#TRANSLATION RULES and the way people seem to be talking about translation on this site has for real started to freak me out

[hypokeimena]

every time i see people say that all translation operates at a loss it so completely baffles me. all translation operates at a gain, because you are adding things to the source text: a new retelling and interpretation by the translator; a new audience of new readers, from a new cultural context; a new relationship between cultures (source and target); a new network of inter-connectivity and reference (a translation can link a work external to the culture into its own culture's network of literary references in ways a source text simply cannot - thinking here about the ways the LXX links the jewish bible to hellenistic epic traditions using word choice and other allusions! that's not present in the hebrew bible, but is possible in the greek translation - even without changing the plot or content).

a translation is always generating more new meanings than reading a work in its original language would! works and words that are "untranslatable" exist but we generate such tremendous meaning by TRANSLATING THEM ANYWAY. it's only a "loss" if you think of everything as a zero-sum game where objectivity and the meanings of words are bounded by the limits set down by other people in a dictionary. meanings change! the dictionary describes how a word IS used when the dictionary is written, not how its meaning has changed over time and not how it might come to change in the future.

language, culture, and texts are all part of a continuous process of recreation: you, as a reader, bring something completely unique to every text you ever read. translation does the same thing: it changes not just the source text into a target language translation, but it also changes the target language and the target culture by shaping those around concepts that might not naturally "fit". and those changed meanings then trickle backwards into the source language. everything is always changing! translation is an incredible opportunity to watch these things change in real time.

obligatory caveat: i'm not going to pretend that language and cultural imperialism aren't worrying dynamics that can exist in translation; obviously they can be. but that's not the fault of the *process of translation*, that's the fault of cultural imperialism and exploitation. the idea that cultures should be firmly discrete and isolated from each other and never interact is frankly worrying! it's possible to interact across cultures - and to translate! - without linguistic supremacy burrowing its way in, especially if you decouple the translation process from christian ideologies (the letter doesn't matter, just the spirit) and capitalist priorities (what will sell for easy consumption) about what makes a "good" translation.

[verifiedaccount]

As I was getting wheeled in to be put under for a GI procedure today, overheard the docs and technicians talking about the election. The GI doc was a "I'm not saying I love Trump, I just think he's a good man that does good things, and his only mistake is having twitter. If he did something wrong, the impeachments would've been successful or the federal courts would've convicted him." The mixed-race group of anesthesiologists and techs seemed open to this, and to the GI doc's contention that Biden, who initially seemed reasonable, had let the far left take him over, was going further than Obama, and, "now I don't know enough about this to say anything one way or the other for sure, but I've seen people say that Obama is pulling the strings." He mentioned that he gets his news from sites that have it "unfiltered."

This in itself wasn't shocking, really. Having grown up with doctor parents, spent time around them and their colleagues, and worked in a hospital for a few years making in the supply department making rounds and catching convos, I don't have a great estimation of the intelligence or reasoning of doctors on any subjects non-medical. Not that a medical education is easy, but it's also not as much based around great reasoning skills or critical thinking. The tough parts have more to do with memorization and grueling hours; they learn to read and interpret symptoms and signs to narrow things down the right diagnosis, often by process of elimination (as this GI procedure was for, primarily ruling stuff out), and then they consult texts or specialists for the set of steps to take based on the diagnosis. A surgeon has to be able to remember exactly what to do, have the hand-eye coordination and nerves to do it properly, and the ability to think quickly the times when something unexpected happens, which again, is a specific skill not necessarily correlated to general learning. It is a trade more similar to being a mechanic or tech support person than not, just with higher stakes and a more complicated and variable system to work to interpret, all of which take a kind of focus and intelligence that doesn't necessarily translate to other subjects. Combine that with long hours that don't leave a lot of time, energy, or motivation to keep up with non-work related stuff, and you have what can be a pretty ill-informed group of people who nevertheless believe they're really smart, in part because other people tend to assume they're smart.

The part that threw me off is I thought that even Trump supporters, outside of the hardcore cultists who see him as a literal savior, weren't under the illusion that he was a good guy, they just believed he'd be effective at accomplishing what they wanted. He'd get things done, however he got them done (no need to look closely or ask questions as long as things are taken care of), and they'd get a piece of the action. I mean, he's a guy that has bragged repeatedly, on the record, about doing crimes and having mafia connections, he's openly and proudly crooked, he's personally unpleasant and bad at pretending to give a shit about anyone that can't do something for him right this second. And, christ, a guy in his 50s with that kind of straightforward faith in the court system and judges. It's funny, though, I was arguing with my dad that Biden's overtures to Republicans were a stupid wasted because he's against a party with a sizeable number of people who think he and his party literally sacrifice children for their glands, and the ones that don't actually believe it are willing to indulge the ones that do, so he should have ignored them and just focused on things people like, because his opponents would never concede anything to him, they're even accusing him of not being in the tank enough for Israel, for chrissakes. So it was validating in a sense to hear that someone considering themself a Trump-curious moderate considers Biden irredeemably corrupted by the loony left, although based on the fact that he goes places for "unfiltered" news that paints a positive portrait of Trump as an honorable, sensible, moderate Republican and Biden as an extreme leftist, I doubt the GI doc is as moderate as he presents himself. Or he thinks the Epoch Times is non-partisan.

I was reminded of working in a hospital in 2016, after the "pussy tape" came out, and overhearing one of the docs in the ICU, a blonde woman in her 30s, fully buying into and defending the "locker room talk" excuse to the puzzled male docs, who'd figured this would be the end of her support for him. That was jarring, but did fit more with the "he's no choirboy, but I think he'll get things done" mindset that I assumed to be the default position of people who vote/voted for Trump without fully buying into the Trump loyalist ethos.

Well, at least my GI issues are on the way to getting treated.

[strawbattyshortcake]

Read Over My Shoulder

Awful Glad We Met (1/3) Words: 4665 Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

(I wrote a thing! Meant to be a two-parter, this got way longer than I was expecting, so now it's three. Title is from To Err Is Human by Will Wood <3 Drow words from the Forgotten Realms wiki's Drow Dictionary) ********

It’s difficult to tell if things are going well with her new companions. 

Triel'dra is used to being away from home. She patrols the borders of their territory for potential encroachment, she wanders both the underdark and the surface for days at a time when it's needed, tucking herself away beneath brambles and roots to curl up and wait for the sun to set.

But she'd never been alone before, not like she was waking up on that beach in the wreckage of the haszak ship. Even if she knew where she was, if she could just find the direction and walk until she was home, she couldn't. Not with this thing in her head, not when it would bring danger down on everyone she loves. Her family, her community, this small enclave that’s all she’s ever known. 

It's hard, admitting to herself that she's lonely, harder still to admit she's afraid.

So, when she'd found the half-elf she had been trying to free, up and well and pounding on a temple door, Triel had been all too eager to stay close to her, and had no idea how to go about it. They had the same concerns, the same ends, and it made sense even if Shadowheart didn't seem thrilled by the prospect, nor did Lae'zel, when they had found her shortly after. Lae'zel is sharp and impatient, Shadowheart taciturn and withholding, but perhaps this is simply how it is, to be with strangers. She'd been warned all her life to expect hostility from colnbluth, anyway, and had assumed that this was the chilly process by which all new acquaintances acclimatised.

Then they had found Astarion.

She'd never seen a surface-elf before, though she'd known at once what he was. No one hated ilithiiri like darthiiri did, and she'd been ready to defend herself, but he'd looked at her, full in the face, seen exactly what she was, and asked for help. And her foolish, lonely little heart had leapt, desperate for a friendly face, even if she hadn't quite let her guard down. He needed something hunted, she knew how to do that. It was familiar and simple in the way that nothing had been since she'd been taken.

She'd even given him the benefit of the doubt, assuming he'd simply confused the boar for one of the brain-creatures in the chaos of the crash site, but she'd caught the glint of bright light reflected off metal dancing through the dry grass and turned just in time to avoid the knife.

But Triel had misjudged him. It wasn't about that at all, just a misunderstanding based in justified fear of their captors. It sends a wary chill down her back, knowing he'd seen her and she hadn't noticed him— she's used to being the one observing, unseen— but more still, that she'd evidently walked past him without trying to help. Despite this, Astarion was, from the first... friendly.

Astarion had actually smiled, sighing in relief when he realised she wasn't a threat. He'd been pleasantly talkative once the initial shock of their prognosis had passed and he'd agreed to join them in search of a solution.  It was a relief from the stilted silence she hadn't known how to break.  Astarion had introduced himself, and was the first to actually answer when she asked him about himself—then been kind enough to translate into Elvish when she hadn't know what the Common word 'magistrate' meant ('arbiter of legal disputes', she'd learned).

Not something she had considered, needing someone to rule on conflict. It made sense with so many people in the city he'd mentioned. The glimpse of it she had caught in his mind was unlike anything she'd seen, like dozens of the sleepy little surface settlements she watched from afar piled on top of one another. It was overwhelming and fascinating. Her people were few, their lives so closely intertwined, matters that couldn't be worked out amicably were always resolved by—

Triel is struck with a pang of homesickness that knocks the wind from her lungs and settles as a lump in her throat, but if Astarion has noticed he's polite enough not to comment as she collects herself.

"Is it bothering you?" He does say, after a time walking in silence.

Triel looks up, startled out of her diversion.

"The sun, I mean," he prods when she doesn't seem to follow. Astarion gestures to her. She's wandered off the dirt road, preferring the shade cast by the trees alongside, even if it means negotiating the uneven terrain.  "It doesn't seem to be affecting your vision."

"Oh." So he's observant, too. "No, I... I can see, though I have no idea how. I would normally be completely blind in daylight like this." 

“Ah,” he says brightly. “Well, this must be a treat, then.” 

The strange expanse of surface is hot and sundrenched, the patches of shade only a momentary relief. Triel can feel it beating through the dark leather of her armour. She’s been above ground in daylight before, but only as something she’s endured through bleary, watering eyes. The sky is an open, endless blue, empty save the scorching ball of the sun and useless wisps of white cloud that do nothing to obscure its fury. There’s no pain, but now that she can see, familiar sights of mountain path and forest are alien— too bright, too loud, and she finds herself anxious for the gentle darkness of night. 

But Astarion loves it. He seems to glow where the light catches his pale skin, his white hair, head tipped back as he basks, taking in a deep breath of warm noonday air. “It must be the worm, mustn’t it?” He says, snapping her out of another nervous scan of the open sky. “They want us alive, after all. Can’t have you wandering off a cliff, or eaten by direwolves, or, well,” he laughs, apologetically, “eviscerated by a paranoid high-elf?” 

She’s surprised by the laugh that she has to stifle. How at ease he makes her feel, despite the overwhelming circumstances that make her dizzy when she tries to think too much about them. It feels…. Good, to have people around her, again. Lae’zel is certain the Githyanki crèche is nearby, and that they can cure the infection, provided they don’t find another healer first. They have a plan. There is a course of action to be taken, and that’s kept her from despairing, but she thinks this is the first time she’s smiled since she was home. 

“Almost makes you want to keep it, doesn’t it?” He’s crept into the shadows beside her so he can lower his voice, conspiratorial, eyes on Lae’zel ahead to be sure she hasn’t heard. 

Triel raises an eyebrow. This isn’t the first time he’s said something along these lines. “I am very eager to be rid of it,” she replies, “by any means necessary.” 

“Oh, don’t misunderstand, I’m certainly not advocating… Mindflayerism. Perish the thought,” he makes a face, shudders theatrically. “I mean, perhaps there’s a way to render the worms harmless. Control them. It must be nice, being able to see in daylight? Useful. You could enjoy it, even. It’s lovely out there, you know.” He gestures to the sunny side of the road, drifts away as they walk to step back into it, then motions for her to join him. 

She can’t. 

Triel’dra stops at the edge of the pool of shadows cast by copse of trees and can’t bring herself to look at him watching her. It’s just a stretch of sunlight but it feels like fording a river— an undertaking, something to be endured to get to the other side, to the next blessed patch of darkness. It’s early afternoon, and the shadows are few and meagre, the next patch of shade a long way off. 

She’s being ridiculous.

She’s travelling with surface dwellers. They sleep at night and travel by day, she’s going to need to get used to this. 

The others have noticed. Up ahead, Shadowheart and Lae’zel have stopped and turned. 

“Is everything alright?” There’s a tinge of impatience in the cleric’s voice. Her gaze turns to Astarion and her brows furrow, she thinks he’s done something. 

“Chk!” Lae’zel makes that irritated hissing click in her throat. “We do not have time for this! I will drag you along or leave you behind if you cannot keep up.” 

“Yes,” Triel calls back. “It is fine. I am fine. I will be right there.” 

Triel takes a breath, shades her eyes and steps into the sun, falling back into step beside Astarion who is smiling at her, though there’s something else to it that she can only assume is him reevaluating his estimations of her. She can feel her face burning, and not just from the heat. 

“Well,” he begins, briskly, trying to change the mood. “You really aren’t a fan of it, are you? But see, this isn’t so bad, is it?” 

She has to admit, it isn’t terrible. She would still prefer night, obviously, but this is alright, what the heat is likely doing to all the wheels of cheese in her pack, aside. Slowly, reluctantly, she lets her hands fall back to her sides, lets her eyes adjust to the tadpole-tempered light. She tries not to think about how open the yawning blue void of the sky is above her, how exposed, how visible she is. 

“There is a saying, in my language: oloth zhah tuth abbil lueth ogglin. The darkness is both friend and enemy.”  She sighs, finally daring to really look up at Astarion. He’s watching her carefully, intent. Those red eyes send an instinctual shiver down her spine, but she brushes it aside. “The light has only ever been an enemy—” She cries out, her hand flying to press against the sudden stabbing pain behind her eye. 

Oh no. No, no, not again. 

She can feel the tadpole shifting in her skull, sifting through her thoughts, dragging a memory to the surface.

The pain she expects washes over her, the light piercing, tears streaming down her blood streaked face, one eye struggling against the brightness, the other swollen shut. Triel is on her back, doused in sweat, baking under the sun and  too weak to crawl for cover. The pain radiating from the festering wound in her hip has long since gone numb, poison spread through her veins as the day stretches on in a feverish daze of delirious terror just waiting to die— 

With a cry, Triel wrenches herself free of the memory’s grasp. To her horror, Astarion is clutching at his head again too, his chest heaving as hers is, still recovering from the feeling of it. He’s seen. Her mouth works uselessly, that mortified heat creeping back into her cheeks, small and pathetic and desperate to pretend it hadn’t happened. 

“I did not mean— ah. I am sorry, I do not understand why that happens, I—” Gods all help her, she’s stammering like an idiot. 

Astarion straightens, clears his throat. His hand moves away from the shared pain in their heads to smooth down his clothing, reclaiming that noble, put together kind of air he has in a moment. “Yes, well, no harm done. We’re all adjusting to our…. Uninvited guests.” He smiles, but she sees those red eyes tracing the ugly scar across her face. 

Merciful Sehanine, strike me down now. 

Triel’dra hadn’t realised Shadowheart had turned back until her armored hand is on Triel’s shoulder, studying her with a quirked eyebrow. “You alright?” The cleric eyes her sceptically as she nods, breathless, pushing aside damp hair that is not there but that she can still feel plastered to her face with sweat. 

“Yes, I am fine,” Triel assures her. “The tadpole was acting up, but it has stopped.” Thankfully, a feeling catches her attention, saves her from this awkward interaction. Especially before Lae’zel can chime in; Triel is certain that she’ll have thoughts on increased parasite activity and she’d rather avoid another argument if she can. 

It’s strange to consider the differences between the invisible bonds tethering her to other creatures. This tadpole is unnerving and invasive, crawling behind her eye and reaching out to probe the thoughts of everyone so afflicted, offering up her weakest moments for all to see. Her connection to her familiar, though, is a comfort. 

Triel’dra feels Erelae’s presence before she sees the dark spot in the sky as the raven wheels overhead and swoops back down to light on her shoulder. She’s being such a good sport about this form. Erelae is usually a bat or an owl, but the surface in daylight isn’t kind to either creature, and she’s far less conspicuous this way. Erelae ruffles her feathers, nips at her ear with her beak, anxious but not panicked. 

“There is something up ahead,” she tells the others, before turning back to her friend. “Like before? More wreckage?” The raven rasps a sound she understands as affirmative. 

Refocused, the party sets off carefully towards the far-flung debris of the nautiloid in hopes of anything of interest but all they find is a dying haszak— Mind Flayer, in Common, Astarion tells her, though he and Shadowheart have heard the Undercommon ilithid, too. 

She is so tired of things prying into her thoughts, twisting them, manufacturing them. 

The injured mindflayer tries to claw its way into her brain, so she puts her boot through his. 

