You are my apprentice, and I am your teacher. There is nothing else.”

Nijah’s brows furrow as she crosses her arms. “How can you just hide everything like this? It’s not natural, Dr. Devorak.”

“Not only am I a skilled doctor, but I also spent some time in the theatre,” he responded, “I can be whoever I need to be.”

His confession broke Nijah’s heart in two. “Does this mean you were acting last night? Was everything you told me a lie?”

“If that is what you need to believe to get rid of your obvious feelings for me, then yes.”

“You…” her lip was quivering, her whole body shaking, “...you’re a monster! What kind of man do you think you are?”

“You’re right,” he stood quickly from his chair, moving fast enough to corner her in the small office. His fist banged on the wall next to Nijah’s head, making her nearly jump out of her shoes. “I am a terrible man. I have done things that you will never know, that you could never comprehend. If you stay with me, there’s no guarantee that I won’t hurt you, too. So, for your sake,” he stared intensely into her baby blue eyes, watching them fill with tears, “forget everything. Forget what I may have said, what I may have done. I’ll only bring you more pain.”

He backed away from her slowly, his expression laced with pure anger. Nijah could barely breathe, she was so frightened. He was nothing like the man she thought he was.

And he saw it in her eyes that she could never trust him again.

“...you are dismissed.”

Nijah wasted no time in leaving, her hand practically on the handle before he uttered his last phrase. As the door shut behind her, she pressed her body to the wall, letting it slide down to the floor. As she crouched with her knees to her chin, she let her tears fall silently. This was the last place she wanted to be. All she wanted to do was to go home and forget that everything had ever happened.

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Julian Devorak sighed as he sat in his chair.

What were you thinking, scaring that poor girl like that? He thought, diving back into his work. His mind went to war, going back and forth with the different possibilities of how he could have made the situation better. His quill scribbled quicker the more he fought with himself, dipping it back in the ink more frequently than earlier.

She needed to hear that from you. She has no right trying to romance you as an apprentice.

But she has no ill will towards you. She just wants to see the good in you.

There is no good in you! There are still some things you refuse to forgive yourself over.

She would find it in her heart to love you.

There’s no way she would love a monster like you.

But it seems there’s a way for a monster like you to fall in love with her.

The tip of his quill broke, and he realized just how tightly he was gripping the writing utensil. He released another heavy sigh as he ran his fingers through his hair.

“What...what am I going to do?”

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Learning about the different procedures in the medical lab was something Nijah found to enjoy. Dr. Valdemar, Dr. Satrinava, and Dr. Devorak were extremely knowledgeable in their content, and taught the apprentices thoroughly. Even though they were a little...strange, at times, she was definitely getting better at her craft.

“Make sure the incision in the patient doesn’t get too deep, keep it in a fine, straight line.” Dr. Satrinava demonstrated, making sure everyone was paying attention.

“If you cut it too deep, bring it to me so I can...ah, clean it up for you.” Dr. Valdemar insisted, licking their lips.

The whole room went silent. Nijah could hear Dr. Devorak swallowing heavily.

Dr. Satrinava rolled their eyes. “Ignore Dr. Valdemar…”

The apprentices spent the first few days testing out their new knowledge in the lab. Since the doctors didn’t want to risk losing more patient’s lives (and to the disappointment of Dr. Valdemar), they all used cloth dummies to practice their procedures. They were also assigned to work in groups and take turns performing on the dummy. Katja and Nijah teamed up together and, of course, Luka joined them.

“All right! Let’s get going!” He said, holding the scalpel in the air. Katja took a small step away from him.

As the apprentices began to practice their incisions, the doctors walked around the groups, observing their work. Whenever they may have noticed something was going wrong, they would step in and correct their work. However, Nijah and the rest of her group noticed that Dr. Devorak was being very careful to stay as far away from them as possible.

“Is it just me,” Katja muttered, “or is Dr. Devorak watching us?” Her snarky tone was aimed right at him, as he observed her motions from across the room.

“I’m sure he means nothing by it.” Nijah said, wondering why the hell she was defending him.

“With the mask on, it just seems more creepy.” Luka added. “Don’t you think?”

Up until this moment, Nijah had even refused to give him a passing glance. Now, as she saw him for the first time since the incident, her entire body trembled in fear. Her blood ran cold as his eyes flashed on her through his plague mask, remembering how those eyes were when he had cornered her in his office. Angry, fiery, wanting nothing but to get rid of her entirely…

“Hey, you’re up, Nijah.” Luka elbowed her in the ribs, trying to snap her back in to reality.

“Oh. Thank you…” She took the scalpel, angling it just so perfectly to cut a thin line. Dr. Satrinava walked by, observing her every move.

“Not bad, apprentice! You have some really nice skills.” They sounded rather cheerful, yet Nijah wasn’t able to read their expression. Still, she couldn’t help but feel a little warm inside.

At least one of the doctors thought she was good enough.

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A little over a week has passed since the new apprentices first came to Lazaret. None of them had died yet, and everyone was starting to get used to each other’s company. Some, like Nijah and Katja, had become fast friends, spending time together quite a bit. Others cast themselves out, labelling themselves as loners. If people don’t bother them, they won’t bother you kinda deal.

Then, there were the small group of people trying to get together with others.

As time went by, Katja could see that Luka was trying to ask Nijah to spend a night with him. She could see it in the way he looked at her, the way he was always trying to butt into their conversations, his little touches going unnoticed to those who might not suspect anything.

Katja didn’t like it one bit.

Still, she kept her mouth quiet as she watched Luka ask Nijah to spend some time with him, one on one, as they all finished up their project in the medical lab before it was time to leave. “We could walk along the beach, see what lies in the forest…” he was nervous, running his hands through his hair as he asked this of her.

“I wouldn’t mind that.” She nodded. Katja was curious to see her expression through that mask of hers.

He took a step back in shock. “Really? Uh, great! So...I’ll see you after dinner?”

“See you then.”

He walked off, a pep in his step as he left the two women alone. The doctors still lingered, cleaning up the last bits of mess. They ignored the two apprentices, busying themselves in their work.

“Nijah, you really think that hanging out with him is a good idea?” Katja questioned her.

“I don’t think he means any harm.” Nijah answered. “I mean, he was my crush over ten years ago. It’s not like I have any feelings for him now.”

Katja crossed her arms at her chest. “All right. But please do be careful. I just can’t trust him.”

“I mean, if you’re that concerned…”

“No no no, I don’t want to stop you! Just please…” Katja took Nijah’s hand in hers. “...I want you to make it back okay. Holler if you need anything, okay?”

“Of course. Thanks for being such a great friend.” Nijah knew Katja couldn’t see through her mask, but anyone could tell by the look on her face that she was telling the truth.

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After Nijah finished her dinner, she snuck off into the main hallway of the Lazaret. Holding her plague mask close to her pounding chest, she waited for Luka to show up. I know Katja said to be cautious, but...what’s a little harm in spending time with him?

She knew he was coming from the telltale clack of his shoes. Soon, he came into her vision, a huge smile slapped onto his face. He was much taller than she remembered, probably towering over 6’0 at this point. With the shoes, she bet he was even taller.

“Hello, Nijah.” He said, wrapping his arms around her shoulder and bringing her close to his body, embracing her tightly. “I’ve been looking forward to this moment all day.”

“Hello, Luka.” She patted his shoulder blade, not expecting him to be holding her so tightly. He let her go, hands still snaking around her body.

“What would you like to do tonight?”

“I don’t know. There’s so much to do, yet so little time.”

“Ah,” he grinned, “then I guess I can lead the way?”

He opened the door, allowing Nijah to slide through to the outside. Luka looked over the foyer, making sure no one was following, then shut the door behind him.

Nijah felt much more refreshed outside, the cool breeze kissing her skin. The sun had set, and the only light to guide them was from the moon, now half present. Crickets chirped, owls hooted, and the hum of the city could still be heard on Lazaret. The city might be busy during the day, but it can really come alive at night. This seemed true of the Lazaret...at least, the wildlife on the island.

Luka led Nijah around the perimeter of the Lazaret. The further they walked from the entrance, the darker it seemed to get. The torches that decorated the front were just specks in the darkness, unable to provide any further guidance. Nijah’s fingers trailed along the wall for assistance, straining her eyes to follow Luka. Something about him really felt off, as if he had something up his sleeve. In her gut, she just knew that something terrible was going to happen. But she shook it off, thinking that the island was giving her the creeps.

As she and Luka turned the corner, he stopped dead in his tracks, turning around to face her. “You know why I wanted you to come out here?”

“Uhh...so we could hang out?” Nijah let her back press up against the wall, waiting to hear Luka’s response.

“Hmm...yes, but I want a little more than that.” Luka’s hands rested by her shoulders on the brick, fingers splayed out like the legs of spiders. He was getting a little too close for Nijah’s taste, feeling his breath on her neck as he inched closer and closer.

“Um,” she said, turning to face away from him, “what do you want?”

He grabbed her jaw with his hand, forcing her to face him. “I want you, Nijah.”

He took her lips in his own, moaning at their first contact. His other hand wrapped around her body, pulling her right up to his chest. His hand trailed from her jaw to her hair, trapping her in his clutches. It was the most uncomfortable she had ever felt, and every nerve in her body was telling her to get out.

“Ngh…” he moaned, his lips barely brushing hers, “I’m gonna make sweet, sweet love to you. Take it as an apology for denying you so many years ago.”

Nijah pushes herself off of his chest, trying her best to get away from him. “I-I would really rather you not, Luka…”

“You have no say in this.” Luka growled. “You should be thankful someone wants to stick it in you.”

Nijah gasped, surprised that Luka could be so goddamn rude. She took a fistful of his hair to steady herself, and shoved her knee right in Luka’s crotch. As he kneeled over, crying out in pain, she made a run for it.

Damn, Katja was right, she thought as her feet started to go quicker and quicker. I should never have been so stupid...

Suddenly, Nijah felt herself falling in the grass rather abruptly. No sooner had she hit the ground, she felt some force pulling her ankle, back the way she came.

“No, stop!”

She tried to grab onto the grass blades, dig her fingers in the dirt, but it was no use. Whatever was pulling her back was much stronger than she ever could be. As she turned over her shoulder to see what was pulling her back, her face nearly went white.

Luka was using his magic to literally pull her back.

“Told you that you had no choice, Nijah.” His magic continued to pull her until she was lying at his feet, her doctor’s outfit covered in dirt. “Guess I forgot to tell you that my parents were traveling magicians?”

“You...you won’t get away with this!” She shouted, trying her best to set herself upright.

He just laughed. “Oh, but I already have.”

As he held his hand out, slowly closing it into a fist, Nijah felt him choke her out.

Her eyes went wide as she tried to pull them away, but it was no use. She had no magic powers, could never fend him off. She felt utterly helpless against him.

“If you give me your body, then I won’t have to kill you. Seems fair, Nijah?”

