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sixpossumsinatrenchcoat · 9 months ago

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Natural Satellite [ch 3]

Siffrin and Isabeau finally talk. Isabeau makes a new friend. You can start from chapter one here.

“So…” Isa mumbles, darting a glance at Siffrin. “So the loops end when you… die?” Sif nods. “We-e-e-elll,” Loop cuts in. “Careful, now! It’s not just when you die, is it, stardust? Wouldn’t want to poison the well with premature assumptions, now, would we?” Sif glares at them. “Stop trying to influence him.” “Teehee! Sure thing, stardust! First you just have to stop telling him stuff that’s wrong!”

“What do you mean, remember???” Isabeau sputters. “Are you saying— Is this really happening?????”

Siffrin stares at him for several seconds. “Oh,” they say at last.

(Oh??????)

Sif wets their lips and darts a glance over Isabeau’s shoulder, toward the path he just ran down. “Um. Can I just… I’ll be right back, I just—“

“What!!! No!!! What??? Obviously not!!!!”

Their face hardens. “You think you could stop me?”

“What?” Isa gasps, flabbergasted. “I’m not—This isn’t a fight! I am asking you to stay! And talk to me! Like a real person!”

Sif seems to find that last part amusing.

Isabeau scowls at him. “What about this is funny to you?”

“Hm? Oh. It’s just. A little ironic.”

…An unspoken ‘coming from you’ hangs in the air between them.

“I— Well, I—” Isa’s face heats up. “ Aw, come on, Sif! I am so confused right now! I have no idea what’s going on! And it kinda seems like you do, so… Don’t you think you’d want a little help, if you were me? Don’t you think…”

He trails off. This is pointless. Sif sounds like a stranger. Isabeau barely recognizes them.

A subtle movement catches his eye. Sif, biting their lip. “I—um. I guess it’s only fair.”

Isa’s eyes widen. “You’re gonna explain?”

“No.” At the look on his face, Sif heaves a sigh. “Sorry. I’m just… not really sure what to say? But. Um. I know someone who might.”

* * *

There’s something impossible waiting under the Favor Tree. A figure formed from light and shadow, with ink-dark limbs and a shatter of shimmering white where their face should be. Light bleeds out from every seam in their surface, the cracks under their nails and the crease of their eyes and the gaping chest-wound carved into their sternum. Just looking at them hurts Isa’s eyes. (And also his brain.)

They’re not human, that much is clear. But they’re obviously a person. Even without clothes or a mouth or any semblance of solid form, personhood radiates off of them.

Isabeau swallows around the lump in his throat. It’s weird. He can’t put his finger on why, but looking at them makes him feel sort of… lonely? Like he can feel the melancholy washing off of them. Something darker than sadness, more hollow than grief.

—Until the impossible stranger spots him and Siffrin coming up the path. At which point they laugh hysterically for at least five minutes.

“Gee, stardust,” they wheeze at last, making a big show of wiping their eyes. “You sure do get everything you want! I guess you really are the Universe’s favorite!”

“Yeah, right.”

“And now you’ve trapped your Fighter in here with you! Doomed him to split your suffering! Soooo~ romantic!”

Sif rolls his eye. “Loop, this is—“

“I’m aware.”

“And Isa, this is Loop. They use they/them.”

“Uhh,” Isabeau says. “Hi?” Then, elbowing Sif as discreetly as he can while standing in plain sight: “Um. Uh… And Loop is…”

“You know that help you wanted?”

Isa nods.

Sif shrugs at Loop. “So.”

Isabeau looks from one to the other. Wasn’t Sif going to explain? Or… was that supposed to be the explanation?

Loop bursts out laughing. “Wow, stardust. Even for you, that was—wow. And I’ll have you know, my expectations are very low.”

Siffrin shoots them a murderous glare.

Loop bats their eyes at him before turning to wink at Isa. “You’ll have to forgive my darling stardust! He’s a little out of practice.”

“Like you’re one to talk,” Sif mutters.

“Stay in your lane, stardust,” Loop says sweetly. “Being mean is my thing.”

Isa holds out both hands. “Look, I’m sorry to interrupt, but can someone maybe catch me up?”

* * *

Loop catches him up.

* * *

Ten minutes later, Isa is swaying on his feet. “So this is… You’re actually time-traveling? It’s not a vision or a dream or something? It’s really actually happening?”

Sif nods.

“And we already beat the King?”

Another nod. “A lot.”

Wow. Well. That’s… sort of encouraging? Except for the part where they’re still stuck here. Isa was hoping that his horrifying visions were a gift from the Change God, to help Mira break the King’s curse. But if that’s not the case… “Then then what is it for?”

Sif shrugs.

Isa turns to Loop.

“Don’t look at me,” Loop snorts. “I’m stuck here, too. If I knew how to break out, don’t you think I would’ve done it already?”

In theory, maybe. But only if they’re actually telling the truth.

“So…” Isa mumbles, darting a glance at Siffrin. “So the loops end when you… die?”

Sif nods.

“We-e-e-elll,” Loop cuts in. “Careful, now! It’s not just when you die, is it, stardust? Wouldn’t want to poison the well with premature assumptions, now, would we?”

Sif glares at them. “Stop trying to influence him.”

“Teehee! Sure thing, stardust! First you just have to stop telling him stuff that’s wrong!”

Isabeau raises his hand.

“Yes?” Loop says, looking amused. “Fighter?”

“Um. I was just wondering… Why does no one else remember? When I talked to Mira, she looked at me like I was—”

“You told Mira?”

Isabeau flinches. Sif’s eyes have gone dark, just as sudden as turning out a light. He’s never seen them look like that before. “Um? I mean? Yyyyyes? Was that not okay?”

Just as quick as it appeared, the shadow lifts. “Of course it’s okay! Why wouldn’t it be? It’s not like you have anything to hide.”

Huh. That's… sort of a weird way to put it. “Um. Sure, I guess. I just mean… why is it only me?”

Loop claps their hands together briskly. “An excellent question! Let’s take a closer look, shall we? Fighter! When did you start to remember?”

“Yesterday,” he says mechanically. He's starting to feel a little lightheaded.

“Teehee! Yes, I’d certainly expect so! But I’m afraid that doesn’t narrow it down much.”

Oh. Right. “Um. Two? Two… loops ago, I guess.”

“Now think hard, stardust! Was there anything memorable, that loop? Anything new?”

Sif chews their lip. “I tried the palmiers…”

“After your Kid made your favorite food just for you?” Loop gasps. “For shame! I’m sure you hurt them grievously! But that would only be relevant if you’d dragged them into this. Try again!”

“I… spent a little longer in the bathroom?”

“You stabbed yourself in front of us!!!” Isa sputters. “You— In the fight with the King, you— With your own dagger!!!!”

“But that’s not—” Sif freezes. “Um. I mean. Yeah. I guess that could be it.”

That’s not new. That’s what they were going to say, isn’t it.

Isabeau feels sick. He feels sick. No matter how slow he breathes, he still can’t catch his breath. “H. How many has it been for you.”

“Not very many,” Sif says, much too quickly for it to be true.

“And you. You—die every time.”

“Not every time.”

“But most of them.”

Sif looks away. “…Most of them.”

Isabeau’s vision blurs. Sif was so quick, when they cut their own throat. They didn’t even hesitate. Like it was rote, mundane. Practiced. One quick clean slice to sever their external and internal carotid. Cutting off the flow of blood to their brain; starving their nervous system of oxygen so completely that, in a minute's time, they wouldn't even feel the pain. Another minute and there’d be no one left to feel anything at all.

How many times has Sif died, without anyone knowing? How many times did they do it on purpose?

“I,” he chokes out. “I—have to go to the bathroom.”

“Isa, wait—”

But he’s already running. Running away from the things he can’t bear to see, just like the bad old days, before he learned how to pretend he wasn’t scared. It’s almost nostalgic.

He makes it as far as the field south of town before he collapses under a tree. His head feels swollen, his throat clogged shut. Crying, still, but losing steam. That was always the best thing about running away. By the time you’re too tired to move, you don’t have enough energy left to cry.

“You’re really slow,” a familiar voice says, from immediately behind him.

Isa almost jumps out of his skin. “Wh— Sif??? When did you—”

“The whole time.” Sif shifts his weight from one foot to the other. They still won’t look at him. “Sorry. I got worried.”

Isabeau barks a laugh. “Pretty sure I'm not the one to worry about here!!!” When Sif just stares at him, blank-faced, he throws his hands up. “You!! I obviously meant you!!”

“Oh. Well, um. Don’t? I can't die, remember?”

…None of this matters, they told him, at the beginning of it all.

Isa feels sick.

Sif tilts their head at him, curious. “Isa?”

“Just—give me a second.” He lets his eyes fall shut, grinds his palms into his eyelids. “That… person. Loop. Who are they to you?”

“Oh. I guess they’re… sort of like my… helper?”

“Okay, but like. What are they?”

“Umm…”

“Who are they?”

“…”

“How do you know them?”

“They just sort of showed up,” Sif says, shrugging. “And… sometimes I can hear them in my head.”

Oh. Uh. Okay. That’s… not exactly what he expected. “Are you sure we can trust them?”

“Oh, definitely not.” At the look on his face, Sif grimaces. “It’s complicated.”

“Complicated how.”

“Well, I can't trust them to be honest,” Sif explains. “Or straightforward. Or nice. Or to want what’s best for me. Or… to be very helpful, mostly.”

“Uh huh…?”

“But I can trust that they hate it here. They’re stuck here, too. That’s not a lie.”

Isa’s face scrunches. “But how do you know?”

“I just know.”

…Huh. “Wow, Sif. You’re, uh. A lot more trusting than I would’ve guessed.”

Sif shrugs diffidently. “We’ve been through a lot.”

How much, though? How much is a lot? Ten deaths? Twenty? “Ummm. Sif?”

Siffrin looks at him.

“How long has it been for you? How many loops, I mean.”

“Oh,” Sif mumbles, looking away. “Um. I don’t know. I guess I had a little too much time on my hands, haha.” When Isabeau just keeps staring, Sif huffs defensively. “It’s not like I could take notes. It’d get wiped every loop.”

Isabeau lets out his breath. “Okay.”

“...Okay?”

“Okay. Okay, I…” Yeah, no, he was trying to be cool but he absolutely cannot do this. “You could take a guess, though, surely. Right? Like… a rough estimate?”

Sif doesn’t answer.

Yikes. Okay, well. That’s not super encouraging.

Okay!!” Isa says, a little too loud. “Sure! That’s totally fine, I totally get it! But it’s— You don’t have to hide anymore, you know? If we both go and tell the others, they’ll have to believe us!”

Siffrin’s face shutters. “No.”

“N-No?”

“We don’t involve them.”

“Pretty sure they’re already involved…”

Sif just shakes his head.

“Oh,” Isabeau mumbles. ��Um… How many times have you tried?”

No answer.

“Umm.” Isa shifts his weight. “Your, um, friend said it wasn’t just your death that ends a loop…”

Sif stays silent, but his face tightens.

“…so I guess I was wondering if there’s, like, maybe another way? If, um… maybe it doesn’t have to hurt like that?” In his mind’s eye he can still see Siffrin torn open, bleeding. The light fading from his eye.

“No,” Sif says flatly.

“But— But what about—”

“No.”

“But why not though?”

“Why are you so obsessed with this?” Sif hisses. Isa’s never heard them sound so outright angry. “You just got here. You barely even know what's going on.”

“So tell me!!”

"I can’t. I don’t know either.”

“So then why are you so sure that you have to die???”

Sif’s lip curls. “Is this in your Defender training or something? This isn’t your job, Isa. You’re just supposed to beat the King. I’m supposed to make sure you can do it without dying.”

“But why? Why does it have to—”

“Why are we still talking about this?” Siffrin snarls. “Why can’t you just stick to the blinding script?”

“Wh-What?”

Sif’s eye widens. “I—um. I didn’t—”

Something twists in Isa’s stomach. His vision blurs, and then he’s—somewhere else. Not far. Just a few feet from where he was just standing. It takes him a second to realize that Sif’s moved, too. They’re standing behind him again, like they were when he first got here.

Isa stumbles a little as he pushes himself to his feet. “What just… D-Did we just loop?”

“I’msorryimsorryimsorry,” Sif blurts out, in one frantic exhale. “I didn’t mean to, I wasn’t trying to, I just got—“ 

“So it’s not just dying!!!!”

Sif stares. “Huh?”

“When you loop! It’s not just when you die! You literally just did it!! Without dying!!!”

“I,” Siffrin mumbles. “I, I didn’t mean to, I—“

“That’s obviously not the important part!!!”

Sif stares for even longer this time. “Oh. I see. But—no. You don’t understand. I can’t control it, it just… happens sometimes. The only way I can control it is if I die.”

“Have you even tried?”

“Um. Yes? Sort of.”

“Well, you’re gonna have to try harder!!” Isabeau is aware that he sounds a little crazy. In his defense, this is a pretty crazy situation. “I’m not just gonna watch you die over and over, Sif! That’s crabbing crazy!!!”

And there it is again. That flash of something hollow in Sif’s eye. Something hungry, something dark. “You think you could stop me?”

“YEAH, actually! I kinda think I could!!”’

Sif laughs. Not a happy laugh. It’s one of the least-happy sounds that Isa’s ever heard. “Hehe. Maybe. Do you wanna find out?”

Before Isa can open his mouth to answer, they’ve already got their knife in their hand, blade pressed tight against their throat. Isabeau lurches forward, ready to, he doesn’t know, tackle them to the ground or something? Hold them down and pry the hilt out of their stupid stubborn hands? But before he can close the space, Sif has flipped the blade shut and secreted it away in his cloak.

“Change!!!” Isa gasps. “What are you— Why would you— What?????”

Sif shrugs. “I wasn’t going to do it. I was just explaining. It’s been a long day, okay? ‘Cut me’ some slack.” When Isa just keeps staring, trying to remember how to breathe, they roll their eye. “What. You don’t like puns anymore?”

…Isabeau needs to sit down.

He can feel Sif’s gaze on him, bright and curious, as he stoops over and very slowly lays down on the ground. He thought he’d always want to look at Sif, but he can’t see them right now. He covers his face with both hands. “Sif…”

“Isa.”

“How long have you been stuck here.”

"Um. Well. Technically, two days."

“Sif.”

Siffrin lets out his breath. “…A pretty long time.”

Yeah. Isabeau was starting to get that impression.

“Okay,” he says numbly. “I think I need to. Um. Think. About this. For a little.” When he uncovers his face, Sif is still standing over him, looking vaguely perturbed and a little annoyed. He lets his palms fall back over his eyes. “...Alone.”

Sif doesn’t answer, but he can hear the leaves crunch as they wander away.

Change. Change. It’s what happened with Bonnie all over again, except a million times worse.

Of course Isa knew that Siffrin wasn’t brimming with self-preservation instinct. Or self-esteem. Or… almost any regard for his own life. After losing their eye, Sif was the only one who never cried. Mira was a nervous wreck for weeks. Bonnie was even worse. Even Madame Odile lost her composure the first time she changed their wound dressing. But when Sif finally woke up, he seemed more confused than anything else. He was only really upset about having upset everyone else.

Of course Sif thinks it doesn’t matter, dying and dying and dying without anyone ever knowing. They’ve never cared what happened to them, have they?

Luckily, Isabeau cares enough for the both of them.

###

On his way to the Clocktower, he nearly walks right into Odile.

“Isabeau! Watch where you’re going!”

“Sorry, M’dame!! I’ve just, um. Got a lot on my mind.”

“I saw you and Siffrin running around earlier,” she tells him, with a knowing gleam. “You two looked thick as thieves.”

“Haha, uh. Yeah.” That’s one way to put it.

Odile narrows her eyes. “I would’ve thought you’d be happier.”

“I— I mean, yeah! Of course! I’m… Do I not seem happy?”

“No, you decidedly do not.”

Of course not. Stupid. Odile is way too sharp to try to fool with such an obvious lie. Isa tries to smile for her, but he can’t make it fit.

Annnnd now she looks outright suspicious. “Is something the matter, Isabeau?”

Change. There is nothing he’d like more than to tell her everything. Who’s better-qualified than Madame Odile to learn the rules to a rigged game? But he can’t stop seeing Sif in his mind’s eye. We don’t involve them. You just got here. You barely even know what’s going on.

…Yeah, no. He can’t do it.