She’s not sure who suggests making camp, but skull pounding, heart racing, spattered in haszak ichor, Triel’dra can’t disagree. 

They decide to circle back to the temple they’d explored earlier in the day, take another look for anything they might be able to scavenge for bedding and shelter, especially with another pair of eyes and arms. Filling Astarion in on the details of the morning’s escapades was a welcome relief from their earlier conversation, though it did nag at her. Left hanging, unresolved. 

Triel tries, as they set off in search of a campsite near the river with better access to water not contaminated by bodies and a ship made from one hundred tons of rotting crintishik. She falls into step beside Astarion again, a feat given his much longer stride. He slows for her, and something tightens in her chest. The tips of her ears are uncomfortably warm. 

She makes an effort not to falter when the shadow of the temple, finally lengthening as the afternoon dwindles into evening, ends, but she still tenses visibly, bracing herself, and sighs at her own failure. “I know it’s alright,” she tries to explain, once again taking a moment to thank blessed Sehanine that she has someone to talk to. “The thinking part of my brain knows, but… When something has always hurt you, it is difficult to believe it will not again.” 

Her Common is poor, and she must be talking nonsense, because Astarion doesn’t answer. He just hums thoughtfully, to be polite, she imagines, and thankfully it’s not long before she spots an ideal place to make camp and then there’s too much to do to feel uncomfortable. 

She helps set up, to gather water, to make a fire pit and gather wood. This is what she’s best at, and keeping busy, feeling useful, soothes that nervous ache like nothing else. 

Astarion disappears for a while— he says something about tidying himself up, which makes her laugh to herself, secretly. He’s the least battered of them all, but there’s smoke and ash and probably mindflayer fluids (thanks to her) and he strikes her as the fastidious type.  

“Avoiding the hard work,” is Shadowheart’s take on it. 

Triel doesn’t mind. Honestly, she’s used to doing these things alone, and inexperienced help can be more harm than good. Her only worry is that he seems to be gone for a while, and alone, but Astarion returns just as she begins to think she should go look for him. Sure enough, the elf saunters back into camp, his hair damp, his face scrubbed clean, and sets right back to arranging the pile of cushions he’s hoarded. 

Triel’s pack is heavy with every edible thing she’s set eyes on all day, but these provisions will keep and it seems wise to save them for leaner times. Here, game and foragables are plentiful, and with a quick word to the others she sets off after one of those boars she’d been lured with earlier. 

She returns later with an ample supply of herbs, plants, and a few river fish. 

From where she’d set up her tent, Shadowheart smiles, a wry smirk as she eyes Triel’s catch. “No luck with the boars, then?” 

“There is something wrong with the boars.” 

“Sure there is.” Shadowheart rises from where she’d been knelt in prayer, following Triel to the campfire. 

“I found a dead one,” Triel says as she continues her work. She sets the plants aside for later, then arranges the fish over the fire on cleaned sticks. “I could not tell what killed it. It may have been sick; I do not think we should eat them.” 

Across from the fire, Astarion is watching them, a book he’d taken from the temple open in his lap. He’d been as interested in the many dusty tomes as she had, and between the two of them they’d amassed quite a little library. His gaze is intent, and those red eyes give her another misplaced jolt of panic. These are not the eyes she knows to fear, and she admonishes herself quietly. 

It’s hardly this surface-elf’s  fault he has the eyes of a Lolthite. 

“These should not take too long,” she assures him,  forcing a smile as she stands, gathering up the plants to take down to the river to wash. She’d found wild onions and blushcaps that would be satisfying if cooked now, and plentiful herbs to be dried for later. 

His smile is tight, wincing. “I’m… actually not particularly hungry,” he admits. “Nothing against your… very resourceful culinary skills, of course,” from the wary way he’s eyeing the campfire, she suspects he has concerns. “Today has been… a lot. Not to worry, I’ll just scrounge up something later.”

“Alright.” Triel’s brows furrow, and she tries not to look him over too obviously. When would he have eaten last? Today was taxing and tomorrow promises more of the same. “Well, there is plenty of food in my pack, please feel free. You need to keep your strength up.” 

He’s giving her that look again, like she’s said something odd, and she isn’t sure if it’s her Common or something she doesn’t understand about surface-folk. Is it her tent? Perhaps he doesn’t want to go into her space to retrieve something. Is it because she’s female? She knows colnbluth have strange (hilarious, honestly) customs about gender, but she supposes walking into a strange drow man’s sleeping quarters and helping herself to something would be…. Yes, that would be highly questionable. “I’ll leave it by the door,” she reassures him.  

He thanks her as she starts off for the riverbank, but he’d sounded somewhat baffled and she gets the impression she’s said the wrong thing again. 

She is so much better at making campfires than friends. 

The sun is finally setting and she can’t help but sigh with relief at the dimming twilight. The air is cooling, the sunset reflected in the dark water. She’ll wait until night falls properly before praying for the evening. 

If ever there was a time for it, it’s now. 

Triel’dra manages to put together a decent enough dinner, but even the smell of cooking meat and onions doesn’t tempt Astarion away from his book.  Shadowheart seems to have warmed to her a little as she sits down around the fire to eat with the others, but Lae’zel is restless and irritable, wolfing down her fish and then stalking back to her tent muttering about what a waste of time this is. She won’t speak to Triel afterwards, either. 

Of all of them, Triel’dra is probably the least inclined to rest now. The sky is beautifully dark, the moon is clear, the world crisp and calm and welcoming, but she’s bruised and her magic exhausted from the day’s battles and she’ll be far better equipped for whatever lies ahead after a trance. 

She excuses herself to the edge of the clearing, back to the river. It seems like the best place to clear her head. The water shimmers, stars glistening above and reflected below. She’d invited Shadowheart to join her, but the cleric is secretive in her devotions and vehemently refused. 

Triel kneels, taking a deep breath of night air, and takes the necklace from beneath her shirt, clasps it in her hand. The thin metal pieces are familiar and comforting in her hands, three phases of the moon, full, half, and crescent, for She Who Is Three and Is One. 

Her heart aches as she thinks of home, prays for Sehanine to watch over her people, her family. But selfishly, she can’t help but pray for herself.  I want to go home. She tries to focus on the things that matter but beneath it the thoughts are there, betraying her. Please, help me. 

Triel sighs, and rises back to her feet. If she was the kind of person who deserved The Lady of Dreams’ blessing, she wouldn’t have asked for it. She never has been. 

Her gloom lifts for a moment when she spots a painfully thin figure amongst the reeds on her way back to camp,  and finds Withers has followed them.  She smiles, acknowledges him, and he responds with a solemn nod of his head before returning his attention to the heavy book in his desiccated hands. 

“Before anyone is alarmed,” Triel announces as she makes her way back to the clearing and the glowing embers in the firepit, “the mummified fellow from the ruined temple is by the riverbank.” 

“I’m sorry, the what?” Astarion looks up from the pile of pillows and blankets he seems to be continually rearranging. He’s a little frazzled, pushing white curls out of his face, on his hands and knees trying to get everything just so.  It’s like watching a very industrious stoat nesting, and she shouldn’t find it as amusing as she does. 

“Withers. Did I not get to Withers? We found him in a sarcophagus in the ruins. Very cryptic, but harmless, I think.” 

“Well. I missed an interesting morning.” 

Astarion is used to his city and struggling with the outdoors. This isn’t his idea of a comfortable night’s rest, but he’s making the best of it. 

She has red clover and valerian drying by her tent, and she’s maybe a little too eager to offer to brew up a nice tea, something to help him settle in. He declines politely. “You sleep,” he assures her. “I’ll keep watch.” 

She should stay up. She should stay up and protect the camp herself, but… she trusts him, and besides, Erelae is perched in a nearby tree, keeping careful watch, and she’ll be alert enough to rouse easily. She’ll trance, trade off with him when she’s rested. Between two elves, they’ll have the night well covered. 

“Thank you,” she replies. “I will rest better for it. Wake me when you’re ready to switch out.” 

“The pleasure is all mine.” Those red eyes look into her own and he smiles in that way that makes the little crinkles at the corners of his eyes. “Sweet dreams.” 

Trieldra’s stomach flips, her heart does something fond and foolish in her chest. She knows better than to pay them any mind. 

As she turns to retire for the night, Astarion cracks open a book and she remembers something else she’d been meaning to ask him. “Oh, ah,” she turns back, “there is one more thing. I hate to trouble you again, you have been so helpful already,” he looks very pleased with himself, “but I found a book I do not understand. Reading Common is difficult for me; there is another word I do not know featured prominently. I was wondering if you would mind translating?” 

“Of course, darling. I’d be happy to,” Astarion obliges, snapping his own book shut again and waiting as she hastens to the pack she did indeed drag to the opening of her tent, and fishes out the item in question. 

Darling. That is awfully familiar, isn’t it? Endearment? She shakes her head, chastises herself. She barely speaks Common, she has no idea about connotation. 

“Here,” she offers the dusty volume she’d found in the ruins with its worn green leather cover. The title might have been on the spine but it’s long since worn away so she flips it open to hold up the first page with its large, dramatic lettering.  “‘Curse of the…..’ This word. What is this?” She taps the oddity excitably. 

Astarion doesn’t answer. 

If anything, the little colour he has seems to drain from his face, leaving him ghostly pallid in the moonlight. His mouth quirks for a moment like he’s going to say something, jaw tightening, but he just stares at her in mute horror.  

“Oh. Oh no. It is not profane, is it? I found it in a temple, it did not occur to me—”

“No. No, it’s nothing like that.” Astarion’s voice is soft, distant. His mind is somewhere else and she’s now certain she’s done something horribly wrong. “You don’t know what a vampire is?” 

“I may? I do not know the word, I may know the thing. What is it in Elvish?” 

“The same— there isn’t one, It’s…” he stops, thinking, resting his mouth against his knuckles. “A vampire” he begins carefully, “ is an undead creature that drinks blood.” 

“Ah, yes!” She brightens. That description does spark something, something alluded to occasionally, but not often. He looks so uncomfortable. Was he afraid to scare her?  Is he afraid? “We say qu'lithplynn in Drow. Blood-thief. Is this what you mean? With the sharp stick?” She mimes stabbing something and he laughs, a high, tight sound. 

“Hm. Yes. Yes, that.”  Astarion clears his throat, regains his composure in an instant, and that easy smile is back. “Tell you what, why don’t you give that to me? I can trade you…. Hmm,” He glances down at the book in his hands, its cover bright red and well-worn. “Journey Through the Jungle,” he reads. “Honestly, I’m getting the impression this is more suited for children, so not a bad read for someone’s… third? Language.” 

“Fourth, if you consider Undercommon as distinct from Drow,” she sighs. “This is the only one that uses Thorass.”

“Nine sweet Hells, no wonder.” He plucks the first book from her grasp and deftly presses the new one into her hands. “I’ll take a look at this, maybe jot some elvish beside anything unusual.”

“Thank you!” Triel takes the book, drops her arms when she catches herself hugging it to her chest. “Thank you,” she repeats more calmly when she’s reigned in the mortifying warm feeling in her chest. You’re dying, she reminds herself, and that does it, a splash of cold water to her skipping heart. She needs only to think about it and she can feel the thing writhing in her brain; her stomach roils.

Much better.  

It’s ridiculous, but focusing on this one little glimmer of… of humour, or warmth, or whatever it is, is so tempting in the chaos and terror of everything else, desperate to latch on to anything she can as if to keep from drowning. 

Triel’dra knows better. 

She bids him goodnight, and retreats to her tent, closing the doorway, pack still just inside, and curling up in the small space to let herself drift into that misty, in-between place of reverie. In her mind she recites familiar prayers, verse after verse to each of the Seldarine until the thoughts stop deep in her trance. 

It takes far longer than it should.

[Next]

[emineml0ver]

Do you think there’s nice people in South Park vore community

Tbh with you. No one’s nice in that community. It’s Dolores hayes or southparkvore23 that’s only nicer. Dolores is nice because she does her followers request and there’s times where people ask her for more. Also she acts like my dad. Like her personality acts like my dad. Also she follows south park artists vore. Even tho they’re not good. Also she thinks that some people are her friend. But im not sure if they’re doing it so she can make their requests more. Southparkvore23 inspired me too. She acts nice and she does some of her fans request. I mean she used to be back then but she kinda ignores their requests but that’s her rule. Also a friend of mine who used to be make sp vore but quitted long time ago says she saw that person following an art stealer. Im not sure but she seems to care. It’s just people need to think twice about the community like I don’t like southparkvore0 because she acts rude and I asked her to make tutorial and she said “k” so I don’t like her alot. Southpark882203 also because the way he acts like sometimes when you ask a question he says it on short answers. I personally don’t like canceljuju because they act rude and childish imo. Sometimes people forget im in this site. So it’s pretty embarrassing to see others forgetting about me. So I don’t like them and I don’t post south parkvore cuz of that. Also bottabag seems rude like she told me to change my artstyle and I kinda felt bad. But wtv. But she does act like a popular kid in school do that explain it…. There’s time where zork could act nice but… he talks a lot so he can’t make me feel better when im speaking a diff language. Also southparkvore0 asshole l cuz she says on her discord bio she speaks Russian but she doesn’t. So fuck you bro. There’s time where russian people get depression and it’s not fucking nice to make fun of a launguage you google translated mf…. So that’s why I don’t post alot cuz of those things. It’s not cuz I can’t draw good but it’s cuz ppl so I quit like not forever but on requests and shit

so dolorhes or southpark23 and olive vore guys and slugbug imo

[the-mspfa-200-favourites-project]

FORTUNA

Let’s get this out of the way: FORTUNA is the longest MSPFA on the site, that isn’t just the full translation of HOMESTUCK. It is about 7000 panels long, and it is the reason why I had the “one year rule” stipulation to begin with to make this more manageable to me. It is one of the most intimidating things on the website, mainly because it also has a website mirror that seems to be updating to this day? I have no idea what to expect besides the vague idea of a more mechanics-based SCI-FI story, so…here goes, I guess. I’ll be reading the one on the website, btw.

This one REALLY wants to sell that it is a game, complete with fake start up screen, reset, and a framing device about trying to play some game somebody you knew gave you. This truly feels like I am playing a visual novel, except I’m not actually making any of the choices, but I am reading all of the dialogue. But I mean, aren’t all MSPFAs kind of Visual Novels, if you think about it? Yes. Also, the visuals are pretty good, the crayon scribbles are a very charming artstyle to employ in this webcomic.

Right. This fanadventure is making me remember why the heck I don’t especially like some SCI-FI much, because. Man. Is there sure is a lot of text dumps about Aliens that I haven’t yet met, given to me in a very bland style. Like. I’m impressed that there’s a lot of worldbuilding but like. Cool the jets, fake-game.

Uh oh. Some of the pictures might be broken. Which, uh. Considering there’s no prose under the panel now. Might be…just slightly problematic. Got to say, though, I’m loving this Apollo Guy. Gives me big “Flowey” Vibes, And Those Are The Vibes Of Someone That I Like To Hang On With, on A Narrative Sense.

Also. I just realized. This mirror has like. Literally the forum message users talking to each other. Which is cool for a mirror to do, to see people getting into the roleplay situation of the entire scenario. (Also. One literally quotes Doc Scratch? Which is certainly a trip. To behold).

Okay so. I guess that all that stuff I said about it being too much info and stuff? I lied. This Fanadventure RULES. Sorry about all that stuff I said above. I guess it still applies as my thoughts as I’m reading it, but definitely once you get into the groove of how these things are supposed to go, it’s a good ride.

The reader being like…an actual character, or rather the multiple throngs of readers on this fanadventure gives this one…what’s the word…an ask blog vibe? Ask Blogs are all fine and dandy, don’t get me wrong; but it’s uh…it’s not really the best medium to tell a story through, at least to my tastes.

I think Fortuna’s a really good fanadventure to check out, all things considered. I liked the segments when there’s more story, and I did not like the part where there’s more audience interaction. Honestly, Audience Interaction is so fickle to read as an archival reader that you have to really know what you’re doing (see: Hussie) if you want to do it, or you just want to make a story solely for Serial Readership. That’s kind of what I’m finding out here. In summary, and in conclusion: Go check this one out.

[maladaptedreader-writes]

Mal's ramblings/sources for TGOE Ch 1

The quote at the top from (Pseudo-)Apollodorus 3.7.1, translated by Sir James George Frazer, F.B.A. can be found on the Tufts website, which is where I find most all my Greek/Roman texts. The website explicitly says Apollodorus, which is why I labeled it as such.

The Theoi Project has a lovely rundown on our titular Eleos, which is where I found the quote in the first place. (The Tufts translation had less parenthesis. Ironic that I put that in parenthesis?)

