#blue castle chapter 25

[kingedmundsroyalmurder]

Blue Castle chapter 24 and 25

Cissy is the daughter the Stirlings wish Valancy had been. Pretty, sweet, meek, innocent in the ways of the world, eager to please and quick to forgive. Someone who would do as she was told and look pretty in church without outshining Olive. And, of course, Cecilia Stirling would have had no need to go out to work, and thus never would have met her child's father.

I'm struck in particular by the juxtaposition of these two passages:

From chapter 24: " And I—didn’t know—some things. I didn’t—understand. Then his father came and took him away. And—after a little—I found out—"

Back in chapter 11: " Poor Mrs. Frederick was almost in a state of collapse. She had believed—or pretended to believe—that Valancy still supposed that children were found in parsley beds."

Cissy was raised by a single father who knows perfectly well how sex works, to the point where it likely doesn't even occur to him that people aren't just born knowing where babies come from. Her other main influence was her church community, made up of people who, one assumes, do not talk about these things publicly, and certainly not to Cissy Gay. It's implied that Cissy's mother, had she lived, would have (or at least should have) taught her these things. Clearly she never learned on her own, until it was too late.

Valancy, meanwhile, knows perfectly well where babies come from, to the point where she's embarrassed to even think about wanting them. Wanting to be a mother is perfectly respectable, even laudable for a woman in Valancy's position. Wanting the process of becoming a mother is most certainly not. It's not said where Valancy learned about sex and how it works, although my vote is from Olive, who has had boyfriends and been engaged.

So meek, innocent Cissy Gay might well have been better tolerated by the Stirlings than odd, never quite fitting in properly Valancy. (Cissy would, most likely, have been utterly crushed by the Stirlings in a way that Valancy never quite was. But then again, Olive wasn't. Maybe a Cecilia Stirling who was pretty and clearly had some marital prospects because of her looks would have been treated better by the extended family, if not Mrs. Fredrick and Cousin Stickles.) And, in contrast, Valancy might well have thrived as Abel Gay's daughter. Without discounting the impact of Abel's neglect, Valancy is clearly more outspoken than Cissy, and stronger willed. She grew up in a stifling and domineering society and the second she got out she not only knew her own mind but had no fear speaking it. If she'd been left to raise herself, I think it wouldn't have taken the promise of imminent death to set that part of her free.

I have AUs in my head now. Moving on...

Other thoughts about these chapters --

I did a little bit of research into the Canadian turn of the century education system back when we learned about Olive's engagements. She graduated from college at 18, and from what I could tell, it seems like College was for students roughly 15-18ish. So if that's correct and college is the word LMM uses to mean high school age students, with University being for 18+, then Cissy's young college student would have been a teenager. Probably 18 or 19 at oldest, possibly (likely?) younger.

And Cissy went to work at the hotel "4 years previously". At 25 or 26 at time of death (since she's three years younger than Valancy, who just turned 29), she would have been ~21 at time of boyfriend. So probably older than the boy.

Given that, it's likely that the boy was probably just as surprised and horrified by the pregnancy as Cissy was. I can't even be mad at him -- he screwed up and tried to make it right by offering to marry her and Cissy turned him down. Just a bad situation all around.

Even just reading about Cissy's funeral makes me furious. No wonder Valancy hated it ad Barney refused to go.

"her slanted eyes smudged with purple" -> Another purple mention. Is LMM subtly foreshadowing that Valancy has no intention of going back to her mother's house?

[mollywog]

Honestly, I’m having trouble keeping Bruno mars out of my head

[all-peristeronic]

Appreciation post for one of my favorite lines:

She handed him Dr. Trent's letter.

Barney opened it with the air of a man thankful to find some safe, sane thing to do.

[aishangotome]

Elbert Greetia: Mad Love Epilogue

Mad Love Chapter 25

♡———♡

After the promised month had passed, I moved into Elbert's mansion.

Elbert continues his duties at Crown, going back and forth between this mansion and the castle.

Elbert: ...Are you really going out in that outfit?

As I changed into my outdoor clothes and adjusted my appearance in the mirror, Elbert, who had been watching me from behind, muttered anxiously.

Kate: Yes. ...Is there something wrong with it?

Elbert: No... You look so lovely, I'm starting to think I should stop you from going out after all.

Elbert looked so troubled that I couldn't help but laugh.

Kate: Hehe... You always say that, so I've started to feel like I'm a peerless beauty.

Elbert: It's not just a feeling, you are...