Isabeau rubs the back of his neck, pastes on a sheepish grin. “Just, uh. A little nervous for tomorrow, I guess.” When she still looks unconvinced, he throws in a little honesty, just to give it the ring of truth. “I just… really care about you guys, you know? All of you. If anything happened to—to Bonnie, or to Mira…”

“Or to Siffrin.”

He winces. “Heh. Yeah. You got me.”

“I suppose it’s only natural,” she sighs. “You young people have too much energy. When you get to my age, you learn to stop worrying about everything that might go wrong.”

“Oh, yeah? So you’re not stressed at all, huh?”

“Would I say so otherwise?”

“Do you want me to be honest?”

“...No.”

He grins at her—a real one this time. “Then of course not, M’dame. Clearly, you’re not worried in the slightest.”

“And don’t you forget it,” she snorts. “Now, if you’re quite finished, I believe Mirabelle is waiting for us.”

He gestures at the path ahead, gives her a theatrical little flourish. “After you, M’dame.”

* * *

He can’t bring himself to talk to Sif at dinner. It’s hard enough, just trying to act normal on what is easily the least-normal day of his life. He doesn’t even really look at them until they’re already in bed.

Sif’s eyes are closed. It looks like he's actually asleep, somehow, in spite of. You know. Everything.

Isa can’t say the same. Every time he closes his eyes, he sees Siffrin choking on blood. He can’t stop remembering holding them in his arms like a broken bird. How light they felt, like a paper doll. And how cold.

“Sif,” he whispers.

Sif doesn’t move.

“Psst. Siffrin. Sif.”

Clearly reluctantly, Sif cracks an eyelid to glare at him.

“I know I can’t stop you,” Isabeau whispers. “Okay? So I'm asking— I am begging you, Sif, please, please, please don’t do it with the dagger. I can’t— It isn’t fair, you have to see that. Please.”

Sif eyes him warily. “It wouldn’t be as gross if you didn’t always get so close.”

Change. He wants to grab them and shake them. He almost does it. He feels wildly unhinged. “It’s not about—!!!” Isabeau takes a breath, lowers his voice. “Sif, I— I care about you a lot. Like. Literally so much.” Probably a little too much. “You know that, right?”

Sif looks away.

Isa tries another angle. “What if it was one of us? If you had to watch that happen to Mira, or—“

“No.”

“…Just no?”

Sif shakes their head. “It couldn’t happen. I wouldn’t let it.”

“Okay! See, now we’re getting somewhere! That’s how I feel about—”

There’s a blur of white, and a pillow pelts him square in the face.

#isat fanfic #isat spoilers #isa loops AU #isafrin #in stars and time

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lanternlightss · 2 months ago

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More ISAT & Old Mond Thoughts ™

Rhw and Isabeau. They’re both “defenders” in some way or another, the type of people to be in the frontlines. They would be able to balance eachother out- isabeau being outwardly friendly and extroverted yet oblivious to things with a low self-esteem, while rhw would come across as stern and coldhearted yet fairly observant, but he has a soft spot for people he genuinely trusts and cares about. While the king and deca are the type of people to say “i want to protect you” <- ends up making people’s lives far worse/evil with morally grey intentions, isa and rhw are “i want to protect you” <- genuinely wants to help others. Also. isabeau holding rhw’s claymore.

Mirabelle and Gunnhildr both being “blessed” by their respective “gods”, while being resistant to the most immediate danger (time freeze and the blizzards). Sadly I do not know much about gunnhildr or her ideals (hoyo please give us more gunnhildr lore please) however I can figure out a way to tie this into mirabelle’s “What if I don’t want to change and just stay how I am”. Mira giving gunnhildr a bow for her to put onto her ponytail. “Chosen one” type characters <- not the protagonists

Now here’s where things start falling apart a bit for my theories- bonnie and wispti are both A- short B- childish and C- more sidelines/support characters. Wispti sitting in bonnie’s hat. The two of them running around (is it still running if you’re flying?). Them constantly sneaking food into places. Wispti giving snacks to bonnie from places they should not legally be going into.

Which. brings me to my next point. For starters, I have neither gotten the twohats ending nor have i played the prologue (But I do plan to do both!! eventually!!) but I have been repeatedly spoiled. So. Loop and (venti? barbatos?). First of all how are wind wisps in the AU both things that just so happen to exist along with technically being two separate companions. Second. Loop and venti being heavily associated with time. Venti either being made entirely of wind or wearing something resembling his archon statue cloak, his skin being the same dark void featured on his wind wisp form. Then again he would look more humanoid from the neck up than loop does. Ven and loop both being the “guardians” of their respective “protagonists,” along with “being them” in some way, however I don’t actually know much of the context behind the relationship loop and siffrin have with eachother so I can’t say much further.

Odile and Amos bonding over being the oldest member of their party (Amos only being a few years or so older than rhw however. if you take the immortal amos theory into consideration.) They need a coffee and a break. Cannot deal with this. Perceptive over others. Amos constantly complaining about The Divorce to odile. They both have a diamond motif on their clothes. They take care of the other party members (mentor of sorts)

Unfortunately I don’t know what to do with the Head Housemaiden. Only thing I can think of is Istaroth being her counterpart but istaroth is the time god herself while euphrasie is only a representative (I could be wrong about this since the wiki doesn’t say much about her yet)

This took way too long to write. I am so normal

ohhh my goodnesss isabeau and rhw together …. that is SUCH a fun dynamic to think about real holy ??? especially with the way isabeau was The Only defender who actually went out of their way to help when asked (iirc), rhw would respect him so much for that (and this is leaning into hc territory—but if rhw was the same way too, another thing to bond over ….) and i see you raising isa wielding rhw’s claymore and cheering as loud as possible over the idea of him holding a weapon nearly as tall as he is and doing it powerfully and gracefully but i also raise you. rhw using isabeau’s gloves. rhw catalyst—except he punches the lights out of you, all physical, no elemental. also the image of him with those sparkling gems of gloves is so .

ALSO YEAH YEAH THEM AND BEING “CHOSEN….” gunnhildr leading her clan, trying her best for everyone to be happy…. mirabelle not wanting to let anyone down for being a “fraud” …. so you ?? yeah, same here. gunnhildr with a bow would be so so so so cute too. feeling buddies …. 2 !!! the weight of the world won’t feel as heavy if we lift it together !!!!

and oh god the influence wispti will have on bonnie. bard and co have already swayed that wisp plenty and now they get to be the ones doing the swaying. oh god. god you’re so real. wispti voice i will teach you everything you need to know (<- about to make bonnie have the most saddest puppy eyes in existence of this world, the effects of this will be catastrophic.)

(also oh ? one day !!) But i am nodding along. so much. when in doubt timeline shenanigans come in clutch /lh but . maybee . hmmm . since timeloops Are possible in the genshin verse, i wonder if there are other ways to make one. more specifically, the leyylinesss ……..?? maybe that can be mashed together with stars and time’s “timeloops ghosts” ? glitchy venti. Spitballing. but. I Am Looking. that sounds SO COOL. (i am also :3’ing.)

amos and odile sounds like such a power duo. voice of reason (majority time.) and amos talking about the divorce too 😭😭 oh my goodness odile would be constantly using her squinting, confused sprite. odile would be ruthless in her observations of deca. she has a section of notes on him specifically that started off “things thatd come in handy” to “what was this guys deal” (also there’s an immortal amos theory ??????????)

and the head housemaiden yeah ……. hm . hm . there Are shrine maiden’s in genshin ,,,, but. hm . hmmmmmmm . i half wonder if maybe this would be more The Universe’s territory ? maybe a room dedicated solely to time itself. hm . but i am pointing !!!!!!!!!!!!!!

#just .#god all of them together .#it’s going to be such chaos !!!!??!!#it WOULD be very fun to imagine head housemaiden as ista counterpart #esp bc she alr somewhat knows somethings off #(when you talk to her enough times in. Act 3+4. She will say that something will happen when sif talks to her. She doesn’t know what it is #but wouldn’t you rather be spending the rest of this with your friends?)#anyways that’s ista behavior #hmmm !!!#lantern replies #long post #mutuals !

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cake-apostate · 2 years ago

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Pre-Canon Hallelujah headcanon

You never find out what Hallelujah actually did in the Ashura-Kai. Everyone else, you get a general idea of what they did before; Nanashi and Asahi were training as Cadets, Navarre was dead, Nozomi was a Hunter and then quit to take care of the Fairies, Gaston only recently became a Samurai, Toki was training as an assassin, and we see what Isabeau was up to. But what did Hallelujah do? He’s Abe’s errand boy, but Abe only joined the Ashura-Kai after Tayama’s death, and Hallelujah’s been a member for five years.

My theory is that Hallelujah was Tayama’s secret bodyguard. Tayama’s already got the National Defense Divinities to show off; Hallelujah’s there to protect him in places where he can’t or shouldn’t bring overt muscle. He looks human and doesn’t need weapons, so he could attend meetings as a clerk, secretary, or assistant. If things go south, he’d hurl True Bufudyne at the offenders, but he’s not bad as an actual clerk.

But how did the Ashura-Kai know that Hallelujah was half-demon? Since Abe was said to have come out of nowhere after Tayama’s death, he couldn’t have told them. In the artbook, Hallelujah killed an Ashura-Kai loan shark for harassing his mother when he was little, so that probably drew their attention. His mother immediately went on the run, so it took them a few years to find them.

I don’t have a good grasp of Yakuza member statistics and ranks, but a not insignificant percentage knows Hallelujah’s real job. All of the higher-ups know. Anyone who’s been a bodyguard at these meetings have to know, too, because it shouldn’t come as a surprise if the secretary starts shooting fireballs; this includes a lot of the senior toughs like Ken. Some of these tough guys also trained him. Some random people found out by accident early on; Hallelujah couldn’t always control his powers.

Hallelujah ends up being treated unusually well; a Hunter in SMT4 mentions that you have to keep dealing Reds for years before the Ashura-Kai makes you a full member, and they just let in this ten-year-old?! Why isn’t he sent to the Reverse Hills? The official coverup is that Hallelujah is Tayama’s sister’s bastard and he promised to take care of the kid, and the coverup behind that is Hallelujah is Tayama’s bastard. A lot of people dislike him for nepotism, and Hallelujah has since realized that he can’t prevent this.

After Tayama goes missing, Hallelujah gets a soft demotion to general clerk; it’s not like he held any other official title, anyway. Those in the know might blame him for not being there for him; I don’t think he could have been at the Reactor, because then either he’d kill Walter or Walter would have killed him. Maybe Tayama couldn’t bring him to the Reactor without a good excuse, and everyone figured the National Defense Divinities would have been enough?

Once Abe takes over, he recruits Hallelujah as the errand boy, and the rest is history.

(Yes, a lot of this was in another post I made.)

#megaten #shin megami tensei #shin megami tensei iv apocalypse #smt hallelujah #hallelujah smt #smt4a #Shin Megami Tensei 4 apocalypse #shin megami tensei apocalypse

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awesomerextyphoon · 4 years ago

Text

Speculum Cupido

Summary: You’ve been Dr. Strange’s apprentice for some time now and you wanted to prove your best friend wrong. It goes awry and both of you find yourselves in a ‘dark mirror’ universe where the Captain, the Asset, the Kraken, and the Fallen Angel want to make both of you theirs.

Pairing: Dark!Steve x Female Reader x Dark!Ransom, minor Dark!Bucky x OFC x Dark!Sam

Rating: 18+ / Explicit

Word Count: 3,072

Warning: Dub/Non-Con Smut, Oral (m & f receiving), Daddy Kink, MMF Threesome, Double Penetration, Spit Roasting, Non-Con Drugging, Breeding Kink, and Artistic License w/Biology

A/N: This is my gift to @labella420 for @drabblewithfrannybarnes, @chrissquares , and @amythedvdhoarder’s Happy Hoelentine’s Day Challenge. Dividers are by the lovely @firefly-graphics. Shout out to @saiyanprincessswanie for letting me borrow an idea of hers for this fic. Thanks to @the-soulofdevil for the beta.

Back to Masterlist

Another Valentine’s Day, another day for the world to mock me being single.

You were having enough of a ‘meh’ week as it is. Dr. Strange had to return to Kamar-Taj for an in-person meeting and Wong was who knows where. They had instructed you to work on your portal and transfiguration spells while they were away which was fair since you’ve been lacking in that department.

It’s just that you longed for some excitement.

Luckily you wouldn’t be spending Valentine’s completely alone; Isabeau, your best friend, was coming over due to as she put it, ‘no one cares about a day where all one gets is somewhat good sex’.

Fast Forward two hours and you’re getting your room ready for Galentine’s Day Movie Night. You had decked out your room with homemade baked goods, drinks, best friend movies, all the good shit.

“I have wonderful news!” Isabeau burst in with gusto yet again.

You shot her a bemused smile, “What is it this time?”

“I have a new crush! It’s Eric from IT!”

“Are you sure this won’t end up like last time?” you queried in reference to the time when Isabeau’s crush turned out to be a complete asshole.

“Oh hush! This won’t be like that at all,” Isabeau retorted, “Now how about you? Have you had any luck with a hot sorcerer?”

“If only I’d be so lucky,” you muttered as Isabeau started on the Toffee Crunch Cookies you made.

A few minutes later, Isabeau’s eyes narrowed and her full lips curved upward in a mischievous smirk.

She had one of her ideas again.

“Hey, why don’t you try an ambiance spell. They’re harmless and you always feel better afterward.”

You didn’t like casting them due to something always going awry, but you relented once Isabeau broke out her puppy dog eyes.

“Alright, alright, I give,” you submitted, “I’ll try a simple floating star spell. Let me find the book.”

Both of you went to the library for the book but it was nowhere to be found. All of the ambiance and illusion books were blank.

“Is this a sorcerer thing? I’m not seeing any words or illustrations,” puzzled Isabeau as you went through book after book in the library only to find them blank.

“No. Maybe we should just go back to my room,” you suggested as you made your way to the exit.

“Wait! There’s one book left. You could try that one.” Isabeau pointed to the last book on the shelf. It was a little worn like many of the books that resided in the library, but the inscriptions seemed odd; like it wasn’t supposed to be there.

Yet it was the only book that had anything in it.

“Fine,” you relented as you took the book back to your room.

The spells in the book weren’t anything out of the ordinary, but one spell seemed to stand out to both of you.

“Speculum Mundus?” Isabeau wondered.

“It means Mirror World in Latin.”

“Oh,” her eyes got a mischievous glint to them again, “I bet you can’t cast the spell.”

“Not this again.”

“Oh come on,” Isabeau goaded, “It’s a simple mirror world spell. You’ve done it before. What’s the worse that can happen?”

“I don’t know…”

“Are you gonna chicken out again?”

“No! Just give me a minute,” you mumbled as your hands got into the starting position and recited the incantation.

The room changed instantly.

It was filled with prism-like structures and kaleidoscope imagery giving the space a surreal ambiance.

It wasn’t unlike the last time you went into the Quantum Realm with Dr. Strange and Wong, and yet the hair on the back of your neck stood straight, and a chill shot through your spine.

You heard a gasp and turned around to see Isabeau with her protruding eyes opened wide and her mouth gaping. Following her line of sight, you saw four of the hottest men you’ve ever seen.

Though something was amiss.

For one thing, there were two Steve Rogers; one with a beard and one clean-shaven. Bucky Barnes’ arm was silver and not dark gray with gold highlights. All of them were in black uniforms with sections of vermillion and/or maroon. Clean-shaven Steve had a black tactical suit with a vermillion Kraken on his chest. Bearded Steve had a skull with tentacles on it. Sam had three vermillion stripes and one maroon stripe across his chest and shoulders with a falcon’s head in red surrounded by a black circle between his pecs.

But the thing that set off all your alarms was the fact that Bucky’s outfit was a dead ringer of his Winter Soldier days.

Instinctively, you grabbed Isabeau’s hand and made a mad dash for the hallway. You needed to get some distance so you could ground yourself.

You tried breaking the spell but to no avail. Not only did the spell not break, but your hands also burned at each attempt.

“We won’t lose you again!” one of the Steves yelled as you and Isabeau turned a corner.

“Come here, mici prințese!” another voice, probably Bucky’s shouted as the two of you made your way into a closet.

“I think we’re okay for now,” you breathed telepathically as the four Adonises crept past your hiding place.

“What’s the plan now?” Isabeau asked fearfully as her heartbeat started to rise in terror.

“I don’t know but-” you were cut off by a strike to the back of your head and your vision rapidly fading to black.

Muffled voices and the beeping of medical equipment brought you from the void.

“Nothing is wrong….they’re…good, sir.”

“Be sure that they are. We can’t leave anything up to chance.”