A supplicants branch sounds kind of obvious, but, like, what kinda branch? Well, I found this fancy PDF from something called "The Nature of the Act of Supplication" that specifies it's an olive branch, and now I feel a little silly for not coming to that obvious conclusion on my own.

Mycenaean Greek vs. Achaean Doric Greek I got from Wikipedia. Technically Achaean Greek is shorthand for Mycenaean Greek, but that seems really easy to mix up. And if I use "Mycenaean" if emphasizes the regional players in a way that Achaean doesn't (at least to me).

Can't remember where I read the thing about ancient Greek writers being able to muddle their way through a newspaper, but I've seen similar sentiments on other sites, so I'm just going to assume it's a thing people seem to think in academia in general.

We know thermopolium were a thing around 79 CE, and kapeleion in 400 BCE, but what about, like, 2700-1500 BCE? Were eateries a thing in bronze age Greece? While this lovely paper talks about food and its relation to class (to put it simply). Here's a quote from early in the paper: "...rural population of Greece used scarce ingredients and culinary elaboration to differentiate between daily meals within the household and commensality on ‘special’ occasions involving hospitality to ‘outsiders.’" The paper has nothing to do with eateries. But I'm looking at this quote and thinking a lot about Xenia and the stories and just how they're told and what they do and don't say. Absence of evidence is not evidence of absence. But, for now, we're gonna go with "eateries weren't a thing in bronze age Greece."

Oral stories are not generally considered fictional stories. Maybe they're cultural lessons, but it's important to remember that they're histories first and foremost. With Greek stories (among many others I'm sure), they were retold in ways that would relate to the listener. No one expected Jimmy down the block actually fought in that battle multiple city-states over, but it's more fun to hear about Jimmy than some rando. (Seriously, this paper talks about oral myths as memes, and it's super fascinating.) I'm personally on the side of (some) oral stories being like Klingon stories. Exaggeration is just part of the game.

I can't remember where I found the thing I did about possessives and Greek names, so I now refer to this debate about it on Stack Exchange as evidence of "rules? what rules?"

Oh wait! I found it. It has to do with syllables. Now, if I don't go back and fix all the things, I'll annoy me. (Note to self: Make offerings to the god of Ctrl+H)

I think it was FlaviaFulvia who pointed out that only Achilles and Helen use "I" in the Iliad. I want to read more discourse on that.

[outsidereveries]

reading your relevance in korea reading, as someone who lives in korea... the general public absolutely loves jennie and she's mentioned in korean dramas and shows every single week, there isn't a single 3rd generation idol who's as loved as her here. yeah some people were upset about the dance but it wasn't much? artists here do similar stuff all the time, Korea isn't as conservative as yall think. the slutshaming yall see in forums doesn't reflect what korea think of her because these websites are filled with jobless boygroup stans that no one here takes seriously

i’m actually relieved it’s not like that bc i was really worried, but honestly, i am really thinking why they thought in that way back then, like days ago or so? do you think i saw repressed thoughts rather than what seems to be the “overall reality”? i don’t think korea is “conservative” as you said bc everyone is more or less with their interesting or odd point of view but 10 of swords literally flipped (i usually put it in its reverse position in my desks), how i would transcribe it otherwise? if it was reversed, okay, but it wasn’t and i’m thinking what does it mean now

i don’t deny her relevance, i don’t deny that she’s talked a lot, i don’t deny her impact, but why i saw 10 of swords.. the bottom card wasn’t even on the other side, it sort of blended, you know?

+ i don’t think the artists in your country do similar things all the time as we see your country’s industry differently than the usa’s pop culture for example. hell i am from balkan (peninsula) country who pop-folk is the most popular genre and i do know how the bulgarian industry works. whatever jennie did from foreign point of view can be interpreted as very shocking, very suprising but we (the europeans/usa citizens dqk about the rest) overall aren’t suprised because we’re already adapted of our home country’s music industry and the nudity issues that i personally disagree with but that’s my opinion. your country’s industry is a breath of fresh air to us. except hwasa where she’s doing some things that can be “controversial” (in brakes because idk if it actually is a one to south korea) i don’t really know who tf in the k-pop industry is breaking the rules like them in similar ways (i personally separate k-hiphop, k-indie and so on) and it really shows bc of the way how they’re talked. except in blogs and eventually on x idfk from where to look from koreans’ opinions because i’m obviously uneducated and even though we foreigners rely mainly on english k-pop sites + pannchoa (i use notpannchoa2 on telegram/x tho) there aren’t simply just enough sources to us so in this case “phew” for my alleged inaccurate opinions

however i don’t think your country’s citizens weren’t upset about the dance. i wasn’t even thinking about it. i thought first about her role when i saw the card - personally i liked how she did it really well from what i saw but the idol shouldn’t be her acting debut but i’ve expressed my opinion many times so i won’t repeat myself this time; my second thought was about the idol’s plot and how “erotic” it was and i think the plot was the bigger issue rather than her provocative dance, i even forgot she danced in one of the episodes.

i’ve never thought about the blogs in your country being true at 100% but that’s like the main source we have (i personally know only pann) for the koreans’ opinions that are translated and we roughly know what do koreans might think, so i don’t really know

overall 10 of swords might actually be repressed thoughts, i am aware of jennie’s positive opinions at some blogs’ posts

[ankoku-teion]

Ok, so. To do a somewhat better job of articulating my feelings on this:

I know for a certainty that I am not simply cisgender.

I have questioned my gender previously but never took it further than the inside of my head. June of this year, I took a leap and bought myself some feminine clothing and it has changed my world significantly.

I started doing some research and some reading and some deep exploration of myself. Because I've never really tried to engage with the gender identity labels before.

I started off exploring the ideas of being a-gender, enby, or gender fluid.

I've not got a strong internal sense of what my gender is exactly. There's nothing in there that says "i am MAN" or "I am WOMAN" that a lot of other people seem to have. So maybe a-gender. But a lot of the a-gender people I've read/spoken to have a very definite sense of NOT being those things, which I also dont have. I just lack the abstract concept, which I think is because I'm autistic, so I just engage with my gender in a different way. Which is true of my emotions. I dont have an abstract concept of a lot of emotions, instead I experience them as physical sensations which I then have to consciously translate.

So probably not a-gender?

I've ruled out gender fluid too on the basis that I dont feel differently from day to day, I still want to express it in the same ways I just feel external pressure not to in some situations. (And sorting out what was internal Vs external took me a long time too)

Over the course of this I've been edging towards the trans label too. It might fit me? But.i don't quite feel comfortable identifying that way. I feel like I'm trespassing or something. I have friends who are binary trans and on HRT, and have been for years, and I've talked with them a lot over the years about their struggles and experiences. Taking on the label feels disrespectful to them I guess. And trying to talk about this with them was fucking nerve-wracking too, even though I knew they'd understand, I couldn't suppress the fear that they'd call me out as a weirdo and tell me I was appropriating their community.

So for now I'm settling on Enby. Because I know I'm not a cis man, but I don't feel comfortable with trans woman either. Trans as a broad umbrella term, I'm ok with, but "trans woman" specifically gives me trepidation.

I definitely like dressing femme, the first picture I took of myself in a blue dress with my red wig was the first picture of myself that I've seen since I was 14 and not instantly hated. I wear silicone breasts and a bra full time now too, and it just feels right in a way I can't explain.

Every time someone on this site uses she/her or calls me Sarah I get a small thrill of happiness down my spine. And my friends have remarked that I'm noticeably happier and more energetic overall the last couple of weeks.

I actually enjoy clothes shopping now too? It's still as awkward and frustrating as it ever was, if not moreso now because it's even harder to find anything that fits, but when I do, it makes me happy enough that it's worth it.

I'm still crap at painting my nails, but again, it makes me very happy. Even the opportunity to be frustrated and disappointed by the results feels better than not doing it.

I saw a post a couple of hours ago about fish not knowing they're wet, and that being a metaphor for trans folk in denial and dysphoria. And I honestly am starting to feel like the fish being lifted out of the water. Panicky and scared. But also now I know the water is wet.

My mental health has been in the shit since I was 14, Ive constantly hated myself and my body for seemingly all different reasons or no reason at all. Now in hindsight it kind of makes sense.

I'm taking this whole thing in small steps and avoiding the big questions for now, because trying to think about that now is overwhelming, but it kind of all falls into place when I look back on it.

hey are you a girl now

Ehhh, I guess?

I'm definitely happier being femme. Still not entirely sure what to do with that.

[hello-nichya-here]

Since what age have you been learning English and what are your most preferred methods of studying it?

Anon, you opened the flood-gates. I got a rant to make.

I've been memorizing specific things since I was a kid because most brazilian schools think that is the same as actually teaching things - and many people seem to genuinely think that's how you learn a language.

It started with the most basic shit ever - I'm talking primary colors, counting to ten, "my name is", and words like "mom", "dad", "brother", "sister", and "family", but not "parents", "siblings" and "relatives." That was literally all of it, but it was okay then because I was, like, 5-years-old.

When I was around 6-7, it went to all colors and numbers, as well as body parts, words like “house”, “beach”, “tree”, and some very basic sentences like “The sky is blue”, “My sister is called...”, “The shirt is white”, that kind of thing.

After that, from me being 8-years-old all the way to last fucking year of highschool, it was just showing us to ask and answer questions on some VERY specific context ... and then the brazilian education system was like “That totally counts as actually learning to speak english” even though those kids couldn’t hold an actual conversation for five minutes AND wouldn’t understand a native english speaker talking because they never bothered to teach us the correct pronounciation.

Either way, that “The book is on the table” approach at least gave me some skills to understand another language. The thing is learning a language is mostly a matter of habit.

So, the method I used while I was 10-12 and that I actually recommend is: read, watch, and listen to things in the language you want to learn so you get VERY familiar with it. Preferably stick with things you’re passionate about, at least at first, so it feels less homework and more like entertainment. And for the love of God, get it in your head that no two languages have the same rules.

I watched movies and shows that were in english with portuguese subtitles, looked up translations of songs I liked (in MULTIPLE sites because mistranslations are very common), googled the meaning of words that didn’t have proper translations, watched subtitled interviews, read small texts in english, that kind of thing.

Once I was good at all of that I tried making it a bit more difficult on myself. I read longer texts and eventually whole books entirely in english, tried figuring out the translation of songs on my own, and watched movies/tv shows either with no subtitles or with the subtitles in english (that one is extra helpful if you’re having trouble with pronouciation).

If you REALLY wanna get the gears in your head spining, try doing the reverse once you think you’re an expert: try translating things from your mother tongue to the language you think you’re so good at. That shit is way more than difficult than it sounds.

Finally, you there’s the hardest part: Actually interacting with people. It’s terrible, because people, but it’s the only way to know if you really learned a language.

[stuff-from-the-void-matron]

-Being The Duke’s Assistant- (3)

(a/n: some people really like this fic lol so here’s another chapter for y’all! also if you want a chapter 4 then please comment and reblog! otherwise I won’t have the motivation to keep writing more! thank you! <3)

–

-Learning About The Lords-

–

You’d seen more of your ex-neighbors since your run in with Vasile Kazloŭ the week previous. Seems word got around the village that you’d not in fact frozen to death or been caught and dragged into the woods by some snarling beast. And you knew a good few of them were just stopping by the Duke’s carriage under the guise of shopping just to see if those rumors were true. Not that you particularly cared what your ex-neighbors did now. If seeing you for whatever reason got them to buy something from the Duke then no skin off your nose. 

But today was different. Today the Duke said he’d be educating you on his biggest trade deals. Such deals being the Four Lords of the village. You’ll admit you gulped at hearing that. The four lords were quite notorious to the people of the village. And not for anything good despite what the fanatics would like to think..

Lady Dimitrescu, the mysterious lady who ruled the imposing castle upon the mountain that takes young women in to work but never lets them leave again. There’s a saying in the village that if a girl you know is going to work at Castle Dimitrescu then you should shower her in kisses since you’ll never see her again.

Lady Beneviento, the mysterious veiled doll maker who lives in a shadowy haunted manor that makes all those who enter there see their deceased family members. Seeing visions of the dead drives all who enter there to insanity. Most never leave, but the few who do are never the same as they were upon entering.

Lord Moreau, the monstrous looking recluse who controls the giant killer fish that has swallowed whole more than its fair share of poor fishermen of the village. It terrorized the workers at the Reservoir, devouring men like fish until they’d had enough and abandoned the site. It now sits in decay, waiting for the next fool to wander in.

Lord Heisenberg, the lord who owns the cryptic factory on the very edge of the village, where all the dead villagers bodies are sent and never seen again. Rumor has it that it used to be a coal mine but nobody living from the village has set foot in the rusted structure in decades. But despite this the factory’s smokestacks constantly billow dark soot into the sky.

Every villager knew of the four Lords. 

But apparently you were going to be learning more detail on them. Which you admit to not having much of. All you knew is what most every other villager knew. To be wary, be respectful, to pay your tributes, and do not draw attention to yourself otherwise. Those that drew attention were quite often known to draw their last breath.

The Duke it seemed was on good terms with each of the lords, at least you assumed so since he talked about them quite candidly. Not whispering their names in a hushed tone or with any amount of fearful reverence. Actually he talked about them as if they were just fellow business partners he has evening tea with. Which... well as far as you knew, could very well be the truth. But despite the Duke’s blasé outlook you felt yourself tense up when he mentioned how, as his assistant, you would be accompanying him on his future meetings with them, so it was best he told you about them now so you didn’t go in blind. Part of you wanted to just avoid that by not even going into the same building as the four lords. But the Duke squashed that thought by saying he couldn’t very well leave you to sit and twiddle your thumbs in the carriage while he was inside. 

Which you supposed you should have seen coming. You were his assistant after all. Where he goes, you go. It’s your whole job. So you steeled your resolve and took solace in knowing that while under the Duke’s protection you would be fine. you weren’t some random villager now thankfully. But even still... seeing the towering Castle Dimitrescu looming in the distance made you queasy. Your mind swam with the stories you’d been told as a child, warning you of what laid in that castle. The carriage drew closer to the imposing structure but you remained straight faced, not wanting to reveal how anxious you were. Plus, if you were being honest? This was all pretty exciting in a way! You’d left the village years ago sure, met lots of new people while you studied abroad. You learned about all the goings on of the world outside your simple village. But all of that paled in comparison to getting to meet the Four Lords.

You hoped you didn’t embarrass yourself..

-0-

While you got closer to the castle the Duke told you about the first Lord, Lady Dimitrescu and House Dimitrescu. Apparently they were famous for their incredible wine. The Duke even admitted to having a bottle of it himself stored away in the back. “For special occasions,” he told you with a smile. You also learned that House Dimitrescu also had their own vineyard where they grew all the grapes that went into the wine they made. He also revealed that there was a ‘rumor’ that Lady Dimitrescu had a very special bottle of wine in her possession, one that has belonged to her family for generations, that was called Sanguis Virginis. And its literal translation is "maiden's blood". The Duke was a touch vague on the wine, but he said that Alcina Dimitrescu has a secret process that enriches the wine’s flavor and gives it a thick bouquet. 

After that he began talking about the second Lord, Lady Beneviento and House Beneviento. The Duke spoke with a sad tone here, saying the Beneviento family slowly fell apart a long time ago. One by one the family members disappeared. And the current head of the household, Donna Beneviento, had a sister when she was a child, Claudia. But Claudia grew ill and passed away, causing her parents to grow depressed and soon after take their own lives, leaving poor Donna alone. The Duke knows Donna to be very kind, but also very lonely. She’s an incredibly skilled doll maker, even better than her father had been when he was alive. But she has trouble speaking with people without the aid of the doll friend, Angie, that her father gifted her as a little girl. He warned you that Angie could be a bit of a troublemaker, chuckling as he did.

Then came the third Lord, Salvatore Moreau of House Moreau. You raised an eyebrow when you noticed the small hint of revulsion in the Duke’s voice as he spoke about this lord. It seems that Moreau was... an odd one. The Duke tried to speak kindly of the man but even he, with his usual jovial outlook, couldn’t hide the slight way he cringed as he explained Moreau’s history. It seemed he had been a sailor at some point, and the very last of his family line, but some years ago he’d... changed physically to the point where he avoided people. He hid himself at the Reservoir his family owned and scarcely stepped foot outside of it. And after one too many... accidents there the workers abandoned the place, leaving Moreau alone to wallow in his self pity. The Duke warned you that Moreau did not look... human. And he asked you to please not stare at the man. He wouldn’t appreciate it, surely.

