#MELODRAMA AHOY

[d-apperc-adaver]

FORTUNE

Green. Viridescent. It was the first colour his eyes saw and even if we were to take arbitrary guesses, it would be the last he’ll see, for he surrounds himself with green.

At first, it wasn’t ‘bout money. Truly, you could say it was never. It was about the riches of the old farts creation! it was helping and giving, and making art of trees that could conquer even the most steepest plains, that could grow tall and proud, plants of a million kinds each one of them strange or beautiful and birds of the paradise that flew like phantasms whisperings songs of holy news. It was Eden.

He always got attached to objects. I mean, if your parental figure would overlook your help you’d try harder, but cope in the lost moments of loneliness, with what you have left.

He loved his vast forests. But what he loved the most was the big dirt patch the geezer conjured on the more neglected, lower side of the planet, and he made sure that it would get the same treatment as the rest of the creations. But what was most curious about this, is that the objects he got attached to were usually of his own making. Not that he couldn’t accept gifts back then, but he just knew he didn’t deserve them.

And when he got to hell he made the greed ring in its image.Just like the Great Architect did with those humans. Of course he couldn’t replicate it or even get close to the creativity he had back than, his mind was far decayed by insects now.

He used to hate the fact that whatever he did he could not get rid of his siblings teases of how he was acting by the patern of the old geezer, take Fizzarolli and the clown pageant for example. But now he just doesn’t care anymore. He ruined one more bond, no, two. And he could care less.

For now, I can only give you a question, which the answer for might be in this very text :

“What does greedy man want?”

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AHOY HOY! authors notrs! Genuinely dont know how to feel about this. So I got my inspiration from “A fallen Family“ by Anglotorn on ao3 (which got recomended to me by a lovely person in the comments of a post here on tumblr) which WAS GREAT (possible bias cause I have an oc that lives in the envy ring with a scottish accent which ties into the respectives story choice to make Leviathan have a scottish accent :] )

But ANYWAY!! Having the sins come out of the mob spawner at the beging of hell is kinda boringgg.🤑🤑🤑 i mean man. Wheres the real deal, ANGST. No owl soap opera melodrama.

And tbh Im a firm believer in “every character should have a reason“ on big choices (like not something out of your control, or talking without thinking, ehich usually has a resosbn too, despite unconscious)

ANYWAYE HOPE YOU ENJOYD GUIZ!!

[littlemisslol-fic]

The Silent Opera

Chapter Six: Out of Tune

Summary: In a world populated by Soulmates— people drawn together by wordless music connecting them to their destined other half— Varian is an anomaly. He is Songless, someone without a Soulmate of his own. He makes due with the cards dealt to him, used to being the castle oddity by now, but when an interesting blond takes up residence in the castle, he can't help but be drawn to him.

Hugo, on the other hand, is horrified to find that not only is his Soulmate a palace brat, but that Varian doesn't hear him back— meaning Hugo is trapped in a one-sided bond. When presented with a horrible choice between completing the theft Donella had sent him to do, or taking a frightening step into vulnerability, Hugo finds himself at an impasse he just might not be able to charm his way out of.

And then politics get involved.

Notes: Hey everyone! Things are rolling hehehehe, let's goooooo! On one note, we have TWO (?!?!??!!) beautiful fanarts for last week's chapter, one from notapeaceful duck (bless ur heart <3) over here, and the other from wallywestfest, which is over here!! They're both absolutely stunning, so please give them some love if you haven't already!! Thank you so much guys!!

Varian can’t help but feel spread thin.

The Socrians have wormed their way into castle life, constantly demanding, constantly present, constantly there— like a barnacle, or a scar that just won’t heal. It’s probably wrong to think that about… well, about someone he’ll be stuck with for the rest of his life. Landis remains… fine, always looming, always popping up around corners and being awkward and—

Rapunzel had told Varian to give Landis a chance, but Varian couldn’t help but not want this. The urge to dig in his heels and refuse this whole charade rings so strongly in his chest that he nearly gives in. But too much is riding on all this… on him. His friends, his family, the people who he’d hurt so much, and in turn had forgiven him with time and patience. Varian knows he owes them— there’s a debt there that he cannot ever hope to repay. If a lifetime with an awkward partner is all it takes to keep them from the brink of war, then the choice is clear. The deal is too good to ignore.

He and Landis are out on the terrace. The older man had showed up at the door to Varian’s lab— something he’d been doing a lot of, recently— and asked if Varian would accompany him to lunch. It’s been nearly a month of this, of Landis requesting time, energy, and attention from Varian with stilted words and awkward bows. Varian always says yes, though that’s more about not being able to say no.

Varian can’t help but slouch, picking at his little finger sandwich listlessly. It’s even ham, one of his favorites, and yet he can’t find it within himself to be hungry. Instead, he entertains himself with sneaking food to Ruddiger, making a game out of how many carrot-sticks he can get to his pet without Landis noticing.

The brunet pulls a face when he sees the raccoon swirling around the table, purring as he chows down on his snack.

“Is it really allowed in here?” he asks, moving his foot away when Ruddiger tries to sniff it. “It’s vermin, isn’t it?”

Varian’s nose scrunches. “Ruddy’s tame. He’s really very nice, you just need to give him some time to get used to you.��

“It’s unsanitary.”

Ruddiger chirps in offense, moving to sit near Varian again. Landis’ mouth pulls down into a deep frown. “It’s not coming back to Socria with us; my estate management would never approve.”

Varian feels the first swell of offense, bending over to pick up Ruddiger and hold him in his lap. He has to bite at the inside of his cheek to stay civil. “Where I go, Ruddiger goes.” His tone is hard, much more than he’s ever used with their guest before. “He’s my best friend.”

“How sad.” It’s not a joke. Varian’s pretty sure Landis doesn’t know how to make jokes. A prickle works its way up his spine, one that makes him think of Hugo: deep and profound irritation.

“He’s a pet,” Varian reiterates, “more specifically my pet. He won’t cause trouble for your estate, and if he does I’ll deal with it. Did you not have pets as a kid?” He holds Ruddiger like one would a baby, scratching the raccoon’s tummy. Ruddiger squeals, pushing himself toward Varian’s hand for more attention. Landis’ lip curls.

“I didn’t,” he says, “though my father had hunting dogs. They were work animals; when they got old he’d replace them.”

Varian swallows thickly, hugging Ruddiger just a bit tighter. “I… oh.” He’s not sure why exactly that’s so sad; he’s seen more than a few old dogs hit retirement age, one of Quirin’s friends had even bred the things, but he’d never heard of someone who fully replaced them. Usually, they’d spend their sunset years in front of a fire or going to a family who wanted an old dog just to love. He’d never heard of someone just ditching a dog. It seemed almost astonishingly cruel.

📷Landis doesn’t seem to notice Varian’s pale face, instead opting to pick up an olive on a toothpick and eat it. “It’s only natural,” he says, through his chewing. “When something isn’t useful, you get rid of it. That’s how things work.”

His arms tighten around Ruddiger. Is that how things work in Socria? It certainly isn’t like that in Corona. It hurts his heart to think of animals being treated like that—like Ruddiger being treated like that. Varian knows he must look like a fool, mouth gaping at the statement and the idea— but Landis just shrugs.

“I guess you can keep it,” he says, swallowing his olive. He looks down at the raccoon in Varian’s arms, before rolling his eyes. “How long do they live? Maybe we can make use of it then… there’s a man in Socria who makes hats out of their pelts, apparently they’re worth quite a bit of gold.”

📷A wave of nausea washes over Varian. He presses his mouth into the crown of Ruddiger’s head, both seeking comfort in his pet and also silently vowing to protect him— even though the raccoon obviously doesn’t know what’s being said. Varian feels a twist in his stomach at the thought. Who the hell offers to make someone’s pet into a hat? Landis continues talking, eyeing up another small sandwich, completely ignorant to the distress he’s caused.

“You know, I was on a hunt, when my Song stopped, but that day we did actually pull quite a few pelts. My father took them, so I never bothered to figure out how much they traded for— now I’m curious.”

Wait…

Wait.