Groggily, you open your eyes to find yourself in a sleek hospital room lightly chained to a bed. Several other people were monitoring your vitals. One of them is Dr. Bruce Banner, or what seems to be Dr. Banner.

Bruce turned to see you looking around with a slightly confused expression, “Ah, you’re awake,” he turned to one of his aides, “Contact the Captain and Lieutenant. Tell them to come to get their bride.”

You blinked. Bride?

“Where is Isabeau, my friend?” you inquired as one of the aides brought you some water.

Bruce scowled, “Don’t think about her. You might be able to see her if the Captain and/or Lieutenant wills it.” he remarked while eyeing you up and down in a condescending almost lecherous manner, “Hmm, looks great for breeding,” Bruce noted as he fondled and prodded your curves.

You’ve always been proud of how you looked, but at that moment you wanted to shrink in the corner after giving this Bruce a roundhouse kick to the groin.

You were about to tell Dark!Bruce to fuck off when Tony Stark, fuck it, Dark!Tony entered the room. This Tony looked a lot more sinister with his silver, gray, light, and steel navy blue armor. His face and hair were mostly uncovered with his facial expression positively predatory.

“Cap’s one lucky bastard. He gets a sexy bunny along with Lieutenant Smart Ass.”

Recalling how some megalomaniacs liked shows of submissiveness, you lowered your head and asked where you were.

Whether it be out of pity, spite, or malice, Tony answered your question, “You’re in another earth, another universe.”

You nearly swiveled to look outside the window. NYC’s skyline was radically different. There were fewer buildings and HYDRA insignias everywhere.

“HYDRA took over this world.” You deadpanned. FUUUUCK!

“Sexy and smart.” Tony praised sardonically.

It didn’t take time for HYDRA to regroup after WWII. Zola and his associates were able to convince Howard Stark to give them the Tesseract with the promise of great renown, riches, and no longer being bound by the laws of weaker men. They were able to create a superweapon with the help of Dr. Whitney Frost and have been ruling the planet ever since.

It could be worse. HYDRA knew they had to offer the people comforts in exchange for their obedience. They eradicated all diseases, created a good standard of living, and ended all petty conflicts under the new world order.

Though Tony didn’t feel the need to tell you. You’ll figure it out on your own.

The doors opened to reveal Steve Rogers and his younger, clean-shaven counterpart in all their masculine glory.

“Good, you’re here.” Bruce welcomed smirking at your silent pleas.

Both soldiers walked over and inspected you.

“Hello, kitten. Name’s Ransom.” The clean-shaven soldier drawled as he moaned from your scent, “Nice set of lips you’ve got there.”

“We’ll definitely have some fun with her,” Steve noted as licked his lips ogling your curves.

You had to use all of your restraint not to spit in their faces.

“We’ll take her.” Ransom decided while Steve nodded.

Several of the aides breathed a sigh of relief as Steve broke the chains on your bed like they were nothing.

“Don’t have too much fun now!” Tony called as Steve picked you up bridal style.

“Who am I kidding? they’ll breed her like a Catholic rabbit!”

“Um, where are you taking me?” you queried, your voice barely above a whisper.

“You will address us as ‘Sir’ in public unless instructed otherwise. Is that understood?” It took all that Steve had not to push against the wall and pound your pussy with his cock he was so enraged.

No, he needed to wait. No one was to see what’s theirs.

Ransom, for his part, chuckled and shook his head, “Best not to anger this one, kitten. He hasn’t been in the best of moods.”

You gasped once the doors to their living quarters opened.

The place was huge!

It had a modern yet retro design; it should’ve been confusing, but it worked. Grand windows showcased the skyline with a balcony in the middle with a huge kitchen next to what looked to be a restaurant-style fridge and a huge living room with a TV and a fireplace.

Yet there seemed to be something missing.

“Place needs a woman’s touch,” Ransom commented sending a smirk your way.

“I’ll see you in the guest quarters Ransom” Steve deadpanned as he led you down a hall.

The bedroom was enormous yet sparse like they didn’t know what to do with it.

You were about to say something when Steve dropped you onto the incredibly soft mattress. His eyes darkened with lust and you knew what he wanted. You couldn’t think of a way out of this, not with the magic inhibitors Bruce placed on your wrists.

Maybe you could give escape one last try; you just had to wait for the right opening.

Steve smirked upon seeing you removing your clothes. He liked that you knew your place, his pretty little princess.

You could only gasp when Steve removed his uniform top. He had an incredibly defined musculature: broad shoulders, beefy biceps, chiseled pecs and abs, and a seriously drool-worthy Adonis Belt. The light shining behind him made his body appear even more glorious.

Steve looked like an ancient god brought to modern times.

With a predatory smirk, Steve slowly crawled to you loving the smell of your arousal. “Let me lay out a few rules, sweetheart. You will make our meals, clean our rooms, bear our children, and be our good little whore. You must earn the right to wear a bra; panties are out of the question.”

Each rule was emphasized by a kiss or a love bite to your jaw, neck, collarbone, and shoulders.

Finally, you are to address us as Sir in public and Daddy in private. Say it.”

“Yes, Daddy,” you muttered with your eyes downcast.

Steve lifted your chin up with his forefinger, “That’s a good girl,” and brought you in for a kiss on the lips.

The kiss was demanding yet soft. You were surprised he was capable of such gentleness.

Steve was about to push his tongue into his mouth when Ransom strolled into the room.

“Does she know the drill?”

Steve broke the kiss with a smirk,” Just finished explaining it.”

Ransom shot you a sardonic smirk, “You got the rules, kitten? Good. Now if you misbehave, I’m gonna send you to the dungeons for a few days.”

Steve started up again, “But...if you’re good-”

“A good little wifey,” Ransom interjected caressing your right cheek and leaning in for a kiss.

This kiss started off soft then intensified (really know how to lure a girl) into one filled with passion and dominance. Ransom forced his tongue into and moaned at your taste. A few seconds later he was pushing what felt like a small tablet past your tongue forcing you to swallow.

“Did you do it yet?”

“Cool it, grandpa! I did, don’t you worry. She’s gonna feel it. Aren’t ya, kitten.”

You started to feel strange. Your body temperature skyrocketed, your mind was in a deep haze, your thighs were clenching on overtime you were so turned on. You needed relief and fast.

“Please Daddies!” you begged as you tried your best not to touch yourself.

“See grandpa? She’s ready.” Ransom purred as he grabbed your thighs and placed them over his shoulders. He planted a few kisses near your entrance and groaned at the smell of your arousal.

It only took one long, slow lick to your slit to turn you into a moaning mess. You couldn’t believe the pleasure you were feeling. It was like a bolt of lightning shot through you.

Ransom groaned at the taste of your juices. Not even Stark’s overpriced chefs could compare. “Fuck, she tastes divine,” he groaned and dove in for more. Ransom attacked your folds and swollen clit with insane intensity and precision alternating between his tongue and fingers.

You were on cloud nine. Each motion took you further to the precipice of an orgasm. Ransom kept bringing you back from the edge only thrust you back into his level of tumultuous.

Steve got in on the action by covering your moans with a kiss of all-consuming passion and started playing with your breasts.

“Fuck, these tits are amazing! Can’t wait until these are filled with milk” Steve purred as he took one of your nipples into his mouth and the other between his big and forefingers.

After twenty minutes of teasing, Ransom finally let you come. A volcanic eruption of ecstasy erupted from your core and Ransom lapped up all of your juices.

“Rogers, you’re in for a treat!” Ransom exclaimed as he hopped off the edge of the mattress.

“I get her pussy first since you got to eat her out,” Steve uttered as grinned at your blissed-out state.

With a tsk, both of them got you into position with Steve’s thick, muscular thighs on either side of your hips and Ransom standing in front of you taking off his pants.

He was huge! His cock was long, thick, and veiny. It wobbled against his masterfully sculpted abs with each step he took. You wondered how that was going to fit in your mouth. Turns out Steve’s was no smaller if his tip being coated with your slick is any indication.

“This won’t hurt, kitten. You were made for us.” Ransom cooed.

You didn’t know how right he was.

Steve made his move by pushing into you inch by delicious inch and moaned at the sensation. “Fuck, she fits like a dream.”

“Don’t take forever, grandpa.” Ransom chided.

“Shut up, ya punk!” Steve retorted as he began thrusting into you loving the way your pussy clenched around him like a vice’s grip.

“Open wide, kitten,” Ransom started to push his throbbing cock into your mouth.

It took a bit of time and effort to loosen your jaw enough for him to fully enter you. He started fucking your mouth before you were ready. You tried not to gag he was so rough.

What happened to the man from earlier?

“Fuckin’ perfect.” Ransom breathed as he was approaching his climax.

Steve came with a primal roar that reverberated throughout the room after making you come two more times.

“Swallow it, kitten” Ransom ordered.

Funny thing is, you didn’t need the order. You delighted in the salty, tangy, and slightly sweet flavor.

Two minutes after you swallowed all of Ransom’s spent, both men decided it was time to move. Ransom got onto the mattress and pulled you on top of him with his tip nudging your entrance. Steve got behind you and placed kisses along the juncture between your neck and shoulders while positioning himself at your ass.

“Please...please don’t do this!” you pleaded, the pill’s effect slipping for the tiniest of moments.

Steve grabbed your neck with just enough force to pause, not hurt.” Best be a good girl now, sweetheart,” he warned.

Ransom slid in first, “Holy fucking shit!” he moaned, “Sam owes me $40.

“That depends on how well their bride is taking to them,” Steve pointed out.

“Eh, we’ll say ours is better.”

Ransom moaned again once he bottomed out and grabbed the globes of your blessed backside. He couldn’t wait to grab and smack it around in their quarters.

Steve moved slowly causing both of your breathing to hitch, his from pleasure and yours from slight pain.

With a grin and smirk, they started moving in tandem. Your body almost couldn’t take the immense pleasure you were feeling.

“I could get used to this,” Ransom remarked.

“Well, we have the week,” Steve breathed past your ear.

Both kept at it until they came in you twice. You nearly passed out after your twelfth orgasm.

“Rest kitten,” Ransom purred as you finally gave in to your exhaustion.

“The bride took to our seed,” Steve reported to Director Pierce.

“Good. We found their parents along with the rest of the resistance.” Pierce imparted.

Steve scowled at the information.

You and your friend, Isabeau, were the only ones to survive the Eve Project. HYDRA wanted to genetically groom compatible brides for their top soldiers. You were promised to Steve and Ransom and your friend to Bucky and Sam. Both of you were whisked away to another Earth by the resistance and your treacherous parents.

Now you were back where you belong.

“When do we leave?” Ransom growled.

“Once Strange and Wanda crack the protection spell. In the meantime, enjoy your bride.” Pierce turned to leave, but stopped before turning off the screen,” I want to see some little ones soon.”

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a-series-of-whumpy-events · 3 years ago

Text

Ah, I remember writing this in the back of a car while my sister took a left turn like a NASCAR driver in a church parking lot. Three-way driving lessons = writing time but also unpredictable speed changes and turns.

Anyway, here’s the next part of Gamble! Ugh, I love this series so much.

Warnings: minor discussions of violence

Taglist: @winedark-whump @whumpers-inc @pepperonyscience @redwingedwhump @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @stab-the-son-of-a @caspia-writes @kim-poce @screechingqueenmentality @nine-tailed-whump @worstcasescenariolullaby @newbornwhumperfly

Gamble Part 2

Sir Myles stroked Johara’s nose, laughing as the mare pushed into his palm. “You can handle a bit more weight today, can’t you, my beautiful?” She whinnied, tossing her head. “Well, seeing as how I can’t tell if that’s a yes or a no, we’ll throw in some extra oats tonight and call it even, hmm?”

“She’s a beautiful horse,” Sir Robert remarked, coming up from behind Sir Myles. “You breed them yourself?”

“Yes, my Arabians are my passion,” Sir Myles answered. “Not as big or strong as your warhorses, but there’s nothing like them for speed. My stallion, Malik, is the fastest I’ve ever seen.”

“That is the downside of my warhorses- they’re such large creatures that their speed leaves something to be desired,” Sir Robert agreed. He reached out to pet Johara’s nose. “She really is a beauty. I’d have been honored to win her.”

“Until that last roll, I was certain you would. You’re an excellent dice player.”

“You as well. Unfortunately for you, I would not count it as lucky to take the prize you won. My Squire is…the word obstinate comes to mind. Can’t get him to do anything, and most of what he does is done wrong. I’m afraid you’ve got the bad end of our deal, Sir Myles.”

Sir Myles kept smiling, wondering how many times the little Squire had heard such cruel words. “I’ll manage, Sir Robert.”

“I’m sure. Let me fetch the lad while you finish with your horse.”

Sir Myles waited until the man’s footsteps faded away, then sighed, leaning his head against Johara’s shoulder. “This is going to be a rough one, eh, my beautiful? And of course I still need to worry about what Beau will say.”

He put aside his thoughts and turned his attention to getting Johara ready to leave Castle Drakehold. She stood still and patient while he tacked her up, only shifting a little. Sir Myles made sure to pet and praise her as he worked. She seemed excited to leave, stamping when he opened the stall door and tossing her head up and down as he led her from the stable. “I know, my beautiful, you’re eager to be home,” Sir Myles said to calm her, running his fingers through Johara’s mane.

“She’s even more lovely in the sun,” Sir Robert’s now-familiar voice rang out. “Ah, we’ll have to play another game of dice sometime. I’d love another chance at winning her.”

Sir Myles smiled. “I would certainly not turn that down,” he said, his eyes on the small figure trailing after Sir Robert.

Sir Robert stepped forward and held out an arm, and the two Knights shook hands. “I hope to see you again sometime,” Sir Robert declared.

“Same to you,” Sir Myles said, keeping his smile up. He put his foot in the stirrup and settled himself onto Johara’s back. “Perhaps next time at my castle?”

“I’d be happy to take you up on that.” Sir Robert grabbed the boy and shoved him forward. “As promised, sir, your prize.”

Sir Myles glanced over the boy, his heart aching at the many little things that seemed so wrong on him- the faded blue and white livery hanging loosely off of him, the dark bruise staining his freckled face, the pale scar that traced across his left cheek and down through the edge of his mouth. He shifted backward, making room for the boy in front of him, but Sir Robert waved his hand. “There’s no need for that. The lad can walk. He’s stronger than he seems.”

I highly doubt that. In front of the other Knight, however, Sir Myles shrugged carelessly. “I suppose we should be off, then. Isabeau will stay up waiting for me, and we’re likely to get there after dark anyways. Luckily my castle isn’t too far away.”

“I look forward to seeing you again,” Sir Robert said. He pushed the little Squire forward. The boy hesitated a moment, and Sir Robert raised a hand. The boy flinched and scurried to Johara, eyeing the horse nervously.

“Fare thee well!” Sir Robert called.

Sir Myles waved and nudged Johara’s side. “Come on, girl. Let’s get home.” Johara nickered and started into a trot, the little Squire following a few feet behind her.

Sir Myles waited about ten minutes, until they turned a sharp curve that blocked them from sight of Castle Drakehold, and pulled Johara to a halt, dismounting. Cautiously, he approached the boy, holding out a hand. “Come on, lad. I’ll not make you walk the whole way back to my castle.”

The boy glanced nervously at Johara. “Afraid of horses? Johara’s gentle as a kitten. She won’t throw you. And you’ll sit right in front of me- no danger of falling.”

The little Squire bit his lip, but he obediently followed Sir Myles to the horse. He let out a tiny squeak of fear as Sir Myles lifted him onto Johara’s back. He’s trembling, poor thing. And he weighs about as much as a small bird! I’m glad I got him away from Sir Robert, even if Isabeau doesn’t approve.

Sir Myles waited until the boy settled in, clutching at strands of Johara’s mane. “Comfortable?”

“Y-yes, sir.” The Squire had a small, thin voice to match his small, thin frame, and the same accent as Sir Robert.

Sir Myles leapt up behind him, gently nudging Johara into a slightly slower pace. “I suppose we ought to get to know each other,” he said. “I’m Sir Myles Peregrine. Would you tell me your name?”

Oddly, the boy flinched at that. “James, sir. James Rey.”

“Pleasure to meet you, James.”

James shrank into himself as Sir Myles addressed him by name. Hmm. Sir Myles’ brow furrowed.