And then the final Lord, Karl Heisenberg of House Heisenberg. The Duke warned you that despite Lord Heisenberg’s rather casual sounding attitude, the man was quite harsh. And his factory was incredibly dangerous. He warned you to never stray from his side while there, for your own safety. You gulped but nodded as he continued. It seems the Heisenberg factory was a coal mining factory. You discovered that the Lord was an engineer, but the Duke revealed that he’d been known to tinker with things other than machines as well. That ominous note made your stomach drop. But you felt your anxiety lift a bit when the Duke told you that he was Lord Heisenberg’s supplier for a certain machine part he needs in bulk, so the man knew not to upset him. So you would be fine.

“But I think we’ll have to cut our conversation short, it seems we’ve arrived at Castle Dimitrescu,” the Duke said in a cheery tone you weren’t matching.

‘For any god listening to me... let us be alright,’ you thought helplessly.

-0-

[vivianweasley]

Pride and Prejudice (Chapter 1)

Summary: You are Draco’s cousin, and after the war, it was really difficult for you to find a job because of your last name. So your mother and Mrs. Weasley came up with a crazy idea. A fake marriage between you and Fred Weasley. 

Italics= flashback

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Malfoy!Fem!Reader

Warnings: workplace discrimination, slight slight mention of war

Word Count: 1.9k

Disclaimer: all the pictures used in the header are from Pinterest. Credit goes to the original owners.

Please do NOT repost or translate my work on another site without explicit permission! Thank you! Reblogs and comments are always welcome:)

Prologue

Two days after the dinner at the Burrow, you ran into your friend when you were shopping at Flourish and Blotts. She just got out of the Daily Prophet, and you could see a name tag on her chest stating that she’s now a reporter for the Daily Prophet.

“You got the job?” You didn’t know how to process this information. You and she were in the same year and same house. You both took the same classes, your grades were almost the same, and you both got the interview for Daily Prophet at the same time. The only difference was that she got the job, and you didn’t.

“Yes! Today’s the first day! Wait, you didn’t?” She was finding it hard to believe too.

Memories of the interview flashed back. You could still remember how the interviewer immediately furrowed his brows when he heard that your last name is Malfoy. The distrust, doubt, and even disgust on his face were so painfully visible.

You knew your background couldn’t provide any help when it comes to finding a job, but you still encouraged yourself by thinking that maybe it was because you weren’t good enough. If that’s so, you could always make up for it by working harder. But now you realized that, no matter how hard you worked, you would never be good enough for them because people would always make false assumptions about you based on your last name.

You felt dizzy. The whole Diagon Alley suddenly appeared foggy and dim, looking quite like your future, but you soon saw a lighthouse at the end of it. The brightness of the orange joke shop seemed to point out a way out for you as Mrs. Weasley and your mum’s suggestions rang in your ears.

“I need to go now!” The walk was only five minutes, but you couldn’t waste any time as you apparated right to the door of the joke shop.

“Well, this is rare!” The owner greeted you with a big grin on his face when you opened the door.

You didn’t have time to start this conversation with George, so you went right into your question, “I’m looking for Fred Weasley. Is he here?”

George was shocked as multiple questions ran through his brain. Wait, you could tell between him and Fred? But does he know you this well? Or maybe you have some history with Fred? Merlin! Y/N Malfoy? And Fred??

But he said nothing, just pointed at the back of the shop as he was still trying to process the situation.

“Thanks.” You rushed to the back of the shop and saw Fred sorting through the boxes in the storage.

“Fred Weasley.” You stated with a straight face.

“Y/N Malfoy?” Fred mimicked your tone as he still wasn’t sure what’s going on. What was this woman doing in his shop, anyway?

“Do you have a girlfriend?”

“No. Why? Do you fancy me? Did you fall in love with me after that one dinner?” he teased.

You ignored him and continued, “Do you fancy anyone? Are you dating someone? Talking to someone?”

“Not that I’m aware of?”

“Great. Let’s get married then.”

The boxes fell from Fred’s hands. This woman is absolutely mental! “I beg your pardon?”

“I said, let’s get married. After I got a steady job, we can get a divorce anytime.” You knew he’s going to laugh it off if you don’t up your game a little, so you frowned, pretending like you were disappointed, “Well, guess you don’t have the guts to do it.”

Fred knew what you were trying to do, but he was still completely under your control when you were basically giving him a dare. This should be fun, he decided. He never really hated you anyway. In fact, he actually really admired you back in Hogwarts.

Back in fifth year, Fred and George tried to prank you. It wasn’t because you did anything in particular. It was just because you were Draco Malfoy’s cousin, and Draco was really obnoxious that year.

The prank was simple. they estimated when you would walk down the stairs and set a tripwire on your way, waiting for you to trip over and fall.

Fred and George were hiding behind a pillar, waiting, but nothing happened. When you were walking down the stairs, you stopped and pulled out your wand. “Incendio,” you whispered, and the tripwire just burned into ashes.

Watching their prank being busted, the twins were frustrated. George gave up on pranking you again. It’s not like you did anything wrong anyway. But Fred suddenly felt motivated. He’s determined to get you one day.

Fred tried everything. Be it canary cream or portable swamp, you always had a way to avoid his pranks gracefully, and sometimes, the pranks would even backfire on him. After trying for a month, Fred finally admitted defeat. He admired how your brain worked, and he couldn’t help but think that if you weren’t a Malfoy, maybe you two would be really good friends.

“Who said I don’t have the guts?”

You smiled with satisfaction, for you knew your strategy worked, “Good, I will see you at the Ministry tomorrow then.”

“Wait, you could get a job, but what’s in it for me?”

You knew he wouldn’t agree so easily, so you had already prepared a plan, “How about, as long as it‘s not illegal or against my own moral standards, I can do three things for you. What do you say?”

“Deal!” The reason why Fred refused at first was that he hated being arranged and controlled by his parents. But now, when this arranged marriage became more like a game to him, he began finding it quite interesting. “The first thing I want you to do is to take care of my shop today!”

“I’m not stupid, Weasley. What if you run away after I spent the whole day working in your shop? The deal only works after I get the marriage certificate!”

Fred nodded in approval, “Not bad, Malfoy. So I will see you at the Ministry tomorrow at one pm then.”

“Deal! Don’t be late, Weasley!”

~

The next day, you were waiting at the Ministry at one pm. You repeatedly glanced at the clock  and shuffled all the documents in your hands as you paced around. 

Fred was late. Did he bail on you? Did he think you were only joking? Did he think you were a joke? Irritation and doubt rushed through your head, but you eventually calmed a bit down when you heard a familiar voice.

“Let’s just get this over with, shall we, my lovely bride-to-be?” he teased as he waltzed in.

“Not before we set some ground rules first.” You pulled him to a place where no one could hear you, and you finally took out the contract that you wrote yesterday night.

“Blimey, you actually wrote a contract?”

“Yes, Weasley, and you have to sign it,” you continued, “First, a year after I got a steady job, we will get a divorce.”

“A year?? Why does it have to be so long?”

“I don’t want the Ministry and my employer to think that I’m getting married only because I want to get a job.” You ignored his pout and went on with the list, “Second, if during this year, you actually met someone, you can date them. But you have to be discreet.”

He raised his eyebrows, “Aww, didn’t know you were such a thoughtful person.”

“Third, the fewer people know the truth, the better.”

“Sorry love, but my family already knew, and that’s already a lot of people.”

You glared at him, “You know what I mean!”

Your expression successfully elicited a small laugh from him, making you suspect that he actually enjoyed annoying you.

You rolled your eyes, “That’s all. Anything you want to add?” 

Fred shook his head, and you handed him a pen, “Brilliant!”

After signing his name on your contract, he held out his arm, “Shall we?”

You smiled, taking his arm, “We shall.”

“Fred Weasley? And Y/N Malfoy?” The lady at the Ministry looked at you and then looked at Fred several times, and finally asked in a surprised tone.

“That’s us!” Fred answered and wrapped his arm around your shoulders while you both tried to put on the biggest smile.

But her eyes were still scanning you from head to toe, and finally stopped at your fingers, “So, no rings, huh?” She was looking into your eyes as if she just found out the whole marriage was a scam. 

You cursed yourself for not remembering something this important, but your smile didn’t disappear, “Yes, Freddie and I aren’t conventional people. We don’t need a piece of metal to prove our love.”

Fred was surprised when he heard your nickname for him, but he didn’t let it show. It’s weird hearing you calling him that, but he had to admit he liked the sound of it. “That’s right, my love.”

You smiled and rested your head on his shoulder to display your affection. You wanted to stay focused so you won’t blow your cover, but hearing that pet name had caused a weird tingle in your stomach.

A few questions later, and before you could fully comprehend the situation, you were officially married to Fred Weasley. Looking at your marriage certificate, you felt surreal. Just in a few days, you and Fred went from classmates who never really talked to each other to a married couple. You two were legally bonded now, and it felt strange, but you had no time to process all these, for you had a more important task.

“Where are you going?” you heard Fred yelling behind you as you started running.

“I’ve got a job interview!”

~

The interview went well. The interviewer even thanked your husband and his family for their service during the war. You were disgusted by how people’s attitudes could change so drastically simply when you changed your last name. You didn’t fight in the war, but your family took in many muggle-born kids during those dark days, yet nobody cared. All they knew was your last name.

You walked home with mixed feelings running in your head. You knew your life was about to change, but you didn’t know if it was for better or worse. So many things have happened in the past few days, and you were just confused.

But what awaited you at home didn’t resolve any of your doubts. You saw your mum moving suitcases to the door. They were your suitcases.

“Mum, what’s going on?”

“Oh, darling, you’re back! How did the interview go?”

“It went well, I guess. Why are you moving my things out?”

“Oh, Mrs. Weasley and I figured it would look more authentic if you were staying with your husband. You know, just in case someone suspects anything.”

“Mum! But I barely know him!”

“Well, then this is the perfect chance to get to know each other!

So this was how you ended up knocking on the Weasley twins’ door at night, with all your suitcases.

The door cracked open, and Fred’s eyes widened when he saw you and your suitcases at his door.

You smiled sincerely at him, “Hello husband, mind if I stay the night?”

~

Chapter 2

A/N: this chapter is still setting things up. The next chapter will be longer!

general taglist: @valwritesx @protect-remus @elayneblack @violettaweasley @pineapplesandpinas @m1rkw00dpr1ncess @heiressofravka @itstatigallegos @missmulti @bolaurel @rangerelik @teenagesublimefan @leave-me-alone-and-go-away @gcdric @the-romanian-is-bae @zaphdekota @glimmering-darling-dolly @dogweedanddeathcaps @gloryekaterina @reenfluffmarshmallow @wand3ringr0s3 @heavenlymidnight @hunnybunimdun @izzyyy-1 @magicalxdaydream @starlightweasley @shadowsinger11 @probably-peeves​ @thisismynerdyself​ @theweasleysredhair​ @harrysweasleys​ @levylovegood​ @cinammonjae​ @mrbillymontgomery​ @slytherinsunrise​ @rosemusic18​ @sarcasticallywitty15​ @ac127​ @1127203457 @inglourious-imagines​ @bellaiscool​ 

series taglist: @ifilosemyselfagain @theweasleytwinsgirl @bookworm06 @unabashedbookscollector @txtdreamss @sagittarius-flowerchild 

(please message me if I forgot you or you want to be removed!)

Join My Tag List!

[bondsmagii]

Hey read (some of) this blog post (long as hell), tries to pick it up where your old scp cult post left off: lackoflepers medium com/scp-is-not-a-cult-196e87ce6b11

(link)

this is insane. I've never written anything that's ever received a full response before, so that's exciting. what's even more exciting is that this piece does raise some really interesting questions, and is very well-written and thoughtful.

the strange thing is, I think we're both in agreement -- but I'm calling it a cult, and the author of this piece is calling it a "fledgling religion". I agree with this outlook, if I'm honest -- but at the same time I can't help but think that this has filled a hole in my cult theory, rather than poked a hole in it.

when I wrote the original cult post, the one thing I couldn't quite equate was the religion aspect. there was a lot of things to consider from that aspect, in terms of cults requiring a certain doctrine, rituals, etc, and while I was able to draw comparisons to the site culture and these things, it didn't quite fit. this article explains and illustrates exactly what all of these things are, and the sheer amount of similarities between the SCP wiki culture and religious fundamentalists. it's absolutely incredible, how it all still adds up.

however, some things are way off. I understand the author has a history with site and with staff, and they obviously understand that there's a complicated relationship between the two. the piece certainly tackles the question from an educated site-critical standpoint, but I can't help but notice some glaring omissions and in some places, assumptions which I feel are quite simply incorrect. under the cut we go, because this is long.

the author seems to be very ignorant of the site's cyclical patterns. one of their main arguments for the wiki's not being a cult is how people like Dr Gears and thedeadlymoose don't have more power over the masses, being such important figures. the problem with the wiki is that it is very cyclical, and big names of one era do not translate over to new eras. big names replace old ones, and the old ones either become fond grandparent figures (like Gears, who had the sense to take a step back before the tides changed against him) or they become irrelevant or reviled (like thedeadlymoose, or pixelatedharmony (Roget).) this means that if the former appeals to the group, they will get essentially a pat on the head and a gentle dismissal, or if the latter speak out they will be silenced, harassed, banned, etc. this is very cultlike behaviour -- if somebody goes against the grain, they become an immediate enemy of the people. the only way to survive fame on the wiki is to retire quietly, at your peak, and keep yourself to yourself.

going on from this, there are also different levels to how a staff member is seen. there have been eras of the site where the site admin might not be as impressive as one of the prolific writers, for example. who these days knows about The Administrator? it's all Dr Gears to them. different authors have different levels of unofficial authority, and the author of the piece doesn't seem to realise that it's a cult of personality as much as anything else. there are constant divisions among staff, even if they present a united front; frequently those not toeing the party line have been ostracised or purged, and this filters down to the average user. just because a person is on staff does not mean they immediately skyrocket to godhood, if we're using the religious metaphor. this is why it seems as though "staff" as a whole isn't uniformly worshipped -- they're not. there are complex currents of power at work here, and it's frustrating because at first glance it seems to invalidate the very real fact that a few site members have all the authority. the staff worship extends to staff members. those in lower tiers will act similarly to those in higher tiers as a new member would act towards all staff.

the author draws attention to thedeadlymoose's impressive efforts to bring the site forward from its 4chan beginnings and make it more inclusive to LGBT members -- something that has undoubtedly had an effect. however, the author does not mention that to date, the site's only successful splinter site (as in, a site that lasted more than a few weeks) is RPC, and while this website came about for multiple reasons, it's undeniable that one of these reasons was because of the fact that the wiki was openly supportive of LGBT people during Pride Month. it's also interesting to note that the author is also a member of the RPC site, so it's odd that this piece of the site's origins is not mentioned.

the acceptance of these pro-LGBT policies also seems to be less wide-spread than the author believes -- most people don't care, there does exist users who are homophobic or transphobic, and -- something I'm surprised wasn't mentioned at all in the piece -- when LGBT members of the site spoke up and said the new logo made them feel pandered to, and the resulting blowout made them feel targeted and unsafe, they were mass banned from the subreddit by a rogue moderator who, incensed by the fact his authority was so challenged, then ragequit and abused people on the threads for several hours. this is a typical staff response to discontent in the masses. so yes, thedeadlymoose did have some significant sway in the attitude changing somewhat, but it was not as widespread (nor as cared about) as the article's author seems to think.

now, I shall move on to specific quotations.

Furthermore, as a gaggle of creators, SCP should never feature the mass conformity of thought that defines a cult; theirs is an ecosystem that predicates itself upon creation, and obsessively on the new and original — that is to say, the different (but tempered).

while the author does elaborate on this idea of creativity and conformity, this is just wrong. again, I blame the author's ignorance in regards to the cyclical nature of the site -- which isn't the fault of the author, in my opinion. such cycles are slow, measuring out in years rather than months, which is insanely long for an internet community. in order to notice them, you would have to have been observing for some time -- which I have been. since I have been observing the site (which has been since its very creation -- I was on the 4chan thread in 2007 when 173 was created and I have seen the wiki from its infancy on EditThis over to wikidot) I have seen this happen countless times. a type of writing, be it style or genre, takes off. it could be LOLFoundation, grimdark, whatever -- it takes off, it runs the site for a year or so, and then it crashes and burns. when it takes off, there are rules for writing it that must be obeyed lest you be downvoted to oblivion. as the attitude turns against it, those who still write it are vilified and ostracised, and the new one takes over. there have been mass purges in the past, and there has always been, since the wiki's inception, conformity of thought. one of my oldest complaints about the wiki is that, for a site full of writers, they have no imagination and absolutely no desire to step out of the approved style.