“When— your what?” Varian manages to choke out the question, just barely getting it past the weird emotions in his chest. Landis looks up from his plate, arching a brow.

“The Song,” he says flatly. “You know, the reason we’re both here? I was on a hunt when it stopped. Nearly knocked me off my horse.” He chuckles then, but there’s no mirth.

But that doesn’t line up.

Alarm bells begin to subtly ring in Varian’s mind, the alchemist combing through his memories. He could have sworn…

“Didn’t you say you were asleep?”

Varian’s question rings. Landis pauses, halfway through the motion of eating a spoonful of pea soup. He puts the spoon down, looking at Varian and tilting his head.

“When was I asleep?” he asks. Varian just catches the way his fingers twitch. Something isn’t right. The twist of discomfort gets tighter in his chest, urging him to dig deeper, to pry. He knows what he heard. Varian bites the inside of his lip, looking to their unaware guest; something’s shady. His eyes narrow, not backing down.

“When we first met, you told me your Song had stopped when you were asleep,” the alchemist explains. “You said that you just woke up and it was quiet. That’s how you knew your Soulmate was gone. But just now you said you were on a hunt.”

Landis barks out a laugh, looking back to his food. “I don’t think I did,” he says, “you must be misremembering. I was on a hunt with some of my men; there’s a large forest behind Dorgoil House, it’s perfect for hunting for deer. I was around fifteen so it was a good idea to stay close to home.”

Wrong again.

Varian isn’t stupid. He knows what he heard. Landis must pick up that he’s not convinced; the brunet huffs as he stirs his meal.

“You must have misheard me,” he says. “Do you really think I don’t know when my own Soulmate died? Really, Varian, why would I lie about that?”

Varian's suspicion curls into shame.

“Right,” he mumbles, “I must have been mistaken. Sorry.”

Landis plucks another olive from the tray. After he eats it, he uses the toothpick to point at Ruddiger. “It’s fine,” he says. “As I was saying, you can bring it along—just make sure to keep that thing away from the hunting dogs.” He laughs then, but Varian can’t find the joke. Landis flicks the toothpick off the balcony, uncaring, before meeting Varian’s eye with a humored smile.

“If it gets too close, they’ll tear it to shreds.”

—————♪—————

Varian, despite his best intentions, can seem to chase that conversation out of his thoughts. At first he just stews over it, mulling over everything in his head— he could have sworn Landis had said he was seventeen, asleep, that he’d woken up to Silence— combing through his memories to see where the hell he’d picked up this wrong thought that stuck out so directly; he can’t find it, but that doesn’t stop his mind from gnawing on the topic like a dog on a bone.

He’s sitting in the lab, tapping on the table with a pen as he thinks. Varian’s supposed to be watching Seventeen the Plant and his twenty-nine siblings, but the alchemist’s wheels keep spinning in the mud. Because Landis hadn’t soundedlike he’d been lying— he’d spoken with the same flat cadence he always did— but it was a splinter in Varian’s mind. Needling, digging deeper the more he thought about it.

The alchemist huffs, pushing away his notepad. He looks over to the plants, frowning slightly when he doesn’t see much change since they’d been planted. He’d been hoping for a more visible change by now, but it seems like the stubborn things just aren’t willing to work with him.

He perks up at the sound of footsteps, snatching his notebook and opening to a random page. If he looks busy, maybe they’ll leave him alone—

“Hey, goggles, how are the kids?”

Oh, Hugo.

Maybe he can spare some time.

“They’re fine,” he says, closing the book again. “I wish they’d grow a little faster, but I’m sure they’re doing their best.”

Hugo snorts, approaching the table. He gently places a bag down in front of Varian, right on top of the open notebook. It’s warm. In his other hand he holds a second paper bag, a basic brown one that’s crumpled at the top. Varian’s is too; Hugo must have been holding them tightly.

The blond plunks himself down around the corner from Varian, so that they’re just beside each other. He puts his own bag on the table, tilting his head to get a look at Seventeen.

“Still nothing, huh?” he asks, frowning.

“Well, Seventeen grew a new leaf,” Varian admits, “and four through eight have gained about two inches of height since we last measured… but not much else has happened.”

“Bummer.” Hugo cracks his bag open. A wonderfully sweet smell drifts from it, making Varian’s stomach growl. He reaches for his own bag— slightly concerning, he hadn’t asked Hugo for anything— and looks in, his eyes going wide in delight. Hugo must see the look on his face, the blond beginning to snicker.

“It’s chocolate tart day in the kitchens,” he says flippantly. “A little birdy told me you liked them, so I snuck down and grabbed some.”

Little birdy— Rapunzel. Of course.

“Well. Uh. Thank you.” Varian scoops the tart up in his hand, quickly taking a bite before it can get cold. He can’t help the smile that spreads across his face at the taste— sweet and fudgy and oh so good— even when Hugo begins to laugh at him again. Varian doesn’t even care, he’ll kill Hugo later, for now he’s just going to enjoy himself.

Hugo eats his own food, stuffing half the thing into his face without a care in the world. It’s just a simple egg tart, interesting. Hugo makes a weird, questioning noise, and tilts his head as he chews, reading Varian’s notes with a confused face. He swallows thickly, eyes bugging a bit before he manages to get his snack down. Varian’s just grateful that he does—he’s not about to deal with Hugo choking to death in his lab.

“What’s going on with this page?” he asks, for once sounding completely confused. Varian looks down to the page, his face going red at his scribbling about Landis. It must look like the ravings of a lunatic, from an outside perspective. He quickly tries to cover it with his hands, feeling a hot wave of mortification wash over him.

“Nothing!” he says quickly, “nothing at all, just some scribbling—”

“Aw, c’mon, what is it?” Hugo’s face goes downright devious, reaching for the book. Varian nearly shrieks, trying to pull it away, only to get flicked on the nose by one of Hugo’s long fingers. He yelps, covering it with his hands at the sting; Hugo takes his chance, snatching the book and dancing away, even as Varian follows him in a panic.

“Hugo!” he snaps. “Give it back! It’s nothing, don’t look!”

Varian nearly snarls as Hugo holds out a hand, catching him by the face. Due to the height difference, Varian’s flailing arms can’t reach the blond in order to save his book. Fucking hell, now everyone in the castle is going to know—

Hugo tilts his head, holding the journal with the hand not currently holding Varian at bay. “What is this?” he asks, pulling a face. “I can’t make heads or tails of it; are you writing in code?”

Varian finally manages to slap Hugo’s hand away, ducking under him and grabbing the book. “It’s nothing,” he insists, “and even if it was something, that something would be none of your business!”

Hugo sighs, putting his hands on his hips. “You’ve been stressed,” he says, point blank. Varian cringes, opening his mouth to deny it, but Hugo cuts him off. “No, c’mon. We both know it’s been weird lately. Maybe getting things off your chest would help?”

Varian scoffed, shaking his head. “And who made you the emotional support, here?”

Hugo rolls his eyes, dropping back into his chair. “Fine, fuck it, be a brick wall,” he mutters. “Don’t come crying to me when you have a nervous breakdown.”

Varian… pauses. His chocolate tart, growing cold, sits on the table. The alchemist’s tired brain can barely puzzle through what’s happening—until he finally breaks through the wall and figures it out. Hugo was trying to make him feel better, in his own stupid way. Varian couldn’t help but feel a little touched; he let out a sigh, walking back to the table and sitting down next to Hugo.

“Fine,” he said, “it’s something to do with Landis—”

“—Prick.”

“Yes. But listen. A while ago we were talking, and I mentioned that I’ve. Uh. Never heard the Song, right?”

Hugo nods, popping a piece of egg tart into his mouth. “Mh-hm,” he says, chewing. Varian’s finger taps at the tabletop, a sharp rap-rap. How to phrase this and not sound like a raving lunatic…

“He told me that he was asleep, and that he’d woken up and his Song had gone quiet. And that he was seventeen, okay?”

“Okay?” It comes out more like m-kay, with the way Hugo’s still eating, but Varian takes it for what it is.