Either way, she would feel dead after he was done with her.

“Never,” she spat, nearly snarling at him like an animal as he shook his head.

“That’s quite a shame,” he said, “I quite enjoyed getting to know you.”

His magic propelled her to the brick wall, hanging her up as if he was pushing his hand up to her throat. Nijah struggled, fingers still clawing at her neck. Her feet were dangling over the ground, like a rag doll being carried like a child.

“Let...ack, me go!” Nijah kicked and shouted, trying to get help from someone, anyone, for her to get away from Luka.

He stepped closer to her, his face level with her own. A sinister smile grew over his face, making Nijah’s blood nearly turn to ice. He squeezed his fist even tighter, and she felt more lightheaded than before, the edges of her vision starting to grow black.

“Goodbye, Nijah. It’s not like you’ll be missed, anyway.”

Nijah shut her eyes, accepting that this would be her last moment. This is how she would remember the world - dark, cold, and unwelcoming.

But just as she thought she was about to slip under, she felt herself falling to the ground, the imaginary hand around her neck gone completely. She took a few deep breaths as she laid in the dirt, her eyes slowly opening to see how she was set free.

She couldn’t see much in front of her. A dark cloak was covering her vision.

“What business do you have here, Dr. Devorak?” Luka’s voice hit her ears, echoing against the brick walls.

Wait, that’s...Dr. Devorak?

“Mr. Pavlov, I hope you remember that apprentices using magic at the Lazaret is strictly prohibited, correct?” Her gaze trailed up the cloak to find the signature tuft of curly auburn hair. He really did come to save her.

“So? It’s not like I was harming a patient!”

“Are you saying hurting another apprentice isn’t a crime?” He scoffed at him. Nijah imagined his silver eyes piercing right through Luka’s skin. “And that’s another thing, Mr. Pavlov. I hope you feel disgusted with the way you treated Nijah. What kind of man do you think you are?”

“I…ah...” Luka started, but this was clearly not his battle to win.

“Go, pack up your things. You will leave when the first boat arrives at the Lazaret. I hope you learned your lesson. And Mr. Pavlov?”

“Y...yes, doctor?”

“I have eyes and ears all over Vesuvia. If I hear that you try to hurt another woman the same way you did to her...it’ll be more than a rock thrown at your head.”

Nijah heard Luka gasp audibly, then the scramble of his feet as he ran off.

Once he was gone, Dr. Devorak turned around and bent down on his knees. His cloak uncovered her vision, revealing that he was wearing a dark colored coat, one that she had never seen before. “Nijah…” his voice softened, the edge completely gone, “are you all right?”

She was speechless, unable to form words. He held his hand out to her, and she backed herself up on the wall, eyes spilling over with worry. When she looked in his eyes, she saw the man that threatened that he would hurt her, that he was a terrible person who did terrible things. She was afraid of him, literally cowering below him, anticipating his next move.

Julian saw this. And he was ashamed in himself.

“Nijah…” His fisted hand dropped in the dirt, knowing how much he hurt her, “I’m so sorry. I never should have yelled at you, or pushed you away.” He sighed, running a free hand through his hair. “I will hurting you for the rest of my life. I hope you will someday find it in your heart to forgive me.”

She couldn’t bear herself to look at him yet. But she knew his words were pure.

Cautiously, Nijah reached her hand out to his, eyes still gazing on the ground. Her throat hurt too much to speak, but he saw it all in the small smile tickling her lips, all in the warmth of her fingers brushing on his gloved skin. It’s okay, everything will be okay.

Julian let out a sigh of relief, thankful that she felt something, whether it was love or forgiveness, for him. He gazed over her dirty figure, only one thing on his mind:

“May...may I hold you?” Julian asked.

Nijah nodded, finally facing him as she extending her arms out to him. He accepted her willingly, pulling her to his chest as her legs splayed out on the ground. His heartbeat quickened as he felt her body against his again, this time in an act that felt even more intimate than their last. As her face nuzzled against his doctor’s coat, he felt happy. Happy that she was here, happy that he had found her before it was too late.

It was then that he realized that Luka will still be staying in the dormitory before he goes off the next morning.

“Nijah, are you comfortable sleeping in your bed tonight?”

He felt her shake her head on his chest, a solid “no.”

“Would you...want to stay in my room? It’s not the room with the cot, I promise.”

This time, it’s a frantic “yes,” a nod that makes him chuckle lightly.

“Ah, let’s go then. Upsy-daisy…”

He hooked his arms under her legs, much the same way he carried her not too long ago, and escorted her to his bed chambers. As he carried her through the Lazaret, long after everyone had fallen asleep, she was thankful that he had rescued her. She felt safer in his arms than anywhere else.

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He carried her all the way to his office, and when the door behind them had been shut, she found her footing on the solid ground. He lifted the cot from its place to reveal a trap door. As he opened it, a staircase consumed with darkness opened itself up to them.

“Follow me,” Julian whispered, one hand holding a lit candle and the other snaking its way between Nijah’s fingers. Her head was much clearer now, and she accepted it, allowing him to lead her wherever he wanted to go.

He guided her down the dark stairwell, leading into a small room with a large bed occupying the space. The blankets and pillows smelled like they had just been cleaned. The scent relaxed Nijah as Julian guided her to sit on the edge.

“I hope you enjoy your rest.” He says before taking one of the pillows. “If you need me, I’ll be down here.” Without another word, he plopped down onto the cobblestone floor and laid his head down to rest, blowing the candle out to envelope them in complete darkness.

Um...okay, Nijah’s eyebrows twisted in confusion. He still must have some physical boundaries with me. Letting Julian off to do his own thing, she climbed to the top of the bed and snuggled herself under the covers.

She closed her eyes to sleep, but the frightening memories of Luka still haunted her mind. She could vividly remember how his lips hungered like a bloodthirsty animal on hers, how his deep voice shook her to the bone, how she felt like there was no way to escape. And his eyes, oh hells, his eyes. He stared at her like she was nothing more but prey. And how his grin turned devilish as he tightened the grip around her neck, watching her take her last few breaths before…

“Ah!” Nijah gasped as she shot up in bed. She hadn’t been sleeping for long, but she already felt a warm rush fill her cheeks and a cold sweat on her brow. She did not like the things he was doing to her. Secretly, she wondered if it was his magic still at work...

“Nijah?” A voice called out in the darkness. A flick of a wrist, and the candle was burning brightly again.

“...yes?” she squeaked timidly.

“Can’t sleep?”

“Not really.”

“How can I help you?”

Nijah looked down and realized she was still wearing her dirty doctor’s clothes. Slowly, she began unbuttoning them and discarding them to the side of the bed. As her feverish skin met the chilly air of the underground bedroom, she knew exactly what she needed.

“Julian...can you come sleep up here?”

On the floor, Julian made a startled noise.

“Ah, I don’t...are you...do you…” he cleared his throat, popping his head up so Nijah could see his gleaming eyes. “Are you sure thahhhhhhh...”

His eyes lingered over her bare skin. She was wearing the shirt that he gave to her less than a fortnight ago, the plunging neckline bringing back his memories from that night. It clung on to her womanly form, just sliding off of her left shoulder. Julian couldn’t see what was hiding underneath the covers, but he wanted to find out. If, of course, she would be willing.

“Oh! Ah…” she pulled the covers a little higher, slightly embarrassed that he had seen her in such a state. “I don’t need you to touch me that way...I just need you to hold me.”

Nijah swore he heard him sigh in relief, but she would never be able to tell. “That...that I can do.” Julian smiled as he stood up from his place, making his way next to her on the covers. He blew out the candle as he was next to her, placing it on the floor as he tucked himself in, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her close to his chest.

“Is this what you wanted?” Julian whispered, his lips resting at the crown of her head as his fingers intertwined with hers, resting near her chest.

Nijah took in a deep breath, filling her senses with his presence. His musky, yet charming scent filled her lungs and relaxed her. His cooling touch made her feel like herself again. Hearing his voice comforted her when it once frightened her. Her relationship with Dr. Julian Devorak might be quite the roller coaster, but right now, she had never been happier.

“Yes. Thank you.”

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In her dreams, she was in a much happier place. There was not a cloud in sight, only sunshine fell through the trees of the forest she was running through. A happier tune played through her head as her bare feet touched the ground. She was running towards something, but what?

Finally, she stopped in front of a field of flowers, spreading as far as the eye could see. Many colors filled her vision - pinks, purples, blues, and the many meanings of the flowers resounded through her mind. Some of them her favorites, some of them she had never seen before, that must hail from a different world. Although it was a wondrous place, a beautiful place, she couldn’t help but wonder…

Why am I here?

But soon, she knew her answer.

She was running toward a man she had grown to become quite fond of. As he turned around to see her, his auburn curls blew in the wind, making him out to be the most gorgeous man Nijah had ever seen. He was wearing his white, billowy shirt and his black pants, definitely her favorite outfit he had ever worn. He opened his arms to catch her, to hold her close to him and spin her around in his embrace. When she held him, she felt like she was home at last.

Julian set her down gently, smiling as if he had a surprise for her. She felt a wave of excitement flood her body as he reached into his chest pocket and pulled out a simple flower, blowing gently in the breeze.

A pink camellia, she whispered to him.

One by one, he began to pick off the petals, letting them take flight in the air. She loves me, she loves me not, she loves me, she loves me not… He sang, his eyes never leaving her own.

As he played his little game, Nijah saw the sky become dark with storm clouds, cutting off any possible light from the sun. A frosty gust of wind blew through the field, and all the flowers around her fell to the ground, brown and withered. Still, Julian pursued, even though the world was falling apart around them.

The angry clouds turned red, thunder crackling through the sky. Nijah had never felt more terrified in her life.

Julian, stop! Let’s get out of here! She screamed, but her cries fell to deaf ears.

Then, the last petal was pulled, and a creepy grin stretched over his face.

She loves me.

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#the arcana #the arcana fic #the arcana game #julian devorak #julian devorak fanfic #ilya devorak #dr devorak #nijah horvat #fan apprentice: nijah #julian x nijah #the arcana angst #the arcana fluff #elle writes

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iwantasecretgarden · 6 years

Text

Dear Misty,

@mercedeslackeyblog - please print this for her in the hospital! I want her to know we all love her and are rooting for her.

You have been one of the icons in my life for as long as I’ve been reading. Seriously. I picked up “Arrows of the Queen” when I was twelve and fell dizzyingly in love. So in love, in fact, that my father bought me the set of them leatherbound. It was one of the last things he ever bought me. They sit on my shelf with me wherever I move to (and I have moved a lot). They are the epitome of my childhood.

How do I even begin to explain what you have meant to me? I wrote you a fan letter in my teens, but I don’t think it ever reached you. Websites were less...polished then. I tried to find a copy to see what I had said, but I don’t have it anymore, so I’ll write this from scratch.