Elbert: You're the most beautiful woman in the world.

Elbert took my hand and gently kissed the back of it.

Elbert, who looks perfect with such gestures, is the most beautiful person in the world.

When I first came to this mansion, I made a proposal to Elbert.

-

"I won't leave this mansion while you're away on duty or for other reasons."

"When I go out, I will basically go with you."

Kate: How about we make that a rule?

Elbert smiled happily... then furrowed his brow in slight distress.

Kate: Do you not like it...?

Elbert: No. I'm happy... but a little scared.

Kate: Scared?

Elbert: ...Someday, you might want to run away from here.

Elbert: I... I can't live without you anymore.

Elbert: Even if you run away from here... I think I'll find you and bring you back here for sure.

His deep sea-colored eyes stared at me.

The dim obsession seemed to burn my skin... It made me happy, and my heart fluttered.

Elbert: But... if possible, I want you to stay here because you truly want to.

Elbert: So, for that...

Elbert: I think you need time to go out alone, too.

Even as he said this, Elbert's arms hugged me tightly, as if they wanted to take back his own proposal.

Kate: Hehe... You don't really hate it, do you?

Elbert: ...I hate it more when you suffer.

Elbert's obsession and kindness.

Feeling both of them struggling within his chest, I can't help but feel an overwhelming love for him.

Kate: I understand. Then... I'll go out alone sometimes.

Elbert: Hmm...

-

Kate: Are you sure you don't want to come with me?

Elbert: ...Yes.

Elbert: It wouldn't mean anything if I followed you.

Elbert gently let go of my hand and clenched his fist tightly, as if to resist the urge to touch it again.

(Elbert...)

My love for him grew in the palm of his hand, and I returned a kiss to the tip of his fist.

Kate: Thank you, Lord Elbert.

Elbert: ...Kate.

Kate: Well then, I'll be going.

Elbert: Yes... Have a good time.

-

I walked along a path where only the chirping of birds and the sound of distant waves could be heard.

When I looked back, there it was--his and my quiet box garden.

Victor: It was nice to see you, Miss Kate.

Kate: Thank you too. I was surprised to be able to see the play from such a good seat.

It was Victor who had sent me a letter inviting me, saying he had extra tickets.

Victor: Is life at El's mansion going well?

Kate: Yes, very much so. Elbert has been eating more than before lately.

Victor: Oh, that's good news.

Kate: Alfons was surprised too. How is everyone at Crown?

Victor: As always, they're fulfilling their evil deeds like the cursed ones they are. The other day...

...

The city of London was bustling, the play was as enjoyable as ever, and the news from Victor was very exciting.

But-

(Oh... those flowers are beautiful.)

I found a bouquet of blue carnations being sold on a street corner, shimmering in the streetlights.

(I wonder if Elbert would be happy if I decorated the windowsill with them.)

Imagining the swaying blue petals decorating the mansion, my cheeks loosened.

Suddenly, I felt a longing in my chest, and I realized that I wanted to run to that quiet box garden right now.

Victor: --If you like those flowers, I'll give them to you as a gift. As a thank you for accompanying me today.

Kate: Huh? Oh no, the tickets are more than enough.

Kate: I want to give the flowers... to Lord Elbert as a present.

Victor: Ah, I see. Then it would be rude of me to help.

Victor smiled, as if he was happy about something, and watched me buy the flowers.

-

Kate: I'm home.

I returned to the quiet mansion and looked for him. I found light leaking from the study.

Kate: ...Lord Elbert?

Elbert: ...Welcome back, Kate.

Elbert looked up from the sofa where he was sitting.

Kate: Were you reading?

Elbert: Harrison lent it to me during the last mission... He said it was interesting.

Elbert: He said it would help me distract myself from the loneliness while I was away from Kate.

Kate: ...You were lonely for me during the mission?

Elbert: ...? Of course.

He tilted his head in wonder, as if I had asked something obvious. His affirmation made the longing I had felt in London today shake my heart violently.

(When you leave me and go out... Do you always feel the way I felt today?)

(I wonder if Elbert always feels that way.)

He put down his book and stood up from the sofa. Elbert came up to me.

The sound of his unhurried footsteps was pleasant, and my longing grew stronger.

Elbert: Did you have fun today...?

Kate: Yes... I had a lot of fun.

Elbert: I see... That's good.

Kate: But...

Elbert:...?

Kate: ... I missed you, Lord Elbert.

Elbert: ...............