“Right. So, just now, at brunch, he just said a whole new story? That he was fifteen, and on a hunt. And when I asked him about it, he said I must have misheard him, but I’m sure I didn’t. Or at least— I don’t think I did?” He sighs, scratching the back of his neck. “Maybe I’m going crazy, I don’t know…”

Hugo swallows his food, squints, and shakes his head. “Nah, that’s weird.” He’s not meeting Varian’s eye, looking off to the side in thought. “You’re sure that’s what you heard?”

“Yeah.”

“Then why the fuck would he lie?”

“That’s what he asked, but I don’t know—”

“No, goggles, you’re mishearing me. I don’t think he’s not lying; I’m asking why he’s lying.” Hugo shrugs, pursing his lips. “If you say he’s not telling the truth, then he’s not. But why? What does he gain?”

Varian pauses at that. His mouth clicks shut, the countless defenses he’d been thinking of turning to dust in light of Hugo just… believing him. It’s a strange feeling, not one he’s used to— but Hugo definitely seems more enticed by the idea of trying to catch Landis in a lie than he does in disbelieving Varian. It’s a good change of pace, from the rest of the castle staff.

“I’m not sure,” Varian admits. “But I’m not crazy.”

Hugo nods, smirking. “Not from this, at least.” Varian punches him in the arm, making the blond laugh. The alchemist’s stomach flutters at the sound; it rings so genuinely, so unlike anything he’s heard from Hugo yet… hm. Hugo shoves at Varian’s shoulder in retaliation, a weak little push that makes him giggle, before settling down again.

“It’s also weird that he tried to turn it on you,” the blond says. “I don’t like that he made it seem like it was your fault that you caught him in a lie.”

That’s… a good point. Varian scratches at his cheek, feeling that same hot shame from before beginning to creep back in. Maybe he was imagining it, he’d been so stressed lately; but he wasn’t imagining it, right? Landis had sounded so sure… Varian doesn’t know what to think.

“Either way, that’s suspicious.” Hugo says it flatly, like he’s already accepted it as truth. “I bet if I did some poking around I could find out what happened—”

“No, the hell you won’t,” Varian stops him there. “If you get caught somewhere you’re not supposed to, it would be a political nightmare. Don’t even think about it.”

Hugo pouts, deflating playfully. “Not even a little snooping? How boring.”

Varian can’t help the smile that cracks across his face. “Yeah, well I like your head attached to your shoulders, thanks. Socria is even worse on its criminals than Corona was… is. Is.”

Hugo gulps. Varian just catches as Hugo lifts his hand, obviously about to grasp at his own throat before changing the movement to scratch at the back of his neck. Interesting.

“Anyways.” He manages to get the journal back from Hugo, closing it softly. “Maybe it was just a slip up. Maybe it wasn’t. I don’t suppose it’ll change much, in the end.”

Hugo’s mouth opens like he wants to say something. Varian just catches a twitch in his eye before Hugo’s jaw snaps shut with a click— interesting.

“Anyways,” he says, not meeting Hugo’s eye. “I don’t know what game Landis is playing… but thank you, for believing me. I think I’ve been stuck around Nigel for too long, I’m used to having to defend everything.”

Hugo shrugs, picking up Seventeen and chuckling at the joke. He shoots Varian a wink, wiggling the plant.

“Only the best for my co-parent,” he says, playing up the schmooze in his voice. “We have to give Seventeen and Co. a stable home life.”

“Hm, is stable the word for what we’ve got going on?”

“Oh, absolutely, if you want to see unstable there was this family in Koto I once met, all of them were absolutely crazy; you wouldn’t believe—”

Varian lets a smile creep across his face, balancing his chin on his hand and planting his elbow so that he can listen. He can’t help but watch the play of sunlight in Hugo’s eye as the blond gets really into his story, right down to different voices and big, showy gestures with his hands. Varian lets it wash over him, concerns of Landis and fear of the future slowly leaving his thoughts as Hugo’s nearly lyrical voice fills his ears.

He lets the tension bleed from his spine, relaxing for the first time in hours. Something about being here, in the lab, with good company—it was so easy to just let himself slip back into normalcy. To let the stress fade away and get caught up in Hugo’s stories. Here he could let himself relax.

If only for a little while longer.

—————♪—————

As seems to be the case, lately, Landis eventually shows up to ruin the fun.

When the brunet enters the lab he doesn’t even bother knocking anymore, a factor that sets Hugo’s teeth on edge; sure, ponce, just waltz in like you own the fucking place, why not?

The second Varian sees him he freezes. The Song makes a weird little skip, something akin to irritation mixed with suspicion and anxiety— a veritable cocktail of negative emotions that race through Hugo’s thoughts screaming AnnoyanceIrritationUnsettlement—

Hugo grits his teeth against it. He has to keep his face blank, holding it together lest one of the others catch his act. That doesn’t make staying strong against the torrent any easier, however. Varian eventually gets himself under control, standing from his seat and waving awkwardly.

“Landis,” he greets, “I, uh, didn’t expect you here— not that uh, you’re unwelcome, sorry, just—”

Varian’s hand flails backward, trying to close the journal. Fuck. Hugo reaches over without breaking his stare at their unwelcome visitor, gently closing it without incident. There’s a flash of gratefulness through the Song, relief shimmering through for just a second before getting dragged back down. Varian puts himself between Landis and Hugo, leaning against the table like he’s trying to hide his entire lab from prying eyes.

“Varian.” Landis’ voice is flat; his face pinches when he catches sight of Hugo. “And friend. I assume you’re not busy?”

Varian looks back to their plants, face going a little red. “Uh, kind of? We’re running a few trials of an accelerator for plant growth… oh! Do you want to see it? I promise it’s really fascinating, the science of it is just amazing—”

“Hm. No thank you. I’m afraid I don’t have time to listen about such… things.”

Varian deflates at that. The Song rings with disappointment, a sad little stutter in the beat that makes Hugo twitch.

“Hey—” he starts, standing up and laying his hands flat on the table, only to be cut off by Varian waving him down.

“That’s, uh, that’s fine, Landis. Can I help you with anything?”

Landis looks around their— around Varian’s lab, eyes narrowed. “I came down here to remind you to be ready for tomorrow night,” he says, “though now I’m not going to lie; I’m a little concerned that you’re going to want to take all this with you.”

“Well, I—I mean, not all of it, but maybe a bit—”

“Because you’ll have to leave such childish things behind, of course.”

Varian’s spine goes stiff. The silence of the lab suddenly thickens, enough to smother— enough to choke. Hugo opens his mouth again, ready to tell the ponce what for, but Varian beats him to it.

“Of course. Is there anything else?”

Landis shrugs, poking at one of the instruments to his left. It’s a delicate one; a little copper arm snaps off when he touches it. Hugo winces, watching it fall to the ground. It makes a loud ting when it hits the stone floor, the noise echoing through the awkwardly quiet lab. Varian’s Song pitches with frustration as the arm bounces. Landis only shrugs and makes for the door again— fucking prick.

“No, just make sure to be ready for five, tomorrow. Being late wouldn’t look good on either of us.”

Varian doesn’t reply. Landis simply leaves the room without so much as a goodbye, instead stalking from the room without a care. Hugo twitches as the Song rumbles, a stormy mixture of rage and offense… all undercut by the tiniest bit of hurt. He doesn’t even know what to say, let alone what to do…

But he has to try something.

“Hey,” he says softly, putting a hand on Varian’s shoulder. “Hey, fuck that guy—”

Varian jostles his hand away roughly, startling back to life like a machine that had just been turned on and moving to pick up the broken piece. He sighs, scooping the little copper bit off the ground.

“It’s fine.”

Hugo crosses his arms, leaning up against the table as Varian does his best to affix the arm back onto the machine it had fallen from. “I’ll be honest,” he says, “it reallydoesn’t sound fine.”

“Well it is. So drop it.”

Hm. I think the fuck not.

Hugo rolls his eyes, slouching back down into his chair. “I still don’t get why you’re so… normal, about that,” he mutters.

Varian blinks. “With what?”

“With the whole—” Hugo waves a hand, “—marriage thing. You’re going to get stuck with that guy, and you’re just okay with it?”