“I’m not going to hurt you, James,” he said softly. “I’m not like Sir Robert. I’ve never had a Squire before- I can’t say I’ll be perfect at it. But I saw the way he treated you. That’s not how a Knight acts. I swore when I was Knighted to never act in unfairness, cruelty, or deceit. Sir Robert swore the same Oath, but he has clearly broken it.” Sir Myles sighed. “I won’t tell you not to be afraid of me. That will come with time. I simply want to assure you that you’re safe now. I am not going to hurt you, James, and neither will anyone in my castle. I swear it.”

He saw the boy’s hands clench into fists briefly, and then loosen as he squared his thin shoulders. “My…my name isn’t James,” he said, barely above a whisper. “Well, it is…but…Mum always called me Jemmy. Sir…Sir Robert said I had to be James.” He ducked his head, hiding his face behind sandy curls. “I…I don’t like being James very much.”

“Would you like me to call you Jemmy?”

The boy nodded hesitantly, his eyes fixed between Johara’s ears.

Sir Myles smiled a bit. “Then Jemmy you shall be.”

He wasn’t sure, but he thought the smallest bit of the fear seeping from Jemmy’s every pore faded just slightly.

—————————————————————

Just as Sir Myles had predicted, Castle Forêtcolline came into view just as the sun slipped behind the trees. Sir Myles sighed, urging Johara on a little faster. “My home, Castle Forêtcolline,” he said to Jemmy. “Not as large as Castle Drakehold, certainly. But it’s a beautiful place, with the river and all.”

Johara’s hooves thumped gently on the grass as Sir Myles guided her through the arched entrance to the castle. He looked around fondly, smiling as he slipped off of Johara’s back.

“Sir Myles!” Two young men hurried across the courtyard, one red-cheeked and ruddy, the other with tawny skin and hair as black as Sir Myles’ own, both dressed in livery of purple and yellow. The taller, darker one went immediately to Johara’s head, petting her and whispering to her in Spanish. The shorter one began unloading the horse, lifting the bags with ease. “How was your trip, sir?”

“Excellent, thank you, Timothy.” Sir Myles stepped out of the way. “Has either of you ever heard of a Sir Robert Drake?”

“Can’t say I have,” Timothy replied. “Lorenzo? Does Sir Robert Drake sound familiar?”

Lorenzo shook his head. “Is that who you stayed with last night, sir? The lady was worried for you.”

Of course she was, Sir Myles thought, letting a rather lovesick grin slip onto his face.

“I’ll go and tell her you’ve returned before I take Johara back to the stables,” Lorenzo said.

Timothy reached for another bag and seemed to finally notice Jemmy. “Hello,” he said, flashing a grin. “Sir Myles, you seem to have picked up a stray.”

“Timothy,” Lorenzo cut in, his voice firm. When the other boy looked at him, Lorenzo shook his head. Timothy’s expression turned confused for a moment before he nodded and let Jemmy be.

Sir Myles gave Lorenzo an approving glance and moved over to Johara. “Come on, lad. Let’s get you down from there.”

Jemmy slipped from the saddle fairly easily, but he stumbled when his feet hit the ground, and Sir Myles quickly steadied him. Jemmy flinched at his touch, so he let the boy go as soon as he was sure he wouldn’t fall.

Sir Myles gestured to Timothy, moving over to the other side of the courtyard. “You didn’t do anything wrong, lad. He’s just very skittish right now. It was a…bad situation I pulled him out of.”

“I can see that,” Timothy replied, his usual cheerful face painted with a frown. “He reminds me of the puppy ‘Renzo rescued from the trapper last year. You could tell that dog was used to being whipped. Poor thing was too scared to even try to bite and bark.”

“That’s an apt description, I’m afraid.” Sir Myles sighed. “Look, go upstairs and see if you can find Will. Have him make up a bed for the boy in my room- somewhere near the fire, I think, this night air can’t be good for him. And tell him to bring up some food, too.” He rubbed his thumb over his fist again. “I’ll take Jemmy to see Isabeau.”

“The lady’s not one to shout and scream when she don’t like something,” Timothy said, his grin returning. “But if she don’t approve of this, you’ll be in a heap of trouble.”

Sir Myles heaved another sigh. “Don’t I know it.”

He stood outside of Isabeau’s door for nearly five minutes when he went to see her, turning over in his mind just how reckless a decision he had made. He and Isabeau had separate chambers as well as a shared one, and whenever he was away she came here. He bit his lip, pressed a finger to his lips to signal Jemmy to be quiet, and opened the door as silently as he could.

Isabeau sat with her back to the door, writing. Myles gestured for Jemmy to follow him, slipped behind her, and wrapped his hands around her eyes. “I’ve brought back a surprise,” he said, his voice teasing. “Guess what it is.”

“Oh, Myles, how can I possibly-“

“It’s alive, love of my heart.”

“Alive? It had better not be another bird, I am sick and tired of them having the bad grace to die two days after we start to nurse them.”

“Not a bird.”

“A squirrel?”

“Considerably bigger than a squirrel, I’d say.”

“Myles, you didn’t buy another dog.”

“Bigger, though not by much.”

“Bigger than- if I turn around to find a horse in my chamber, you and the horse may both spend the night in the barn.”

Myles laughed. “Smaller than that, don’t you worry.”

“Oh, Myles, what is it?”

He turned her around and uncovered her eyes.

Isabeau gasped. “Oh! Oh, Myles!” She leapt up, snatching a scarf from the table and hastily tying it over her pale hair. “Heaven preserve us, Myles, what have you done?”

“I seem to have found myself with a Squire, my heart.” He brought Jemmy forward, again feeling him cringe at the contact and letting him go as soon as possible. “This is Jemmy Rey.”

“Pleased to make your acquaintance,” Isabeau breathed. She still seemed in shock.

Luckily, Will, Sir Myles’ servant, appeared in the doorway. “Everything’s arranged, sir,” he said. “Would you like me to take the lad now?”

“I think that might be for the best,” Sir Myles agreed. He needed to explain to Isabeau.

Jemmy still looked terrified. Sir Myles knelt down so he could look into the boy’s face. “I want you to go with Will, all right? He’s not going to hurt you, I promise. He’s going to give you something to eat and show you where you can sleep tonight.”

Jemmy nodded jerkily, his eyes on the ground. Sir Myles’ heart throbbed again at the fear that still ran through the boy. What did Sir Robert do to you?

Jemmy obediently followed Will out of the room, his head down. Sir Myles heaved a deep breath and turned to Isabeau.

She looked stricken. “Where did you find him, Myles? The poor lad’s afraid of his own shadow!”

“That was why I had to rescue him,” Sir Myles said. He sat down on the bed, and Isabeau joined him, folding her hands in her lap and untying her scarf, letting her hair spill over her shoulders.

“All right, Myles. I’ve never known you to make a foolish decision, so why don’t you explain yourself?

Sir Myles shifted. “I stayed at the castle of a Knight called Sir Robert Drake last night,” he told her. “We actually got along quite well. He’s a charming man, and very handsome.”

“Should I be worried about this fellow taking my place?” Isabeau teased.

“I could never break my vows to you, not for any handsome knight or beautiful damsel,” he told her. “He was handsome, though.”

“Where does Jemmy come into all of this?”

“Jemmy was Sir Robert’s Squire, and Sir Robert treated him so cruelly that I could hardly believe my eyes. Right in front of me, too, as if it was hardly a thing to be ashamed of! Almost as if he expected me to be impressed by how harsh he was with Jemmy.”

“I saw the bruise on his face,” Isabeau said softly.

“He received that when Sir Robert backhanded him so hard it sent him into the wall.” Sir Myles ran his thumb over his fist again, and Isabeau gently laid her hand atop his. “He said such terrible things about Jemmy, called him a simpleton, a blockhead, said he was lazy and disobedient. All through supper he kept up a barrage of insults, and blows, too. Jemmy looked as if he was about to cry, the poor lad.”

“So how did you get him, Myles? Knights don’t simply give their Squires to other Knights.”

“Sir Robert did,” Sir Myles answered. “In a sense, anyway. I…I played dice with him after supper.”

“Myles.”

“I know, I know. It was just to try and save the boy, I swear! I could hardly believe Sir Myles was even willing to wager his Squire. Although I confess I did wait until he was drunk.”

“So what did you bet?”

Sir Myles coughed. “Er…Johara.”

“Myles!”

“What else was I supposed to do, Beau? I couldn’t leave Jemmy there!”

“You bet one of your best horses on a game of dice to try to save one abused boy?”

“Yes.”

Isabeau sighed. “Myles…in some ways, I am proud of you for that, and in others, I am not. Even from meeting him briefly I can see that Jemmy has been through too much suffering. But you told me a few months ago you weren’t ready to take on a Squire.”

“I still don’t know if I am,” Sir Myles admitted. “But Jemmy needed my help. I swore to protect the weak and defenseless, and if taking him as my Squire was the only way to protect Jemmy, then I feel I must.”

“I’m still unsure about the whole matter.” Isabeau ran her hands through her hair. “But I support you in your decision. Just don’t make a habit of bringing home strays. Animals, I don’t mind. But people?” She laid her head on his shoulder. “Though I suppose it might be good to have a younger face about the castle.” Her voice had turned wistful, a shade of sorrow in it.

“Isabeau, I did not marry you to bear me sons and daughters. I married you, not what you can give me. You are enough for me, love of my heart.”

She kissed him at that. “And you are enough for me, my reckless, gambling, overly compassionate husband. Now, why don’t you go and see to the boy? He must still be frightened.”

“You don’t want me to stay with you?”

Isabeau shook her head. “One more night without your company will be endurable, I think. You’ve brought Jemmy back. You should care for him, at least this first night. I think he needs you more than I do- and more than he knows, the poor lad.” She flashed him a smile. “Besides, I have rather enjoyed these past few nights of quiet, without your snoring to keep me up.”

“Isabeau, I don’t snore!”

Laughing, Isabeau sprang off of the bed and shooed Sir Myles out of the room.

———————————————————————

Read the previous part here!

#piper writes whump #whump #whump writing #historical whump #medieval whump #sir myles peregrine #sir robert drake #jemmy rey #gamble

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heartofstanding · 4 years ago

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Catherine de Valois as a political figure

OK, so, @lady-plantagenet asked me about 3 billion years ago if there’s any evidence that Catherine de Valois was politically astute, given the frequent trope in historical fiction as presenting her as the best choice for Henry VI’s regent but crushed by those sexist English. And then I spent 3 billion years writing a post which feels like 3 billion words long, and then I spent 3 billion years tweaking it. Fun!

The short answer is no. The evidence simply doesn’t exist to make any reasonable assessment of Catherine’s queenship and it’s not so much that the evidence has been lost, as is most likely the case with Anne of Bohemia, but that it never really existed. Catherine’s time as Queen-Consort of England was very short and didn’t allow her the time or opportunity to establish herself as a political figure. This impacted the roles she could play in her son’s reign, with the result that she seems to have kept (or been kept) away from politics.

This doesn’t mean she was unintelligent, vapid or stupid as some historians have labelled her. It doesn’t make her an oppressed political genius either. It just means we don’t have evidence and can’t tell either way what sort of queen she had been or could’ve been.

Under the cut is a much more detailed breakdown of Catherine’s political career. I’m hoping @beardofkamenev or @skeleton-richard can chime in if I’ve gotten anything wrong or missed something.

(Also I should point out that is only based on the scholarly works I’ve read and that I don’t have access to or the ability to read any primary sources relating Catherine’s life except those quoted in my research.)

Catherine’s education and childhood

There’s very little information about Catherine’s childhood and adolescence. I can tell you that she was born 27 October 1401 to Isabeau of Bavaria and Charles VI of France and she reputedly spent some of her childhood in a convent (this was a fairly typical choice for the upbringing of noblewomen and did not mean any sacrifice of luxury or education). Catherine also had pet turtledoves, was regularly provided for in her mother’s accounts and spent a significant amount of time with her mother. There are stories that she and her siblings were very neglected and abused but the most recent work on Isabeau finds these stories unsupported by contemporary evidence and owe more to the posthumous blackening of Isabeau’s reputation.

In 1403, when Catherine was 2, she was provisionally betrothed to the heir of Louis, Duke of Bourbon and in 1409, when she was 8, she was mentioned as a potential bride for Henry V (a match between Henry V and one of Charles VI’s daughters was first mooted in 1395 by Richard II and was seriously considered from 1408 on but 1409 is the first time Catherine is mentioned by name in these talks), and the idea of their marriage would recur frequently in Anglo-French diplomacy onwards. Given that, I think it’s pretty reasonable to assume that Catherine was raised and educated with the expectation that she would one day hold a high-ranking position and that it was very possible that she would be Queen of England one day. The education of noblewomen isn’t that well-evidenced but she would have literate, multilingual and, contrary to her Shakespearian counterpart, I think it’s very likely she was fluent in English when she and Henry V met (Henry, of course, would’ve been fluent in French like all English nobility).

France in the early 15th century was pretty damn tumultuous. Charles VI had periods of insanity during which he would be unable to rule, meaning power rested in other figures, such as his uncles and their sons (most notably, the Dukes of Burgundy) or his brother, Louis, Duke of Orleans. Isabeau, the queen, was appointed regent by Charles during one of his ‘sane periods’ but all of her decisions were subject to the scrutiny of Charles’ male relatives. The tensions between these figures escalated to the point where John the Fearless, Duke of Burgundy assassinated Orleans and kickstarted the Armagnac–Burgundian Civil War that lasted into the 1430s.

Isabeau remained the de facto head of the royal family until Charles’ death, often standing in for him when he was unwell, but lacked the ability and means to enforce her own will - she had no military force of her own, for instance - which meant she often had to side with whoever currently had the advantage (or whoever had custody of the king, herself and/or the dauphin). In the end, she was forced to side against her own son, the future Charles VII, through the Treaty of Troyes. We don’t have any evidence of Catherine’s thoughts or feelings about the civil war, the war with England or her mother’s ability to wield power. But it’s not impossible that Catherine grew up knowing that women could wield power but instead of the modern idealised view of a powerful historical woman, she understood that, in her own time, a woman’s power was always provisional, always subject to male authority and could result in tragedy.

Catherine as Queen-Consort

Catherine and Henry V were married on 2 June 1420 after the Treaty of Troyes and although there are records that she joined him for some sieges (Henry V: not very good at honeymoons) there’s no evidence of her doing anything except presumably making music (not a euphemism: Henry bought them both harps). They returned to England in February 1421 and Catherine was coronated three weeks after her arrival.

There is a lot to suggest Catherine’s symbolic worth as both the bringer of peace between England and France and as a tangible result from Henry V’s French wars. We have accounts of ceremonial entries into Paris, Rouen, Dover and London, and together she and Henry toured the English countryside after her coronation. This tour tends to be characterised as Henry showing himself and his new queen to the country in order to rustle up more funding/loans for his war - Katherine J. Lewis even suggests that some of Henry’s domestic “wins” from this time were “in reward” for finally marrying and moving to produce an heir. However, I could find no reference of Catherine doing anything notable on this tour herself.

Well, apart from one thing: Henry VI was conceived in March 1421.

Two months later, Henry V returned to France while Catherine remained in England. Henry VI was born on 6 December 1421. There’s no record of what Catherine was doing throughout her pregnancy - she may have been on the equivalent of “maternity leave” throughout its entirety (I couldn’t find anything about the duties a pregnant medieval queen was expected to fulfil beyond the idea that they would have a period of confinement that began before the birth and ended with the queen being churched and returning to public life 4-6 weeks after the birth).

In May 1422, Catherine travelled to France to reunite with Henry V. Henry, at this stage, was pretty sick but how sick is unknown. He seems to have first become ill in December 1421 but there’s some suggestion he was in better health before his health dramatically worsened and he died on 31 August 1422. His brother, Bedford, was said to have remarked that he “found him worse than he had been told”. Catherine did not attend Henry’s deathbed for whatever reason and his will and the codicils added on his deathbed assigned her no political role. He did, however, leave items to her and expected her to reside with their son though she had no formal responsibility for their son’s upbringing.

Putting all the numbers together, Catherine was married to Henry for just over two years and they spent about half that time apart. She was a coronated queen for even less: 18 months, four months of which were spent in France, nine months were spent pregnant (assuming Henry VI was carried to term) and 4-6 weeks were spent in confinement after the birth. So Catherine’s time to be an active queen-consort in England was even shorter still, though how short is impossible to tell. Catherine’s behaviour might well have been impacted by Henry V’s absence from the country too as the traditional role for the queen as intercessor could only be performed when Henry was present to be interceded with.