I missed this little world with you more than our old daily life.

No matter how exciting the new stimuli were, I was always looking for you by my side.

Elbert: ...What's that bouquet?

Kate: Oh... I saw these in town.

Kate: They were so beautiful... I thought you would like them if I put them by the window.

I held out the bouquet of blue carnations, and Elbert smiled with a troubled look.

Elbert: ...Even though we were apart,

Elbert: You were...thinking of me, weren't you?

Kate: ...It seems so.

Elbert: Thank you... They're the most beautiful flowers I've ever received.

Elbert: I'll put them up properly later... But for now, let me hold you.

He put the bouquet on the table and hugged me tightly.

Elbert: ...You smell like the outside.

He buried his nose in my neck and muttered.

Kate: Hmm....

Elbert: .............I want to erase it all.

His tongue licks my neck, the wet sensation sending shivers down my spine.

Elbert: Until the scent of anyone but you and me disappears from you...

Elbert: ...Can I hold you?

His feverish gaze seemed to convey the longing he felt while we were apart, and the depths of my stomach ached sweetly, so I nodded slowly.

Kate: Yes, Lord Elbert...

Elbert: ..........Kate.

Our hands crawl over each other's bodies, planting heat like embers on our skin.

Kate: Ah… Wait, Elbert… Ah…!

I was trying to unbutton Elbert's shirt, but my fingertips trembled with the pleasure running through me, and my hands just clung to him.

Elbert: ....You don't have to take it off.

Elbert: I will undress you... All the clothes that smell of the outside.

His tongue and fingertips leave a sense of pleasure on my ears, the tips of my breasts, the wet spot that follows down my stomach--all the places that make me feel good.

Kate: Ah, ....

Stripped naked, my body melting into a puddle, I was laid out on the sofa while Elbert slowly draped himself over me.

Elbert: I'm sorry, Alice.

Elbert: I probably... won't be able to let you go until morning.

Kate: ... Don't apologize.

Kate: I... don't want to be apart either.

As I wrapped my arms around him in acceptance, I felt Elbert's hot breath on my neck.

(There might still be a lot of happiness I don't know about outside.)

Just like I found a precious love in the darkness I stepped into.

(Even so, I... like it here.)

(I like it inside the cage of your arms.)

Elbert: Kate...

Elbert: Stay here forever.

-

--We greeted the next morning together.

He smiled as he gazed at the blue carnations swaying by the window.

Just that made me feel like all the happiness in the world was in this quiet miniature garden.

----

Both Ending Clear Epilogue

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[missbubblesoda]

early in the morning, especially when it rains, and a little before noon. (26)

erwin x fem!reader

chapters: (1) | (2) | (3) | (4) | (5) | (6) | (7) | (8) | (9) | (10) | (11) | (12) | (13) | (14) | (15) | (16) | (17) | (18) | (19) | (20) | (21) | (22) | (23) | (24) | (25) | (27)

summary: I basically took Isayama’s work, forced it into a romance story, and made Erwin the love interest. Commander meets cadet and they fall in love (not instantly though)

notes: very berry canonverse (but some events were modified to fit my narrative), wasn’t intended to be this long, but it all is in the details right?

content warnings: smut where it fits (or where I make it fit. Also, reader is NOT underage, so likewise, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, please.) slow burn (I really mean it. I’m not olympic diving into any form of smut for the first chapters.) no angst. I dislike angst. I would never. I could never. (Although angst can be somewhat subjective so take it with a grain of salt?)

wc: 3k

Perfumed breeze tickled your bare shoulders and sweet wine swayed inside clinking glasses, soft music lured twosomes to the dance floor, and the golden midday sun shone brighter than ever, as if making some sort of grand entrance, stepping into the courtyard like a guest of honor, blinding your eyes until they could no longer see anything around. Only the shadows and the shapes, and the bluest sky painted behind him.

And speaking about the sky, it had evidently dressed to match him that morning, from the cobalt pocket square peeking out of his morning coat to the corresponding silk tie obediently waiting on his chest; without forgetting, of course, about the crystalline sapphires embedded in his face, because in all honesty, who could forget? How could anyone overlook that heavenly blue of his eyes, iridescent at times, dreamily reflecting back all your favorite colors whenever they stared into yours. Just like they were right now, opportunely reminding you of secret moments spent inside some mountain castle down south; and the pleasant warmth that radiated from your chest at the thought made your lips curve into the same kind of smile his were wearing: knowing and conspiratorial. And you wondered if he found it overpowering too, the need to melt into each other’s arms.