“I’m sorry, did I make it sound like this was my idea?” Varian snaps before he can think better of it. He obviously regrets it the second it’s out in the open, wincing. “I… okay. Hear me out. I may not like Landis very much—” A fucking understatement, “—but Songless people alone are an anomaly. There’s maybe a few thousand of us out there, if that. Add in the extra layer of nobility, and it becomes quite… slim pickings.”

Hugo tilts his head, digesting the new information. “How many are out there?” he asks.

“Fifteen total that I know of,” Varian says, “including myself and Landis. There’s only three others in the Seven Kingdoms, and two are already married to each other. The third is a young princess from Pitchford, but she’s only fourteen.”

Hugo suddenly feels ill.

“So.” Varian’s trying to keep his tone flat; he speaks like someone who’s used to explaining this— probably to his sister, seeing how against this whole thing Rapunzel is. “Countries want to make agreements with each other. Some of them are friendly enough that contracts and treaties are enough. Others… not so much.” Oh, fucking hell.

“Socria was allied with an old enemy of Corona, ages ago. Saporia. Even if we’ve annexed it, Socria still have never had a good relationship with us because of that.”

“Meaning…?”

“Meaning they don’t trust us to keep our end of the bargain. Remember Equis? If they decided to march on our borders, as our ally Socria would agree to join in defending us. In return, Frederick offered access to trade routes, and a lot of freedom from import and export taxes.”

Hugo groans, rubbing at his temples. “Goggles, simplify it for me. How does this translate into you getting hitched with the ponce?”

Varian scowls, throwing his hands up. “Because Landis and I are the only people who don’thave Soulmates on this stupid fucking continent. Everyone else already has their partners picked out. If we got married, there’s more skin in the game. We’d have to keep our word. Does that clear it up?”

For an impulsive, horrible second, Hugo wants to blurt out the truth. It doesn’t clear anything up— I hear you, I hear you, but you don’t hear me, is it my fault? Did I do this? We can fix this; all I have to do is Sing—

But Donella would kill him.

Hugo’s lips pinch together, like he’s pushing words back into his throat before they can escape. Donella would fucking kill you, if you blew this job for a pretty boy and a sad Song. He shoves the confession down, burying it deep.

“It sounds… complicated,” he finally says. Varian huffs a laugh, nodding. He leans up against the table, crossing his arms.

“And that’s the simple version.”

Hugo looks down to the table, picking at a splinter that’s begun to come loose. “It still seems… I don’t know. Not right. He’s a dick, Varian!”

Varian’s smile falls. He’s obviously trying to keep from fidgeting, but he must fail; his hands wind up tapping on the table again. “I… yeah. It’s not great. Like I said, Landis isn’t exactly who I’d pick, either. But in a positive light, I’ve been thinking of all the ways this will keep my family safe.” He looks down then, blinking away a brightness in his eyes. “Soulmates are basically arranged marriages too, just ones set up by the Song instead of politics. At least this way I know some good will come out of it.”

Hugo pulls a face, shaking his head. “Soulmates aren’t like that.” I’m not like that. His voice tremors, just the smallest bit. “The Song doesn’t pick your Soulmate, it just… helps you find them. Offers a little insight.”

Varian’s fingers tap a bit faster on the table. He makes a noncommittal noise. “How do you know?” he asks. It’s not accusatory but it’s an honest question. “How do you know they’re the perfect person, if you’ve been waiting for them?”

Fuck, this is a balancing act. Hugo pauses, blinking, but… hm. He can offer a bit of truth, can’t he?

“Because I haven’t been,” he admits.

Varian tilts his head at that, meeting Hugo’s eye. The blond blushes, not so much ashamed or embarrassed at his history, but more so that he’s admitting it to Varian—

“I’ve dated people before,” he continues. “Had a lot of good nights with people I didn’t really know.” He shrugs, then, scratching at his face. “I didn’t wait for my Soulmate. I didn’t think I’d ever find them. So, I had a bit… well, a lot of fun in the meantime.”

The Song falters a bit, the torrent of upset and anger fading slightly. He knows that Varian won’t judge him for this, he does, so why the fuck is Hugo so nervous—

But Varian only tilts his head. “I understand that.” He says it quietly, slowly. Like he’s lost in memory. “I’ve had a couple people try and see if I’d like to fool around,” he laughs, but it’s without mirth. “I guess when you’re Songless, people think you’re free game. Or desperate.”

Hugo winces, shaking his head. “Fuck them,” he says, voice wavering. “They don’t know shit. But I didn’t mean it like that.”

Varian’s head tilt gets more pronounced. Hugo sighs, scratching the back of his head. His words come faster now, tumbling over themselves as he tries to get his point across. “I’m— fuck, okay, so I’ve always been too busy to really care about the Song, right?”

Varian nods. Those blue eyes stare at him, transfixed, and fuck it’s not making this any easier.

“So, I don’t know, I just decided to have a good time without it, right? But I know that, out there, even if the Song wasn’t there… I think I’d end up drawn to them, anyways. It’s not a matchmaker; it doesn’t choose for us. It just… gives us a push.”

Varian’s eyes are wide. For a brutal, quiet second neither of them says anything— fuck, Hugo’s so stupid, he’s gotten too mushy and weird and now Varian’s going to laugh at him…

“That’s… I didn’t think of it. Like that.” Varian wrings his hands together, not meeting Hugo’s eye. “I guess since it’s not… not for me, I never gave the Song a fair shake. That wasn’t fair.”

He moves then, gently bumping Hugo’s shoulder as he walks past. “Thanks for the insight, Hugo,” he says. He passes by, slumping back down into his chair. Varian pauses, meeting Hugo’s eye with a small smile. “It’s nice to know I’m not the only unconventional one, around here.”

Hugo can’t help it; he laughs. Varian joins in, little giggles that— while not the full laugh Hugo’s come to enjoy prying out of him— are a much better option than the tears that had threatened to spill. They giggle together like children, light and lyrical and loose, without a care in the world. The Song trills with amusement, filling Hugo’s very Soul with joy. It’s like he’s eaten pure sunshine; it’s perfect.

“Okay,” Varian manages to get out through the laughter, “enough of that sentimental crap in my lab. We still have work to do; Seventeen and his friends won’t wait forever.”

Hugo snorts, picking up one of the plants with a fluid motion. He knows a fumbling topic change when he sees one— might as well throw Varian a line.

“Of course, sweetcheeks.”

—————♪—————

It’s late when Hugo gets back to his room. He and Varian had stayed up late, running tests and taking measurements on their plants. A few of the beanstalks had shown promise, hopefully with a bit more time and energy they’d be able to really start looking into a full test run. He’s not so sure when he got invested in the plant thing— maybe he got brain damage at some point and forgot— but Hugo’s been presented with a puzzle, and his big dumb brain just can’t help itself.

He finally makes it to his room at around one in the morning— way too fucking late, in his opinion. By the end of the night Hugo’s tired body had been begging to be put to bed, but if Varian was awake then by the gods Hugo wasn’t about to get upstaged by going to bed first. It’s a matter of pride, damn it.

He kicks the door open with a yawn. It swings into the small, dark room, only barely lit by the lamplight coming from the hallway behind Hugo; he steps in, rubbing his eye and reaching blindly for his own lamp with little success.

“Fucking— son of a bitch—” Hugo mutters, smacking around in the dark until he finally finds the switch. The room fills with light, forcing Hugo to blink a few times from the sudden change. It’s not the biggest of rooms— just a basic bed, a desk, a small table and shelf— but honestly it’s better than some of the hovels he’s stayed in under Donella’s orders, so honestly he’ll take it without complaint.

Hugo sighs, sinking down onto the bed. Fuckhe’s tired…

He slowly takes his boots off, his feet hurting from a long day. Usually this would be when he’d be scouting out the area around the vault but… not tonight. He’s got time. At least, a bit of time. He tosses his glasses onto the side table, barely caring as they nearly fall, and instead sinks into the bed.