We don’t have any record of Catherine ever interceding with him. She may well have, had Henry V lived longer. There is some suggestion Catherine was expected to have some power or sway: alongside Henry and their households, she received gifts from the municipal council of Amiens in the hope or expectation that they would act in the interests of Amiens. And there is some suggestion that she wasn’t afraid of asking Henry for support, or him trusting her judgement: her doctor was recommended by both Catherine and Henry for a benefice. But in terms of political activity, particularly independent political activity, there is little evidence.

That doesn’t mean she wasn’t active but that we don’t have evidence one way or another. I don’t think the assessment that she was unintelligent or passive is fair. If the historical record gives that impression, it’s largely because her time as queen was so short and circumstances gave her few opportunities for political action, either independently or in concert with her husband.

My thesis, basically, is that IF Henry V had lived longer and if Catherine had more time as queen consort, we would have more of a sense of her as a queen. We would have records of her interceding with Henry V, acting with regent-like powers when Henry was away, having a more apparent influence on her child’s upbringing, or even acting as a intermediary between her husband and her brother, Charles VII of France. At the very least, she may have established herself as queen long enough that she could more easily and more openly wield power during her son’s reign.

If that sounds unbelievable, these are all inspired by actual medieval noblewomen during the Hundred Years War. Philippa of Hainault was a famous intercessor, most notably interceding for the burghers of Calais after Edward III successfully beseiged the town. I’ve already talked about Isabeau of Bavaria above. Anne of Burgundy, Duchess of Bedford was credited with maintaining the good relations between her husband, John Duke of Bedford, and her brother, Philip the Good, Duke of Burgundy. Isabella of Portugal, Duchess of Burgundy was also an extremely capable and notable political figure.

Catherine as the Queen-Dowager

Catherine and the regency

To put it bluntly, Catherine was never considered as a possible regent for her son. There’s no evidence she ever was and it would go against all precedent if she had been - and not just because she was a woman or French. During the 14th and 15th centuries, England had four kings who came to the throne underage (Edward III, Richard II, Henry VI, Edward V) and not a single one of them had a regent governing for them. What happened instead was that a council was put together to rule for them, featuring high-ranking officials and clergy, but no woman. Even in France, the idea of a female regent was not especially common. Isabeau had to be appointed by Charles VI himself and then her ability to wield power independently was weak.

Sometimes Isabella of France is said to have been a regent for Edward III but while she may have behaved like one, she was never formally given the title and she was not part of his regency council. Joan of Kent, Richard II’s mother, is thought to have had some influence and power but her role was never formalised and the impact she had on politics tends to be a matter of speculation. Elizabeth Woodville was probably expected to follow in the same pattern - exercising influence and power but lacking a formal position - but Richard III gotta Richard III.

Henry VI’s minority reign was slightly different because having a 9-month-old baby as a king was wholly unprecedented (Richard II, the next-youngest, was ten years old when he became king) and they were dealing with the half-won conquest of France. Both of Henry V’s surviving brothers, John, Duke of Bedford and Humphrey, Duke of Gloucester made a claim to the regency (Gloucester may have been supported by a clause in Henry V’s will) and both were told, in the politest possible terms, to go jump. The post of Lord Protector was created as a sop for Gloucester and Bedford was Regent of France and held seniority over Gloucester when he was in England. Both Bedford and Gloucester were far more qualified for the regency than Catherine since they were both known and experienced figures who had previously served terms as regent during Henry V’s reign. Neither of them were got the regency.

Catherine, on the other hand, had spent about 14 months in England, including her pregnancy, and was young (not yet 22), inexperienced and French. Her own brother was the head of the army the English were fighting, which could potentially lead to questions about Catherine’s loyalty (e.g. Margaret of Anjou was seen to be more loyal to France than to England). Henry V’s sudden death and the extreme youth of his successor meant an uncertain future and, with that in mind, it’s far more plausible that, instead of a sexist agenda to crush Catherine despite her theoretical awesome political astuteness, the English nobility and parliament instead vested power in those who were known and trusted figures in England.

This doesn’t mean that the reason why Catherine was excluded from the regency council wasn’t sexist in nature. She was excluded because she was a woman and it doesn’t seem that women were ever considered a viable candidate for their underage sons’ regency council. It was not a personal vendetta against Catherine but institutionalised sexism that prevented Catherine and all women from being part of the council (and from performing other formal political roles that might qualify them for the council).

Catherine during the minority

Catherine’s actual role in Henry VI’s minority seems to have been largely symbolic: she would accompany him to parliament where he would sit on her lap or she would entertain guests such as James I of Scotland. This doesn’t mean she wasn’t involved in some way but any involvement seems to have been invisible. Unusually (and despite the number of “Henry was torn from her arms” moments in historical fiction), she seems to have resided with Henry until he was around 10 (medieval children were often separated from their mothers around 8) but responsibility for his upbringing and education was vested in English men, such as Richard Beauchamp, Earl of Warwick.

Catherine did lobby for James I of Scotland’s release (I thought there was a (probably false) account of her petitioning Henry V for the same after her coronation but I can’t find it now) but his release probably owed more to his marriage to Joan Beaufort, daughter of the Earl of Somerset, than to Catherine’s personal intervention.

Catherine also made grants to people who served her - an annual grant of £20 was made to Joan, wife of William Troutbeck for “her labour and charges in going to the King’s mother in foreign parts” and she gave her treasurer a chapel. This was fairly typical queenly behaviour - I’m entrigued by the reference to Joan Troutbeck (I assume it happened when Henry V was alive, though) but I couldn’t find any more information about it.

Catherine and the Gloucester-Beaufort conflict

Henry VI’s minority was marked by a clash between Humphrey, Duke of Gloucester (the youngest brother of Henry V) and Henry Beaufort, Bishop of Winchester, later cardinal, and the patriarch of the Beaufort family. It’s not clear when this conflict began though I tend to lean towards Susanne Saygin’s interpretation which suggests it only became a serious and open issue when Gloucester returned from his ill-fated Hainault campaign and found himself denied access to the Tower of London by Winchester’s orders - but that’s neither here nor there.

There are some suggestions that Catherine was closer to the Beauforts than Gloucester - spending Christmas with Winchester, for instance - but there is no clear evidence of her “siding” with anyone. This was actually a pretty clever thing to do because it meant she avoided attaching herself to one faction and becoming dependent on them. It also meant she was doing her job as queen properly - a queen was meant to be “above” the factionalism. Both Gloucester and Winchester were given responsibilities in her will, again suggesting that she was above their conflict. Gloucester’s biographer, Kenneth Vickers, without giving any details, says that she could’ve opposed Gloucester but didn’t (Vickers was a pretty sexist guy writing in 1908 so it’s pretty amazing that he assigns Catherine more political agency than most modern historical fiction authors and pop historians).

The biggest indicator of Catherine favouring the Beauforts, though, is her relationship with Edmund Beaufort.

Catherine, Edmund Beaufort and the Act of Parliament regulating the remarriage of queens

Catherine’s reputed affair with Edmund Beaufort tends to be read a political misstep by Catherine. I feel really mean saying that because a love affair should be something personal, not political, but, as the daughter, wife and mother of kings, Catherine’s personal life was intrinsically political and therefore the prospect of her remarriage was intrinsically political. A dowager queen of England, especially one with such a young son, remarrying was largely unprecedented and threw up problems for Henry VI’s regency council to deal with.

Would the queen’s person and her honour be disparaged by marrying a man inferior in status to her? (Obviously not but this was the 15th century so, yeah, it was a concern.) If she had children in this second marriage, how were they to be treated given they were part of the royal family? Could these children have a claim, for instance, on the crown of France before Henry V’s heirs? (The Treaty of Troyes was meant to secure the succession for Henry V’s heirs but, iirc, the fact that Henry V never inherited the throne of France himself was used to challenge Henry VI’s claim and, presumably, if Catherine had married a foreign prince, they could’ve easily disregarded the treaty to press their own claims.)

Then there are questions about the position of her husband, What influence would he have on the still very young Henry VI? What role would he play in English politics (again especially worrying if he was a foreigner)? Given that his authority would come from his relationship with Catherine and her proximity to Henry VI, his influence would be, like Catherine’s, invisible and unregulated. it would be hard for the regency council to moderate or remove her husband’s influence and he could potentially end up wielding huge amounts of influence, calling to mind the rise of Roger Mortimer, rumoured to be Isabella of France’s lover, in Edward III’s minority - but on a grander scale since he would be Catherine’s actual husband, not merely her lover.

This is particularly pertinent in Catherine’s situation. If she had married Edmund Beaufort, she would be unable to appear removed from the Gloucester-Beaufort conflict and in fact, this marriage could tip the balance of power towards the Beauforts. Catherine might have been aware of and wanted the political ramifications (#TeamBeaufort) or seen her remarriage as a way to assert herself more in English politics (#GirlBoss!). Or possibly she was just a young woman who was in love or lonely and heedless to the consequences (#Cathedmund? #Cathend?).

If she had married Edmund Beaufort, it would have had a huge impact on English politics. This might have given England more stability, ending the conflict between Gloucester and the Beauforts with a decisive Beaufort victory. Or it could have ignited a civil war - Gloucester was famously protective of his rights and what he believed were Henry V’s intentions while Bedford, although well-disposed to Winchester, seems to have been unhappy with the concept of Catherine remarrying too, especially if he felt it could encroach on his own rights which he was also fiercely protective of. Both of Henry V’s brothers were beloved public figures and any move that pushed them out of influence had the potential to backfire on the Beauforts who weren’t anywhere near as popular (e.g. London siding with Gloucester over his quarrel with Winchester in 1425 or how Gloucester’s death affected the public reputation of the Duke of Suffolk and Henry VI’s court in 1447-1450).

The problems with Catherine’s remarriage ended up resulting in an Act of Parliament regulating the remarriage of dowager queens.

Interestingly, Ralph A. Griffiths’s article discussing this Act suggests it was spurred, not by rumours of Catherine’s affair, but by a petition from her own borough of Leicester in 1426, asking that the chancellor should stop refusing to license Catherine’s remarriage. I’ve wondered if this meant she was behind the petition herself and that the reference to earlier attempts to have her remarriage licensed suggests that Catherine (or her agents or Edmund Beaufort) had actively trying to secure a license for her to remarry.

But if Catherine was behind the petition, she probably regretted it. The petition was received “coldly” by the regency council and led to the introduction of legislation that meant Catherine couldn’t remarry until Henry VI could consent as an adult (years and years away) without her husband losing his lands and goods. It also meant that from then on, she lost her own independent household and was housed inside Henry VI’s where a closer eye could be kept on her.

Although this is often presented as Gloucester’s doing, this parliament was actually presided over by his elder brother and political superior, John, Duke of Bedford, and he liked the Beauforts (and had the advantage of being removed from the Gloucester-Beaufort conflict by virtue of being out of the country for most of Henry VI’s minority) which suggests that, even as a somewhat independent and potentially sympathetic figure, he was far from happy with the concept of Catherine remarrying. Winchester seems to have supported the Act as well - the fact that he was also chancellor at the time and thus the one who had most recently refused Catherine’s license to remarry was perhaps a warning that this petition was likely to fail. Griffiths suggests he was “embarrassed” by the whole thing. Gloucester’s later behaviour suggests that he was not remotely sympathetic to the petition and may have pushed for harsher penalities (why are you like this Gloucester?).

This is super mean to say but it’s hard not to come to the conclusion that Catherine was startingly naive. If her interest in Edmund Beaufort was that of a woman in love or in need of company, she was either blind to or uncaring of the political problems surrounding her remarriage. If, on the other hand, she was making a play for more political power, she was heedless to the risks and opposition it was likely to garner.

Again, it isn’t fair on Catherine that her private life was so scrutinised and politicised. She was still very young, in a strange country with few of her own countrywomen to speak to, her father was dead and her mother was in France, now virtually powerless. All of the potential that her marriage to Henry V had offered her was gone. It’s natural that she would look to fill the loss of what being a queen-consort would have afforded her, whether it was in terms of grief at the loss of Henry V’s person or the opportunities and power her marriage had promised her. But the political realities of her situation and existence meant that her personal life wasn’t private but a public and political area of concern. That sucked but it was her life and I think we can agree Owen Tudor: Medieval Stud was a catch.

Catherine after the Act

Although the reaction to the petition may have limited Catherine’s independence, she still had some authority or influence. In 1432, Owen Tudor (who was by then Catherine’s husband) was given the rights of an Englishman which protected him from Henry IV’s anti-Welsh legislation and the fact that there was no move against Owen until after her death suggests she protected him in some way. She also granted him lands and revenue, suggesting she retained control of her own estates and was behaving in what was seen as an appropriate fashion.

It’s not clear who knew about her relationship with Owen Tudor. There’s some thought that it was an open secret amongst court circles which means it was at least tolerated and that’s the view I tend to follow - it’d be hard to keep it completely secret, especially when Catherine was often pregnant. Others think it was secret from all but a select few until some point in 1436 or even until after her death.

She died on 3 January 1437, not long after giving birth to her last child, at Bermondsey Abbey.

There is some belief, apparently begun by the famously unreliable Agnes Strickland, that Gloucester didn’t discover her relationship with Owen until 1436 at which point he forced her into the abbey where she died. However, such a view relies solely on Strickland’s suppositions and overlooks Catherine’s own words in her own will. She stated she suffered a “grievous malady, in the which I have been long, and yet am, troubled and vexed” and it’s more likely, imho, that her retirement to Bermondsey Abbey was a choice she made herself in view of her failing health. The idea that Gloucester “forced” her there is also at odds with her naming him as one of the supervisors of her will which was written while she was in the abbey - Winchester is also one of the supervisors, making it unlikely that Gloucester dictated it for her and again indicating Catherine positioned herself above their conflict. This doesn’t mean Gloucester was Team Catherine or Team Catherine/Owen - his behaviour in prosecuting Owen suggests he wasn’t - just that he wasn’t responsible for her retirement or death.

I haven’t read her will for myself but @beardofkamenev has and told me that she doesn’t mention her Tudor children in her will and probably communicated her wishes about them to Henry VI herself. This suggests she had some regular contact with her son and he respected her advice. He was only 16 when she died, though, and there is considerable debate about when (or even if) he began to exercise his own political agency.

Conclusions

As I said, there’s really no evidence that Catherine was politically astute and the idea that she would have been a great regent cannot be backed up by any evidence. Even if there was, her regency doesn’t seem to have ever been considered and it would be bizarre and notable if it was. England, in the 14th and 15th centuries, traditionally preferred a regency council, made up of men, to a single regent of any gender in the event of a king coming to the throne as a minor. In these cases, the king’s mother had no formalised role in the goverance of the country though they were presumed to have some influence and power.

Catherine’s apparent lack of influence or action as queen-consort or the dowager queen wasn’t about Catherine’s ability or skill but the circumstances she was in. She had little time or opportunity to establish herself as queen-consort before Henry V’s death and it’s not surprising that, given her youth, nationality, inexperience and relative newness to the English political scene that parliament preferred to vest powers in the familiar, tried and tested men who had served Henry IV and Henry V. It was not a slight against Catherine or a personal vendetta, just the reality of the world she lived in and its sexism.

It’s also worth noting that Catherine was also constrained by the roles a queen was expected to play. Queens were not expected to wield power openly but through a male relative (e.g. Isabeau through her husband, Margaret of Anjou through her son). They were also meant to be impartial and above conflicts and factions at court. This means that a lot of their actions or influence were invisible or virtually invisible. We might read Catherine as “passive” but she was behaving as a queen was meant to. The notorious “she-wolf” medieval queens were all conventional, passive queens until circumstances and necessity pushed them into a different role.

It’s possible, too, that Catherine just didn’t want to be involved in politics. This doesn’t make her useless or stupid either. She had grown up in a divided France, had seen her mother - although nominally regent for Charles VI - forced to deal with whatever faction held power, sometimes separated from her family, imprisoned and cut off from her own revenues, and, in the end, was forced to side against her own son. Henry VI’s minority was far more stable than most of Charles VI’s reign but it’s not that dissimilar. There were divisions in Henry VI’s court that did eventually erupt into civil war and Henry VI, like his grandfather, was plagued by periods of insanity (it may be that Henry VI inherited his mental illness from his maternal grandfather). It is not impossible that Catherine, aware of her mother’s experiences, knew that while a woman might wield power, it was conditional and that they also tended to be punished for it. Nor is it impossible that Catherine, recognising similarities between her father’s reign and her son’s minority, decided to stay removed from potential conflict and from politics.

IMO, any assessment of Catherine’s political ability would have been very different had Henry V lived for longer. Regardless of what they felt about each other (that’s a whole other post), she would have had more time to establish herself as a familiar, trustworthy figure to the English and more time to develop her own style of queenship, leaving behind far more evidence to assess her political skill on.