To put it very broadly, things get accustomed to the status quo in a highly regulated environment, and get better at simply remaining and surviving in that.

this could be a decent rebuff to my previous point, but the fact is that while the SCP wiki harbours cultish behaviour, a vast majority of the users are casual readers who maybe write one or two articles. the stagnation is, at least partially, because of the fact that most users sign up, read some articles, think "cool, I have an idea for one!", write it -- and have it emulate the articles they've read, thus sounding similar in tone and content to the rest of the recent articles -- get a semi-decent response if lucky, and then move on after a few months or years.

the people who power the wiki, however -- who are prolific, who churn out insane amount of articles -- are suffering from what I outlined in my above point. a small percentage of the wiki dictates the direction it goes. it has always been like this -- and people who go against the grain that staff have employed, be it old user or new, will pay for it. this payment is often in downvotes, but occasionally comes in harassment, bans, or deletions, too.

Lastly a cult is really the most extreme version of a religion, it is a religion on steroids.

this is straight-up incorrect. cults began as religions gone hayware, yes, but the idea of a cult as a Jonestown-style compound in the middle of nowhere is outdated. cults are the most extreme version of an ideology -- be it religious, political, or otherwise. they are ideologies on steroids. thanks to the internet, they also no longer have to be in real life spaces. you can be in a social cult on Twitter or on Discord; you can be in a cult of ideology on an incel forum or in a social circle of TERF blogs. all of these things are cults. they have cult-like behaviour and thinking.

this is where the author proves my point beyond all doubt. the author says the following about the wiki's increasingly left-wing inclusive policies:

What was intended to be an executive extension in peace has, due to the force required to counteract the sheer hostility and persecution once leveled at this group at its peak, instead overshot its mark and has become a brutal bureaucratic sanctioning of political identity. (I can hear someone saying that the road to hell is paved with good intentions.)

the biggest shift in this cult-think, for me, was observed when the shift towards Terminally Online Woke Left attitudes began to be increasingly observed. I'm not talking about getting people to tone down the homophobia and whatnot. I'm talking about this culture of purity and suffering that the author outlines very well in the article; if you have read the article, I needn't go over it again. the wiki now holds a monopoly on suffering using the same kind of Oppression Olympics as other spaces devoted to purity culture -- and purity culture is a cult. this is straight-up fact at this point. it is my belief that staff identified the power available to them in a) targeting people from oppressed and vulnerable groups and giving them a so-called safe space and b) using their various oppressions to their advantage.

something that is prolific in purity culture circles is that somebody who is oppressed in any way cannot be held to blame for their actions. they cannot be a bad person. this is ideological armour, and staff wields it. they also use purity culture and apparently progressive ideology to shut down anyone who dissents, and to smear their name and have then ostracised as an enemy. why do they do this? liking the power and fame of their position is a big part of it, as the author outlined, but something major is missing.

throughout the entire article, the author does not once mention the detailed and extensive history of staff sexually abusing minors on the site.

this is well-documented by this point. staff has seen many predators in its ranks, including one of the most prolific site members of all time -- AdminBright, or The Duckman. staff has known about these staff members and has covered it up over years. I myself have heard testimony from countless victims, but whenever we raise enough of a stink, a staff member does an "internal investigation" and nothing comes of it. the fact that the cult-like behaviour of this website can be discussed without one of the cornerstones of cult activity -- using its members for financial or sexual gain -- is astounding to me.

to go on from this, there is also no mention of the SCP lawyer fund, which raised over $30,000 and then faced staff actively resisting transparency as to the case and the funds. financial manipulation is another major example of cult behaviour.

without acknowledging these two things, I do not think that a full argument against the idea of the SCP wiki as a cult can be possible.

the author raises a good point that illustrates both why staff acts the way it does, and why the users are so eager to imitate:

The answer is something that can turn someone into their nemesis; something that would make someone sell their soul for 1000 upvotes; that tragic commonality that binds all individuals who feel the need to write; the need to be received, but more, to be loved for it.

this is a big reason why staff clings to its power, and why people sell out their creativity, and why people emulate this behaviour, and why prolific authors burn out so fast. however, running through all of this at its core -- through the need to be received and loved -- is the power that comes with it. this is all about power.

to mention the specific example of LordStonefish, and his reaction when he found out that his interviewer was enemy of the people pixelatedharmony, now of "burning out, ragequitting the site, and going to talk shit on KiwiFarms" infamy:

[...] it was as if LSF was speaking to a leper, and that the ongoing participation in the salvation of public approval (not to mention site participation as well) was directly dependent upon LSF’s rebuke of pH as a demon who is only worthy of a terrible fate and, as we see in the screencaps, even death.

leaving my personal opinions on Harmony out of this, going from a perfectly civil interview to finding out that the interviewer was an enemy and not only dumping all of his private information to offset doxing, but also going into detail about some highly personal stuff for shock value... I don't think Harmony quite required that treatment. the fact is that, as the quote outlines above, the only way to ensure that he wouldn't be completely ostracised for fraternising with the enemy (KiwiFarms -- of which Harmony is apparently the ambassador) was to behave like a man shunning a sinner. Harmony has sinned -- she rejected the status quo, she defied the group and its authority, and LordStonefish, in order to remain safe from being tarred with the same brush -- has to react with suitable horror to her presence.

it should be noted here that while KiwiFarms has a reputation for being a hive of scum and villainy, its main reputation regarding the SCP Wiki has been for being the one place where complaints against the site are openly discussed, often by defected staff members such as pixelatedharmony and Cyantreuse, and perhaps most telling of all -- the place where a lot of accounts of sexual harassment and abuse have been filed. staff rails against it on the grounds of it being filled with people who use slurs and have questionable ideological beginnings (ironic, coming from a website which began on 4chan) -- but as a leftist myself with extensive knowledge of the wiki, I can confirm that no criticisms I've seen on there have been unfair or inaccurate, and in fact a lot of the evidence and testimony posted there is damning. it would be fair to not wish to associate with the site because of its content in other places, or even its past reputation, but the fact staff rail against it so hard when it's currently one of the only places (and certainly the only public place) where their deeds are on display? it's interesting.

of LordStonefish's reaction, the author says:

This is the behavior of a deeply religious figure.

it is. this is the reaction of a Mormon meeting an old friend who has left the church. this is the reaction of a Jehovah's Witness crossing the street to avoid a shunned neighbour. it is the behaviour, you could say, of a cult member.

in the conclusion, the author states:

And if anyone is to shoulder blame for the creation of this pathology and its complex, it are those true bigots of history and today, who don’t have the spiritual maturity to understand that someone’s sexual preference or identity shouldn’t be enough to categorically separate them from a definition of humanity; to beat, maim, and wish death upon them.

perhaps this might have been true, perhaps this might have drawn a thoughtful and damning line under the whole affair, if not for the fact that this behaviour has been occurring since long before the internet became known for its progressive and now increasingly often, ridiculous takes on inclusion and sensitivity. this kind of cultish groupthink has been ongoing since the wiki's very first inception. the cyclical worship of a group of staff members and other prolific writers (though the group are often one and the same) and their chosen theme or genre has occurred like clockwork since the late 00s. it has occurred when the website was still entrenched in its 4chan days and saying slurs was barely blinked at. it was still there back when staff was predominantly (or at least presumably) cis, white, and male. it was there when being gay was the butt of a joke and being trans was all but unthought of. it has always been there, and while the latest progressive policies and attitudes have had an effect on how the power is wielded, it has not changed the power itself. if the tides ever turn on the Terminally Online Woke ideology, staff will change with it and adapt their policies and ideologies to keep their power.

if anyone is to shoulder the blame for the creation of this pathology, it is the elitist attitude that has allowed a select few to be worshipped unquestionably. it is the power-hungry individuals who seek out fame and respect on a writing website and then use this fame and respect to treat others badly and their fear of a fall from grace to shelter others treating people worse. it is on the shoulders of the staff members who use their position to groom and sexually assault minors. it is on the shoulders of the staff members who keep it silent. as the severity of staff's secrets has increased, so has their attempts to silence dissent and reform at all costs.

the author agrees that this kind of religious think might lead to a cult in the future. the author says the cult will be a cult of vulnerability, but I disagree. I believe the cult is already there, and it is -- and always has been -- a cult of power.

[missroserose]

Fic Writer Question Meme!

Thanks for the tag, @venhedish—I love stuff like this! I'd apologize in advance for how long this is likely to be, but I suspect we share that tendency, haha.

How many works do you have on AO3?

20 total. I've been publishing there since late 2018, so about three years now. That sounds right for me—I'm way too perfectionist to ever be prolific.

What's your total AO3 word count?

125,744! Apparently it takes me three years to write a novel's worth of words I feel are worth publishing...which also sounds right.

How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

Three, primarily: The Lost Boys, Stranger Things, and Supernatural. Mostly Stranger Things, since I was pretty enmeshed in the Harringrove community for about a year and a half, though these days I'm hanging out more with the SPN crowd. We'll see if that translates to more fics.

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

1.) Sunflower (524) 2.) Quickly, look away (506) 3.) We'll Become Who We Meant To Be (383) 4.) Too Young To Fall In Love (333) 5.) When the Waters Start to Cross (283)

First, what's not surprising: all are Stranger Things/Harringrove works. I'm a little surprised to see that "Sunflower" had edged out "Quickly" as my most-kudosed story, for years it was the other way around—but maybe that's actually not that surprising—part of the reason I haven't been as active in the fandom is that I really love the darker and more complex renditions of Billy Hargrove's character (a la "Quickly") and since S3 aired it seems like the fashion has moved more towards more lighthearted fluff (a la "Sunflower"). Still, both are pretty undemanding smut, so it makes sense that they're on top; similarly, I'm not surprised to see "Too Young To Fall In Love" in the top five either.

I am a little surprised that "We'll Become Who We Meant To Be" is #3—it's honestly close to genfic, there's only the tiniest moment of hinted-at attraction in there. I'm not mad about it, I honestly feel like it's one of my better efforts; on the other hand, "Wake Me Up" was in a similar vein and it's close to the bottom. I guess there's just no telling what's going to catch on...in fairness, a 25K outsider POV novella is a much bigger ask than a 3K short story.

Honestly, I'm probably most surprised at "When the Waters Start to Cross" cracking the top five—it's a 52K+ WIP and a profoundly complex atmospheric existential horror/romance, which is, like, five strikes against it. I'm not mad about it, though—I love that fic, even if it is a huge time and energy suck, and it definitely contains some of my best writing.

Do you respond to comments, why or why not?

I do! Sometimes it takes me a while, but I genuinely appreciate people taking the time to leave feedback (even if it's just a string of emoji!). And every once in a while I'll get really thoughtful or incisive comments that spark whole conversations—that's one of the best reasons to write fic!

What's the fic you've written with the angstiest ending?

Hmm...to be honest, nothing immediately comes to mind; I love angst but tend to want it to serve a purpose, i.e. it gets a character closer to who they want to be. So most of my endings are at least hopeful. *checks list* It looks like probably my angstiest ending is also my first fic posted, "Blue Masquerade". Poor Michael.

Do you write crossovers? If so what is the craziest one you've written?

I don't currently write crossovers; I wouldn't rule it out, but frankly I haven't come across an idea that appeals to me. Waaaaaay back in the mists of time I had a Daria/Harry Potter crossover that I was actually pretty proud of, but I got about as far as getting them to Hogwarts and then kinda ran out of ideas, so I never posted it.

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Not that I can think of? I'm not big-time enough to get hate, haha. Worst I ever got was some rando asking for top or bottom tags, which I just ignored, and one person on "We'll Become" who was like "I don't like this pairing but you did a good job", which kinda had me like ??? thanks, I guess? I did get one comment on "Quickly, look away" from someone who felt like it was in a different headspace from the fic I wrote it as a sequel to, but that didn't strike me as hate, it's a perfectly fair observation.

Do you write smut? If so what kind?

So first off, yes, and second...I recently came across this great Garth Greenwell quote that really gets at what I'm trying to do when I write smut:

In America in 2019 we are inundated with images of bodies to an absolutely unprecedented degree—images of eroticized bodies, images of sexual bodies; the Internet makes all our fantasies visible, and it trains us in new fantasies. And yet it also seems to me that our culture suffers from a dearth of representations of embodiedness, by which I mean of bodies imbued with consciousness. I’m not at all antiporn, but sometimes pornography (maybe especially Internet pornography, with its arms race of extremity) seems to want to evacuate bodies of personhood, to present them as objects. I think literature is the best technology we have for representing consciousness, and so I think there’s a kind of intervention that literature can perform in representing sex explicitly: it can reclaim the sexual body as a site of consciousness.

"Embodied porn" is probably the best description I can come up with—I love writing sex precisely because it's such a charged form of communication (Greenwell's words again), because there are things a character can do and say in that context that they never would normally. Like, sex acts are great and all, but what really does it for me is what's going on in their head, what's the history that brought the character to this point, how're they handling the inherent vulnerability and intimacy of this incredibly risky but potentially rewarding moment. Kink (whether through roleplaying, props, costumes, or whatever) is really just another way of adding to that personal meaning, since without the characters' reactions any trappings are meaningless.

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I know of!

Have you ever had a fic translated?

No, although I'd love to work with a translator someday (whether with fic or another context)—I'm fascinated by the inherent puzzles in translating between languages, especially with informal speech and its many idioms and cultural references.

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Not yet! I'd be open to the idea, but it definitely has to be with the right person...

What's your all time favorite ship?

Isn't that basically like asking a mom to choose her favorite kid? Seriously, I like different things about all of them...which one's getting the most attention depends entirely on mood and headspace and other effectively random variables.

What's a WIP that you want to finish but don't think you ever will?

I don't have any I've given up on entirely, yet. Even Waters, as beastly complicated as it is, I've been ruminating on and adding to and arranging in my head lately...

What are your writing strengths?

Atmosphere, character, dialogue. I've said it before, I'm a capital-R Romantic at heart: I love writing settings that reflect and reinforce a character's headspace—while also implying what said character might be missing in their viewpoint.

Something I've noticed—my husband worked for years as a penetration tester, which meant he would regularly have to talk his way past people on a moment's notice. So, unsurprisingly, we both notice people, but he tends to observe their presentation (clothing, accessories, especially ones that're markers of social class and group belonging that allow him to tailor his approach), whereas I notice what they say and how they say it—and, often, what they don't say.

What are your writing weaknesses?

I suddenly feel like I'm in a job interview, haha. Perfectionism is a big one—I have a tendency to feel hopeless and quit if something's taking too long, rather than persisting until I get it sorted, even though some of my best work is stuff where I persisted. Also, I'm big on emotional intensity—which isn't a bad thing, necessarily, but I sometimes read back over my stuff and I'm like "geez, Ambrosia, ease up a bit"...I could definitely use some comic relief in my writing sometimes, but I think I'm often too insecure to try it.

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

I don't have any in particular—I rarely do it myself, because I don't trust myself to do it properly. (Perfectionism again!)

What was the first fandom you wrote for?

Daria, way back in the day. My work is still up on FF.net...sometimes I wonder if anyone's ever going to dig it up and confront me with it, haha. (I doubt anyone will ever care that much...I guess I'm more just curious if my style from twenty years ago is recognizably me.)

What's your favorite fic you've written?

If we're talking about finished fics, probably either "Wake Me Up" or "Young At Heart"—they're both pretty oddball, but both required a fuckton of work and both came out pretty close to what I wanted. But "Waters" is my biggest baby...maybe I'll open up Act III to work on today...

Thanks again for the tag, Ven! I'm going to tag @ihni, @redmyeyes, @twobrokenwyngs, @skybound2, @sambrosia, @shewritesdirty, @introvertia, @coffeeandchemicals, and @anarchist-billy—if you're up for some rumination, I'd love to hear your thoughts on your writing!

[ladydorian05]

Dangerous love - Javier Peña x Gn!reader

Okay, I finished it, finally!!! I don't have a lot to say about this except that it all began with a few lines provided by my brain in the middle of the night and then this happened.

A huge thank you to @din-damn-djarin​ she helped me so much editing this thing and with the ending (many parts of the ending were written by her).

Hope you guys enjoy it!!!

Dangerous love

Pairing: Javier Peña x gn!reader 

Summary: With Steve on vacation, it's up to Javier and you to check upon the new lead; unexpectedly the stakeout goes to shit and some surprising things happen after you jump at the first opportunity to endanger yourself. (I still don't know how to write this thing and I'll probably never learn.)

Warnings: Bullets, minor injuries, mentions of blood, what else, Javier’s potty mouth but with restraint, maybe a little of out of character behaviour at the end, no time line, fictional events. thoughts in italics. Spanish translations of long sentences can be found in ( ). And I think that’s it.

Word count: 5K and then some.

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

Damn you Murphy, Why did you have to ask for vacation days right before we got a lead. Javier thought as he tried to get comfortable in his seat  behind the wheel, with Steve out of the picture, he was left to carry out this stakeout alone, alone with you. Inside the close quarters of his car.