The blond doesn’t even bother to take off the rest of his clothes, instead opting to flop face first into his pillow with a groan. Blessed, sweet softness… that is immediately ruined by the crinkle of paper.

“Fucksake,” he whines. He should leave it to tomorrow, could leave it to tomorrow, but there’s only one person in the entire world who would send him a letter— and it’s not someone who liked to be ignored. Hugo cracks his eyes open, reaching over and taking the envelope that had been left on his pillow. It’s addressed to him, though it uses the fake last name he’s using; there’s no mistaking who it’s from.

“Alright, Donnie,” he mutters, “what do you have for me?”

He cracks it open, the wax seal popping open. He pulls the letter from it, skimming it. Blah, blah, mission is very important, blah, require more updates— oh.

You’ll need to wait until the Day of Hearts, Donella’s written, in scratchy, stilted script. You’ve only been there for two months, it’s still too soon to make a move. Better to do it while there are thousands of visitors to the castle, when you’ll be nearly untraceable.

Hugo sighs, rubbing his hand down his face. She’s right, of course she is: Donella is alwaysfucking right. But it means staying in the castle for much longer than he’d anticipated. Usually, Hugo’s in and out within a few months— though, this is the largest job he’s ever been trusted with. It’s not surprising that she wants to play a longer game. The problem, though, is that means Hugo’s spending longer with the castle staff, with the guards, with Rapunzel, and Eugene, and…

And with Varian.

He should tell Donella. She should know that he’s already toed the line, that he’s starting to crack—

It’s been two months. One third of the time Donella had given him to get the jewels. The Song gets more insistent every day, a tugging hook embedded right through the ribcage. It’s growing more and more dire, the Song demanding its dues. Hugo doesn’t want to think about it, doesn’t want to even acknowledge it, but…

Donella would fucking kill him if he didn’t say anything.

She isn’t an unreasonable woman. She knows how Resonating hits a person, how important it is; Hugo knows that if he comes clean, she’d work with him. She’s not insane. He has to trust in her judgement. Donella would fix it, just like she always does when he fucks up.

He flips through the rest of the letter, mostly the basic stuff. Cyrus will be in town during the Day of Hearts. The plan hasn’t changed a bit. All Hugo has to do is get the crown out of the castle, then turn around and act innocent for another few weeks before it’s time to go home. Easy.

Easy.

Hugo groans, letting his head fall back. It hits the wall with a thunk, but he barely registers the pain through his whirling thoughts. He’s here for a job, he has to remember that. Varian doesn’t even hear him back, why the fuck would he ever want anything to do with Hugo by the end of this? He might bitch about his betrothed, but even Landis is a better prospect than some grubby street thief…

And that’s the crux, isn’t it?

Hugo knows he’s from a totally different world from these people, from Varian. He knows that they’ve never spent a night going hungry, never had to deal with gangs, or finding a safe place to sleep; they don’t know the fear that comes with not knowing where to go to get warm in the dead of winter. Hugo does. He knows it like it’s been tattooed onto his skin, embedded into his very self.

The niggling doubt crawls into his thoughts, pushing the Song to the back and forcing itself to the forefront. The constant push of not good enough, strange, not worth a Soulmate, useless—

Varian doesn’t hear Hugo because they’re not compatible. After all is said and done, Varian isn’t for him. Without a Song to bind him, he doesn’t have a reason to stay with Hugo, to stay at all. A knot develops in Hugo’s throat at the thought, especially as the Song dips low. Varian, wherever he is, has fallen asleep.

Hugo groans, rubbing his eyes. Maker, he’s so fucked; either he’s going to pine himself to death, or Donella is going to crack him over the head with a pole and kill him to shut him up. Either would be okay, honestly, so long as Hugo gets to fucking sleep. He would kill for the world to stop fucking turning for a while so he can get his shit together.

Hugo gets to the end of the letter, Donella reminding him one last time to keep his head screwed on straight. If only she knew.

He sighs, grabbing a piece of paper and a quill off the nearby nightstand. He only pauses a second before jotting down everything that’s happened, trying his best to act like he’s not having a fucking crisis about it. It doesn’t really work, but at least it’s down. He sighs, shaking his head and folding it tightly. He seals it, leaving it on the desk. He’ll send it tomorrow, for better or worse. Maybe she’ll be able to set his shit straight… or at least tell him what to do. She’s never failed in steering him in the right direction, come hell or high water. He trusts her judgment.

A slight weight lifts off his shoulders. Keeping Resonating to himself had been… almost painful, the inherent joy stamped out like a flickering ember. At least someone other than him knows, now. The relief is palpable. Hugo reaches over, flipping the switch again and plunging the room into darkness. He settles back into bed, his eyes slipping closed. Sleep takes him quickly, the gentle lull of Varian’s Song pulling him into the dark.

He just needs to wait for Donella to make a plan.

She’d know what to do.

[shipersanonymous]

Guess it took the bird app almost shutting down for me to remember my log in details here 😭😭😭

AHOY THERE SHIPPERS ITS BEEN A MINUTE (well a year to be exact cause the last time I posted we had just gone into the new year and now we’re gearing up to do it all over again!)

Wish I could great you all with better news (and by that I mean updates) but alas I’ve barely had time to get more than 4 hours of sleep let alone to sit down and focus on typing. It’s been a fun year!

Who ever said adulting was fun lied. They lied without shame and gave us all false hope. It is not fun. Enjoy kidding if you still can. It’s the best time of your life 😭😭😭😭

Now, with that melodrama out of the way. I hope everyone on here is alright ❤️ lot of people I’ve been missing from here, please drop me a hello and let me know how you’re doing. 😘😘😘

Have a great week shippers 😙mwah!

XOXO

(Your favourite invisible girl) A. J.

[starlene]

Some sentimental movie talk ahoy.

When they rereleased Titanic in the cinemas back in 2012, I decided to make it count indeed and went to see three screenings within a single week.

It's my all-time favourite movie, but you know what they say about having too much of a good thing... yesterday was the first time in nine years I watched it. It was exactly as I remembered it, good and bad parts alike, and I loved it as much as ever. The only difference was that I've definitely become weepier as I've gotten older, so getting a serious headache from crying too hard while watching it was a fun new experience.

I guess for me, Titanic is one of those things that hit you at just the right time and become an inseparable part of you. It's the perfect balance of real history meets melodrama for me... and I'll never forget the very first time I saw the full movie, back when I was 13 years old. I could hardly sleep that night because I was so thoroughly fascinated by what I had just seen – especially the fact it was based on a real event, that something like that had actually happened. It was such an overwhelming feeling, something I guess you can only experience that strongly when you're young; like a whole new part of the world we live in had just revealed itself to me, a part that I now couldn't wait to explore. I remember lying there in the dark, wide awake, the Southampton track from the soundtrack stuck in my mind, unable to think about anything else.

Just wanted to post this because brain-fog-wise, it's been a rather tough day today, not to mention the overall pandemic blues, so I wanted to focus on something positive before going to bed. I'm glad that after nine years, and in a time like this, my favourite movie is still here for me, still making me feel as invested as it did before.

[legobiwan]

Quick review of the Dooku, Cad Bane, Katooni, and Obi-wan chapters from the new Clone Wars book that was so nicely delivered to my phone an hour ago.

SPOILERS AHOY! SPOILERS AHOY! SPOILERS AHOY!

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This is very obviously a young readers book. Keep that in mind as you go, as the writing style is pretty simple.

Dooku's chapter...sigh...was not all that great and was mostly regurgitation of Clone Wars dialogue with very little real reasoning for Dooku's capture nor any great insights into Dooku's motivations. Yes, Rael does get a mention in passing but it was really just a name-drop. This does make me want to write my own version of Dooku's story from Florrum, because I have things to say about this sequence of events and I feel there was a lot more subtext than what the author gave us in this (granted, limited) story. But yeah, this really didn't do much to capture any the contradictions in Dooku's character, relegating him more to a mustache-twirling, two-dimensional figure. *Sigh* (Hey Star Wars, how about you hire me to write Dooku content? Just a thought.) This all being said, I did appreciate this little jab as it does reflect Obi-wan's own contention that Dooku never gets his own hands dirty.