First off, for someone growing up in the 90s, sexuality was a difficult topic. My father was Catholic about it. My mother was liberal about acceptance, but not very liberal about giving us the tools to recognize it. I didn’t really accept the fact I was bi until I was 26 (last year). It was an embarrassing realization, because I had always been conditioned to already think women were interesting and cool and beautiful. But I honestly and truly believe one of the reasons I grew up being so tolerant of sexuality wasn’t my mother’s liberal attitude, but because of the fantasy I read, which didn’t use sexuality as a dramatic plot device. Your books, especially, in depicting queer relationships, poly relationships, and interracial relationships in such an ordinary light, in such a non-complaining, non special, non interesting way (as it should be!) that to me it became ordinary. I didn’t understand the big fuss when people started coming out in eighth and ninth grade. Well of course Brett could like boys. Silverfox did, and he’s one of my favorite characters, a fictional hero who I use to help combat my own anxiety and work through impossible situations. I didn’t understand why liking girls was so shocking. Keren was the impossibly cooler most perfect big sister/coach figure. I was into horse back riding until 16 (when, unfortunately, my horse died). Keren has a lot of the surly riding instructor in her, and it was a far more interesting aspect of her personality than her relationship with Sheri. Keren had even assured Sheri she would have been welcome as their third. As a kid, it hadn’t even occurred to me to make an argument against it. I - Talia’s age - agreed with her. When life gives you child brides and weird cult compounds, it’s better to find love where you can. Genuine love. Regardless of anything else.

Secondly, it was a book I needed when I didn’t know I would need it. A lot of fiction - especially geared at children - skates lightly over topics of depression, anxiety, and loss. Don’t get me wrong, I love Harry Potter with my soul. But even at the age I read it I felt the shallowness of their reactions when Sirius died. I felt my own reaction even crying while reading the book to be stronger. It would infuriate me that the next book they sort of conveniently forgot it had only been a few weeks/months. That Harry was “sad but manageable.” For context, my dad contracted Lou Gehrig’s disease at 44. They told him he had likely already had the disease 10 years. He lost everything; his temper, his dignity, bits of his mind at a time. Any filter between his brain and his mouth. His fine motor control, like holding a spoon. His major motor control, like being able to stand up. He was in a powerchair within the year. As the oldest daughter, it was expected that I would help turn him, change his catheter, and answer his shrill screams in the night. I was fourteen years old.

Dad and I were inseparable. Father-daughter relationship compounded by the fact he had, in essence with a flexible work schedule, been a stay at home dad. He had been my primary caregiver, my confidante, my chef, my advisor, my everything. And now I was his punching bag as he lost a bit of himself at a time. “My friend, who’s a psychiatrist,” Mom always said it this way, to make sure we knew she wasn’t so weak as to need therapy. A challenge to dare us to say we did. “He says that he’s hardest on you, because he’s most assured of your love. That he can abuse you and scream at you and curse at you because he knows you’ll go back the next day. A moth to a flame.” And me staring blankly at her: “Of course I will.” Because even if it was my worst fear - it was, always had been - even if it hurt worse than I could have ever imagined - his death would have broken me, but only in half. His suffering crushed the pieces of me into dust and left me a gaping black thing sucking in the world - “I love him too much to miss a moment of this.” Even if every minute - every possible second - was me reminding myself I had to breathe and feeling my lungs on fire, my head was on the edge of a migraine, it was impossible to interact, but I had to. I had to smile. To go to high school. To turn in assignments on time regardless of the cost between going to bed at 2 and hearing him scream at 3.

Your books, though, weren’t fake. I held onto them with the assurance of that one quote: life is the scream into the void; art is the answer you are not alone. I held onto the depression and grief and trauma of your characters and felt sane. If I hadn’t, I might have thought I was losing my mind. I was, of course. And I had been conditioned Catholically to think of mental health as a weakness, a secret shame. I had been told by my mother psychologists and medication were wonderful advancements for those people; sick people. Sick in their mind, she would say smugly. Her adamant assurance was: “We have to go on like usual. We can’t let people know we’re struggling.” And so we did. Social events. Big smiles. Sleepovers (somewhere else, my friends explained, your dad bums us out). People didn’t find out he was dying until prom of my senior year. I was on the receiving end of a lot of horror from teachers (why didn’t you tell us? Ask for an extension?) I had to be normal I wanted to tell them, but I didn’t even know how to begin to explain.

Once a pediatrician told my mom I was deeply angry and tired; I was losing my father. I was fifteen. I needed to see a counselor. My mom went ballistic in a public waiting room. She aggressively turned to me and asked if this was true? There was no chance, of course, for me to disagree. I didn’t even want to. My loyalty to my family was (is) so strong that seeing anyone upset her so badly had put my back against the wall and made me bare my teeth. I reflect a lot on it now; how poorly that doctor handled it, the way she would have bungled it much worse if it had been physical abuse. You never confront the person in front of the child. Never don’t have a safety plan in place.

“She said you were so young,” my mother snarled on the way home. “When we both know you haven’t been young in years. I watched you. Watched you go from fifteen to twenty in months instead of years. Don’t you think?”

I could only nod, and when I covered my mouth, fingertips touched wet skin. I hadn’t been young in years.

Darkwind was someone I identified heavily with. Someone who changed his name, cut his hair, let his grief consume him. Someone who shied away from Silverfox’s help. Someone who was glad when his father still got some. The day of my dad’s funeral, I cut off my hair. I was 19. The nightmare had lasted five years. I had stayed home to go to a local college so I could keep living at home, keep shielding my younger sisters, keep driving them to school and viola practice and karate. I had to give up my extracurriculars early on (and lie, of course, on my applications). It was actually a disaster at the hair cutting place (not important, but the lady called the police thinking I had stolen her cell phone which had fallen behind some tools). I went home. My mother took one look at my hair and told me it made my face look fat. “It’s for Dad,” I said steadily. In my mind, I was howling like Darkwind. I wondered if I could break my name into grief and sorrow, but it was too hard to think of the name I might have been, since the person I had been was as dead as dad was.

On days where my two younger sisters were scared and confused (the youngest was 13 when he died), I read them The Fairy Godmother and One Good Knight. They liked that one especially well. I went on to absorb almost all of your works (I think it’s impossible though, to be honest. There are just so many that either you’re a witch or I keep reading the same ones again and thinking I’ve never read them. For instance, I have a Bard Song on my nightstand right now from a bargain bin. Never read it before. Recently read Four and Twenty Blackbirds). Of course, my favorite series was Valdemar. I know all those characters the best, having reread most of them over again several times. I liked Elemental Masters, 700 Kingdoms (some). I was sad that the Beauty & the Beast stories in both weren’t my favorites (The Fire Rose, Beauty and the Werewolf, since it’s my favorite Disney film (but as your stories follow the traditional fairytale a little closer, and that tale is a bit gross, I understand). I think my favorites were The Firebird, Phoenix and Ashes, Reserved from the Cat, The Wizard of London).

Honestly, I may be a tiny minority, but I ADORE Joust. I was sad there weren’t more of them. I spent much of the time I read them inventing my own dragon egg, my own falling through time and space. My own female girl rider takes on the Team without being just a sidekick who talked to animals. It is hard to recommend or talk about it without people laughing, and I appreciate it IS an incredibly hard-core nerd fantasy genre (ancient Egypt, jousting, dragons). It feels a lot like Anne McCaffery crossed with a Naomi Novik story (since Temeraire and Napoleonic Wars are equally hard-core nerd stories. I was lucky to stumble on that line recently - I feel like there’s not enough of the true blue 80s/90s fantasy voice anymore. Sometimes it feels all too dark and plot driven, lacking the characters and slice of life that your works have nestled in my heart, places like the Palace Compound that I know as well as I knew my middle and high schools. A place as real to me as they are, including my own room. My own Companion. My own Heraldic Whites when I turned 18 and took the leatherbound books from my father in an eyestinging rush of love.

Even now when I was looking up a list of your work, I’m amazed and appalled to see I haven’t caught any of your works since 2009 or so. HOW MANY ARE THERE 100? 200? I thought there were 70 something, but no, you’ve far outstripped yourself. I usually pick up the books in secondhand shops. I’ll go straight for “L” and then just tip all of them into my arms if I haven’t read them. It’s one of my favorite rainyday activities. I noticed you even have a book out this year! CRAP! It should not be POSSIBLE you can write faster than I can read! I’m 27 and I still read a lot of the books that came out when I was born or in diapers. Sometimes I wonder which books you’ve written are your favorites. If there are books you’ve written you skim through like “hmmm I don’t even remember this” and read it with the same laughing intensity as the rest of us, resting your thumb on “oh yes, this was when I was...”

Anyway. I know this letter is long. You’ve been a saint for even getting this far. So let me say this. When I think of the BEST writers of fantasy in the 20th and 21st centuries, your name is among the greats. I’ll say something like: Anne McCaffery’s Dragonriders of Pern; Orson Scott Card’s Ender’s Game; Robert Jordan’s Wheel of Time; Mercedes Lackey’s Valdemar...and EVERYTHING ELSE. A lot more people know the names of George R.R. Martin, of J.K. Rowling, of Neil Gaiman. But none of them have put out the solid, unending stream of work that literally POPULATES what most people consider “fantasy.” Your ideas, your work, your world-building influence television, influence Dungeons & Dragons, other works. You are a Giant in your field, and even if you don’t feel it, you have laid the groundwork for an entire generation to lay themselves reverently on the altar of your sacrifice, your reflection of relationships, and taught young girls like me what it was to embrace themselves, in all shapes - black tar and bi pride.

I know you probably tire of hearing this, but I want to be an author. And I’m a good writer. I don’t say it boastfully. I say it as something I’ve always heard, from teachers and friends and magazines. But mom said being an author was like being an actor - a pipe dream, a thing to do “on the side” and “as a hobby.” And it is a hobby of mine, for now. I did the Responsible Thing and became a lawyer. It was quite horrible. But I did it. For Dad, you know. Legacy and all that.

But don’t you DARE die before I’m published. I’m not talking about the hospital right now. I’m talking about choking on a banana; slipping on the sidewalk; getting mobbed by adoring fans. It is literally my bucketlist to publish a book, to meet you, to dedicate the book to a woman who I’ve never met, who I’ve never known, but who had influenced and impacted my life SO profoundly I consider her characters as pieces of myself. Her worlds as places of safety when I’m sad. The helping hand she held out to a twelve year old girl, and fifteen years later the one I’m still gripping tightly.

YOU are one of the best women in my life, and one of the best role models I’ve ever known. Even if we’ve never met, knowing that you could be a deeply nerdy human who loves horses and magic and reading every day and still be “successful” when the world outside told me I dressed wrong and looked wrong and felt wrong. That I needed to pick up a magazine, or watch sitcoms, or generally stop making them feel pitying and uncomfortable because of the things I liked. You made me proud to be a feminist, an ally, a writer, a dreamer, a reader, and maybe only lately of my sexuality, but still growing and going forward.