Part of the issue is that when Catherine is assessed as a historical figure, it’s usually along the lines of her love life or reproductive qualities. Whenever I looked up a biography of Catherine, it usually began by questioning if she and Henry V really did love each other - with oodles of references to Shakespeare’s Henry V - before discussing her relationships with Edmund Beaufort and Owen Tudor. There’s also the Ricardian nonsense of trying to work out if Owen Tudor really was her husband (yep) and the father of her Tudor children (yep). In more general histories, Catherine is more of... a political symbol, not an individual. Not once does she ever be considered a political figure in her own right, however short-lived and shadowy.

Kavita Mudan Finn notes that Tudor-era depictions of Catherine have tended to ignore and de-emphasise her “startling agency” in marrying Owen to present her as the predestined Matriarch of the Tudors, not as an individual woman with power and/or agency of her own. I feel like we’re still doing this in a way: we focus on her as a romantic heroine and/or as a political pawn/symbol and don’t bother to look at her as someone who could - and did - possess agency and power in her own life. Even the novels that claim Catherine would be an amazing regent for her baby son never really seem to depict her with any agency or any political awareness, much less skill at navigating the complex political world(s) she inhabited. These types of novel still, ultimately, present Catherine as a pawn but they just make it a point that she’s “forced” into that position. But she’s going to mash her face against a soggy cardboard cutout of an attractive man that we’ll pretend is Owen Tudor so she still gets to be the romantic heroine.

I guess what I’m trying to say here is that, while Catherine was never a queen in the model of the “she-wolves” and while acknowledging that she lived in a sexist society that controlled and constrained her, we do her a disservice by viewing her purely as a willing or unwilling pawn. At the end of the day, whether it is invisible to modern eyes or not, Catherine had considerable power (certainly more than most women of her era) and, yes, agency. She was not a hapless victim swept along by a tide of sexism and personal vendettas but a woman who could and did shape her own life in extraordinary ways.

Sources

Tracy Adams, The Life and Afterlife of Isabeau of Bavaria (John Hopkins University Press, 2010) Tracy Adams, ‘Medieval Mothers and their Children: The Case of Isabeau of Bavaria in Light of Medieval Conduct Books’ in Childhood in the Middle Ages and the Renaissance: The Results of a Paradigm Shift in the History of Mentality (De Gruyter, 2005) Christopher Allmand, Henry V (Yale University Press, 1997) Juliet Barker, Conquest: The English Kingdom of France in the Hundred Years War (Abacus, 2009) Teresa Cole, Henry V: The Life of the Warrior King & the Battle of Agincourt (Amberley, 2016) Stephen J. Corvi, Plantagenet Queens and Consorts (Amberley, 2019) Anne Curry, Henry V: Playboy Prince to Warrior King (Penguin, 2018) Kavita Mudan Finn, The Last Plantagenet Consorts: Gender, Genre, and Historiography, 1440-1627 (Palgrave Macmillan, 2012) Rachel Gibbons, ‘Isabeau of Bavaria, Queen of France (1385-1422): The Creation of a Historical Villainess’ in Transactions of the Royal Historical Society, Sixth Series, Vol 6 (1996), pp. 51-73. Rachel C. Gibbons, ‘The Queen as “social mannequin’. Consumerism and expenditure at the Court of Isabeau of Bavaria, 1393-1422′ in Journal of Medieval History, Vol 26, No, 4 (2000) pp. 371-395 Ralph A. Griffiths, ‘Queen Katherine of Valois and a Missing Statute of the Realm’ in King and Country: England and Wales in the Fifteenth Century (Bloomsbury Academic, 2003) Lisa Hilton, Queens Consort: England’s Medieval Queens (Phoenix, 2009) Michael Jones, ‘Catherine [Catherine of Valois]’ in Oxford Dictionary of National Biography (Oxford, 2004) Katherine J. Lewis, Kingship and Masculinity in Late Medieval England (Routledge, 2013) Amy Licence, Red Roses: Blanche of Gaunt to Margaret Beaufort (The History Press, 2017) John Matusiak, Henry V (Routledge, 2013) Helen E. Maurer, Margaret of Anjou: Queenship and Power in Late Medieval England (Boydell, 2005). Nicholas Orme, Childhood to Chivalry: The Education of the English Kings and Aristocracy, 1066-1530 (Routledge, 2019) Jonathon Sumption, The Hundred Years War IV: Cursed Kings (Faber & Faber, 2015) Kenneth Vickers, Humphrey Duke of Gloucester (Project Gutenberg, 2012)

#catherine de valois #text posts #long post #just in case the cut doesn't work

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oldearthcartography · 4 years ago

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for annette!! 💕— What makes them feel connected to their partner? 💘— What was one of the first things that attracted them to their partner? 🎁— What kind of gifts do they like to give? What do they like receiving?💧— Random angst headcanon

Annette

(sorry, this got really long, I have a lot of thoughts about this absolute mess of a character)

💕— What makes them feel connected to their partner?

Honestly she’s still working on this. She’s spent a lot of her life avoiding connecting with other people. I think there are two different answers for Daine and with Abbie because of how different the progression/dynamics are.

For Daine, it’s still rocky, she’s less sure of where she stands with Daine and how Daine feels about her (probably because Daine is less sure of how exactly she feels about her). She feels most connected to Daine I think when Daine lets herself relax and enjoy the things she enjoys rather than worrying about the future/her goals, when she lets herself be in the present around Annette (rather than anxiety mix of past/future) and when she shows that she is actually concerned about Annette’s feelings/comfort despite the tension and uncertainty. Like, when she (with the help of Abbie... lets be real Abbie did it, she just told Abbie she wanted it to happen but didn’t know how to get it done) instigated that music night and Daine relaxed and actually danced with her, and was like “are you having fun, I’m not sure if this is your scene?” while Annette was just in her head like “yeah, of course I’m enjoying this. Like, I don’t know what I’m doing, but I wanted to see you relaxed again like you were before you found out who I was. And I’m glad that I could be part of making that happen.”

With Abbie I think she feels a lot more connected/sure of that connection most of the time. Abbie has unconditional and absolutely genuinely sincere down pat and that’s something that Annette has really not had much of in her life at all. I think the way she trusts that she can tell/show Abbie almost anything about herself and knows that it’s somehow weirdly not going to affect how Abbie treats/views her is a really powerful feeling for her. It’s steadying and comforting and probably more than anything else is needed while she tries to figure out who she actually is, because she finds it hard to worry that Abbie will react to changes poorly. She also has noticed Abbie making those nods to a shared background and even if she doesn’t really feel like she’s really like Abbie, (because who could be?) she appreciates it nonetheless. Also the easy way Abbie accepts and invites physical affection doesn’t hurt either. I just think Abbie is a very easy person to feel connected to. At the same time in some situations these same qualities infuriate and worry Annette... like right now... getting ready to go into the “academy” knowing that if things go really wrong getting Abbie out if she can’t also get herself/everyone else out is going to be very difficult/painful if it can be done... and she also knows that Abbie and Abbie’s safety is a GIANT liability for her (so is Daine’s but she trusts her ability to get Daine to do something more than her ability to get Abbie to).

💘— What was one of the first things that attracted them to their partner?

I’ll focus on Daine for this one and Abbie for the one Dimpal sent me (even though there’s some common themes here...) XD... Also... sorry this got long... I apparently have THOUGHTS

So Daine was the first one since Ellyse who got through the “I do not want to care about anyone, it’s way easier to just look out for yourself, other people are just a liability that can be used to screw you over” protective walls and made her go “fuck... oh shit... oh fuck...”. I think there is a common theme in who Annette (/Isabeau) falls hard for and it tends to be people who:

1) are “different”, by which I mean those who defy her (empire trained) expectations of how they should be/ behave. It’s this that catches her attention;

2) The sense that they are less interested in her mask than what’s potentially under it. Or perhaps more accurately at this stage in her life - where she’s kinda fumbling to figure out who she is without a mask/role to perform - rather that they aren’t looking for people around them to perform a specific expected role and/or to be useful to them in order to want them around... because yeah, she’s a little jaded by years of ingratiating herself into groups by seeming to be exactly what people want/expect and being useful to them. Also by knowing how quickly you can drive a wedge between people/make them turn on eachother by making others break/or seem to break those expectations;

3) It also doesn’t hurt that Daine is... well.. have you SEEN the Daine art?

For point 1... here’s Annette coming aboard the Shanty, knowing very little about Daine other than that she’s nobility and captain of a crew that seems to enjoy some dramatic theatrics. She’s expecting someone self-centered and entitled, who believes she’s entitled to be in charge. She expects that Daine’s reasons for turning pirate are going to be ultimately selfish and probably foolish (whether it was for a lark/ due to boredom with their old life, for profit or some other convoluted justification - hell, she probably wouldn’t have been surprised if Daine was out here originally doing this pirating FOR her family, causing problems for rival interests, but then decided she’d rather keep the profit for herself, so NOW they’re asking for help reeling her in).

But instead of any of that she finds this kind of strange, but genuinely welcoming pirate who is a Captain in name but seems to operate with a very flat team structure, treating her crew more as friends/family than underlings. Someone who she can absolutely see would have fit in as well with the expectations of nobility as much as Ellyse had (even though Ellyse and Daine are markedly different, this comparison was one of the first things to put a crack in the wall). She’s confronted with Daine openly displaying their passion for and genuine delight in music and warmth and care for her crew (including the practically a stranger Annette) without seeming to worry about how that could be used by others or because she was looking to gain something from them. Who seems genuinely in it because she is incensed by the injustices of the empire with personal profit definitely low on the list considering the state of the coffers when she came aboard.

So all of this puts the chink in the armor... but she’s seen passionate people who have genuine interest in helping others before... she’s fought off the feelings before knowing that letting idealists get to you just means you get hurt with them.... but...

For point 2. You top all this off with the fact that Daine had surrounded herself with the strangest, unruly, unlikely crew of people Annette had ever met. This group who accepts eachother’s (for Empire-raised Annette, extreme) eccentricities as if that’s normal and seem to genuinely like and care for one another not so much despite the weirdness but including it. There was a certain amount of unconditionally in the relationships on board that caught her off guard... she expected people to relate to her more on the “skills you are offering us” side (because that’s usually what every other group she’s infiltrated have focused on, she chose the Annette alias specifically because the skillset could be useful to pirates and sweetened the pot with cooking thinking she’d need to justify her usefulness to remain on board) and instead when she offers those skills they’re accepted as options but they don’t seem expected as part of being allowed to stay....

And that, combined with the rest, was enough to break down the barriers enough that she couldn’t help but actually start to want that connection for real and start noticing all those small things you start to notice about the people you care about and genuinely regret that she was on this ship as part of a job. She fought it hard because she knew that no matter how accepting they were of each other, the reality of who she was and why she was there was absolutely a different case... plus she had worked hard to be in a position where she felt fairly secure that no one could screw her over, and caring about this crew? About Daine? Defecting from the General’s service, losing her protection and gaining her as an enemy, and gaining 3 new ways people could attack her indirectly? And another person who could hurt her just basically by existing and reacting rationally to the truth about Isabeau? Well there’s a reason her reaction was “Oh fuck, fuck. Oh shit. Fuck. Nope this is not good”.

🎁— What kind of gifts do they like to give? What do they like receiving?

Weirdly this one is difficult for me to answer... I think in general it’s things where she can see the thought behind them, and appreciates them as the gesture more than it is about the actual thing? (She’s up in her head about examining people’s motivations a lot). For example, the fact that Daine’s courtship dagger was tailored to the style Daine had seen her gravitate towards rather than with a style meant to represent Daine, for example was absolutely something that (along with the offer of courtship itself) did floor her for a moment, because it was a fairly clear message to her (a. I’m doing this the traditional way but not strictly within the norms; b. I’m trying to see you rather than just picking something easy because it’s about me and c. I’m not using this opening gift as a “public claim”/”message” that other people will read about you if you carry this so much as an offer between the two of us that only people you want to know will know the significance of.... which meant a lot to her honestly... even though she was at that point still kicking herself over how stupid it would be to stay

That said... I’d be lying if I said she didn’t have a little bit of a rich taste. The resentment she felt for her father and his legitimate family did translate into feeling a little self-satisfied/vindicated when she gets to have the trappings/comfort of wealth for herself now and again. XD

💧— Random angst headcanon

Where to start... the angry pacing back and forth she was doing in the bunks after her argument with Abbie on deck. Weighing different options and words and everything she might be able to use if shit goes really pear shaped in there? How she was muttering and cursing the whole time and knows that if she pushes to hard trying to convince Abbie that it just means that anything she might be able to try in the moment will be less effective and not knowing if she’s already pushed it too hard, to even make some of her normally best options absolutely useless? And how she knows that if Abbie or Daine goes down/gets captured in there she’s absolutely going to be useless? How she’s picturing both of them in exactly the state Ellyse is currently in and panicking hard and second guessing even coming here?

Or how the way the Lieutenant General reacted to regaining her memories is REALLY not helping her state of mind and her wondering what will happen if they manage to reverse stuff for Ellyse... she wasn’t sure what to expect... but she wasn’t expecting THAT?

I’ll save the Daine feelings one for Dimpal’s ask, just to keep you in suspense because despite all of your objections I am sometimes a terrible person XD.

#long post #ask meme #Annette #The pirate game #yarndarling

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minervacasterly · 4 years ago

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HENRY V is one of my favorite English medieval monarchs and he has been played by handsome actors like Tom Hiddleston, Kenneth Branagh, Laurence Olivier and now TImothee Chalamet, but was he really as compassionate, scholarly, and fair as he’s depicted in those films?

One of the things I always say is that if you are going to go all mushy or admire one historical character from this period, then you must also take the bad with the good. You can't have it one way. You can't idolize 'x' character and look past his flaws, pretending that they were never there. It doesn't work that way.

Henry V is one of those complex figures that will always generate controversy. And the version we have of him comes from Shakespeare. These actors played him according to how the bard wrote him. At the time, England was in danger of political isolation, and it was a situation where it was 'us against the world' the world being the Catholic nations. Therefore, they needed a national hero to extol patriotism and who better than Henry V? He was not just THE hero who stood against a larger army and beat the odds, he was the King who took France! That's no small feat. No other King had ever done that. The way in which he did however, is not so heroic so Shakespeare tweaked some parts, took out some important female roles (like Isabeau of Bavaria who was part of the negotiations to surrender) and replaced them with a sound French king and a vengeful Dauphin, and of course to make the story even better, a romance between the fair princess Catherine of Valois and Henry V. Their marriage ended the war and their heir would unite the two kingdoms together.

Things didn't happen that way, the war continued even after Henry V died. His son and heir was barely two years old when he was crowned King of England, and still a child when he became King of France. His two surviving uncles fought like dogs with their uncle Cardinal Beaufort (as Bedford's -Henry V's oldest uncle- ally) to control the little boy, and keep his French possessions intact. Things did not go as planned, Bedford died, his successors were not very good and then Henry VI moved against his remaining uncle by imprisoning his wife.

While Shakespeare's sequels Henry VI (parts 1, 2, & 3) and Richard III blame Henry's kid for losing everything, we can't make that assumption ourselves since -as great as his plays are- they are not real. They are historical fiction and they reflect the need of Shakespeare's time to believe in national heroes, when England was at war with all these countries, and to believe they could be great again. And also, supposing that Henry V would have lived, it is hard to say that history would not be repeated. Remember: Everyone remembers a rock star when they die young, but we rarely remember those who get old and can't hold on to what they won. Henry conquered France, he married the mad King's daughter, got a son; but it is likely that he would not have been able to keep it. Perhaps, under his leadership England would have retained some French territory, but even this is hard to say. Conquering is one thing, ruling is another.

To end this, I recommend Henry V by John Matusiak, Henry V by Ian Mortimer (though he is rather harsh on him, but he makes good points), Wars of the Roses: The Fall of the Plantagenets and the Rise of the Tudors by Dan Jones, and Foundation: A History of England from its Early Beginning to the Tudors by Dan Ackroyd. They give you the real Henry V, with all his flaws (including the brutal way in which he dealt with his enemies and towns and villages that opposed him), religious views (like so many, he also burned heretics. One of them was his friend who is believed was the inspiration behind the fictional buffoon character of 'Falstaff' in the Shakesperian plays of Henry IV part 1 and part 2) and attributes (being a great military leader, a scholar, and treating his soldiers well). Lastly, I also recommend this article by History Extra: https://www.historyextra.com/period/medieval/things-you-didnt-know-facts-henry-v-battle-agincourt-shakespeare-hundred-years-war-france/

#Henry V

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blukoffee · 5 years ago

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Out of Place, Out of Time (AU Oneshot)

Okay, so. I rarely (read: never) post original stuff on here, so this is a learning curve for me, pleasebenice, but I swore/promised/crossed my heart that I would contribute to @intricatecaprice 30 Days Dead Men’s Tales. And here we are! This’ll probably be messy and not nearly as pretty as the rest of those gorgeous posts, but hey, it’s the thought that counts, right?