Cad Bane: Mostly the same criticisms of the Dooku story, in that it was almost a carbon copy of the episode with dialogue tags. Nothing much added to the Hardeen storyline that we didn't know already.

Katooni: I admittedly only skimmed this one but there seemed to be some more promise in it. Plus, we get to hear about Obi-wan's "very expressive eyebrows" which were apparently a known factor amidst the Jedi Younglings and something I find HILARIOUS.

Obi-wan: Obes's story covers "The Lawless" and has some GEMS. First of all, just LOOK AT THIS MAN:

I love him.

This author gets Obi-wan's wry humor.

His beard bahahaahahah, that is so Kenobi.

This passage is glorious:

Was this man the student of Qui-gon "We Don't Have Time For a Plan" Jinn or what? But also,.it really captures the way Obi-wan puts on the front of a cool, collected, in-control Jedi Master when he's really just winging it a lot of the time and hiding his truer emotions. Which is a theme that comes back in this story later in the most startling part of this tale: the page devoted to Obi-wan seriously considering raising bloody, violent hell after Satine's murder and Maul calling him on it.

:o !!!!!!!!!!

Maul is 1000% accurate in his analysis. The many masks Obi-wan wears to hide is insecurities, his emotions, his anger. Of course, Maul picks up on this.

While I was less than satisfied with the Anakin-Obi-wan interactions that bookended this story and the confrontation between Bo-Katan and Obi-wan, on the whole, Obi-wan's characterization was pretty spot-on (including Obi-wan constantly griping in his internal dialogue about Anakin's penchant for spectacular crash landings.)

I would blame the simplistic storytelling on the fact this is a young reader's book, but on the other hand, we have the Jedi Apprentice series as a gold standard of angst, characterization, and solid plotlines (even if they wallowed on the side of ridiculous melodrama from time to time) while still being written in straightforward, accessible age-appropriate language. Some of these stories just feel...lazy, to be honest, but then again, I don't know what kinds of parameters the authors were working within. So far, I would rate the non-Obes stories a 4/10 and the Obi-wan story a 7/10. I'll get to the rest hopefully tomorrow.

[albatris]

GUESS WHAT TIME IT IS

IT’S RAPIDFIRE UNDERTOW CHARACTER RUNDOWN TIME YEEHAW LET’S GO

YOU CAN READ IT IF YOU LIKE

the setting: who the fuck knows

the time period: who the FUCK knows

the premise: amnesiac youth acquires a magically-enhanced sentient truck that runs on stories. because of reasons, she then embarks on a weird cross-country roadtrip, meeting equally weird people and investigating strange phenomena and curious magical goings-on. there is a ragtag gang of misfits and some world-saving involved also. and some dogs. yep

important caveat: this entire story is just my self-indulgent daydream universe. literally the entire thing? just for funsies. it’s my catch-all for ideas that don’t fit elsewhere. it’s my ridiculous worldbuilding melting-pot! it’s an excuse to string whatever wholesome and angsty moments I like together with whatever weird shit I think would be fun

the only motive behind anything I do in Undertow is “why the fuck not?” and that’s totally valid imo

and here we go. long post ahoy 

the bastards:

ASTER (they/she): Conveniently amnesiac protagonist! Aroace and genderqueer! Woke up one day on the side of the road with the keys to a weird truck that runs on stories instead of fuel, and now uses delivery driving work as an excuse to careen all about the country collecting friends and solving magical mysteries. Vaguely clairvoyant and can ~speak~ with the energy-flow of the universe. Dresses like they’ve fallen straight out of a cyberpunk anime. Chatty, over-excited, impulsive. Extremely full of love.

important tunes: “overture” by sleeping at last, “timebomb” by walk the moon (weird choice for an aroace character but bear with me)

KIT (he/him): Not the first random Aster gets into shenanigans with but the first who tags along for further shenanigans and also becomes a protagonist. Pan. Wouldn’t know what a gender was if it punched him in the face. Highly skilled necromancer who straight-up doesn’t believe in magic, currently trying to fulfil the dying wish of his late wife (to reanimate a t-rex). Awkward and standoffish and lonely, tries to pretend he’s cool but just really really isn’t. Would rather set his entire self on fire than admit he considers Aster his best friend. Schizotypal synesthete whose fashion sense can be described as “how many clothes can I layer on top of each other before I physically cannot move?”

important tunes: “body” by mother mother, “hunting season” by fences, “necromancin dancin” by bear ghost

MEG (she/her): Mad scientist mechanic who does tonnes of magical illegal shit to cars for funsies. An expert on bizarre vehicles! This is the person you talk to if you, idk, happen across a strange truck with sentience that eats stories. She hates people and lives completely isolated in the middle of fuck-off nowhere with sixteen dogs. Completely unhinged. Thinks clothes are for losers so wears as few of them as possible and I want NO ONE making this a weird sexual thing. She’s just a feral bastard maniac. She’s living my weird feral bastard in the woods dreams. She has no interest in labelling her sexuality or gender, but both can be accurately summed up with “how dare you fucking look at me”

important tunes: “the machine” by lemon demon, “a mask of my own face” by lemon demon............ there’s just....... lemon demon songs here ok........ I haven’t yet found the songs with the Peak Meg Energies

NOLAN (he/him): Bastard. Chaotic bastard. Is of some relation to Kit, possibly an older brother, possibly just some dude who decided Kit looked like a fun person to annoy for all eternity. Speaks entirely in riddles and cryptic poems, loves needless melodrama. Dresses like he’s going to the beach even when he isn’t. He has zero motives beyond fun and chaos and boredom, which sometimes leads to him working with the protagonists and sometimes leads to him actively sabotaging them. Role in the story ranges from “genuinely terrifying villain” to “weird almost-friend who hangs around with the heroes even though no one invited him and is just a general endearing nuisance”. Literally cannot die, because he has some seriously impressive and terrifying subconscious reality-bending powers and it does not occur to him that he can die. So he doesn’t. Unrelated, he’s the only Undertow character besides Beth who canonically dies.

important tunes: “complicated creation” by cloud cult, “when he died” by lemon demon (peak Nolan chaotic energies)

BAKER (he/him): Meg’s apprentice? Meg’s assistant? Doesn’t really know that much about cars and I think he landed in the role because he misread the job advertisement, but he tries to be helpful anyway. Very small lesbian. Possibly some form of vampire except in reverse? Listen. I don’t know that much about Baker but one key fact is that he’s solar-powered and sometimes he’ll just lie down on the floor unconscious mid-task and you have to haul him over your shoulder and lob him into the sunlight and wait for his energy to recharge. Easily flustered, hardworking, pleasant enough but not super great at Peopling. Also gets possessed at one stage but he gets better so it’s nbd

important tunes: “pink smoke” by the scary jokes, “featherstone” by the paper kites

???????? (??/??): The main villain. The big bad. I have no idea if this is a thing that has a physical form or if it’s just an abstract floaty intangible concept. This is the thing that briefly possesses Baker. This is also the thing that one-shot kills Nolan. Possibly it’s some kind of river-surface reflection monster that steals your face and becomes a fucked up version of you except it accidentally reflected some kind of ancient god and now the whole world is screwed. Possibly it’s the gradual marching of the universe towards death except that marching gained sentience and is incredibly frightened. Who the FUCK knows. Not me.

important tunes: “dead moon” by brick + mortar, “ruler of everything” by tally hall

other bastards who exist. vaguely. probably:

CARDS (xe/xem): Gentle, patient, good at growing herbs and reading tarot cards. Xe’s married to Meg. Literally no one knows this because they hardly ever interact and they don’t live together and when they do interact people are generally like “huh, Meg doesn’t seem to despise Cards quite as much as she despises everyone else” but like. They’re happily married. Also xe’s called Cards because xir last name is “Cardone”. This is a fact that I stole from someone I’ve met in real life, because no one is safe from my terrible thieving writer hands

BETH (she/her): Kit’s late wife. She’s a ghost. She has lots of opinions about things. She’s not here in the story because of any necromancy or raising the dead on Kit’s part. She refuses to die out of pure spite. She’s got shit to do. She likes heavy metal and writing romance novels. These are currently the only facts I know about her. Thank you

FERRIS (she/her): Her last name is Wheel. She is a character I created specifically because I realised that Ferris Wheel is a name that you could actually for real name someone. I can’t decide if it’s funnier if this character’s name is Ferris Wheel in a world where ferris wheels exist but she herself has never been exposed to the concept of one so she doesn’t understand why all the other characters are like “??????” when they first meet her, or if this character’s name is Ferris Wheel in a world that is essentially just Earth But Magic, save for the fact that the exact, specific concept of a ferris wheel was never invented. Also she’s a businesswoman.......... also she can levitate...... also she’s a lesbian

ok that’s it bye thanks love you

[meanwhileonfezzan]

Book 9 thoughts (spoilers ahoy, avert thine eyes)

I’m procrastinating, so here’s a couple of things I liked from book nine.  All quotes are from the English translation. 