His fleshy lips, appetizing as ever, parted slightly at the sight before him, his eyes methodically exploring first your features and then the colorful flowers on your dress, as if counting them, as if you were a coveted treasure seized from an enemy beyond the walls; his chest expanding as he took the type of deep, steadying breath that usually precedes life-altering statements. And then, when a labored ‘wow’ was all that left his lips, an amused chuckle escaped yours. You found it funny, to think those were the same lips that always knew what to say, the authors of the compelling speeches he used to motivate his men out there on the field or secure funds from closefisted aristocrats. And now, those same lips that not too many seasons back, had convinced a bunch of frightened kids to dedicate their hearts to a suicidal cause, had stopped working with nothing but a smile frozen on them. But that wasn’t a problem, given how eloquently his eyes were, instead, delivering the biggest compliments a lady could ever receive.

“Commander Smith.” You smiled teasingly, sending a courteous nod his way as you extended a hand for him to take.

“My lady.” He greeted back, his unusual wording eliciting another chuckle from you, because suddenly, it felt as if you were meeting for the first time again, as if you were the center characters in one of those romance novels your mother kept hidden under her mattress, as if some sort of magical encounter was taking place in the middle of Lord Koch’s garden.

He took the hand you were offering and brought it to his lips, where it remained for what, some would say, way longer than tradition stipulated. And all the while, you could feel him smiling against your fingers, his soothing breath keeping them warm, and the gentle stroke of his thumb against your skin sending a playful shiver straight to your core.

Some would say, probably the same people whose eyes were currently glued to the two of you, that ten thirty in the morning was too early for one’s mind to drift to the kind of inappropriate places yours was; but the thing is, they didn’t know about the wonderful things those lips could do nor the incredible delight those thighs could provide: muscular, well-developed, gift-wrapped in grey silk…or was it wool? If you could touch them, you’d be able to tell. But then again, that would be highly inappropriate for a garden party, wouldn’t it?

When his lips reluctantly let go of your hand, his fingers decided not to, choosing to stay wrapped around yours instead, gentlemanly accompanying them as if to see their safe arrival to your lap.

“Forgive my lips.” He smiled dazedly, eyes still lost in yours. “But it’s in familiar tastes where they find the greatest pleasure.”

That kind of apology suggested that he’d also noticed the inquisitive stares emerging all around you, stares that, at the moment, you didn’t have the mental disposition to concern yourself with, not when his words, as well as the evocative tone used to deliver them, were making your insides bubble in a dangerous cocktail of excitement and pleasure; a pleasure that quickly began to drip from deep within, like champagne spilling from the glass, drowning any other thought until all you could think about was how bad you wanted to pull him to a secret corner, sit on his lap and glide your fingers through that perfectly smooth hair of his, slicked back and neatly combed, desperately asking to be messed up.

“My lady?” He smirked playfully, a gesture that suggested he was probably very aware of the mess he was causing between your legs, a mess you hoped he would be so kind as to take care of later.

���There’s nothing to forgive, Commander Smith.” You replied calmly, your lips curving up in mischief. “At the moment, I feel like overindulging in familiar tastes myself.” You held his gaze boldly, unashamed to acknowledge all the things he could do to your body with his words only.

“Is that so?” He asked enticingly, taking a step closer and then another, his eyes locked so intently on their target as his face came just mere inches away from yours. “My princess shall never have to wait.” His lips whispered softly, only for the two of you to hear. “To indulge in whatever pleasure she craves.” He concluded, his husky voice more animalistic than human, the tantalizing woods and musks of his cologne intoxicating your senses, numbing them, clouding your mind until you could no longer think about anything, at least not anything that wasn’t his lips or the forbidden nights you spent together with them in his office, under the covers of secrecy. Was he about to pull those covers down with a kiss?

The logical part of you was certain he wouldn’t, but logic and rationality were not enough to stop the rest of your body from wishing he would. Especially your lips, they didn’t care that your parents were around somewhere, they didn’t care if they fainted the moment they saw their darling daughter kissing a man she had not been promised to; they didn’t care if, for the following weeks, you became the topic of the conversations all those fine ladies, who were now attentively staring at the two of you, would be enjoying with their afternoon tea. You and your lips cared about none of that.

But you knew he did.

And you knew him too well.