So, I of course had the idea of Isabeau being plonked into the lap of one Cursed Capitán. I mean, who wouldn’t? But as it is currently being wonderfully done by so many talented authors, I decided to stick with my human Salazar. But this is just a small scratch of satisfaction to that itch. I hope you enjoy! (Also, just wanna note that this isn’t the Monarch and these are different prisoners than those in the beginning of the film. I tried to make that distinct, but just want to clarify. Also, this is purely self-indulging, so please excuse any errors.)

Prisoners Should Know Their Place

It was the screams that told Isabeau her luck was about to change for the worst. And that was a feat, since she was pretty sure her luck had already hit rock bottom.

The guy in the cell next to her, barely a few years older than her, if even that, began to whimper in terror, his fingers tugging at dirty red hair. The wrinkled old man with him started muttering prayers under his breath, the gaps of missing teeth flashing every now and then.

Pretty sure that's not gonna help anyone, dude. Isabeau sighed, then grimaced when her ribs protested the movement. The nasty bruise from the officer's boot would take a while to heal, especially since he hadn't bothered holding back when he'd literally kicked her into the cell.

Asshole. I hope he was one of the ones that screamed like a little girl.

Despite the tone of her thoughts, Isabeau was worried. Whoever had boarded the Victorious were going through the crew with lightning speed, and nothing outside gave away any hints of who the attackers were. For all she knew, they'd be worse than the British she found herself prisoner of.

Great. This day really can get worse. I honestly didn't think it could.

There was a couple of loud crashes up above, and a distinct sound of crackling that sent tendrils of alarm snaking down her limbs.

Fire. I smell fire.

Cinders began to float down through the cracks in the boards and she struggled to keep the primal part of her brain from sending her into a panic.

The younger guy apparently had less control and suddenly threw himself at the bars with a loud crash, screaming at the top of his lungs. The old man tried to calm him, to keep him quiet, but he was thrown off.

Mere seconds later, slow footsteps began to thump heavily down the stairs to the brig.

The screaming man instantly quieted, staring up at the deck above in horror.

Isabeau looked up from where she sat curled in the corner, surprised by the prickle of unease that skittered with spider legs across her nape.

Whatever was coming their way wasn't anything good.

All three of them froze as boots suddenly appeared at the top of the stairs, slowly descending to show a large man leaning heavily on a cane as he made his way down the steps.

It wasn't his sheer, intimidating size that made Isabeau's breath freeze in her lungs.

It was the way his hair wafted around his head in a halo of black strands, like he was underwater.

It was how flakes of ash floated in his wake whenever he moved.

It was his burnt and decrepit uniform, shifting and following his movements in a way that wasn't natural.

It was the grey skin, covered in ashen cracks and the splintered skull with sharp, jagged edges of bone.

It was the burning amber eyes, almost glowing with their brilliance in the dark.

They all stood staring at each other for a brief second, then the man was joined by more men, men that had similar appearances of unnaturalness.

Isabeau was grateful she was already sitting down, else she would have collapsed on the floor.

They had walked through the walls. They had simply walked the walls, as if it'd been empty space.

What...the fuck…

The old man next to her began to moan his prayers, a note of bleakness in his tone that said he knew he was about to die.

Isabeau wasn’t feeling much more optimistic, but she had bigger things to worry about. Such as why the apparent leader of the ghostly horde was now staring directly at her, and he hadn’t blinked since he’d spotted her.

In her short experience in an 18th century world, she’d come to the quick realization that women were simple commodities to be acquired, to be seen and not heard. To actually have intelligence as a woman was considered unnatural, a short step from being pronounced a witch or insane.

So the fact that any man, not merely a ghostly one, was staring at her with such unnerving focus was not a good thing.

She bit her lip, blood seeping on her tongue in an effort not to snap at the man to ask what he was looking at.

The older man’s moaning grew louder, the other man trying to figure out if he was going to fight while there was a distinct stain on the front of his pants, his blue eyes wide with terror.

Apparently, the imposing figure staring at her had had enough. A slight jerk of his head towards the other two prisoners and one of the ghostly apparitions behind him stepped forward, through the cell bars, and thrust a corroded sword straight through the moaning inmate.

Silence instantly echoed through the brig following the thud of his body.

And still the man continued to stare at her, making her skin itch under his perusal, making her want to curl into herself to hide from his burning gaze.

Finally, he stepped forwards, and no, she hadn’t been imagining things.

His entire body passed through the iron bars, sliding through them only a faint resistance and leaving them sizzling and smoking in his wake.

Definitely not human, definitely not human!

Isabeau pressed backwards into the corner, curling tighter as the man or whatever he was continued to move towards her with slow, steady steps. She kept her eyes lowered, so as not to seem as a challenge, and was surprised to find him crouching in front of her.

She squeezed further into the corner, bracing herself for another boot, or possibly a hand, when she heard a deep voice rumble, “Look at me.”

It should have sounded like rocks grinding together, as deep as his baritone was, but instead it sounded like liquid honey, like the purr of a lover, his accent making it roll through the air like music. She could hear a gravelly rasp to it that only added a smoky flavor, making her skin shiver and tingle in the wake of the sound.

Carefully, she slid her eyes up, taking in the once elegant uniform that still flattered his powerful body with its faded stripes, the tattered cravat that floated and swayed in a nonexistent breeze, until her gaze landed on a face that would haunt her dreams.

She sucked in a quick breath, surprised by how utterly handsome the ghostly man was, even in death. Her eyes skimmed over strong, mature features of a male in his prime, who would have been beyond devastating had he been alive.

Nor had he missed her interest, something flaring visibly in those burning amber eyes that made her swallow convulsively.

The man straightened, towering over her, and turned to gesture at another of the men that accompanied him, one with an eyepatch over one side of his face.

Unfortunately, the other inmate still alive had apparently found his courage, if not his brains.

He slammed his hands into the bars, one of his fingers crooked as if he’d broken it, and sneered at the man standing in front of her, “What use do you have of some whore, Spanish dog? You can’t-”

He never got to finish before the man whirled and his hand flashed out, instantly wrapping around the inmate’s throat. He was lifted off his feet in a frightening display of strength, while the man in the striped coat hissed, “She’s mine, and you would do well to remember that.”

Isabeau honestly thought he was going to kill him, but instead he only held him for a few seconds more, just long enough to make sure his point got across, then dropped him, leaving the man in a crumpled heap on the filthy floor.

Wait. What does he mean, “she’s mine”?

“Moss, bring him.” The man before her whirled around with blazing speed, reaching down to grab her arm and hauled her to her feet.

Isabeau gasped at the feel of his icy fingers on her arm, as unbreakable as any manacle, before she was dragged after him.

One of his men broke the cell lock and he continued to yank her along, making her ribs scream in protest.

“...wait,” she gasped as he headed towards the stairs. “Wait!”

She threw herself backwards, no mean feat when her weight was being continuously dragged forwards, and the man holding her whipped around to glare at her, his eyes a burning crimson.

“I will not wait, chica. You are my prisoner now, and I do not wait for prisoners!”

Prisoner. That hated word burned in her gut. She’d heard it more over the past few days than she ever cared to again, along with a good many more slurs against her simply for her gender.

Fury made her hiss up at his face, “I’m not your fucking prisoner, now let - go of me!”

With a burst of frantic strength, she managed to wrench free of his grip, which had slackened a hair in his surprise at her outburst.

She turned and bared her teeth in a snarl at the one-eyed ghost that stepped in front of her. His eye flickered over her shoulder and he moved out of her way, staring at her with such hostility that her anger faltered.

Two others paused in the act of dragging the unconscious man out of his cell, his dirty red hair hanging lank about his face.

Isabeau shuddered, glad she hadn’t been put in the cell with him, and limped towards the room where her bags had been carelessly tossed. Sighing at the sight of her clothes thrown haphazardly on the bench, she closed her eyes wearily, just wishing this day had never begun.

She heard wheezing breaths behind her and knew that the man had followed her. The one who had claimed her as his prisoner. The one who stared at her with uncomfortable intensity.

Squeezing her eyes harder before opening them, she stepped forwards and began picking up her things, the smell of smoke gradually growing stronger.

“You are not English. What are you doing in an English cell?” the man asked suspiciously, stepping around to peer curiously at her belongings before swinging his gaze back to her.

“You wouldn’t believe me even if I told you,” she muttered, then finally couldn’t take it anymore and pulled her shirt over her head, not caring if she was being watched or not.

She heard a wheezed curse and felt her face burn in embarrassment, then quickly grabbed another of her shirts and slipped it on.

Grabbing the rest of her things and tossing the strap on her big bag over her shoulder, she turned to see the man had given her his back out of some form of courtesy.

Claiming her as his prisoner or not, she appreciated the gesture.

“I don’t even know your name.”

He turned to face her, his stance proud even with his slightly hunched back. “Capitán Armando Antón Salazar de Estrada. And yours, chica?”

A spark drifted down from the ceiling and she sidestepped it warily, suddenly realizing just where they were. And what was happening to the Victorious. “Isabeau Revanne. Okay, fine, I’m your prisoner, take me to your brig.”

She’d been trying to expedite matters to get off the burning hulk, but apparently the only thing she’d managed to expedite was Capitán Salazar’s temper.

He stepped forwards, towering over her even without a straightened spine, and glared down at her. “Sí, you are my prisoner, and prisoners should know their place.”

Isabeau swallowed as she struggled not to stare at his face. “My place is in your brig, isn’t it?”

Salazar stared at her for a good long minute, making her grow more and more nervous as heat began to filter down to the room, before he suddenly smiled.

It was a smile that made her extremely uneasy.

“Perhaps I have another purpose for you. Your companion in the brig had a good idea, no?”

Her companion? Wait, the one who had called her a-

“I’m not a whore!” Isabeau spat indignantly, gritting her teeth in outrage at the suggestion. She’d been called worse since she’d been tossed into that cell, but honestly, she’d somehow been under the impression that Capitán Salazar was different.

His burning gaze flickered over her, taking in her clothes that must seem incredibly strange to him. “That remains to be seen.”

Both their attentions jerked upwards at a loud crash, but Salazar was quicker to recover.

Isabeau yelped as she was suddenly lifted into the air, wheezing as a broad shoulder was wedged into her stomach.

Salazar turned and snapped an order, one of his men slinking forwards to pick up her belongings.

Clinging to the back of his coat, Isabeau struggled to breathe as she was carried along.

Salazar paused at the top of the stairs before moving over to the railing.

What is he-

Her thought vanished as he leapt over the railing, the sudden shock of it sucking the scream right out of her throat as she saw pitch-black water rushing towards her.

She squeezed her eyes shut, only to feel herself suddenly jolt to a stop.

Confused, she cracked open one eye, then both went wide in shock as she still saw water beneath her, yet it wasn’t getting any closer.

Salazar was walking on water. He was walking on water.

An explosion of fire and noise drew her attention away from this new knowledge and she hissed in pain when one chunk of burning debris grazed her arm.

Salazar instantly jerked to the side, swinging her out of the way of another piece of debris before breaking into a run.

Another explosion and she looked up to see a cannon sailing straight towards them. “Look out!”

The massive metal construct whistled by them as Salazar swerved at her warning, his pace increasing to a lithe run as he put distance between them and the exploding wreck of the Victorious.

Finally, he began to slow down to a rolling jog, then coiled his big body into a crouch before springing upwards.

They landed lightly on the deck of a rotting hulk of a ship, a vessel twice the size of the one she’d been on, if not bigger, but all she caught was a quick glimpse, catching sight of the red-haired man sprawled on the deck where he’d been dropped before Salazar turned and carried her down a corridor,

Indignation began to fuel a burning strength. She’d spent the last several days locked in a cell, she’d woken up in this hell hole of a time period with no warning, she had no idea how to get back, and for the icing on the fucking cake, she had been kidnapped by a stupidly handsome ghost whose intentions she didn’t have the slightest clue about.

And she was tired of feeling his shoulder digging into her stomach!

“Put. Me. Down!” Isabeau thrashed and threw herself back against his restraining arm, ignoring the screaming in her ribs at the sudden movement.

Salazar grunted at her unexpected struggling, then shoved his way through a door, slamming it closed behind him.

Isabeau found herself flung into the air with a squeal and she flailed wildly before landing on something plush and slightly lumpy. She laid there for a second, sucking air into her lungs as her bruised stomach ached, then carefully sat upright, staring at the ghostly captain warily.

But to her confusion, he wasn’t looking at her face. Instead, his gaze was somewhere lower, and she glanced down in alarm, only to see that her shirt had ridden up when she’d been tossed onto the settee. And the bootprint bruised into her ribs was clearly visible.

“Which one?”

Isabeau’s attention flashed back to Salazar, his deep voice ominously quiet, rage turning his irises a bloody crimson. Black blood ran down his chin as he bared his teeth in a snarl. “Which one?!”

Slowly, she inched her shirt down to cover the bruises. “One of the officers. I’m pretty sure he’s dead now.”

Sanguine eyes flicked to her face. “Did he touch you - anywhere else?”

She quickly shook her head, even as she wondered why the mere thought of it enraged him. Surely such a thing was commonplace in this time period.

Salazar made a noise in his throat, almost a growl, his face still stern and unyielding in his anger. His fist tightened around the hilt of his rapier, which she just now noticed was still gripped in his hand.

Isabeau edged backwards along the settee warily, then yelped in alarm when he lifted it up and plunged the tip into the floor with a loud thud, the blade quivering from the force of the blow.

They were both frozen for a second, then Salazar straightened and sent her a harsh glare. “Do not move.”

And with the ominous implications of what would happen if she didn’t obey his orders hanging in the air, he whirled and walked through the door without opening it, leaving wisps of ash trailing behind him.

Isabeau didn’t feel like moving from her spot on the settee. She had seen how deep the blade had plunged into the floorboards and felt it was wise not to incite the captain’s temper. Though that didn’t stop her curiosity from lifting its head and creating questions about the man.

She didn’t realize that she’d dozed off until she felt weight depress the cushions next to her.

Something cool was spreading soothing bliss over the aching bruise on her side, making the pain fade to a background hum.

She cracked open bleary eyes to see a man sitting next to her, huge and imposing, yet his touch was gentle as he feathered calloused fingers over her skin.

“Thank you.”

Salazar paused at her words, then resumed rubbing whatever it was into her bruise. “You are welcome.”

Isabeau was quiet for a second, watching him groggily before blurting, “Why are you helping me?”

This time he didn’t pause, merely pulled away for a second to wipe his fingers off on a rag. “You are my prisoner, therefore my responsibility.”

She couldn’t help but be fascinated by his smooth, efficient movements, the complete unnaturalness to him. He shouldn’t exist, but here he was. Still, questions continued to bounce around in her mind.

“Why did you bring that other man too?”

He chuckled ominously as he suddenly leaned over her, those eerie eyes fixed on her face. “Because I always leave one man alive to tell of me. And since I’m not letting you go, I needed someone else.”

She swallowed nervously as she felt his fingers stroke her hair back behind her ear, felt his weight depress the cushions around her. “What do you mean, you’re not letting me go?”

His hand slid under the back of her skull, huge and powerful against the bone, and he held her still as he leaned closer. His hair flowed downwards to tickle her cheeks when he stopped, his nose almost touching hers. A black grin spread across his lips. “You’re mine, now. And I don’t let go of what is mine.”

#30 days of dead men's tales #Armando Salazar is hot even dead #Just how #Out of Place Out of Time #Potc5 #We need more Salazar #There seriously isn't enough #I need help #Think it might be addiction

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prolestari · 6 years ago

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Fan Fiction Faves!

Happy Fanfiction Writers Appreciation Day! To celebrate I want to give a shout out to my favorite fics and writers!

First, @baconwaffle2016 has been absolutely amazing this year. Every time I think I have her plots figured out I’m thrown again. She has this incredible way of balancing the sexy with the drama, and her interpretations are some of the most unique I’ve ever seen. You can pick literally any of her works and it’s awesome, but if I have to pick favorites I’d go with this spark of black, imagine how the world can be (so very fine), or No Power in the ‘Verse.