Things slow down in the Alliance narrative since our lovely tea-sipping deuteragonist got unjustly taken away in the last book, but there were some nice moments.  Them putting back the pieces together and looking to the future and all that jazz.  Maybe it’s not thrilling like large-scale space battles or political intrigue, but it’s nice in its own subtle way.  Julian takes up Yang’s role of philosophical musing, of course.  The boy needs to give himself credit, though.  However, compared to the sheer flaming tire-fire of the empire’s melodrama, it just didn’t capture my interest as keenly.  I enjoyed Poplin ducking away as soon as Murai returned to visit, a nice constant in a changed enterprise.   

And of course Reuentahl’s rebellion was messy, complicated, and tragic, like the man himself.   The one solace from the whole thing was Trunicht’s death:

 “He was still smiling when the hole opened in his chest.  It was only when the agony seized control of his entire nervous system and the blood that gushed forth discolored his tailored suit that his expression changed.  Not to a look of fear, or pain.  Rather, it was more a look of rebuke, as if to criticize a man who had been irrational enough to harm him in defiance of his judgement and calculations [can u not].”

There’s a page on why Hilda and Reinhard are basically those Pandas at the zoo that never bang. They are creatures made of pure work ethic and no sexual instinct whatsoever. It took a boatload of wine and an assassination attempt in order to make an heir to the Lohengramm dynasty, and that’s great.  

It also goes into how Reinhard’s struggle against the Kaiser was really a child’s struggle against his father.  And I can’t get the image of Reinhard yelling at old Friedrich “FUCK YOU, YOU’RE NOT MY REAL DAD”. Like his whole rise to power was his version of teenage rebellion.  It kind of borders on...Oedipal, but that’s neither here nor there.  

And then there’s a nice section about Annerose.  I’ve seen a couple of interpretations of varying sorts concerning her actions after the events at the end of book II, so it was kind of surprising to see it actually spelled out. (In the form of historical criticism, as is the style of the book; he emphasizes that female historians were the harshest, uh oh).  But then there’s this clap-back to her critics, and I couldn’t help but smile:  

“In the end, we cannot avoid the conclusion that they [female historians] view [Annerose’s] actions through the lens of motherhood and its abandonment.  Would they be satisfied if the archduchess had continued to cling to her brother’s side into his twenties, indulge and spoil him, meddle in politics, and undermine his psychological independence? Of course the same authors would doubtless claim that to be robbed of one’s virginity by a tyrant at the age of fifteen, and then imprisoned for the next ten years, is not enough to make Annerose herself a sacrificial victim.”    

My boi Lang is as he ever was: a petty, oleaginous scumbag possessed by delusions of grandeur.  The baby-faces description appears again and warms the cockles of my heart. But he beats both Reinhard and Reuentahl in net contributions to the genepool, and being a good father.  And being a dog dad doesn’t count, Oberstein. (SMH, it’s like the top brass in the Lohengramm dynasty are following the millennial playbook).  I like to think that his descendants will scatter far and wide in the empire. And one day, a young baby-faced and portly youth, Langhard,  will begin his meteoric rise to power, after his equally baby-faced and portly sister, Langerose, is stolen away by the decadent kaiser, Rudolf von Lohengramm the XIIth. It’s only fair.  

As for the bookly Oberstein Report:

He’s himself, as usual.  Maybe even more relaxed, I found I only called him an “asshole” a couple of times.  Maybe it’s because he wasn’t making too many appearances.  I imagine once book 10 rolls around, I will have ample opportunity to correct this discrepancy.  

At this point, the feeling in the empire is low-key they know Oberstein’s been doing shady shit, but they just ignore it.  It’s great, like they’ve resigned themselves to his scheming, both real and imagined.  I interpret this reputation as something that Oberstein did little to dissuade, as it ends up working as an effective smokescreen for the actual shady shit.  And admirals catch themselves second-guessing all their actions without Oberstein actually having lift a finger to keep them in line.  

Oberstein barely gets his hands dirty in this book, not that he wasn’t prepared to do it.  The book does have a line about historians accusing him of “burying his counterpart without bloodying his hands” that pretty much lines up on my interpretation of the whole debacle.  And then there’s this:

“ ‘...but listen to me,’ he added with a wry smile that astonished Ferner, ‘How talkative I have become.’ “ This is, coincidentally, the exact way to spell out the sound of hell freezing over.   

[datshq]

So in honor of the Fruits Basket reboot who would you say are your fave Furuba characters and ships (canon) and why? Least fave Furuba characters and canon ships and why?

Okay, first of all, spoilers ahoy! I’m being very vague here, but romance becomes a big deal near the end of Furuba, so it’s spoilery. Also, you prolly won’t be able to keep up unless you know the things I’m talking about.

The appealof Fruits Basket for me was always more the characters than the ships, so Idon’t have many preferences in terms of shipping and I also don’t really havecharacters I dislike that much. At least not major ones. I had some gripes withAkito when I read the manga, mostly with how the storyline was handled. The wholemess surrounding Akito made me uncomfortable, but that was kind of the point Iguess, although it was never really addressed to my satisfaction. Similarly, Idon’t really like the Shigure/Akito ship for the same reasons.

I alsokinda disliked how, near the end of the manga, characters just started endingup together because that was supposed to symbolise their happy endings, like howwas the case with Hatori/Mayuko and Yuki/Machi.

Also, Yuki’sbrother is kinda annoying. I always thought Ayame was a bit too much and,considering the cast, that’s saying something. But I think that’s kind of thepoint of the character, so I dunno how much that counts. The series’ tendencytowards soap-opera-esque melodrama did have me momentarily annoyed with thecharacters a lot, but never enough to make me entirely dislike a character.

As forfavorite characters, that’s changed a bit over the years and depends a bit onthe version of the story. My first introduction to Fruits Basket was the 2001anime, when Kyo was totally my boy, mostly because the cast lacked anyone whowas My Type. Later on, though, I started to like Shigure when, as I got older,I really started to like the two-faced character archetype he represents. I wasalso influenced by getting to read the manga where his character gets lookedinto more.

(To be honest, the entire woodlands household won me over so hard with that family unit thing they have going on. I’m a sucker for that.)

I’ve also always liked Tohru’s besties, butsince my scene goth days as a teen ended, I moved on from favoring Saki tofavoring Arisa, because I love those rough and tumble delinquents with heartsof gold. You peeps know I do. But generally I think they’re both the bee’sknees.

Favorite ships is really tough for reasons Ialready mentioned. Kyo/Tohru was sold really well, mostly due to the entire series building it up. But, it was still a nice change for all the other canon ships, which were more “meh”.

[hollenius]

Melodrama ahoy. Week 3 of Forduary, “Paranoia”.

Was going for a Jekyll & Hyde thing with Bill’s possessions, but the facial expressions look a lot clearer when separated. so I went ahead and did that in addition to the original

Hope I remembered which eye bled.

[vivalasthedas]

never seen the season 5 xmas special of call th midwife, i guess i just managed to miss it before. But it’s on netflix now and...

well its sad as shit because it’s the first signs of Barbara and Tom and with the most recent season that’s just. Upsetting. 