So, here’s lots of love and adoration and gratitude flooding your way from:

One herald (whose companion was someone she knew in real life reincarnated too early, obviously grove born, with mindspeech, with magic, of course and lifebonded with a Kestra'chern. Predictably, I fought the lifebonding every step of the way, and consider him a great nuisance).

One dragon rider in the jousting wars (with a dragon named Altaira (high flying) who is such a deep dark color she seems black but ripples cobalt and violet).

One grateful apprentice to the Fairy Godmother, who herself was saved from one of a great many plots by the impetus of her father’s illness/death.

And of course, from one persnickety lawyer in DC, drowning in student loan debt and of course too many books, one cat too pretty to be a boy named Gandalf, and his Greyhounds (yes, two, who are very lowkey and I think you would like. They’re like large sleeping cats more than dogs, but very friendly with horses). Of course I named the cat Gandalf simply for the introduction of “Gandalf, the Greyhounds.” Originally I wanted to name a dog “Gandalf...the Greyhound” but because of who I am I went to the shelter and asked for the dog least likely to get adopted and sort of came out with a bonded pair and then it seemed they needed twin names so they’re named Fred & George after Harry Potter.

But rambling aside, I adore you. I adore your books. I adore the world you’ve given freely for us to play in. Get well soon, and lots, lots, and lots of love. I’ll be playing in my worlds today especially a lot, thinking of you.

All the best,

Kaylee

#mercedeslackeyblog

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rayonfrozenwings · 7 years

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Starfall and the Wild Hunt - a acotar/tog fan theory

Ok Guys… another theory… is coming…If I could animate I would make you a pretty video with me talking over the top, but I can’t - so it’s just lots of words.

Preface

Well it WAS Halloween here in kiwi land. (when I started writing this) And it got me thinking about it being the kind of night when spirits can pass through to our world. And I saw a post about faerie gates on tumblr Faerie and wyrd - both have an etymology to the word fate Same word the same/same type of thing Click goes my brain

Wyrd gates/Faerie gates

Ooooo I think

Then I remember on Calanmai where Rhysand said that - all creatures/beasts? get to walk the earth on that day - or some jazz like that. (I thought it was just in reference to Amarantha letting people out but what if it’s something more?)

So I started to wonder if Samhain in the TOG series was a later version of some more ancient ritual… because Elena is allowed to have a physical presence on that night.

REMEMBER I THINK TOG AND ACOTAR ARE LINKED SOMEHOW - SEE THIS ERILEA POST, @sparkleywonderful had some great points and I’m going to expand on one of them, use them in my discussion “think - Sliders; and parallel worlds.”

Ok. So now i’m on the thought path of …. what holidays are there in TOG/ACOTAR that could be linked….

Hopefully you are still with me…

Starfall and The Wild Hunt

Is Starfall a reference to “the wild hunt” in folk lore/mythology.

The wild hunt collects souls that are to be taken to the underworld.

We know that the night court is at- the end of the earth/world -

We know that Rhysand is referenced to as a Hades type in ACOMAF when he took Feyre away for 1 week out of 4 a month. (Hades and Persephone myth)

So if we view Rhysand as Hades and the night court as the edge of the underworld, we would be looking at the wild hunt and those it hunts/captures descending into the underworld.

The Wild hunt has many different leaders.

It’s never confirmed who is actually leading the hunt. But we know that the hunt is to take souls/spirits/people who are out when they shouldn’t be - to the underworld.

Here is a snippet from a wiki article:

The Wild Hunt is a European folk myth involving a ghostly or supernatural group of huntsmen passing in wild pursuit. The hunters may be either elves or fairies or the dead,[1] and the leader of the hunt is often a named figure associated with Woden[2] (or other reflections of the same god, such as Alemannic Wuodan in Wuotis Heer (“Wuodan’s Army”) of Central Switzerland, Swabia etc.), but may variously be a historical or legendary figure like Theodoric the Great, the Danish king Valdemar Atterdag, the Welsh psychopomp Gwyn ap Nudd, biblical figures such as Herod, Cain, Gabriel or the Devil, or an unidentified lost soul or spirit either male or female

The Wild hunt also “abducts” people to the underworld or fairy kingdom.

Seeing the Wild Hunt was thought to presage some catastrophe such as war or plague, or at best the death of the one who witnessed it.[3] People encountering the Hunt might also be abducted to the underworld or the fairy kingdom.[4] In some instances, it was also believed that people’s spirits could be pulled away during their sleep to join the cavalcade.[5]

Is this is why Amren hates starfall? @sparkleywonderful had a thought that perhaps starfall marked the day Amren arrived in Prythian. This post. I’m wondering if Is she afraid of being taken with the wild hunt? Does she think the Wild hunt will see her for what she really is and therefore does not want to risk it. Will this also mean that since Amren used her power in ACOWAR and is now just a “high fae”; she will attend starfall?

Obviously with a lot of these type of stories there are different variation depending on the myth you look at - and some of these variations are just as time passes and stories are told orally, changes are made. Others are what was tales were common to a certain region. So it is very hard to make direct links connecting all myths. But the general Idea is cool - I like the Idea that Starfall isn’t a “pretty holiday” and is a bit more sinister/creepy.

Some don’t view “the wild hunt” as a bad thing and could this be a category our inner circle fall into. Is this what Rhysand thinks of starfall?

Grimm believed that in pre-Christian Europe, the hunt, led by a god and a goddess, either visited “the land at some holy tide, bringing welfare and blessing, accepting gifts and offerings of the people” or they alternately float “unseen through the air, perceptible in cloudy shapes, in the roar and howl of the winds, carrying on war, hunting or the game of ninepins, the chief employments of ancient heroes: an array which, less tied down to a definite time, explains more the natural phenomenon."https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wild_Hunt

Now I’m going to switch back to Throne of Glass Keep thinking of Starfall and the Wild hunt, in the back of your mind.

In Throne of Glass On Samhain (Halloween) Elena visits Celaena, she says she is not a ghost. But She is also terrified that someone will find her (Celena says “is it the gargoyles - Elena neither confirms or denies this”) and says she doesn’t have much time. Is she afraid of the wild hunt? Is it because she is a Spirit walking the earth when she shouldn’t be. She says the hounds will find her. And Celena hears howling as she runs back to her room. (ch25TOG)

She also says that they are guarding a gate to another world - is this a gate to the underworld/hades? Dogs are known to guard entrances to the underworld (cerebrus), and we know that the clock tower is a pretty nasty “rift” because during Celeana’s battle with Cain, “spirits/demons” come out of it to torment her while she is in a state of delusion from the poison Kaltain gave her. (Also Rifthold, Ah! Times Rift, both weird “coincidences” from TOG)

In Queen of Shadows, Lorcan calls them Hounds/Dogs when he accuses Aelin of giving them his scent - side note he also refers to her, affectionately, as a bitch.

The wild hunt are known to hunt at different times depending on the tale/myth. But the general consensus is that they come out during winter - from the autumn solstice until the spring solstice. So it is possible that the “wild hunt” and hells dogs are linked.

In Welsh folklore, the Cŵn Annwn or "Hounds of Annwn” ride through the skies in autumn, winter, and early spring. The baying of the hounds was identified with the crying of wild geese as they migrate and the quarry of the hounds as wandering spirits, being chased to Annwn.

Source: Wiki article about “the wild hunt”

The idea of the Wild Hunt, hunting spirits on Samhain, and Amren being afraid of Starfall (this happens to coincide with Nynsar another holiday in spring) In british tradition of the wild hunt it is said that it lasts for 9 weeks ending on Easter (spring time in Britain), They are also known to hunt on holy days and from christmas until the twelfth night.

Then I investigated the Leaders of the Hunt…

And came across this in a wiki article:

Wales: Arawn or Gwyn ap Nudd, the Welsh god of the Underworld.

And I thought - hmmmm Arawn looks an awful lot like it could sound like Erawan.

So I looked up Arawn.

And he is king of the “otherworld”,

Click Click goes Renee’s Brain

He has hounds.

In one myth he is said to do this task with his wife (who turns out to be Hecate in modern paganism).

Hecate - a woman/goddess known for associations with dogs and keys and gates and opening gates. A motherly figure. A triple faced goddess. (I am not touching that theory)

So I also thought of EOS and a couple of Moments - because if I think that Erawan is the Leader of the hunt and therefore king of the “otherworld/underworld?” then his hounds are his “wild hunt”.

The ilken are called his “blood hounds”.

The hounds hunt Lorcan and Elide The ilken can break Lorcans shields (ch9 EOS)

Maeve is also associated with wolves/hounds. Maeve used to have the wyrd keys. Maeve is Erawan’s wife, and a co-leader of the wild hunt or another Victim of the Hunt, trapped in Erilea I haven’t decided. She’s a tricky character to pin down.

Maeve is called the bitch-queen (symbology of being a leader of dogs not just an “affectionate” term) though Hecate as a mother goddess also has these links.

The gods and goddesses who are trying to get home and are using their scions to do so, are terrified of Maeve. Anneith herself “fled” from maeve in EOS on the beach, Elide makes note that there is no tap on her shoulder to guide her. This supports the idea that Maeve is a part of the wild hunt, or at least a threat to Anneith.

So a quick summary of the points so far …

Arawan and Maeve are Leaders of a/the Wild Hunt

With the Loss of the Keys they are unable to “hunt” and move between worlds - though wyrd gates - to collect their spirits/ghosts/victims. Some of these victims are “trapped in Erilea”.

If they are Trapped In Erilea - the hunt are also “trapped” . And trapped with the prey that that took from other worlds.

Amren hates starfall because Starfall is the night the hunt returns to the underworld with their catch. And she doesn’t want to be seen and taken. Perhaps this is because she escaped the hunt before and perhaps that is how a “arch-angel type of character” ended up in Prythian (a greek myth type of world) ACOMAF

Anneith Flees Maeve because Maeve would recognise her and there is a fear of being taken. EOS

Elena is scared of the hounds taking her away on Samhain. TOG (some rifts are said to open without keys - I cannot remember where or when though, it seems like something a stygian spider would say)

The guardians of the portals to other worlds are hounds - just like hounds guarding the underworld. Aka Cerebus?

So are Erilea and Prythian parallel worlds that the “wild hunt” runs through to collect the souls/spirits/and take them to the underworld/otherworld.

Rhysand explains that Starfall is spirits traveling. ACOMAF

And if this is the case

(remember it’s a theory, and I am not a scholar in “the wild hunt” or “welsh mythology” etc etc.just a tog/acomaf/sjm fan who loves seeing parallels in literature)

Then perhaps…

There are multiple versions of the gods because of parallel dimensions

we get reoccurring characters in different guises because of parrallel dimensions e.g. sin eater/bone carver - storytellers/the suriel, baba yellowlegs/the weaver

Perhaps each of SJM’s worlds are similar e.g. the geography matches but there is a subtle difference - and they are not the same because they each draw on a different mythology (prythian - Greek mythology, TOG - Welsh mythology, Amren’s world - Biblical) (kind of like “his dark materials” series and the use of parallel worlds in that. written by Philip Pullman - another great book series, omg links to the subtle knife and acowar could be amazing but i’m not going there right now).