@galfridus1 is absolutely meticulous in a way you don’t find anymore. Her plots are well thought-out and really take you on a journey beginning to end. She’s also an amazing collaborator. I especially loved her fic The Call of Duty (and hope it continues one day) as well as Forbidden Love.

@thisisaverycreativeurl pretty much burst through the door a few months ago and dropped bombs of angst on us all that I have loved. If you’re looking for a fic that just delves into character and emotion, check out pick up all my broken pieces or sunfire and blood.

@blacksteel-art is so damn passionate that she gets me invested and excited and then I see her work and I’m always amazed. Please go read her webcomic Cities in Sound, it’s the coolest thing I’ve seen in ages.

@derieri absolutely terrifies me because her work is so good and I make a fool of myself every time she publishes. Her fic Her is one of my favorites of the year, and I am living for the moment Seven Devils will be published.

I read The Ritual before I met @smolmeliroll and when I started it I immediately thought, I have to meet this writer. Since then I’ve watched this writer create some of the most memorable scenes since I joined this fandom, and her ability to take a sliver of an idea and just create astounds me every time.

@itsyaboimilk is the fan we all need in our lives. I’ve been given life with Hiraeth and his absolute fearlessness in writing and creating. Matt has the ability to just get the characters and has been the hidden jewel in the fandom.

@maryjanewinchester is just getting started but I’ve already been loving her work. She’s the ultimate fan-as-writer and has characterization down to a science. Check out Level 10 Friend for an awesome study in character and canon development.

Getting to know @lemaskadra not only personally but also her work has been an amazingly wild ride. The queen of writing Meliodas smut, if you’re feeling adventurous try Dancing in the Dark, or if you’re in the mood for something more romantic then Isabeau is a must.

I also want to highlight some of the fics I’m reading and loving right now:

How Not to Re-Raise Demonic Children: This fic actually finished not long ago. It’s got it all: domestic Melizabeth, all the Sins interacting, angst, heart, and plenty of laughs. I loved this fic and you will too.

Tales From Camelot: Probably my favorite fic of the year. It’s an ongoing story about Zeldris, Gelda, and Arthur in Camelot after the second Holy War. It’s hot and steamy while also being so romantic and heart breaking. I know this is an unusual ship but I bet anything if you give this fic just a few chapters you’ll be as hooked as I am.

Heroes of the Dark: A BNHA fic about Ochako and Bakugou grieving Midoriya’s death, only for him to turn up again—but not exactly as he seems. This story has me on the edge of my seat every update and has taken my love of class 1-A (and it has them all in it) from level 10 to level 1000.

Open Marriage: I don’t know what to say other than I love this fic. It’s a Fairy Tail modern AU that starts as a love triangle between Natsu, Lucy, and Gray. It’s an ultimate guilty pleasure and I can’t get enough.

Sorry that this became a bit long but there is SO MUCH talent out there!!! Please check out the writers and fics above, and make sure to send a message to your favorite writer today, even if it’s just an anonymous thank you! Writers keep the fandom going in a really special way and they only continue doing so with support. Thank you to all of you amazing people who feed my love of fan fiction every day with your hard work and beautiful hearts.

#fan fiction #nanatsu no taizai #nnt #bnha #fairy tail #read and support your local fanfic writers!

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asteroiideae · 6 years ago

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2, 4, 6, 8 (DnD ask memes are great!)

HI HELLO I swear I wasn’t ignoring your ask I just needed to get to my PC and also give a little bit of thought to my answers!2. Your favorite character that someone else has played: I have dragged my best friend (@mindless-philosopher) into pretty much every D&D venture I’ve taken! I think my favorite creation of theirs is a halfling called Fhanys; a non-binary noble who fled their home (and strict gender/societal roles) to bard around in a big city and eventually meet my own bard, Fhaerris. Fhan is unpredictable af, wild, charming, and juuuust enough off-putting that you’d probably guess they multi-class as a Warlock with a creepy hag patron. I love the bright color palette, the charming earthiness Fhan brings to the table, and the inability to ever be able to predict what’s gonna happen next!4. Your current campaign. I should have seen this one coming! So I currently DM two campaigns (D&D), and I play in two campaigns (D&D), and I’m getting ready to join a third as a player (Scion) so like. Buckle up kiddos!Adronica: This is the first campaign I DM’d, and it’s entirely homebrewed because I’m an over-achiever in the worst ways. It’s heavily inspired by the podcast Lore and old-world fairy tales, tbh. My players are currently in some dark shit, but their characters are really beginning to shine and I love (and them!) so much.Tal’dorei: This is a campaign that I do not run, but where I get to play my Rogue/Monk Csilla, who is a survivor of the Chroma Conclave’s attack on Emon (though her parents were not so lucky.) She’s a high-ranking member of The Clasp, and has currently solved a murder instigated by a would-be rival of The Clasp. She’s hanging out with her husband, Casxik, and her best friends Ronan and Aliatra, until she can figure out what she wants out of life now that she’s in her thirties and faced with the short lifespan of her profession.

Starcalled: So, the second campaign that I’m running is based on Starcalled Studios’ Zodiac Empires campaign setting. (If you haven’t checked it out PLEASE DO it’s gorgeous.) I can’t say much about it right now because we’re only one session in and my players can know NOTHING but, there’s a murder rn and the PCs are implicated in it, and shenanigans are about to ensue and it’s GREAT.Saturday Game: idk what name my friend has given her homebrewed setting, but my every-Saturday game is where I get to play Isabeau. -SIIIGH- I love Isabeau Senft so fucking much you guys - Neutral Evil Warlock Who Plans to Marry Her Patron and Rule All The Hells Together. She’s got ambitions, fam. Which is pretty wild considering she’s a noble of such high rank she sits on the council that governs the entire continent? It’s not enough. Nothing is ever enough. She’ll probably consume herself in her quest for more but IT’S FIIIIINE.Scion: We haven’t even started yet, but I just made the sweetest little sunflower bby who is the Scion of Apollo, and her beloved twin brother is ALSO a scion and it’s gonna be shenanigans and brb I need to get more dice for her…6. Favorite death (monster, player character, NPC, etc).I have somehow managed to avoid much in the way of PC death – except for the first campaign I ever played, which was set in Skyrim, where while we were killing time in town the DM did a few one-on-one sessions with us. The following week, one of the players was absent but we went along doing our thing. It was only at the very end, while my character was eavesdropping on chatter in the tavern, that he realized our missing player’s character was….dead. We all rushed to the temple to find his body being prepared for burial and. Honestly fam it was brutal? Like our party freefell through the stages of grief and we weren’t even there to see it or try to prevent it or anything. It worked out in such a fascinating way, it was really cool actually.8. Your favorite fight/encounter.That one time instead of fighting a powerful Wizard my players trolled her until in defeat she gave them her business card and begged them not to work for their present employer anymore because her OWN boss would make her come deal with them and she doesn’t want to ever see them again. (Fun Fact: business cards did not previously exist in this world; they literally trolled her so hard she invited business cards to make them leave her alone so she could escape the ambush SHE set.)HEY LISTEN GUYS I like doing these, so if you want to ask me more – click here for the post!

#D&D #ask meme #just maven things #DM #Maven plays D&D #firecat88

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isabeau25 · 7 years ago

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Get To Know Your Author

Tagged by @eastofthemoon!

1. How did you come up with your username and what does it mean?

There’s a book called Dove Isabeau that I loved as a kid, and also I loved the movie Ladyhawk, and Isabeau was one of the main characters.

2. Which fanfic of yours has the most feedback? (bookmarks/subscriptions/hits/kudos).

Room with a View (although Can’t Take the Sky From Me was a very close second - I had to do actual math to figure it out; I’m impressed I remember how to math.)

3. What is your AO3 profile icon, and why did you choose it?

I don’t have one. I never bothered to upload it. If I did, it would be the same as the one for this account. It’s my cat Nibbs laying on my foot not long after we found him in my parents’ backyard. I use it because he’s cute and fluffy, and because I don’t like pictures of me floating around the internet.

4. Do you have any regular/favourite commenters?

I love all my commenters! It’s always exciting to get the notice that someone took the time to comment and I go back and reread them all all the time.

@maychorian has commented on a bunch of my Voltron fics (almost all of them I think), and I’m always super excited when I see her comments because she leaves such excellent and well thought out ones.

5. Is there a fanfic that you keep going back to read again and again?

Hound by story_monger I come back to because it’s so well done. The writing is fantastic, and the sense of suspense is amazing, and I really love the way it dealt with different layers of trauma and wove together the way past trauma continued to impact how present trauma was processed and dealt with. Plus the team was wonderfully tender with Keith, and he got cuddles.

Hyggelig by heyheroics I’ve gone back and reread a couple times. It is an example of the ever rare, non-romantic Keith and Lance center story. Well written and even though it’s not finished, the chapters read as short stories, so I’m not left with cliff hangers. I’m always excited when it updates.

I reread pieces from @maychorian all the time, particularly from the Boom Crash series and the Dream Seam series (*whispers* a lot of the time I skip straight to the cuddles. She writes the best cuddles.)

The Raised by Lions series by @eastofthemoon I like to go back and reread. Red and her strange furless cub are super fun to read about, and then Shiro comes along and there is even more fluff and cuddles.

Basically there’s a shortage of platonic fluff and cuddles in the Voltron fandom and when I run out, I go back and re-read my favorite cuddles.

6. How many stories are you subscribed to? How many do you have bookmarked?

I have like 12 bookmarked and 4 subscriptions. I always forget that’s a thing you can do on AO3.

7. Which AU do you find yourself writing the most?

.... so many. I’ve been working on The Five Lion Cafe au lately, trying to finish up the next one (almost done *fingers crossed*), and Mermaid Rescue and Rehab Inc. is up next on my list to finish, so I’ve been picking on that.

I’d like to get back to Babe’s in Space at some point. I have general outlines for lots of short stories in that AU, and there actually is a bigger over arching plot if I ever get to it.

8. How many people are subscribed and bookmarked to you in total? (you can view this on the stats page)

91 subscriptions and 992 bookmarks

9. Is there something you’d like to write about but are afraid of people judging you for it? (Feeling brave? If so, share it!)

Mostly platonic physical intimacy, just because I don’t want to deal with it being labeled as romantic or shippy (I guess that’s not so much a fear of being judged as just not feeling like dealing with other people’s reactions). Once something is posted, you have no control over how it’s received or interpreted. That’s just the nature of publishing something; you have to let it go (or drive yourself crazy trying to force people to see it only the way you want, which is just not worth the time or energy).

Because of that, I sometimes pull back from writing a scene as intimate as I’d like, or I choose a slightly different approach to it, just because I don’t want to deal with seeing it labeled as a ship in the tags and comments.

10. Is there anything you would like to be better at? Writing certain scenes or genres, replying to comments, updating better, etc.

Action sequences and creating suspense. It’s hard to translate the movie-like images in my head into words for action sequences. I watch a lot of youtube videos for reference when I’m trying to write them.

And suspense, when done well, is just a great thing to be able to do. It keeps the reader engaged and makes the piece more exciting.

Also replying to comments! They mean so much to me, and I’m so terrible at replying.

11. Do you write rarepairs or popular ships more often?

Not really? I guess Ronin and Tara from Epic qualify as a rarepair just because the fandom for Epic is so small. I think the idea of Ezor and Kolivan from Voltron being a crack pair (not one that ever would or should show up in canon) is hysterical, but I haven’t written anything for them yet.

I really just don’t ship much in general.

12. How many stories have you posted on AO3 to this day (finished and unfinished)?

As of December 22, 2018, I have 49 stories up on AO3, all of them finished. I never start posting a story unless it’s already done.

13. How many stories do you have saved in/with your writing program?

So, that’s really hard to calculate. For every fandom I have what amounts to a dump document where I write random scenes and stories that I’m not sure will go any where, in addition to that I have:

Epic - 14 docs, most of those are probably single stories

ROTG - 9 docs, but I don’t think I separated out many of the WIPs from my main dump doc, so there’s probably more WIP there.

Voltron - 15 docs, but some of those documents are for series, so there’s might be multiple WIPs in the document.

And that’s just the unfinished stuff. I didn’t include the stories that are done. I usually keep those on my hard drive too because I don’t trust the internet not to suddenly eat my work.

14. Do you write down story ideas, or just keep them in your head?

I keep them in my head way too often, then go back to stories I’ve set down for a couple months (or years) and don’t remember what was going to happen. I’m trying to get better about writing out at least a general outline for stories so that doesn’t happen.

15. Have you ever co-authored a story?

I have co-authored with @eastofthemoon and @ladydouji. I’m kind of a flake about writing though and I’m really bad at keeping deadlines with something I just do for fun, so I don’t team up very often.

16. How did you discover AO3?

Google search for fanfiction because there wasn’t enough decent stuff on ff.net.

17. Do you consider yourself to be a popular or famous author in your fandom(s) on AO3?

I don’t think so? I don’t pay much attention so I don’t have much bases for comparison.

18. Do you have a nickname or fandom name for your readers?

Nope.

19. Was there an author who inspired or encouraged you to write?

I read a lot growing up (not so much now - grad school does a really good job burning you out when it comes to reading). I loved fantasy mostly, and a little bit of sci-fi, although that’s never been a super sharp distinction for me.

Patricia McKillip is my favorite author. I absolutely love the way she writes and the way she crafts stories. I really enjoyed Jane Yolen, and Bruce Coville too.

20. What writing advice would you give to a beginning author?

I really like Neil Gaiman’s 8 Rules of Writing.

The most important thing you can do is write. Get the words on the paper. That’s really the hardest part. I like his last rule best though “Write your story as it needs to be written. Write it honestly and tell it as best you can.”

21. Do you plot out your stories, or do you just figure it out as you go?

I usually know where they’re going (in my head at least, by the time I actually start getting words on the page), but sometimes they end up taking unexpected turns or new scenes show up out of now where while I’m writing. That’s part of what makes writing exciting.

22. Have you ever gotten a bad comment on a story? If so, what did you do?

Nothing terrible, but a few (at least one of which went over my head until years later because they were being sarcastic).

I find I have an increasingly low reserve of energy, and things like that are not worth spending it on. I just ignore them.

23. Is there a certain type of scene that you have a hard time writing? (action, smut, etc..)

Interpersonal conflict! Why would these two normally rational people who care about each other let a thing escalate to the point of them actually fighting over it, or having it damaging their relationship, or coming to blows over it? And how do I write that in a way that doesn’t sound contrived and is in character to everyone involved.

24. What story(s) are you working on now?

Right now I’m working on finishing up the next Five Lions Cafe story, and also working on the last of the Mermaid Rescue and Rehab series.

I’m also working on a story that is probably going to be called Bad Moon on the Rise, and is focused on Lance and the Red Lion’s bond (and also has quintessence vampires).

25. Do you plan your next project(s) before you finish your current ongoing story(s)?

Yes! My brain never stops planning stories. Never.

26. Do you have a daily writing goal set for yourself?

Not really. Sometimes I’ll got through stretches where I write a lot, and other times my brain just melts and refuses to make words.

27. Do you think you’ve improved as a writer since you first started?

Yes! Even just going back a few years, but I’ve been writing since I was in elementary school, so there has been a great deal of improvement from the epic and fully illustrated “There are dinosaur ghosts living in our playground” that I wrote in first grade (and tried to convince my teacher was true).

28. What is your favorite story that you’ve written?

It’s actually not even up on AO3. It’s the only Narnia fanfic I ever wrote, and it’s called Refuge. One of those things that just felt unfinished and unaddressed in the Prince Caspian movie, and I like how I addressed it.

29. What is your least favorite story that you’ve written?

*Snorts* Thankfully lost to the great ether of individual fan sites that no longer exist, I had some CATS fanfics that were pretty terrible.

There’s also some Ronin Warriors stuff, and I think some stuff from the original Voltron dub, that’s pretty terrible, but I don’t have the heart to take down because people were actually kind enough to leave nice comments on them.

30. Where do you see yourself (as a writer) in 5 years?

The same, but hopefully better at it. I don’t really have any aspirations to be a professional writer. I’m happy just doing it for fun.

31. What is the easiest thing about writing?

The stories!

32. What is the hardest thing about writing?

Putting the words on the page!

33. Why do you write?

Because it’s fun! And challenging! And it gets the things in my head out of my head!

Tagging: anyone who wants to. I think all the people I know on tumblr have already been tagged.

#writing

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