But also. Like. It makes that one stuck up nun bitch even more heinous when you realize the tv she gave away was literally bought by monica joan using the money from pawning her mom’s jewelry like? Melodrama ahoy. 

[littlemisslol-fic]

Fic Masterlist

Might as well get all my garbage together for the sake of organization. Links to everything I’ve ever written under the cut!

Longer Fics:

Like a Rowboat On an Angry Sea and its sequel Set the Kindling, Strike a Match

Varian with an edited family history. Lots of angst and kidnapping for those who want a good cry.

Dear Fellow Traveller

A Varigo centered, Moonstone!Varian AU. Lots of angst here as well, but this one has a lot more bickering and sass. 

Alone We Have No Future

Apocalypse AU, focused on the Team Awesome dynamic. Mild angst, but a lot of physical violence and generally precarious scenarios.

Cor Meum

A Steampunk AU, co-written by myself and the beautiful @izaswritings​! Also has a tumblr devoted to itself over here for organization’s sake!

The Silent Opera

Varigo soulmate au! Lots of angst, an arranged marriage, and shakespearian level melodrama.

Darling, so It Goes (Some Things Are Meant to Be)   

Varigo week 2022 submissions! 7 days, 7 prompts, 1 overarching narrative linking them all together. Hugo tries to propose to Varian, and the universe kind of smacks the hell out of him for it lmao

Oneshots:

A Thousand Lifetimes (And I'll Always Love You)

Varigo Week 2020 submissions, 7 days, 7 prompts. Cozy/Soft, First Kiss, Betrayal/Possession, Campfire, First Meeting/First Date, Flirting/Teasing, and a free day!!

The Dating Game

Also called “Fantasy Bachelor” by my friends on discord. Varigo. Rapunzel tries to find Varian a boyfriend, not knowing that Varian already has one. Generally light hearted shenanigans ensue.

Save Your Convictions (They Never Will Do)  

Also Varigo. Canon verse. Varian and Hugo return to Corona after the events of the Varian and the Seven Kingdoms AU, with mixed reception on Hugo’s part.

Now That You’re Here (It’s Time for You to Go)

Team Awesome with a twist! Based off of Finnoky’s AU, where the Dark Kingdom never fell, and Eugene and Varian were rasied as brothers. Eugene gets a new baby sibling, and is less than stoked about it.

Your Blood’s Gone Bad (I Knew It Would)

Based on the absolutely AWESOME/SAD comics by the illustrious Dr-Chalk on tumblr. Cassandra uses the mind-trap early. It doesn't end well for Varian. (Warnings for Major Character Death)

Things I Almost Remember

Varigo Anastasia AU! A birthday present for my beautiful friend jjgg_art

The Idea of One

A Trigun Fic! A Post-Fall Vash gets his hair cut and has a crisis about it.

Fic Answers for Tumblr Asks (Unnamed):

Prompt: Fever and Shackles

Eugene and Varian end up caught by the Saporians. They’re not very good hosts. Angst ahoy.

Prompt: Varigo and Puppy Love

Varian and Hugo break into an abandoned amusement park for a cute little date. Very fluffy!

Prompt: Rowboat!Verse, “Weight of the World”

Rapunzel watches over Varian after the evens of Like a Rowboat. A little angsty, but mostly introspective. Darling, so It Goes (Some Things Are Meant to Be) 

[tombolaplayspop]

Friday Friday Glue by Fickle Friends - the Brighton band continue their reign as the poppiest poppers this side of pop-town! Catchy is an understatement, more like frothy-fizzy-fun times-ahoy! Magnetic by Chlöe Howl - tune of the week, hands down! Kinda wish I stayed up 'till midnight to hear it. It's been a while since Howl dropped any new material, hopefully she'll read this and be able to answer that question on all our lips "when's the album due?" Life's About To Get Good by Shania Twain - is that because there's a new Shania album due? Hell yea it is!!! The country-pop stars profile is out the roof since her Billboard recognition earlier this year and this new single is as jaunty as they come. Boomiverse by Big Boi - I have a lotta time for the other Outkast-er. His solo stuff always seems to be wild, risky and a little silly. All the thumbs up. Melodrama by Lorde - four year. FOUR YEARS!!! That's how long we've been waiting for Lady Lorde to return and give us what we want, pop songs that give strength for individuality. This girl is on fire. From The Outside by Hey Violet - this L.A. four piece could be my new fav band. Their upbeat nostalgic vibe is something to embrace and party to this summer. Feed The Machine by Nickelback - don't laugh! This band are the nuts and you know it! It's business as always on their new record. Fingers crossed there's another disco track in there. Lindsey Buckingham & Christine McVie - this'll fill the gap until Fleetwood Mac return next year. Buckingham is one of the best guitarists in the world and it's exhilarating hearing the return of McVie. Cracked Actor (Live) by David Bowie - it hit me again the other day, the sudden realisation that Bowie no longer walks the earth and every time it fills me with sadness. Cracked Actor is another showcase of his genius.

[ahoychipscomic]

Ahoy, Chips! web comic #194 #ahoy #chips #comic #comics #webcomic #webcomics #webcomicsofinstagram #relationships #park #apple #melodrama #proudsadmen

[tamsynspeaks]

Inspired by Duchess Romel, Tamsyn had piled her hair in curls atop her head and wore long gloves over her pale arms, though she had chosen a style that left her hands free. She doubted, however, that she could ever mimic Rosie's calm grace--the simple elegance that Tamsyn found so enviable. 

The marshmancer regarded the rings on her fingers: the large diamond on her left hand, a symbol of her new marriage, and the just-as-large black diamond on her right, a token from a darker, truer union that was now absent. What grace would she have to muster, she wondered, to face the year ahead...

First art I've done since WoD dropped! I decided I like the rough, sketchy look, so I'm leaving it like this.

[longonegal]

I don't actually know how relationships work in real life.

I've never seen one happen. Everyone I know came into my life already having a relationship, being perpetually single like me, or having one end while they knew me and never really getting back into one.

Even my own relationships have never made any sense. People have never fallen in love with me when they first knew me in person. I think there's something wrong with me, or they just see what a wreck of a human being I am and they instinctually run away. There've been people I've met online who lived in my area, and they met me online first and got to know me better in person and we dated after that, but there's never been a person who's just known me in real life, seen me on a consistent basis, and then loved me.

I've had plenty of people know me online, where they don't see how pathetic I am and have time to get away before they fall for me, tell me they love me or they want to be with me. But I think it's only because they don't realize what a neurotic, depressive, unreliable mess I am.

Even when I was in my biggest relationship, during the three years I dated the Destroyer and during the last year of that in which we were planning on getting married, I didn't do it right. She was always telling me I was coming on too strong, I was being too clingy, I kissed her too forcefully, I didn't assert myself, didn't stand up straight, didn't have any confidence. I don't even know how to act with someone who lives in the same place as me and has somehow convinced themselves they want to marry me.

The reason I prefer to write my characters as perpetually single and perfectly fine with that, or having only ever really existed in relationships, is because that's all I know. It's all I see from others. I don't know how relationships start or how love works, and when I've had it I've done a damned good job scaring it away. (With the exception of the Destroyer. She threw me away in a really hurtful and cowardly fashion, as I've discussed before.) I don't think I'd even believe someone who I knew primarily offline if they said they wanted to go out with me, or be with me. All I really know is stumbling into somebody who feels that way about me and then fumbling to hold onto it until it eventually falls apart.

Love has always been a series of accidents, starting awkwardly and ending with drama and severe damage. I want to believe that being worth something, being worth keeping, is something I can eventually attain. But like Mothman or the lake monsters I research, there's just not enough evidence to support its existence, at least as relates to me. I don't know that I'm ever going to find someone who'll want to keep me, let alone date and marry somebody like my brother is working on.

Maybe some people just aren't meant for that, despite being wired with really extreme amounts of love and passion in their hearts.

[mirabilelectu]

WHY ARE WORDS SO HARD?

SOD IT.

I CAN'T EVEN STRING A COHERENT SENTENCE TOGETHER.

FUCK THIS SHIT I GIVE UP.