The world of Prythian and Erilea are similar because they have a time difference or one moment/point of difference that separates them (aka @sparkleywonderful ‘s sliders reference on the Erilea post also His Dark Materials and use of ice age to differentiate parallel worlds from Northern Lights and The Subtle Knife)

The Wild Hunt travels through wyrd gates to collect souls/spirits and takes them to the underworld. Possibly traveling across worlds through WYRD GATES.

Hecate (maeve) as the keeper of the keys opens and closes the gates for the leader of the hunt.

When Hecate (maeve) takes the keys the hunt can no longer continue - maybe the “prey and the hunt” are all stuck in the same place. What happened when Maeve and Erawan first came to Prythian? Are his brothers other versions of gods - if Erawan is king of the underworld/otherworld what would his brothers be kings of? (I am not going down that path today)

Stuck in Erilea

So they inter-breed or act as gods/goddesses in Erilea. Erilea has not seen these people before - no-one is like them. We can get “powerful magic uses” as descendants from other worlds. It also explains why the Fae are so different in each world and why our “heroes” power in TOG is so unique.

For Example - Elain + Lucien have children - generations pass (or not) and then this person is taken by the wild hunt from Prythian. Maybe Mala “a goddess” is taken from Prythian and is stuck in Erilea… Mala has the powers of that union to pass down to her children. E.g. flame and fire and light…a daughter of Fate @iamthebonecarver - what do you think?

Or raw magic - can do anything, blue eyes like sapphire, black hair. Sounds an awful lot like a Feysand child or descendant - hmmm and a certain Dorian does have those qualities…

We know that the 12 gods and goddesses who appear to Manon and Aelin in the Witch Mirror in EOS are just trying to get home (to their world).

But if this is the case then perhaps each world has it’s own “mother goddess”, and Maybe Erilea’s mother Goddess is pissed off at another World’s mother goddess. Because there is a lot -a lot - a shit tonne! Of similarities between Maeve and Aelin and Hecate and the triple goddess motif. I’m not going into it because I have not researched/looked into that avenue yet. And I’m not sure I want to. I’ll just say that weird coincidences between wielder of keys/ wolves-dogs/ artemis-deana-anneith vs hecate.

OK if you stayed with me. Thank you and I’m done for the most Part. I’m not writing up a big summary.

But basically - Parallel worlds - Wild Hunt vs our faves - a cluster F*ck of mythologies from everywhere all thrown together. :)

This all started with me having a look into STARFALL I thought talking about starfall could be fun and not too serious… *sighs* And then STARFALL as a representation of the wild hunt in Pyrthain could be cool… and I got away on myself.

*throws hands up*

All I wanted to say was that Starfall could be the wild hunt. I thought of this because I read a book series called the spiritwalker trilogy by Kate Elliott a few years ago (it’s good - I recommend it, first book is Cold Magic) and it had similarities that popped into my head.

So yeah. It’s a theory. A cobbled together theory - that would probably be better explained via video.

A parallel worlds theory which would mean that Sarah’s quote about how the world’s in TOG and ACOTAR aren’t the same - but perhaps you could step through a wyrd gate to see them - would make sense. ALSO DID YOU KNOW SHE WINKED!!! SHE DID A WINKY FACE!!! SJM is Cheeky! haha.

Twitter quote

“Replying to @BookishlyAmber (on twitter)

.@BookishlyAmber TOG & ACOTAR are in the same Megaverse. So you could technically open a Wyrdgate between their worlds. ;) #ACOTARParty”

A DAMN WINKY FACE!!!!

Ok and I am Done for Today! Done!

So Book recommendations from this theory

Spiritwalker Trilogy - Kate Elliot

Cold Magic

Cold Fire

Cold Steel

His Dark Materials - Phillip Pullman

Golden Compass/Northern Lights - depending on where you are in the world

The Subtle Knife

The Amber Spyglass

Also the lovely

@paperbacktrash

just told me Philip Pullman has a new book out! What?? - *Renee adds to the tbr pile*

Thank you to some people who have inspired/talked with me - seen me take notes - had a little discourse etc etc.

@sparkleywonderful - for reading my theories and commenting and that sliders reference!

@paperbacktrash - all the greek stuff :D and letting my thoughts run away with me.

@rowaelinsmut and @propshophannah … this one is a parallel world theory, not a same world theory - I don’t know if that is better or worse because I still made a link and it’s not really crossover but still >.< please don’t hate me for finding a possible link.

@iamthebonecarver, @crownedwithstarz for our shared fangirling/theorising

@rhysand-vs-rowan for the Aelin/Elain name thing that could still mean something - because SJM did a damn winky face.

Renee

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atamascolily · 7 years

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Book Review: “Rider at the Gate,” by C.J. Cherryh

So I would like to give a shout-out to one of my favorite books, Rider at the Gate by C.J. Cherryh, and its sequel, Cloud’s Rider. I’ve never met anyone else who has read this series, which is a shame because it is awesome.

Okay. So lots of books have telepathic animals that can communicate with humans, right? Friendly, happy, affectionate animals. Rider at the Gate takes the idea of telepathy and imagines an entire planetary ecosystem based around it. So different animal species use telepathy for various things, with varying degrees of sophistication: to attract mates, to make themselves look bigger than they really are, or to make you think they’re not there so you won’t eat them or so they can eat you. This is brilliant, and I’ve never seen any other books with this premise - and if there are, I need to read them ASAP.

Needless to say, when human colonists show up on this planet full of telepathic animals projecting images into their minds so they can scare/confuse/eat them, they are toast.

Happily for humanity, though, one of the apex predator species - nighthorses - are curious enough to investigate, and decide they like how human minds “feel” enough to bond with individual humans and keep the other telepathic animals away. So humanity can actually colonize the planet, as long as they have “riders” ringing their towns, protecting their poor defenseless livestock, and guarding their convoys between towns. Most unbonded humans are really freaked out by telepathy, and their attitudes towards riders range from grudging respect to the more fundamentalist “riders are devilspawn, stay away” (which amounts to an entire religion, actually).

Add this to the fact that the planet is basically Alaska - short but intense growing season; long severe winters; lots of forests and mining resources - and electricity and tech are either unreliable or summon giant telepathic man-eating bears, and you’ve got yourself one hell of a setting. Basically, everything on this planet is trying to kill humanity, life is a grim frontier setting, and despite some good people trying to do the right things (particularly in book two) it’s hella dark. Frankly, I read this book as a masterpiece of world building, because most of the details are subtle and in the background rather than explained all at once in a big prologue.

The nighthorses have their own personalities and agendas, that don’t always coincide with the human ones. You can ride them, but they get tired easily, so mostly you walk, and they don’t plan/think in the future super-well without a human mind to steady them. Also, they look kinda like horses, but they’re predators - they kill fish and small mammals easily, and they love bacon. We all love the idea of bonding with an intelligent nonhuman animal, but we always expect it to be like the Companions in the Valdemar books (who are actually reincarnated people in horse bodies, not actual horses). This is what it actually would be like: occasionally awesome and convenient, but sometimes so damn frustrating.

Also, Cherryh writes telepathy really well. It’s confusing until you get used to it - it took me several read-throughs to really process how everything fits together, like an intricate puzzle-box. Part of the problem is that telepathy lends itself to rumor-mongering like you wouldn’t believe, and so it’s challening at first to figure out what’s actually happening versus what characters are imagining or are afraid of happening. I’ve never seen any other writer use that mix of images and words for telepathy, or set up her sentences so that she can write a descriptive sentence and the reader knows exactly what’s meant to be telepathic images and what’s not.

Another thing I love about this book is that there are no real villains. I can’t really say much more without HUGE SPOILERS and y'all should just go and read these books for yourselves, but there’s no one in these books who I would consider to be evil in the usual literary dualistic sense. Stupid, selfish, short-sighted, confused, lying to save their skins, deluded, worried about what other people think, etc, etc, but never evil in the sense of Voldemort or Sauron. It’s a very realistic-feeling human kind of evil, the sort you can identify with on some level.

Terrible things happen, but even the primary antagonist (who is probably an undiagnosed sociopath and/or affected by their parents’ abuse, and definitely kills a lot of people in horrific ways because they’re mad about petty things) believes themselves to be a good person and that life just isn’t treating them fairly. For them, it’s an opportunity to enact their childish fantasies of power and privilege, and it’s a game without real consequences. What they really want is so relatable on some level that it’s hard (for me, anyway) to unequivocally hate them, even though the means they choose to enact those desires are awful. Ironically, this very refusal to believe that this person is problematic - because they look so harmless and they don’t match the other characters’ idea of evil - ends up causing the bulk of the problems in the two books, even after they should know better.

It’s rare for me to find any genre fiction that is this psychologically, physically and ecologically real, or any “realistic” fiction with such an interesting premise and characters. I wish Cherryh had written more books in this universe, but I’m happy that this pair exists.

#book reviews #cj cherryh #rider at the gate #cloud's rider

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copperbadge · 7 years

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innytoes replied to your post “Hey so guess what guys When you do a home inspection a good 75% of...”

Ask Ghost to come with you to talk some sense into the Murder Windows?

It may have been Ghost who caused it :D I took her with me, and the first time we met was when she tried to drop thirty pounds of wooden slat venetian blinds on my face, so it would be in keeping.

leonie-alastair replied to your post “Hey so guess what guys When you do a home inspection a good 75% of...”

Broken sash weights are killers, they're also annoying as hell to repair. Assume the fridge will still be gross when you move in. Anyone who lives with a truly gross fridge will never clean it to your specifications. I had one house where half the visible outlets didn't work. The previous owners just tacked cable along the wall and put in a new box rather than fixing what was there. It was very strange.

Well, fortunately the owners weren’t living there -- they were renting to someone who clearly had some problems. They’ve agreed to have a professional service come in to clean, with specific attention to the fridge, so I feel ok about that.

There are some weird cable configurations. They had cable mounts in the niche, but ran a second cable into a wall and then cut a hole in the wall at eye height for it to poke out of.

Place needs some love, no doubt about that.

onceuponacupoftea replied to your post “Hey so guess what guys When you do a home inspection a good 75% of...”

Do they not take the fridge with them? You do not own your fridge? Having bought a fridge for every place I've moved into (bar last when I could take the fridge from the previous place) this seems both good and bad. Old fridges are very inefficient.