It wasn’t that he didn’t like you, far from it actually. He just didn’t want to fuck things up with you now that he was finally able to put a name to the way he felt whenever he was around you. From the way his heart rate increased in your presence, to how much his thoughts revolved around you. Hell, he even stopped fucking around with his informants for the simple fact that none of them were you.

There was no way he was going to tell you. He couldn’t, your jobs were too dangerous. The slightest mistake could cost either of you your lives and the last thing he wanted was to put you in more danger than you were already in, even if he knew you could take care of yourself.  Besides, he didn’t deserve someone as wonderful as you.

“Okay, I got the snacks and here’s your coffee.” You said opening the door of the passenger side, taking him out of his thoughts. It was some kind of tradition between the three of you, getting snacks to make sitting inside a car for hours on end, waiting for something to happen, a little more bearable,”Any sign of our guy?”

He thanked you, taking the paper cup from your hand “And no, no sign of him or any of his associates.” he sighed before taking a sip from his coffee.

“Damn it, it’s close to midnight, either they appear in the next 3 hours or we’ll be stuck in here for another day.” You complained, leaving the bag with the snacks between you two. You were tired, even if you liked the extra alone time with Javier it was hard to enjoy it when both of you were sleep deprived, more than usual, and cramped inside his car for the second day in a row.

The lead was solid, the problem was they needed evidence that the house they were watching actually belonged to the guy you were after, once you got it you could take the information to Carrillo and mobilize resources to take him in. 

“Five says that we won’t get anything tonight either.” Javier says, taking a bag of chips for himself.

“Five what? Bucks?” You see him nod while stuffing his mouth with a handful of potato chips. You contemplate his profile for a moment before answering his bet, “Alright, I’m in. I have a good feeling about tonight.”

“Don’t get your hopes up, it's been quiet.”

“That’s mainly because Murphy’s not here.” You both share a laugh at your partner's expense. It was no secret that out of the three of you Steve was the most approachable. Javier was the known asshole of the embassy, you always tried to keep your guard up, what with being the new one, and Steve was just a ‘by the book’ kind of guy, even if being after Escobar made him bend some rules lately.

When you were first transferred to Colombia you were surprised that you actually got along just fine with both of your partners. You were the newbie, but they didn’t belittle you or underestimate you like you expected them to. However, you certainly never expected to end up falling for one of them.

As the months passed Javi became more than just your partner or friend, he became your confidant, you knew you could always talk to him. While he wasn’t the  most approachable person around the embassy, you found out he actually had a soft side. He was reliable, hard working, with a dry sense of humor, a ‘no bullshit’ attitude that called to you, and as much as he wanted to hide it, he cared deeply, even for things that were out of his control. The fact he was so fucking handsome didn’t hurt either.

You didn’t fall for him overnight, it was a steady, slow kind of change. It took sleepless nights pouring over documents, each taking turns getting more coffee to keep you both going;  late night conversations and laughs over strong alcohol to chase the stress from work away; having occasional dinner nights with him at his apartment or yours on those nights when the feeling of being alone in a different  country fighting a never ending war gets unbearable.

It wasn’t sudden, but it still surprised you when you realised your feelings for the DEA’s resident Cassanova were deeper than you thought. That was another thing that worried you, it was no secret where or rather from whom he tends to get information about the narcos you were chasing after. Even if he’s recently been more discreet about it.

“Heads up, we’ve got movement.” Javier brings you out of your thoughts, tossing the bag of chips back into the bag of snacks you brought. “Seems like you’ll be getting those five bucks after all.”

“Told you I had a hunch.” Both of you watch as a van parks in front of the house you’ve been watching, several men get out of the vehicle. You recognise a couple of them from the list of known people working for Escobar, most of them were foot soldiers.

You reached inside the glove compartment for the camera, hoping to get a few good pictures before they disappeared inside the house. This could be the missing link you needed to get to the guy that lived there.

“Hold on, don’t finish the film just yet,” Javi’s words give you pause as you start rewinding the camera to take another photograph, “another car’s pulling up.”

“Anyone we know?” You ask squinting to see who comes out of the other car parked away from the street lights lining the road.

“Fuck me...yeah, from the Cali cartel.” He answers, rubbing his chin with a hand.

“Shit, that can’t be good.” You lowered the camera. The change in the atmosphere around you was instant the moment both of you noticed the persons inside the other car were readying their guns.

“You have your gun with you?” Javi asks, reaching behind him for his own weapon.

“Never leave the house without it.”

“Good. When all hell breaks loose, and it will, I want you to find cover before you do anything else, got it?” You hear the click of the safety from Javi’s gun as you reach for the handle of your door; you can sense the familiar feeling of adrenaline as you ready yourself for what’s to come.

“Yeah, you better do the same.” You don’t get a response from him. In a matter of seconds, the once quiet street turns into a war zone. Gun in hand, you run for cover, ending up behind the wall of a house at the entrance of an alley.

You take a moment to breath and try to pinpoint Javier’s location. You see him poking his head from behind a wall on the opposite side of the street. You sigh, relieved to see that he got himself behind cover in time.

You can’t really do anything. It’s just you and Javier out here, you lacked both the numbers and the firepower. Minutes that felt like hours passed. You take a look at the shooting happening a few meters from your position before hiding again in the dark of the alley as three more cars arrived on the site. One of them coming up from the street you were in, you prayed that they didn’t notice either of you. It was clear that both sides had called for backup.

Fuck, now bullets were flying towards this side as well, it wouldn’t take long for them to start looking for a more solid cover than their cars. You see Javi come to the same realisation as he sends you a worried glance when your eyes meet. You needed back up too.

Neither of you expected something like this to happen, it was just a stakeout; you were horribly unprepared with no vest and only so many bullets. The moment they noticed either of you it was over. There was only one choice, you needed to call Carillo.

There was a phone inside the car. If you were fast enough you could dive inside the back seats of the car and grab the phone, you were certain Carrllo would still be in his office, he never left early. It would take him little to no time to round up a team and get to your position as fast as possible.

You turned to look at Javier after formulating the quick plan in your head and explained it as best as you could with your hands, asking him to cover your back. You watch him shake his head, gesturing with both hands for you to stay put. You know if you do as he wants they’ll find you sooner or later; with your plan, if everything went well, at least you both stood a chance of getting out of this alive and  there was even the possibility of taking some of them into custody.

You put the safety of your gun back on and  tuck it into the back of your pants for the moment. While looking at Javier straight in the eyes you slowly shake your head, watching as he spits out a curse you’re too far away to hear before diving out of your cover to get to the car.

Javier knew the situation would escalate badly for the two of you if they noticed your presence there, he was just holding onto the hope that they would be too engrossed in trying to kill each other for that to happen. He turned his attention away from the wall in front of him to check up on you, only to see the determined expression on your face. He’s seen that one before, you always looked like that before doing something brave, yet incredibly stupid that would no doubt end up endangering you.

What the hell were you thinking!? Javier understood what you were trying to say with your hands, your plan was insane. Yes, having backup would be really helpful, life saving even; but risking your life like that? No, he wouldn’t let you. He answered by very clearly telling you to stay where you were.

He swears his heart leapt out of his chest the moment you disregarded his instruction to stay put, tucking your gun in your pants before breaking into a run for the car. FUCK!

You left him with no choice but to do as you asked, there was no way in hell he was going to leave you even more open than you already were. Hopefully, with all the chaos going around, they wouldn’t notice you or where the bullets from his gun were coming from.

He tried to keep an eye on you while also paying attention to the altercation. The car wasn’t that far from your previous position, but considering the stray bullets raining all round, it was too damn dangerous. He was filing away in his head all the things he would say to you if- no, ONCE both of you were out of this mess. He wouldn’t let himself think of any other outcome, you were going to be fine and you would get out of this, both of you.

What was in reality a few seconds, felt like an eternity to him. You running alone, unprotected, straight into a firefight was a scene he’s only seen in his nightmares, the fact that this was really happening was worse than he had ever imagined.

He stopped breathing for a moment when he saw you stumble a little from the corner of his eye, but when he turned his full attention towards you, you weren’t there and the backdoor of the car was open. He sighed in relief, you made it.

Carrillo got there with backup in record time and these guys were still at it, they had the worst aim he had ever seen, it was laughable that the shooting lasted this long, but damn he was glad to see Carrillo and his men arriving. They blocked the escape routes, effectively cornering them and made quick work of subduing and cuffing any survivors.

He made his way towards you as soon as he was sure he wouldn’t get a bullet for stepping out from his cover, after all he would be of no use to you dead, but Carrillo noticed him first and stopped him halfway there.

You could hear the moment the backup arrived from your place on the floor of the back of the car. You were tired and probably in need of medical attention. You hadn’t felt the pain initially, too preoccupied with your madrun to get to the car and filled with adrenaline to notice. It wasn’t until things had quietened down significantly and the adrenaline began to seep from your body that you had time to assess your injuries and felt the searing hot pain blossoming in your arm and thigh. You weren’t sure if the bullets were still in there, if you had been hit anywhere else and just hadn’t felt the pain yet or how bad the bleeding was.

Slowly, you began to move in order to get out of the car. Hissing in pain when you had to use your leg to crawl to the opposite door, you figured it would be easier to keep moving forward and get out from that side than try to backtrack towards the one you used to get in.

The sudden movement of the door opening caught everyone who was close by off guard, some of the men actually pointed their guns at you.

“Whoa! Easy there, I’m friend no foe.” Scanning the area you spotted Javier with Carrillo, their attention focused on you, it seemed like they had been talking before you made your presence known. Javier walked towards you as the Colonel ordered his men to lower their weapons. “Hey, a little help please?”

He offered you his hand to help you get out of the vehicle. “Easy there, are you hurt?” He looked you up and down  searching for injuries and sure enough, he found them, “Fuck, you’re bleeding. Coronel, pida una ambulancia!” After telling the colonel to call for an ambulance he gently guided you away from the bullet hole ridden car to sit on the flatbed of one of the team’s trucks. 

Javier was uncharacteristically quiet considering the move you pulled off, you were expecting the scolding of your life, but he said nothing. He just hovered around you as the paramedics cleaned and treated your wounds, thankfully they weren’t life threatening, and gave one word answers when they asked him any kind of questions to find out if he was also injured. It was unsettling.

Anger you could deal with, you’ve done so on multiple occasions already used to his fiery personality, but this cold shoulder treatment...the only times he had ever acted like this had been when things got really bad or when he felt responsible for losing someone on the job. He would often shut himself out in situations like that,  but even then you were always able to get through to him and coax him into talking to you. 

Carrillo approached you once the paramedics’ job was done. “Mis hombres se encargaran de los malparidos. Yo los llevo de regreso a la base, necesitaran otro carro para ir a casa.” (My men will take care of the sons of bitches. I’ll take you back to base, you’ll need another car to get home.)

“Gracias por su ayuda Coronel.” You thanked him for the help, seeing as Javier still refused to speak.

“Al contrario, gracias a ti y tu llamada ahora tenemos arrestados no sólo a colaboradores de Escobar, sino también miembros del cartel de Cali.” (On the contrary, thanks to you and your call, we now have arrested not only Escobar’s collaborators, but also members from the Cali cartel.)

Javier went to retrieve any personal belongings from the car before following Carillo back to his truck. The ride back to base didn’t change anything, the three of you travelling in tense silence since Javier still refused to speak. It was a good thing the Colonel was never really a talkative man to begin with otherwise you’re sure he would have felt insulted by Javi’s current mood. 

Once back at base, Javier made quick work of the paperwork needed to take a provisional car while the one previously assigned to him was towed away and replaced. You decided to  put his odd behavior down to the stress of the night's events, thinking maybe that was what had him acting like this and hoping that maybe he would relax on the way home.

No such luck.

The car ride was infernally quiet and Javier’s mood only seemed to worsen by the minute, you could see his knuckles turning white from how hard he was gripping the steering wheel. He pulled up in the building’s garage, killing the engine without so much as turning his head in your direction. You couldn’t take it anymore, the silence was suffocating you.

“Hey, I got a new bottle of whiskey if you wanna grab a drink?” The only answer you got was the sound of the door slamming shut behind him as he got out of the car. At first you thought that was a no, but when you got out he was standing by the car’s trunk waiting for you. 

You made your way through the building to the door of your apartment; the slight limp from the wound on your thigh slowing you down somewhat. It wasn’t serious, the bullet only grazed the outer side of it. Your arm didn’t have the same luck; still, it was nothing time, a few stitches and bandages couldn’t fix, but it still hurt like hell, you’ll be sure to take some pain meds before going to bed. Javier was following behind you. If he ever decided to quit being a DEA agent, you were sure he’d be able make decent cash playing poker with the expressionless face he had going on  at the moment. Well, he would as long as he wore dark sunglasses, otherwise his expressive eyes would probably give him away. 

You opened the door and turned on the lights of the living room. “Make yourself comfortable, I’ll get the bottle and the glasses.” You tell him as you toe off your shoes, leaving them in the entrance. You hear the door close and before you can make your way to the kitchen his hand darts up to grab the wrist of your uninjured arm.

“Javier? Wha-”

“What the fuck were you thinking?” Oh. So it was time for the scolding, he waited until you were alone for this, shit. Maybe you could play dumb?

“I was thinking about getting a little bit drunk before going to sleep.”

“You know what I mean. Back there, what the fuck were you thinking putting yourself in danger like that?” So, that was a no on the playing dumb thing then.

“Do you have any idea how lucky you were? You had no vest and still you ran headfirst into the open, you could’ve died!” He could feel the grip he had on his emotions slipping, all the fear, all the helplessness he felt the moment he saw you dive out into the rain of bullets rushing back to him.

“But I didn’t.” You knew he was right, it was a dangerous move, but it worked, it got you out of the tight spot. “Listen, I know it was dangerous, but it worked out.”

“So you were aware of how dangerously stupid that was and you still went ahead and did it!?” He let go of your wrist to pass his hand through his hair in exasperation,“To top it off, this isn’t even the first time you’ve pulled something like this, I don’t have enough fingers on my hands to count how many times your dumb luck has saved your ass.”

“Well excuse me for saving our asses back there!” You snap, your composure which you had managed to keep up until this point wavering, “And what about you?”

“What about me?”

“You think I don’t know about your little endeavours with the other side of this war?” How dare he act as if he’s never put himself in danger, as if he wasn’t playing with fire himself, “How’s Don Berna? When’s your next coffee date?”

His eyes widened in horror and all the blood drained from his face. Any other day this kind of reaction from him would’ve made you laugh, but right now it only gave you a strange sense of satisfaction.

“How do you know about that?” His eyes fixed on yours, both of you locked in a staring match until you’re silent for a little too long and he speaks again, demanding an answer, “Huh? Answer me. How. Do. You. Know. That?”

“I saw you with him.”

“You followed me!? You fucking followed me!?”

“Yes, I did! What did you want me to do!? We were stuck, stressed as fuck, with no new leads and you were acting strange! I was worried!”

“That didn’t give you the right to go and fucking follow me! And that’s beyond the point, that’s different!” Your once tense, but relatively controlled, conversation was now a shouting match. A match that would most likely end with no winner and your friendship on the line, but you’ll be damned if you backed down from this.

“How!? How is it different!? I run once or twice towards some bullets to save our asses and you get to lecture me about it, but I can’t bring up the fact you’re meeting with a sicario, behind both of your partners backs, in your free time!?”

“We’re not talking about me!”

“OH! So YOU can make stupid and dangerous decisions, but I can’t!? And YOU can call ME out on them, but I can’t call YOU out on YOURS!?” Every time you stressed a word you made sure to poke him hard in the chest with your index finger as if you really needed to emphasise your point anymore.

He let out a heavy sigh trying to cool down a little. You had moved at some point during the heat of the argument, both of you trying to get into each other's faces as you yelled back and forth and you were so close to him now that the puff of air lightly ruffled your eyelashes. Deep down he knew you were right, but the night events still hung heavy in his mind. For a moment, he swore you weren’t going to make it, he should’ve known better- should have trusted you, but that didn’t mean he would support every single insane plan you came up with.

“I just-”

“You just what!?” You interrupted him. He was beyond frustrated with this situation. He just had to go and open his fucking mouth. He could have just stayed silent, shared that whiskey with you and drink until he forgot all about this whole stupid situation and then gone to bed.

“I just want you to understand-”

“Understand what!?”

“Goddamnit.” he muttered under his breath.

“Understand what Javier!? Maybe if you stopped stalling and just said what you want to say I would!”

“That I fucking love you!” Shit. He drags the palm of his hand over his face as he contemplates his options, it’s too late to go back now he decides, “I can’t stand the thought of something happening to you!”  

“Well, I love you too!” 

The stunned silence that followed the unexpected confessions was deafening. Neither of you dared to move from your positions, until you saw his eyes flicker from yours to your lips and his tongue poked out to lick his bottom lip.