I mean, I know in some countries it’s uncommon, but in Chicago and Austin at least (which is my only other experience of buying/selling, when my parents did it) it’s very common practice to leave the large stuff (fridge, stove/oven, dishwasher) behind when you move because the kitchen comes equipped. It saves the person leaving the hassle of moving their appliances, and also it’s a chance to sweeten the pot -- a lot of people selling older units will put super nice new appliances in to make the kitchen look better. In renting, everywhere I’ve lived (most major regions of the US save the south) it’s the same; if I looked at a place that didn’t have a fridge, I’d be shocked and definitely wouldn’t rent it. I’ve never bought or owned a fridge or oven; they always came with the apartment. A dishwasher is a little less certain but I’ve never lived in a place where you had to bring your own -- either there was one or there was no place to put one.

lololovescheese replied to your post “Hey so guess what guys When you do a home inspection a good 75% of...”

Hmm, yeah, electricity is a must with home inspections. Are you getting a pest inspection too? Or do you know if they have scheduled pest maintenance for the whole place?

The condo association handles pest control, so no need, thankfully. :)

spaci1701 replied to your post “In the stream....”

I think you should call it 'the Mansion'. You can claim is an Avengers reference but in reality you're just playing with people's head when you can casually say, "just need to swing by the mansion to grab my other jacket."

LOL! The Mansion is a good contender.

eliannaeldari replied to your post “In the stream....”

What about ekele? From the Heralds of valdemar series- the tayledras houses.

That seems like it would take an undue amount of explaining :D (Also I’ve never read those books, I had to google to work out what you were saying :D)

seekanewerworld replied to your post “In the stream....”

I would be interested to hear your criticisms of Skyfall, Sam. My recollections are somewhat colored by the fact that the last time I watched it was when my friend and I capped off an ill-advised watch through of every James Bond film from the beginning, so the Craig low points are muted by my intense rage and disgust at the entire Sean Connery period.

It was A While Ago and I literally only remember one moment, which was being enraged at the death of the one character I really liked (I believe the baddie shot her in the head after James Bond didn’t shoot her in the head but I don’t recall the details).

But I suspect my problems with Skyfall are less situational and more to do with the entire franchise -- every time I’ve tried to watch a James Bond movie I’ve come back around to “There’s no reason for any of this to happen within the narrative”. The motives for everything that happens are always very...opaque. Especially the sex, it’s weirdly like...the How Did This Get Made podcast did a discussion of A View To A Kill once and Jason Mantzoukas put it well when he said “A great deal of spying seems to be about sport-fucking the enemy.”

James Bond always reads to me like a sketch comedy show only instead of comedy they’ve substituted Early 20th Century Masculinity. It’s basically a series of interlocking vignettes about either sex, violence, or gadgets. I’m not that into violence or gadgets and I like it when sex arises from character motivation rather than “a woman is within ten feet of me” so the James Bond movies are not something I get through easily. :D

#seekanewerworld #eliannaeldari #spaci1701 #lololovescheese #onceuponacupoftea #leonie-alastair #innytoes

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shadowsong26fic · 7 years

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Index Post

This list will be updated as and when I remember to. My fanfiction is primarily hosted on AO3 (though I do have an old FFN account if you can find it), but I figured this would be a good idea/make things easier to find, especially for the content that’s Tumblr-exclusive, as well as my original fiction which is hosted elsewhere.

Stories marked with an * are complete.

My AO3

Star Wars:

Precipice

An AU in which Anakin Skywalker does not follow Mace Windu and the others to Palpatine’s office after they leave to arrest the Chancellor. As a result, he doesn’t get that final push over the edge, and doesn’t Fall.

…well, that’s where it starts, anyway. Our Heroes reunite with some old friends and pick up some new ones; Sidious find substitute apprentices…the story continues on for several years after the breakpoint, with the Rebellion gradually taking shape and the twins growing up, as well.

Content warnings for war, genocide, strongly implied child abuse (not from any of Our Heroes; Palpatine is raising a child), the Emperor is a POV character.

On AO3

Bonus Fic 1: Father’s Day; Untitled*

Bonus Fic 2: 100k; Margins*

Bonus Fic 3: One Year Anniversary; Secrets*

Bonus Fic 4: Valentine’s Day; All My Love, - A*

Bonus Fic 5: Mother’s Day; Untitled*

Meta, answered asks, deleted scenes, etc., can be found in the Precipice Verse tag

Updates (theoretically/ideally) approximately once every week/two weeks, usually somewhere between Thursday and Sunday night.

I have been on semi-hiatus for the past few months due to getting super-busy at work and then Moving, but I’m planning to get back on track for June, so we should be back to regular updates in the near future! ::...knocks on wood::

Distaff

In which Anakin Skywalker is a cis lady and the twins' gestating parent.

This story’s working title was The Crack AU That Takes Itself Too Seriously. In essence, Anakin Skywalker is a cis girl. So is Padme. Anakin still somehow gets pregnant. She is very confused. Everyone is very confused. And then ROTS happens...

Content warnings for war/violence; also, while no one is, has been, or will be assaulted, the topic of sexual assault does come up a couple times. I believe I’ve left a note on all the chapters where it comes up.

On AO3

Bonus Fic: Mother’s Day; Untitled*

Meta, answered asks, etc., can be found in the Distaff tag

Updates as and when I complete material, does not have a fixed schedule.

Masks

A near-canon AU in which Emperor Palpatine has a daughter.

An In Spite of a Nail AU, for the most part; though I tend to operate in a blended Legends/official canon. For those of you who follow Precipice, this is essentially Lavinia’s story if she existed in a canon-aligned timeline, rather than a true AU.

On AO3

Meta, answered asks, etc., can be found in the Masks Verse tag

CURRENTLY ON HIATUS

Auxiliaries

This is an AU in which Queen Amidala’s ship stopped someplace other than Tatooine for repairs. (The rest of TPM goes basically as in canon–someone else blew up the control ship, I’m sort of handwaving that detail, at least for now).

Eventual ObiAniDala; either Anakin-centered vee or full triad, I haven’t decided. There will also be at least one key OC involved, though I haven’t actually introduced her yet. This is the most divergent timeline I’ve written (or probably will write) for SW, but I have a lot of fun with it.

Auxiliaries is a little different from how my other stories are structured, in that it’ll be told as a series of short fics/vignettes in the overall AU (the title of which will be explained in later sections), not necessarily in chronological order.

General content warnings for war/violence/slavery; anything else that comes up in a specific story will be tagged accordingly.

A Day at the Races: Part One; Part Two [upcoming]; Part Three [upcoming]

Around three years after the Naboo Crisis, Jedi Knight Obi-Wan Kenobi is sent on a mission to Malastare, and meets a certain champion podracer for the first time…

Bout*

Five years after meeting Anakin Skywalker on Malastare, Obi-Wan is back at the Temple, observing a senior initiate saber class.

Updates as and when I complete material, does not have a fixed schedule.

The Phoenix

About halfway between The Empire Strikes Back and Return of the Jedi, Luke and Vader crash onto a planet that is essentially a typical fantasy world.

A crossover with my original fantasy world, The Farglass Cycle

Content warnings for some body horror, slavery, impending genocide, some mostly oblique references to previous genocide, other violence.

On AO3*

On Dreamwidth*

In theory, there are two other parts to this story, working titles The Caladrius and The Hercinia. I do intend to put them up eventually and have been poking at them off and on, but do not have an estimated completion/start date or anything at this time. So it’s less a hiatus and more a…waiting for the next season to start, I guess…?

AU Outlines

Heralds of Star Wars (Jedi of Valdemar?)

Crossover/fusion with the Heralds of Valdemar series.

The Rabbit Hole AU: Part One; Part Two

Temple-raised Palpatine

Bail Unfucks the Timeline

Exactly what it says on the tin.

Distaff Variant 1a

A Distaff AU in which Palpatine’s solution to the problems presented by Anakin’s pregnancy is to poison her and induce a miscarriage because yes I do in fact write AUs for my AUs. CW for discussion of miscarriage/abortion, as well as the same as the main/actual story.

Ventress and Her Tiny Time-Travelling Conscience: Part One; Part Two

In which ten/twelve-year-old Luke Skywalker walks through a Magic Canyon and lands about a year/year and a half before the end of the Clone Wars.

Everyone Is Time-Travelling and No One Will Admit It

Okay, okay, so the title is a little bit disingenuous; the entire PT trio is time-travelling (but they’re the only ones), Anakin and Obi-Wan have told each other but no one else, and Padme is keeping things entirely to herself. CW for some portions that could read as suicidal ideation (i.e., the last like ten minutes of the animated BatB movie ‘maybe it’s better this way,’ with a side of Act Five of Cyrano de Bergerac.)

(Also, I may end up redoing/reworking this one at some point)

Distaff Variant 2

A distaff AU in which Anakin decides to go to Utapau with Obi-Wan. Which, if she weren’t, y’know, pregnant, would probably have been the best possible thing for her to do...

Let’s Go Steal a Crossover: Part One (Background); Part Two [Upcoming]

A crossover between an AU of Masks!Verse (specifically, the Lavinia Organa AU, the background for which is described in Part One above) and Leverage.

You can also check out the AU Outlines tag

One-Shots:

Sanctuary: Tumblr; AO3*

Rey wants to find her place in all of this. When she finds a reference to Mortis in one of Luke's books, it seems as good good place as any to start looking…

To his family, send him*

In a world where Shmi survived, Obi-Wan brings Luke to safety.

It’s Like Déjà Vu (All Over Again)*

Three days ago, Padme Amidala closed her eyes for the last time in a sterile white room on an asteroid at the edge of nowhere. Three days ago, she opened them again in a sleek, chrome starship, watching Dorme put the finishing touches on Corde’s headdress, her own weighted braids a comforting blanket on her back.

Padme decides to change things, decides she can save Anakin this time. Except, as time passes, she starts to realize things aren’t happening exactly the way she remembers…

Content warnings for war, violence, referenced genocide, referenced murder, these two dorks and their AOTC angst…

The Magic of Midwinter*

A little more than a year after the start of the Clone Wars, Padme, Obi-Wan, and Anakin celebrate Naboo's Midwinter together.

Written for JediFest 2017 December Drabbles exchange; Prompt: ObiAniDala, Holiday

These Three Remain*

Immediately after the Festival of Light (and Obi-Wan's stint undercover as bounty hunter Rako Hardeen), Anakin and Padme leave Coruscant on impulse, in response to an anonymous tip sent to Padme's office about vital intelligence hidden in a cache of stolen goods. But things go terribly wrong, and they find themselves stranded and injured, with limited resources and no one knowing exactly where they are.

Meanwhile, back on Coruscant, when Padme and Anakin don't return as planned, Obi-Wan does everything he can to find them and bring them home.

Their situation, dire though it is, forces the three of them to process everything that just happened, and what it might mean for their relationship, moving forward.

Written for SWBB 2018.

Untitled Mother’s Day Ficlet*

Quick, meditative little ficlet about Shmi and Anakin and lullabyes/bedtime stories.