You don’t know who moved first, but at that point you don’t care. Your lips came together with his in a passionate kiss, all thoughts of your argument forgotten for the moment. You could only think about how good it felt to finally kiss him, you always believed that he would be a good kisser, but this was beyond anything you ever imagined, all your previous fantasies of what kissing your partner would be like fell in comparison to the real deal.

It wasn’t perfect; no, nothing in real life is ever perfect, but at the same time it was everything and more. There was no fight for dominance, it was just a coming together of two people, two people trying to convey with actions what has never been said with words. Months of pent up feelings finally finding release.

His arms were around you, one hand on your lower back and the other behind your head, pulling you ever closer while your own hands held the back of his head, fingers losing themselves between his short locks of hair. You were so drunk on him, you never wanted to stop, unfortunately, oxygen was a necessity. Slowly, you pulled apart from each other, leaving little pecks on his lips as you went. 

“Fuck, we’re a mess.” He said, breathing heavily as he rested his forehead against yours.

“Did you mean it?” You ask, finally finding your voice after taking a few deep breaths.

“Every word.” He answered, pulling you into another much slower kiss.

“Good.” You said against his lips the next time you parted. “Because I do too.” You were going to go in for another kiss, but you felt the pull of the stitches on your arm when you tried to bring his head closer, making you flinch in pain.

“You okay?” He asked, noticing the sudden movement.

“Yeah, just...the stitches are bothering me.” You said with a grimace.

“Fuck. I forgot about them.” He slowly detangled himself from you as not to hurt you further. “Let’s sit down on the couch, there’s more light over there, let’s make sure you didn’t reopen the wound.”

“It’s alright, just a bit sore, that’s all.” You gingerly touched the bandage covering the stitches. He called your name, to get your attention back.

“Please. If only for my peace of mind.” With a sigh, you agreed. He left his hand on your lower back, gently guiding you to your couch. He began to remove the tape that kept the gauze in place over the stitches as carefully as he could manage. “Thank you, your plan really did save us.” You stared at him in surprise, you weren't expecting that. “But you really need to be more careful. Do you have any idea how I felt when you just ran out?”

You shook your head.

“I thought my heart was going to burst out of my chest, I thought I was going to have a heart attack.”

“You’re not THAT old.”

“Excuse you, I’m not old at all.” His eyebrows raise at your words and there’s a look of mock offense written across his features.

“That’s not what your cracking back says.”

“If we didn’t spend so much time behind a desk my back wouldn’t sound like fireworks going off every time I stretch.” Your eyes found each other for a moment before both of you ended up laughing. “No, but seriously. I don’t know What I would’ve done if anything had happened to you. Please, don’t risk yourself like that, don’t go where I can’t follow.”

“You know I can’t promise something like that...but I’ll try.”

“I can work with that.” He focused back on removing the tape without further upsetting the wound.

“I’ll be more careful, but in return, I want you to do everything you can to cut all ties with Don Berna. I don’t care how much information he gave you or keeps giving you, it’s not worth it if you’re going to end up in the middle of both sides.”

He took a deep breath before letting the air out. “I am trying, but it’s a delicate subject, I need to watch my steps. I reached out to him on a whim, and even if I got some good stuff from him, I’m not stupid, sooner or later he’ll cash in the favor.”

“Be careful, please.” He nodded.

Once the tape was out of the way, he looked at your stitches without touching the skin around them, not wanting to cause any kind of infection, once he saw that none of them needed to be redone, he covered them again.

“Alright, all’s good, let’s get you to bed.” Your eyes widened at his words.

“Javier, not today, I’m tired and my leg hurts and-” You’re cut off by his chuckle.

“To sleep. Jesus, get your head out of the gutter. Go get ready, I’ll bring you some pain killers and a glass of water. Whiskey’s not going anywhere, we can have it another day, you need to rest.”

When he came into your room you were already in your pajamas, taking your pants off had been tricky but you managed it without disturbing your wounds too much. He hands you two pills and a glass of water, you thanked him before swallowing the pills with some water. Leaving the glass on your nightstand, you make yourself comfortable in your bed.

“Well, I’ll umm...I’ll see you tomorrow.” He nods his head in your direction before turning to leave.

“Javi, wait.” You call before he reaches the door. He looks back at you over his shoulder, “Could you stay?”

His eyes widened in surprise before answering “Of course, sweetheart.” He’s quiet as he takes off his shirt, shoes, socks and moves to climb under the covers.

“Do you sleep in jeans? Isn’t that uncomfortable?” he freezes in place, one knee on the bed and one hand lifting the corner of the thin sheets covering the bed.

“No, I- I usually sleep in boxers.” he lowers his gaze to the bed, “I just don’t have any with me right now.”

There’s a moment of silence as you process his words before you burst into laughter.

“You- you mean- you’re not-” you try to talk in the middle of your laughing fit, but only manage to get a few words out.

“Yeah, I’m not wearing any underwear,” you swear he almost looks embarrassed “get over it.” he mutters.

“Sorry, I just-”you try to calm down, but can’t help the giggles that still escape your lips. “What, did you have plans for after the stakeout?” The question came out jokingly; maybe it wasn’t the smartest thing to ask after what happened in your foyer, but deep down you wanted to know. You trusted him in any other way, could you also trust him completely with your heart?

“No.” He looks you in the eye and you notice that he understood the double meaning of your question. “I don’t do that anymore, for some time now. ”

“Oh.”

Once he settles, you reach over to the nightstand turning off the small lamp that sits there. You can’t see Javi in the darkness of the room, but you know there’s still something playing on his mind from the way you feel him fidget beside you. 

“What’s wrong?” You ask, reaching out for him across the small distance that separates the two of you. Your hand finds his shoulder and you run your fingers up and down his arm, enjoying the way he relaxes under the touch. 

“It’s nothing, go to sleep.” 

“Javier.” You warn, much too tired to argue but determined not to sleep until you get to the bottom of whatever's bothering him.

“I’m still thinking about what happened earlier...loving you can be quite dangerous.” Javier sighs, “You know that, don’t you?”

“It’s just as dangerous as loving you.”

“What a pair we make huh?” 

“We’ll figure it out.” Your voice is laced with exhaustion and you shuffle closer to him, nestling your head under his chin and wrapping an arm around his body, “We’ll be fine.” 

He hums in agreement, his arm hovering over you but not quite touching.

“You can touch me you know?” You say with amusement.

“Your arm- I don’t want to hurt you.” 

“You won’t. I promise.” You smile, pecking a kiss against the first patch of skin you can reach.

He lowers his arm tentatively, wrapping it around you and pulling you closer to him.

“Goodnight.” You mumble against his chest, sleep already beginning to pull you under.

“Goodnight, sweetheart.” He whispers into your hair, listening to the way your breathing has evened out. Sleep has never come easily to Javier, but that night for the first time in months, it does.

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

Everything tag list (let me know if you want to be added or removed) :

@oloreaa @16boyfriends-and-me​ @ilikechocolatemilkh​ @crossfitjesusinblackskinnyjeans​

[tiramisiyu]

【未定事件簿】 Tears of Themis: Main Story 6-26 Translation

Translation Masterlist | Video

Chapter 6 – Tiger’s Accomplice Ghost (Parts 1, 2): 6-1 / 6-3 / 6-5 / 6-7 / 6-9 / 6-11 / 6-13 / 6-15 ♦️ ♦️  6-16 / 6-18 / 6-20 / 6-22 / 6-24 / 6-26 / 6-27 / 6-28 / 6-29

Information on the Chapter title (helpful to know): Wikipedia | My notes

--

Abandoned Archive Library

Just when I wanted to get in touch with Zuo Ran about going to the archive library to investigate, Zuo Ran called me with perfect timing.

He had also been pondering the whole time about the location of the target, and with unplanned similarity, we thought about this archive library.

Zuo Ran: The people monitoring Fu Qiao tonight lost him. On his side of things, Leader Yan is dispatching people on search.

Zuo Ran: Leader Yan has also already dispatched people to rush towards the few suspicious art galleries nearby, and they’ll be investigating at the same time as us.

MC: If we can find Chen Hanzhang’s secret location one step ahead, then this case can be solved earlier.

Zuo Ran: Coming to a pitch-black place like this in the middle of the night – are you scared?

MC: Lawyer Zuo, you’ve forgotten – I’m not scared of ghosts to begin with.

At our law firm’s last team building exercise, Zuo Ran and I went to a haunted house together.

Hearing me say this, Zuo Ran relaxed and smiled, obviously also remembering the experience in the haunted house.

Zuo Ran: In a moment, follow me closely and walk behind me. You must be careful of what’s under your feet in particular.

MC: I understand.

I took flashlights out of my bag and handed one to Zuo Ran.

MC: I’ve brought two flashlights, so we can each have one. Let’s head out.

Zuo Ran led me to the abandoned archive library’s front courtyard. Here, the ground was piled thickly with fallen leaves, as well as all sorts of decorative garbage that nearby residents had tossed here.

I basically understood why the police ruled out this place after a simple search… Looking at the shattered glass windows on the outside and the useless door, this place really did not seem like a place to store important products.

--

Inside the Archive Library

The lighting in the archive library was better than we’d imagined. Light from the streets shone in from the street-facing windows, so we didn’t really need to turn on the flashlights.

MC: The first and second floors are completely deserted – they’re empty with only some abandoned furniture left.

Zuo Ran: The conditions on the third floor might not be that similar.

MC: Eh?

Following the stairs, I looked towards the third floor. At the same time, Zuo Ran turned on the flashlight and shone it towards the third-floor staircase opening.

There was an electronic password door that had been opened.

MC: This archive building was built at the beginning of last century, and it belonged to a private collector.

MC: Though the first and second floors are abandoned, it’s evident that the remaining furniture is in last century’s style.

MC: This electronic door is clearly a product of recent years.

Zuo Ran: It indicates that this place has been changed by someone.

Zuo Ran: Most of the old buildings of the north district are private properties, and some of the property owners are even foreigners, so the houses have sat idle for many years with no one to manage them.

Zuo Ran: In the past few years, cases about the occupation of old buildings by lawbreakers have also appeared. This may also be the case here.

MC: No wonder the police didn’t notice any suspicious locations from checking through the properties under Chen Hanzhang’s name.

MC: If she occupied an old building in the north district that seems like it has no inhabitants, the police wouldn’t be able to find it at all.

Zuo Ran: Let’s go up and look – careful on the stairs.

--

Zuo Ran walked in front of me with the flashlight on. We arrived at the stairway opening and carefully looked over that electronic password lock.

Zuo Ran: It doesn’t look like it was opened by force. The password lock is still operating like normal.

MC: Is there someone in the building right now? It doesn’t seem like it…

From a bird’s-eye view, this three-level building was in an “H” shape, and each level had four large rooms. If we used the staircase’s location as the centre, the locations of the four large rooms were northeast, northwest, southwest, and southeast.

Zuo Ran and I had looked in every corner of the first and second floors just now, and we didn’t notice a single person. The entire building was also completely quiet – you could even hear the sound of a pin drop. We didn’t hear movement sounds of anyone else.

Zuo Ran: The third-floor design isn’t the same as on lower floors.

Zuo Ran’s flashlight swept over the floor.

Zuo Ran: It seems like the floorboards here were given specific soundproofing treatment. The audiovisuals room at my house also has a similar setup.

MC: Which also means that, as we can’t hear sounds of movement upstairs, this door might have been ignored by someone who came before…

MC: Another possibility is that the visitor is still here and hasn’t left.

When I thought about this, I couldn’t help tensing up my back.

Zuo Ran: Don’t be afraid. I’m right beside you.

My slightly cold fingers suddenly fell in the middle of warmth – it was Zuo Ran, holding my hand.

MC: Lawyer Zuo…

Zuo Ran: Hold onto my hand… th-this way, it’ll be a little safer.

MC: Mhmm…

Like this, as I shone my flashlight, Zuo Ran led me onwards as I walked side-by-side with him…

The moonlight tonight shone brightly, passing through the window and spilling over Zuo Ran’s body, outlining his straight and handsome profile.

I originally thought that people like Zuo Ran would probably look cold with moonlight on them. But I never would’ve thought… that there would actually be a sliver of a different kind of warmth.

I had never looked at him from this angle, under moonlight like this. Inexplicably, at this moment, I wanted to keep looking at him like this…

Zuo Ran: Why have you been looking at me the whole time? Is there something on my face?

MC: There isn’t…

MC: It might be because it’s too quiet that I haven’t quite adapted…

Zuo Ran: Then talk a bit, although you must be somewhat quiet.

>Select: Face

Zuo Ran: If there’s time, would you like to go to the haunted house again?

MC: With you, Lawyer Zuo?

Zuo Ran: Of course.

MC: Sure then. I heard that the themed amusement park’s haunted house has changed to a new story recently, so it’s perfect timing for us to try it out.

Zuo Ran: Then let’s wait for the weekend.

 >Select: Neck

MC: Aside from cufflinks, tie clips and collar pins, it seems like I rarely see Lawyer Zuo wear jewelry.

Zuo Ran: Watches also count as jewelry, right?

MC: Oh right, they also count.

Zuo Ran: If I attend certain special occasions, I will dress up, and I’ll occasionally accessorize with jewelry.

MC: Could you give an example?

Zuo Ran: I participated in a costume party in university, and I wore earrings for it.

Zuo Ran: Mm… it felt a little uncomfortable, and I couldn’t really adapt to it.

 >Select: Hair

MC: Under the moonlight… it looks like your hair has been layered over with silver light.

Zuo Ran: Do you mean… a hair full for frost?

MC: …

Zuo Ran: Frost with moonlight is imagery that often appears in literature and movies.

Zuo Ran: What often follows this is a beautiful woman who hopes for return.

MC: Waiting? If it is a happy ending, it will be worth it no matter how long she waits.

Zuo Ran: We don’t know how many people can return before the moonlight runs out – only the moon rocks with longing, lighting the forests by the river…*

Zuo Ran: If it were me, I would not make the person waiting for me wait too long.

Zuo Ran: I would rather be the person waiting.

  TL Note: Please see the full translation of the poem that Zuo Ran recited a line from here! The translation I used also comes from this site.

 >Select: Ellipses

MC: Lawyer Zuo, it seems like there’s a room in front of us.

A door appeared in front of us.

Based on its position, this was the room in the northwest direction.

>Open door

Artwork Display Room

MC: Seems like this place… is a place for the collection of antiques and artwork.

Zuo Ran: This password lock is not turned on. Looks like this room was originally in use, but it was later abandoned.

MC: Lawyer Zuo, look at that crystal bust. Does it look like… Chen Hanzhang?

Most of these things in this room were placed in complete disorder. The hung pictures on the wall were crooked, and there were also piles of artwork and porcelain pieces on the ground.

Only this half-bodied crystal bust was placed safely in the display case.

Zuo Ran: It’s very much alike. You could say that it’s a perfect imitation.

MC: This expression really is… a perfect replication of Chen Hanzhang’s classic smile.

Proud, confident, and it even hid a bit of fierceness.

MC: Was this thing given to Chen Hanzhang?

Zuo Ran: It’s not very common to see half-bodied busts like this used as gifts.

Zuo Ran: Perhaps it has a special commemorative meaning.

When we turned the bust upside down, we saw two rows of words on the bottom.

Zuo Ran: “From the beginning to the end, regardless of how you change, you are still you…”

MC: On the bottom-right angle, are those numbers?

MC: It looks like someone deliberately ground it off.

On the bottom-right corner, there probably had been a long line of numbers originally, but aside from the first digit “1” and the last digit “4”, there was no way to identify the rest.

I touched the base of the bust, and felt that the side of the base had an uneven area.

MC: Rose?

I found that place and noticed that a four-petaled flower had been carved there, with the single English word “Rose” on the side.

MC: The rose has four petals?

Zuo Ran: Perhaps… this does not point to a rose in the general meaning.

MC: …

>Select: Hanging drawings

I shone my flashlight at the hanging drawings on the wall. I could only see that it was an oil painting, and I couldn’t distinguish who the creator was.

Zuo Ran: These drawings may have been purchased by Gu Wei.

MC: How did you know?

Zuo Ran: Look here. There is a row of little words on the bottom-right corner.

I sidled over and carefully looked them over, and only then did I see what the little words that Zuo Ran was talking about were.

MC: “Gu Wei, year of 2010 at Qinlun Auction House…”

MC: Lawyer Zuo, your eyesight is way too good – you were even able to see this with a glance.

Zuo Ran: I typically drink liver-cleansing, eye-clearing tea. Perhaps it was fruitful.

 >Select: Piles on the ground

MC: These drawings and porcelain works have been piled here like garbage. The porcelain’s all broken.