Original Fiction:

The Farglass Cycle

This one is very difficult to summarize. It’s a big, sprawling fantasy world with loads and loads of characters. The main plot has to do with a war with Feredar, one of the major nations on the continent. Principal characters involve certain members of the Feredar royal family, members of the royal family of the City of Glass, who are primarily fire-mages; a water-mage pirate captain and her lover and sister; a water-mage who was held captive in Feredar...The war is kicked off when a prince from Glass goes into Feredar as a spy, to find out if the situation there regarding the enslavement of mages is serious enough to justify a war.

Content warnings for war, violence, slavery, impending genocide. There’s also a serial killer subplot, and some espionage and murder.

(...I need to get better at summarizing things...)

This archive, as a note, is incredibly out of date—I think I last updated it in December of 2014.

Lux

It’s the thirtieth century, and the Biblical Apocalypse is about to begin. Translator Mariko Anders gets swept up in the action when she meets and falls in love with the titular Lux, an Alien whose species she can’t quite identify. There’s also an immortal wandering around who periodically gets his memories erased, a sprawling human Family that traces itself back a thousand years, the newly-awakened Horsemen, the Antichrist and the Second Coming are growing up in hiding, and, of course, angels—some terrifying, some warm, some a little bit of both.

Basically: the Apocalypse. In Space.

(With lesbians.)

(Archive last updated in December of 2014.)

Battlestar Galactica:

Serenissima

Joseph Adama is the Doge of Venice, which is in graceful decline from its peak of maritime economic and naval power. His younger grandson, Zak, has recently eloped to King Louis' court in France with one Kara Thrace, and a dangerous politician, Thomas Zarek, is soon to return from a twenty-year exile related to the untimely death of a previous Doge.

Between Don Zarek's imminent return and the likely imminent increase in the Serene Republic's long-standing rivalry with the Ottoman Empire, Doge Adama wants to shore up a few alliances. He arranges for Laura Roslin, a widowed noblewoman, to marry his similarly-widowed son, Commander William Adama. His elder grandson, Lee Adama, is likewise engaged to the young daughter of Cardinal Gaius Baltar. The first wedding is to take place immediately, the second in approximately a year.

In Istanbul, the Sultan, John Cavil, is indeed scheming and preparing to launch a massive attack on Venice, while internal politics within his own family and court may not be quite as clear-cut as he thinks.There are spies everywhere, and nothing is certain but that looming problems foreign and domestic promise trouble for the Serene Republic in days to come...

A Total AU set in Baroque Venice, somewhere between 1650 and 1750. One key OC is involved, because I like my OCs. Cowritten with tigerkat24.

Currently more or less on hiatus.

For Sorrow Sung

Nineteen days before Baltar's trial is set to begin, a teenage girl is shot just outside of Dogsville. Helo investigates.

CURRENTLY ON HIATUS

Nothing AO3; Livejournal*

Alternate ending to Crossroads: you never know how you'll meet the end until there's nowhere left to run.

End of Line*

Poetry; stream-of-consciousness in prison, persona poem.

[I believe that’s everything I actually posted; I may update this if I find something else digging through my archives. I know I wrote some bits that I never posted anywhere for various reasons]

Supernatural:

Note: I’ve more or less fallen out of this fandom, so pretty much everything listed here can be considered on semi-permanent hiatus; though I’m happy to discuss them if anyone’s interested.

Heaven on Their Minds

An In Spite of a Nail AU where Judas Iscariot is a key player.

Arc One: Livejournal; AO3*

While Castiel tracks Crowley down, looking for the Colt, Bobby finds a reference to a Weapon that can banish anything. Seeing a shot at a Plan B, Sam and Dean go to meet with a professor who might be able to help them track it down. From there, they are put on the trail of Judas Iscariot, who is not exactly what history claimed he was.

Arc Two*

It's been eighteen months since Lucifer and Michael were trapped in the Cage, and Sam now has his soul back at last, but things aren't going as smoothly as hoped. With the war between Raphael and Castiel heating up, Gabriel scrambling to keep his old lies from coming back to haunt him, Judas AWOL, and whispers about Purgatory floating around, it isn't going to be easy to keep things from totally falling apart at the seams. Again.

Then, one day, Dean gets a call from Jo about an old friend wandering back into their lives...

Arc Three*

Gabriel is struggling to control the chaos in Heaven in the wake of Castiel’s destruction. Meanwhile, with Castiel gone, his wall gone, Lucifer and Leviathan everywhere, Sam gets closer to Judas. After all, no one knows psychic pain, and guilt, and the long, hard road to redemption, better than the two of them.

Sidestories

These are bits and pieces that take place in the Heaven on Their Minds universe, but, for various reasons, didn’t make it into the main story. All of the ones up there take place either prior to or during Arc One, but reference a significant spoiler.

There were further arcs planned, but I don’t anticipate them turning up, due to the aforementioned falling out of the fandom.

The Promises of Angels: Livejournal; AO3*

Nick has never been anything more than a pawn, and he knows that--but even a pawn, strategically placed, can change the game for everyone.

It's a world full of angels, demons, and humans all fighting for control of the board. And while all he's really playing for is what he was promised in the first place--peace that never seems to come--Nick finds himself dragged back into a high-stakes game he can't afford to lose. No matter how much he wants to break free, it becomes increasingly clear that something buried deep inside him has changed, in ways he can't possibly understand; ways that just might keep him involved in the horrors that Heaven and Hell both inflict on humanity and, in the end, make things better--or worse. Along the way, there are friends and foes, wardens and protectors, and those who would try to use him to shape the future they want to see...

This is canon compliant until, depending on how you’re counting, Swan Song or Goodbye, Stranger; most of what happens up through Goodbye, Stranger could theoretically happen alongside canon events/doesn’t contradict anything we see onscreen, but sets up the significant AU from that point on.

There were originally sequels planned, but as I’ve largely fallen out of this fandom, I doubt they’ll materialize.

Cartography Verse

Named for the Seanan McGuire song.

Moving On*

While Dean is in Purgatory and Sam is in Texas, Jody joins a grief support group and stumbles onto a case. Canon-compliant through 10x23.

Compliance*

Three years after meeting Nick, Jody learns the rest of his story. Canon-compliant through 10x23.

Fragments: Livejournal; AO3*

In an attempt to talk Sam out of seeking Lucifer’s help with the Darkness, Dean tracks down the next best thing on Earth--Nick. As it turns out, he’s closer than they think, and the trace of Grace left in him when he was dispossessed may be vital to defeating the Darkness. Unfortunately, Sam and Dean are not the only ones chasing Archangel fragments, and at least one other person on the trail seems willing to kill Nick to get what they need...

the summers die; one by one: Livejournal; AO3*

The aftermath of Hammer of the Gods. CW for discussion of canonical character death.

Avatar: the Last Airbender

UNDER CONSTRUCTION. I’ve more or less fallen out of this fandom, as well, though there’s a chance I’ll get back to it at some point. Almost everything I wrote was one-shots, and they’re scattered around in several different places. I don’t expect to put out any new content in this fandom for the foreseeable future.

I’ll probably dig around and put together a specific link list at some point, but for now, a lot of it is on AO3, some of it is on my LJ, under the avatar tag

Miscellania

Lighter than a Feather*

Wheel of Time fanfic; The night after Rand and Nynaeve cleanse the taint from saidin, Mazrim Taim goes to deal with an Asha'man who recently snapped. CW for murder and saidin-taint madness. Some alternate character interpretations, as well. Spoilers through Winter’s Heart.

This was originally going to be the springoff point for a much longer AU. I don’t know if I’ll ever write it, even if I fall back into this fandom, but I may take some of the concepts/plans and file the serial numbers off for an original fantasy story.

The Epic Crossover RP OF DOOM

(I linked the Tumblr tag because it’s easier)

A crossover between Precipice, Marvel/MCU, BSG, The West Wing, Castle (technically), Miss Fisher’s Murder Mysteries, The Daisy Dalrymple Mysteries, Thin Man, Thrilling Adventure Hour: Beyond Belief, and The Phantom of the Opera.

Cowritten/RP’d with tigerkat24. OCs abound.

The Blood to be Repaid*

A crossover between The Farglass Cycle and Pirates of the Carribean

Support of Family*

Sequel to The Blood to be Repaid

The Hands of Cain*

A crossover between The Farglass Cycle and Criminal Minds

#miscellania #shadowsong26fic

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queerfandommiscellany · 7 years

Text

I was tagged by @barad-doom to pick my ten favorite characters from ten different fandoms, so here we go!

1) Haleth, from the Silmarillion. Human woman, leader of a bunch of displaced humans fighting against Morgoth, refused to become neat little vassals of whichever elf lord it was who offered (Celegorm? Caranthir? Thingol?), and overall a total badass. Her people were named the Haladrim (I believe it was) after her, until they were subsumed into early Gondor.

2) Tarma from Mercedes Lackey's Vows and Honor series, part of the same universe as her Valdemar books. Tarma is not only another *total badass*, but also canonically asexual (and aromantic) and "as sexless as the sword she bears", with a partner Kethry who is totally what I would now term her qpp. These are the books which served as my introduction to fantasy as a genre (and novels as a whole, really) as a kid, and while I didn't notice their surprisingly awesome representation until just recently, I loved them just as much then as I do now.

3) Rose Lalonde, from Homestuck. I don't know that she's necessarily my *favorite* character, exactly, but I do love her. I also have trouble looking to other characters as my favorites when I love so many of them and Rose is pretty much exactly me, with slightly more interest in Lovecraft and slightly less interest in computers.

4) Jack Harkness from Doctor Who and Torchwood. Snarky, badass, usually quite nice and not a total misogynist, and also pansexual af, Jack is just plain cool. The mysterious past, mysterious future, and unusual willingness to be emotionally vulnerable from time to time don't hurt either.

5) Miles Vorkosigan from, you guessed it, the Vorkosigan saga. He is both seriously crippled and indisputably a tactical and fast-talking genius, a pair of qualities which forces him to actually solve problems with his brains instead of by chance or muscle. Over time he ends up constructing separate identities for himself as the heir to major nobility on a backwater planet and himself as the Admiral of the troupe of space mercenaries he accidentally acquires in the first book, and it only gets more wonderfully complicated from there.

6) Saash, the main technical wizard for Grand Central's worldgating terminals in Diane Duane's Feline Wizards series, in the same universe as the Young Wizards series (I hate that series name so much, it way undersells these books, they're awesome). She's timid, sweet, quick to defend her friends and ready to risk her ninth and last life for the good of the universe, and also gifted with a scintillating intelligence which made her the main repair technician for these inter-galactic gates. Also, this universe has some wonderfully inspiring yet realistic themes, particularly around the whole "put off the heat death of the universe as long as possible" issue.

7) Death, from the Discworld novels. This one was a rather harder question, since I have many favorite characters from the Discworld (Granny Weatherwax! Diamond King of Trolls! Vimes!). Death is, however, at least the sort of casual favorite with whom I happily high five in passing during nearly every book.

8) Loki from the Avengers Cinematic Universe. In the past, he's been portrayed as much more unrelentingly evil than I would like, but the most recent Thor movie among other things clarified that his relations with Thor an Earth are more the result of countless siblings squabbles that actually hit a nerve gone unresolved for far too long. That kinda rings a bell with me, and makes me empathize with him a lot more. Also I find it endlessly amusing how many other characters in Asgard were around before Loki even though Loki, in actual Norse mythology, was one of their parents-- Fenris aka Fenrir, Hel, and Sleipnir to name a few.

9) Vaarsuvius from Order of the Stick. Vaarsuvius (often shortened to V) is just great. They've got it all: snark, jokes, character development, horribly massive and accidental failures, and total badassery, not to mention a gender which canonically does not fit within the bounds of male or female. That may in fact just be a trait of elves in this universe. Read the comic, seriously,though it may start out a tad heavy handed on the more basic elements of humor, it does get a lot better.

10) Collette Voltaire, from the Girl Genius comics. I'm not going to say too much about her given the fact that it's one giant spoiler, but as the main heir to the Master of Paris and one of the relatively few major characters who is *not* a spark (supernatural borderline homicidal genius, basically), she has learned a lot more about controlling the mechanisms of her father's city than he, or anyone, knows.

#@polypaganpancakepearl #i tag you #top ten list

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abundantfrog · 7 years

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Spotify, SoundCloud, or Pandora? : Pandora

is your room messy or clean?: Messy

what color are your Eyes?: Brown

do you like your name? why?: I’m content with my name. I like what it means and it has a real short abbreviation for nicknames

what is your relationship status?: Single

describe your personality in 3 words or less: Stubborn, Talkative,

what color hair do you have?: Brown

what kind of car do you drive? color?: I do not own a car

where do you shop?: Wherever I can get a ride to. Walmart, Target, Pennies, Marshal’s,

how would you describe your style?: Lazy

favorite social media account: I guess tumblr but I really just enjoy social media to kill time or talk extra when my friends are busy

what size bed do you have?: Twin extra long

any siblings?: 3 and a half

if you can live anywhere in the world where would it be? why?: I don’t really know. Probably around where I am now. I like the temperature range and the nearness to my family.

favorite snapchat filter?: Idk man. I think the faceswaps are my fav.

favorite makeup Brand(s): I don’t use makeup so I don’t have a real opinion

how many times a week do you shower?: anywhere between 5 and 10. Some days I shower before/after work so it can get to more than 7. Kind of depends on how I’m doing. More showers for worse moods.

favorite tv show?: Season 1 of Supergirl.

shoe size?: 10? something like that. Wide.

how tall are you?: 5′11?

sandals or sneakers?: Sneakers.

do you go to the gym?: No but I realllly should because of my back.

describe your dream date: I have no idea. I like the idea of doing something that involves dressing up fancy but also hiking is a great time. I think I want like hiking somewhere fun/new to me/person I’m with followed by just hanging out/relaxing and food of some sort. I’m not too picky.

how much money do you have in your wallet at the moment?: Wallet? Idk like 10 dollars maybe? I’m not big on keeping cash.

what color socks are you wearing?: I’m not. But generally if I have socks they range from grey to black.

how many pillows do you Sleep with?: Like 1-3 depending on the night

do you have a job? what do you do?: I manage a kitchen

how many friends do you have?: Wow that’s a large question. Like how are we describing friends? People who I’m actually close with the number is like maybe or less than 5. People who I like and enjoy hanging out with it’s a higher number to like 15.

whats the worst thing you have ever done?: Oh gosh. I don’t know. like. There’s a lot of ways to interpret worst. worst to myself is like. the amount that I procrastinate. could be this very moment. Most physically harmful was probably cutting that area between pointer and thumb on my brother’s hand with a scissors when very small, most like emotionally rude/assholeish was probably something with how my relationship with Lauren ended up ending. I could think of a lot more things but let’s move on.

whats your favorite candle scent?: Vanilla probably but I haven’t really explored candle scents enough to know

3 favorite boy names: I do not have an answer for this question. I tend to like David. I’ll have David as an answer but that’s all I got.

3 favorite girl names: I have no idea.

favorite actor?: John Barrowman?

favorite actress?: Melissa Benoist

who is your celebrity Crush?: Katie McGrath

favorite movie?: Captain America, Winter Soldier. OR Lion King

do you read a lot? whats your favorite book?: I used to read a lot, I’m very partial to the Pendragon or heralds of Valdemar series. both had like a large influence on my life.

money or brains?: What does this mean? Brains are necessary to be alive and money is necessary to continue to purchase goods like food. Talking about what I find attractive I’m going to say brains but it’s less being a smarty-pants and more personality-wise that gets along with me because like, as I said above stubborn and talkative I’m not /always/ easy to get along with for extended periods of time.

do you have a nickname? what is it?: Not one that gets used really anymore. Dippy is the one I used to have but I never liked it.

how many times have you been to the hospital?: Idk. 3 or 4. Never for emergency purposes

top 10 favorite songs: That’s a lot. Bohemian Rhapsody, Little Lion Man, The Phoenix, 1985, Mr. Brightside, Step in Time, Seize the Day, Bad Day, Move Along, Lord of the Dance. These aren’t in a particular order and they’re mostly associated with like particularly good memories or specific people and make me happy for that.

do you Take any medications daily?: Nah. I have some vitamins and pain killers I take intermittently.

what is your skin type? (oily, dry, etc): Idk man. Probably oily because the previously mentioned working in a Kitchen

what is your biggest Fear?: Being a burden to my family because I run out of motivation and fail to become financially independent.

how many kids do you want?: I don’t know. I’m not confident I want kids.

whats your go to hair style?: Wherever it falls at whatever length it is at the moment is fine.

what type of house do you live in? (big, small, etc): Something that corresponds to the amount of people living there. So like if it’s just me pretty small. if I have a significant other/family with me on the medium-large size. I’m personally content with like. A bathroom, a medium sized bedroom, and a kitchen if I’m alone.

who is your role model?: I don’t know. I love my older sister Steff. But I try not to have a specific role model. it’s weird.

what was the last compliment you received?: I have no idea. Brice probably said something last night that could be considered a compliment. The last thing that really stuck with me was like a week ago when Brice told me he considers me like a reasonable enough person that I’m honest with myself about my limitations/skills as a magic player and he trusts my judgement of how I fair as a player compared to people around me.

what was the last text you sent?: I told my friend tha tI’ll be free Saturday night as my only free time this weekend to see a movie

how old were you when you found out santa wasn’t real?: Officially? 5th grade but there was no surprise at this revelation. When I like low key accepted but didn’t acknowledge the fakeness of it? no idea.

what is your dream car?: Something with wheels and good gas mileage that’s reliable.

opinion on smoking?: Yucky. I’m an asthmatic.

do you go to college?: Yeah I’m a double major religion/psychology at rutgers.

what is your dream job?: Solid questions I don’t know I don’t have aspirations in life anymore I’m kind of dead inside.

would you rather live in rural areas or the suburbs?: I guess rural but like. Woodsie. I want something with trees.

do you take shampoo and conditioner bottles from hotels?: I tend to as souvenirs. I never use them.

do you have freckles?: Nah I just have a pile of acne.

do you smile for pictures?: I try to but I’m bad at it so I force a laugh and hold my face like that because it’s the only way I can smile.

how many pictures do you have on your phone?: A fuck ton.

have you ever peed in the woods?: Yeah man

do you still watch cartoons?: Yeah I do.

do you prefer chicken nuggets from Wendy’s or McDonalds?: Wendy’s.

Favorite dipping sauce?: Barbeque or Honey Mustard.

what do you wear to bed?: What I wore that day, nothing, or gym shorts/big ole T-shirt

have you ever won a spelling bee?: I’ve never participated in one

what are your hobbies?: Magic the Gathering

can you draw?: Hell yeah I can. Not well. But I am capable of putting a pencil onto a piece of paper and making images.

do you play an instrument?: I used to be a mediocre cello player and a mediocre percussion player for auxilliary percussion but I haven’t touched eithe rin years.

what was the last concert you saw?: Panic At the Disco/Weezer.

tea or coffee?: Tea if I’m drinking black. Coffee if I have like a selection of stuff form Dunkin to put into it.

Starbucks or Dunkin Donuts?: Only ever been to Dunkin

do you want to get married?: Idk. It would be nice to have the consistent support from someone in life but like. Previously stated lack of aspirations/ambitions for my life right now.

what is your Crush’s first and last initial?: YM is an option

are you going to change your last name when you get married?: If I get married I’ll do whatever my significant other would like with names I’m not attached to traditional “girl must take guy’s name” things.

what color looks best on you?: I really like purple and Jess says it looks great but it’s both of our favorite color. I also like like sky blues. I don’t know specifically for what looks good for me.

do you miss anyone right now?: Hell yeah I could probably list at least as many people that I miss as I could list people that I’m still friends with without overlap.

do you Sleep with your door open or closed?: Closed (except that one time I accidentally left it open or if I’m really drunk and forget)

do you believe in ghosts?: I don’t have a firm belief in either direction

what is your biggest pet peeve?: I don’t know that it counts for pet peeve but I really don’t like when things I say get misinterpreted or like people read into things that I say I’m a pretty direct person.

last person you called?: Nayirrah. She was late to work

favorite ice cream flavor?: Graham Central Station. It reminds me of Mrs. Foco.

regular oreos or golden oreos?: Regular I’m not a fucking animal

chocolate or rainbow sprinkles?: Rainbow

what shirt are you wearing?: Plain white T

what is your phone background?: The view from the tree I love climbing in the middle of the woods at the top of my home town area I hike in. Or the view of the ocean at sunset by my grandparents, depending on which background.

are you outgoing or shy?: I’m weird and it depends on the situation I’m in.

do you like it when people play with your hair?: Idk man. I’m pretty neutral about it.

do you like your neighbors?: I don’t know them.

do you wash your face? at Night? in the morning?: I wash my face when I shower

have you ever been high?: Nope

have you ever been drunk?: Yeah I have

last thing you ate?: A family sized bag of Lays cheddar potato chips

favorite lyrics right now: Idk man I can only think of quotes form books right now so either “And so we go” or “There is no one true way” as quotes from books.

summer or winter?: Summer much better for hiking

Day or Night?: Depends on the activity.

dark, milk, or white chocolate?: Milk

favorite month?: Probably May it’s my birthday and semesters end and I get to see my school friends at the start and my home friends at the end.

what is your zodiac sign: Taurus

who was the last person you cried in front of?: Idk man. I do’nt really cry in front of people. Maybe jess? Maybe Margaret. Crying is weird and I can’t do it so it doesn’t really happen. And I tend to pretend to be fine in front of people. Maybe Anna? Could be Anna. or Peter. I have no memory of what it was but those are the options.

#this is my blog I don't need to wait for someone to not ask me I want to do this instead of my paper #this was a good use of a half an hour #Here's some personal details for no one to care about #diary

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