Zuo Ran: Regardless of who their past owner was, it’s obvious their new owner was not interested in them, even feeling disgust.

MC: There’s even a fairly sharp hammer left here. Looks like it was used when smashing the porcelain.

Zuo Ran: Careful, don’t get cut by the porcelain shards.

 >Select: Bust

MC: (If it were a present, who could it be that sent it to Chen Hanzhang? Gu Wei…?)

MC: (What exactly was the relationship between them like…?)

 >Select: Ellipses

Zuo Ran: We probably have found the right place – otherwise, why would this place have Chen Hanzhang’s bust.

MC: …

[Got Crystal Bust!]

MC: There aren’t any things like blackmail crime evidence or illegal drugs in this room. Let’s go somewhere else and see.

--

…

We continued to search on this floor.

>Select: Suit

MC: Will it be hard for you to walk around, wearing your suit here, Lawyer Zuo?

Zuo Ran: After returning home, I didn’t have time to change clothes before I came out again.

Zuo Ran: But it’s alright. If it hinders my movement later, I can take off the suit.

 >Select: Face

Zuo Ran: After getting off work and returning home earlier, did you already wash up?

MC: How did you know?

Zuo Ran: Hmm… the scent on your body should be that of shower gel.

MC: Mhmm, I can relax from taking a hot shower.

Zuo Ran: Working as my partner, you might often encounter these kinds of sudden situations, which will upset your original lifestyle.

Zuo Ran: Same for joining NXX.

MC: But it’ll also bring me different life experiences – I like that a lot.

Zuo Ran: Mhmm, I also like it a lot.

 >Select: Eyes

MC: Lawyer Zuo, you read so many books, yet you actually don’t wear glasses.

Zuo Ran: My mother works so much that she doesn’t have time for anything, yet she is able to make time to concern herself with my health, especially my eyesight.

MC: Eh?

Zuo Ran: My mother said, with an ice-cold personality like mine, there definitely wouldn’t be any girls who like me in the future.

Zuo Ran: If I also wear glasses and end up looking like an old fogey, it’ll be even more so…

MC: I didn’t think that Professor An was such a humorous person. Though she cared about the students in my impression of her, she always looked very serious.

Zuo Ran: My mother was actually joking around. It’s just that the time she spends interacting with me is little, and she doesn’t know how to express her concern.

 >Select: Ellipses

MC: (I’m walking through a building like this in the middle of the night, yet I actually don’t feel scared.)

A door appeared in front of us.

Based on its position, this was the room in the southwest direction.

>Open door

Drug Storage Room

This room also had not been locked, but on the door, the electronic lock’s indicator light was lit up, indicating that this place was not abandoned.

When we pushed open the door and entered, a familiar scent assaulted our senses.

MC: They’re the drugs!

Zuo Ran immediately took out his phone to take photos and sent the photo and archive library location to Yan Wei.

Zuo Ran: Be a little careful. We should do our utmost to not bump or break anything in here.

MC: Understood!

Just like if when people find a large stash of cash in a money-related case, where to avoid suspicion, every single person on the scene will avoid the stolen cash until the police arrive.

MC: Though the area here isn’t small, it seems like it hasn’t been filled with drugs.

>Select: Further cabinet

Zuo Ran: This row of drug cabinets has things on them. The scent seems to be coming from this direction.

MC: There are no marks on the drugs – it seems like we have no way to identify that they’re Chen Hanzhang’s.

Zuo Ran: Look at the logo on this shelf – it’s Wiley Financial’s.

MC: Now we’ve caught both the person and the goods!

 >Select: Nearer cabinet

MC: Looks like this row of drug cabinets is empty.

Zuo Ran: If this room was filled with drugs, then this would be a large case that would shock the entire nation.

Zuo Ran: Although, to be able to make so much storage space specifically for the drugs, Chen Hanzhang’s ambition is not small.

 >Select: Panel

MC: This is the control panel to control the room’s internal temperature, moisture, as well as oxygen levels.

MC: I originally thought that Chen Hanzhang was using the equipment that the archive room originally had. I didn’t think she’d install a completely new one.

Zuo Ran: This equipment has requirements for ventilation and humidity piping.

Zuo Ran: Aside from new houses, if old buildings want to install them, they must have reserved space to begin with.

Zuo Ran: It’s within reason for Chen Hanzhang to choose an abandoned archive library for modifications.

 >Select: Ellipses

Zuo Ran: Don’t go in yet. Wait until Leader Yan comes.

MC: Okay.

--

…

We continued to search on this floor.

>Select: Face

MC: Lawyer Zuo, are you a little too tired and slightly overheated recently? I see that your lips are peeling.

Zuo Ran: I…

Zuo Ran: That might be, I drink less water when going out on work.

MC: Tomorrow at work, I’ll buy you a lip balm from the downstairs convenience store. I know a really good brand.

Zuo Ran: Okay, thank you.

 >Select: Sleeve

MC: Aside from shooting and swimming, do you like other sports, Lawyer Zuo?

MC: I remember that during university, to stay fit and look good, lots of guys would learn things like mixed martial arts.

Zuo Ran: I’m not skilled at sports like these. Aside from shooting and swimming…

Zuo Ran: Does bridge count? An exercise of mental strength.

MC: Lawyer Zuo, you know how to play bridge?

Zuo Ran: When relaxing, I sometimes go to bridge clubs to play.

Zuo Ran: Playing cards actually comes second – what’s important is chatting with friends and relaxing.

MC: If there’s a chance, could you teach me? I’ve heard that bridge is very interesting.

Zuo Ran: Sure.

 >Select: Ellipses

MC: (I never would’ve thought that Lawyer Zuo knows how to play bridge.)

A door appeared in front of us.

Based on its position, this was the room in the southeast direction.

>Open door

 Special File Room

The door to the room was opened, but the door’s password lock was still working, and the electricity normal.

MC: Look, what’s that?

Facing the door was an indomitable-looking, transparent… closet?

I didn’t know how to describe this thing. It looked a little like a water tank or standing closet used by magicians to perform escape magic.

The closet had an electronic lock on it and was currently in locked state. The dashboard on the side displayed the oxygen levels in the closet.

The entire closet was partitioned into two parts, both different from each other. Both sides had a lever, and I didn’t know what they were used for.

MC: Lawyer Zuo, can you tell what this thing is used for?

Zuo Ran: I can’t imagine it.

Zuo Ran: Although there might be what we’re looking for in the file cabinets on these two sides.

>Select: Cabinets

Zuo Ran: Li Gang, 2 million, redeemed…

Zuo Ran: Xue Fan, 4.7 million, redeemed…

Zuo Ran: What’s placed here should be the case files of the “redeemed” people Qing Zhian talked about.

MC: There are only paper document records – there isn’t any other evidence… looks like the so-called blackmail leverage really was destroyed.

Zuo Ran: Whether it’s Gu Wei or Chen Hanzhang, once they’ve set up the rules, they must comply with them.

Zuo Ran: Otherwise, the Tiger’s Accomplice Ghosts might as well surrender to the police and go to jail, and the methods that they use to control the Ghosts would become invalid.

 >Select: Cabinets (2)

MC: Cheng Kaiyuan, August 20th, 2017, died from car crash…

I flipped through the materials on the second file cabinet. Here, all the records were of those who had already died.

Zuo Ran: There are only paper document records – looks like the related person’s physical evidence has already been destroyed.

Zuo Ran: For those who have passed, keeping their blackmail leverage is useless.

Dong—

Suddenly, a muffled sound came from outside.

MC: Someone’s there?

I lowered my voice.

Zuo Ran: Don’t panic.

We silently waited for a moment. No other sound came again.

MC: Maybe the wind knocked something over?

Zuo Ran: Act carefully, don’t lower your guard.

 >Select: Glass closet

MC: (What is this closet used for?)

MC: (From a safety perspective, I shouldn’t touch it.)

 >Select: Ellipses

Zuo Ran: Fu Qiao’s crime evidence is not here, and neither is Qing Zhian’s.

MC: Let’s keep searching.

--

…

We continued to search on this floor.

>Select: Tie

MC: Lawyer Zuo, when did you learn to tie your tie?

Zuo Ran: Why did you want to ask this? I remember it was… when I was in middle school.

MC: This early?

Zuo Ran: Mhmm, I participated in a school event, and it just so happened that the attire was dress shirt and tie.

MC: I noticed that I can tie a tie for myself, but when I tie it for others, I always get it wrong.

MC: When swapping directions, it seems like everything is different.

Zuo Ran: Perhaps you will get used to it after finding more chances to practice.

 >Select: Face

MC: Actually, Lawyer Zuo, when you smile, you really look especially handsome.

Zuo Ran: …

MC: If you typically smiled more, the colleagues at the law firm probably won’t fear you that much.

Zuo Ran: That’s also true.

 >Select: Ellipses

MC: In front, over there – that should be another room, right?

A door appeared in front of us.

Based on its position, this was the room in the northeast direction.

>Open door

MC: This door is closed – we need the password to open it.

Zuo Ran: Password… how many digits?

I looked at the password lock’s digit prompts.

MC: 1, 2, 3… it requires 12 digits. This design at the end… it feels like I’ve seen it somewhere.

Zuo Ran: It’s the four-petaled flower design on that crystal bust.

MC: Could the riddle’s answer be on the bust?

MC: Could the text on the bust be the riddle? Are the ground-off numbers the password?

Zuo Ran: It’s very possible.

MC: If it’s guessing riddles…

>Take a picture and send it to Xia Yan >Ask Zuo Ran

MC: Xia Yan is the most skilled when it comes to solving riddles. Let’s go to that display room and take a picture of the bust to send to Xia Yan.

Zuo Ran: No need – this riddle is very easy to solve.

 >Take a picture and send it to Xia Yan >Ask Zuo Ran

MC: Lawyer Zuo, do you have any ideas?

Zuo Ran: This riddle isn’t hard. I’ve already got the answer.

Zuo Ran: The answer to the riddle should be 1634 8208 9474. It just so happens to be the same as with the ground-off numbers – the first digit is 1 and the last digit is 4.

MC: Lawyer Zuo, how did you figure it out this quickly?

Zuo Ran: Have you heard of the four-leaf rose number?

Zuo Ran: It refers to a four-digit number. The sum of each digit to the fourth exponent equals the number itself.

Zuo Ran: There are three numbers like this. Individually, they are 1634, 8208 and 9474.

MC: So the four petals and Rose on the bust were hinting at the four-leaf rose numbers?

Zuo Ran: Not only that, but that poem-like text also meant this, and it also hinted at the order of the numbers.

Zuo Ran: “Regardless of how you change, you are still you” refers to exponents.

Zuo Ran: “From the beginning to the end” indicates that the order goes from small to large.

MC: Lawyer Zuo, you really are too amazing. Are you really a law student? Your science grades must also have been great.

Zuo Ran: They’re just things that I got interested in and read about for middle school math. Typically, I’m not able to use them, and they’re not worth bringing up.

Zuo Ran: I’ll input the password. You stand behind me, a little far away.

I knew that Zuo Ran was afraid that the password lock had other safety mechanisms…

I heeded his arrangement and stood behind him, although it was not too far – it was a distance where I could reinforce him at any time.

Beep beep beep—

Right after Zuo Ran pressed the confirmation button, a quiet sound came from the door lock.

Zuo Ran: It’s open.

We pushed open the door and looked in. This was a file room again.

[eynsavalow]

𝘾𝙚𝙡𝙩𝙞𝙘 𝘾𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙩𝙨𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙩

So let me preface this my pointing out that as far as I’ve been able to gather Celtic culture while holding distinctive characteristics was extremely fluid in terms of cultural practice and politics. I have also taken the liberty of filling in certain gaps in our understanding that strictly speaking we have no way of confirming or understanding the cultural context for. I have listed my primary sources at the bottom of this post and will be reblogging whenever I add new resources or adjustment my headcanons based on new research or sources I find. Our knowledge of the Celts is continually evolving as is my own. 

In regards to terms I’m relying largely on Irish and Welsh as they’re the most relavant to the blog and will try to clarify which specific culture I am referring to within the context of my posts. 

Politics- Celtic politics were extremely fluid. In broad strokes Kings were elected by council though these elections were rarely peaceful with rival factions fighting until one proves victorious. Because of this the Celtic warrior class was extremely powerful with many kings being able to hold power based solely on bribing and offering monetary and other rewards to the warriors in their service. This is explicitly stated to be how Conchobar of Ulster remains in power in the Ulster Cycle. However it should be noted this practice did not guarantee loyalty. It seems to be be that the King was expected to provide for his warriors as well as his people because of social obligation while the Warrior class in particularly was free to leave and give their services to others if they received another offer or came to disprove of their current Ruler’s actions. This fluidity of loyalty seems to have been accepted and to a degree expected. 

Geas/ Geasa and Tynged/ Tynghedau- Perhaps tying into Celtic belief in social obligation a geas/tynged (geasa/ tynghedau are the Irish and Welsh plural forms). In broad strokes it seems to a kind of obligation that one can place on others or themselves as is the case with Cú Chulainn. Irish High Kings could have dozens or more there seems to be a correlation between one’s power/status and one’s number of geasa. I have taken it further by headcanoning that honoring and fulfilling one’s geasa adds to and builds up ones own power as it is frequently shown in Irish lore that violating one’s geasa will result in death or other misfortune. 

The Celtic Pantheon- I have posted about my take on Celtic mythology before >HERE< and >HERE< but suffice to say it is as fluid as Celtic culture and politics. But I want to be very adamant that I am not going to favor one group over the other. There has been a long and frankly very ugly history of dismissing Welsh, Irish and Scottish folk beliefs that I want to avoid perpetuating on this blog. NOTE: In terms of interaction I get the impression one was allowed to talk back to one’s gods and even correct their behavior much as warriors were allowed to do with their Kings.

Religious Practices- This is extremely tricky as most of what we’re given is vague and described by non- Celtic sources so most of what I’m about to describe is strictly headcanon based. All pools and bodies of water are believed to be doors to the Otherworld. It is therefor customary for Celts to provide an offering of some kind to bribe or get a deities attention. (Lancelot himself will use this as a means of communicating with his mother.) Birds are also seen as messengers between the human and Otherworld with sacrifices sometimes made to lure birds to a sites and then carry the prayers offered by the druids and supplicants back to the Gods. 

Heads- While an abundance of writing and other evidence exists that the Celts had some kind of Cult surrounding the head/brain we’re not particularly sure why. I’ve interpreted it that the Celts believed one’s soul/power resided in the head and that by taking and preserving the head or brain one was adding to one’s own as well as keeping your enemy from entering the Otherworld and reincarnating. 

Children- I am admittedly sorry for putting this under the rather graphic bullet point above. But the Celts were not like their neighbors Romans or Greeks and did not view their children as disposable. One was required to look after one’s children, the elderly and disabled. I can think of no better example of this than Amergin mac Eccit from the Ulster cycle who was unable to physically care for himself until his teens with his father Eccit going to extraordinary lengths to protect his son who is later described as a wise poet and warrior despite his disabilities. This is also why Lancelot insists on making Galahad his heir even if he struggles to form a bond with him as it is culturally unacceptable to him to not provide for him on some level. Children were also only considered illegitimate if no one claimed to be their father. 

Relationships/ Sexuality/ Gender Roles- This is likely the most difficult to headcanon and has required the biggest leaps on my part. But it seems to be that the Celts were comfortable and open with queer relationships an taking lovers outside of marriage with the upper classes in particular engaging in seemingly polyamorous unions. All sexes could become Druids or Warriors or even rule in their own right. Boudicca and Medb in the Ulster cycle are excellent examples of this. 

Sources

Cunliffe, Barry. The Ancient Celts. Oxford University Press, 1997.

Koch, John T., and John Carey, editors. The Celtic Heroic Age: Literary Sources for Ancient Celtic Europe & Early Ireland & Wales. Celtic Studies Publications, 2003.

Ginnell, Laurence. Brehon Laws: A Legal Handbook (3rd Ed.).

ANWYL, EDWARD. CELTIC RELIGION. BLURB, 1906.

Eickhoff, Randy Lee. The Red Branch Tales. Forge, 2004.

MacCullough, J. A. The Religion of the Ancient Celts. T & T Clark, 1911.

Paxton, Jennifer. “The Celtic World.” The Great Courses. The Celtic World, 2018. 

Andrews, Elizabeth. Ulster Folklore. Norwood Editions, 1975. 

Arnold, Matthew. On the Study of Celtic Literature, and, On Translating Homer. Macmillan, 1902. 

Leahy, Arthur Herbert. Heroic Romances of Ireland. D. Nutt, 1905. 

O'Rahilly, Cecile. Táin bó Cúalnge: From the Book of Leinster. Dublin Institute for Advanced Studies, 2004.