That’s why you weren’t really surprised when his fingers ignored the blushing cheeks he liked to hold when he kissed you, and reached for the back of your head instead, gently hooking the butterfly pin like a crown on a princess’ head. What surprised you, however, was that he knew the exact same spot where your mother had placed it that morning. Almost as if this wasn’t the first time he’d seen you today. And you wondered if that could be the case.

But before your mind could start speculating, he took a step back, a disarming smile painted on his handsome features as he offered you his arm to hold.

“May I?”

You smiled with delight, not hesitating a second to wrap both hands around the hard, unyielding muscles of his arm, letting them guide you to the other end of the courtyard. As you made it past grey-haired gentlemen who nodded back at him and blue-blooded ladies who were trying to exchange discreet glances with each other, you stroked his biceps subtly, eager for everyone to know that you were with him today, and that no, he wasn’t available for discussing work-related matters at the moment, much less dancing with anybody else. The gentlemen would have to wait until he was back at the office on Monday; and the ladies, well…their business would have to wait even longer. Because today, you looked up and smiled back at the man beside you, today he was with you.

“Well, if it isn’t my favorite contrarian!” Lord Koch’s exclaimed overjoyed once you reached the north pavilion, his tall frame approaching his friend with open arms. “Erwin! Glad you could make it.”

“Hansel.” The Commander patted his back congratulatory. “Wouldn’t miss an opportunity to celebrate a good friend.”

“My lady.” Lord Koch nodded politely at you once he was done greeting his friend.

“I came to greet you earlier, but Lord Angert told me that you and Madam Augusta were yet to arrive.” The Commander turned to the plush, jovial-looking lady beside his friend, who you assumed to be Mrs. Koch. “Madam Augusta.”

“Erwin! I’m so glad you could join us!” She exclaimed, also overjoyed and using the exact same tone Lord Koch had, albeit a few scales higher. According to your mother, the Kochs had been married since their academy days, and engaged since even before that. No wonder they sounded exactly like each other. “I asked Hansel if you’d be joining us this morning.” She smiled beamingly, taking the Commander’s hand in hers. “I warned him that if he didn’t go deliver the invitation in person, you wouldn’t come. He didn’t want to go at first, but I ma-”

“Augusta.” Lord Koch cleared his throat, flashing an uncomfortable smile at the Commander, who looked at you amusedly, gifting you with one of those light-hearted chuckles that always sounded like honey in your ears, and you giggled back.

“You’re never too busy to visit a friend.” Mrs. Koch said, smiling beamingly and naively, her expressive eyes making you realize she looked exactly like the fairy godmothers they drew on picture books. “Your father knows that very well, dear.” You blinked in confusion, thinking about the Commander’s late father before noticing she was looking at you instead. “He never misses a Wednesday, that conspiracy theory club is going to cause the demise of so many I know.” She squinted her eyes at her husband.

“Augusta.” Lord Koch cleared his throat again.

So the club was still a thing, only they moved it to Wednesdays instead.

“Oh Hansel, please. You don’t believe there is someone, even a single soul, at this party who doesn’t know about that little society of yours. Do you?” She chortled giddily when she saw you nodding in agreement. “Anyhow, it both pleases me and surprises me that someone has at long last managed to conquer this man’s heroically large yet forebodingly rebellious heart.” She said contentedly, smiling at the Commander and then at you.

“Augusta, the lady is his assistant.”

“Oh, my bad!” She feigned embarrassment, her eyes darting from the Commander to you, and then back to him, a knowing smile blossoming on her lips as soon as she caught glance of the comfortable way in which your hands were wrapped around his arm, almost as if they were more than fairly acquainted with his body. “What a shame, her angelic smile and Erwin’s dreamy blues would make for beautiful offspring.” She said with mirth, giggling enthusiastically as her expressive eyes awaited a reaction from you.

But you had nothing for her, at least not anything you could show her without incriminating yourself, so you just lowered your head, looking down at the glossy marble tiles in an attempt to hide both your burning cheeks as well as the little smile that started to take over your lips at the thought of their chubby fingers tugging at your skirt; their angelic blue eyes gleaming with happiness whenever their cute button noses caught a whiff of the little somethings you loved baking for them; their excited little feet making the cabin’s floorboards creak on their way to the front door, your way of knowing that he was back.

No, Mrs. Koch wasn’t the only one. You had thought about it too. Goodness, your pen knew just how much; she remembered about every single time you had forced her to stop right before she could tell your journal about it, because your mother always said that telling your dreams to someone else was the most effective way to curse them into never happening.

“The infamous Nile Dok in the flesh!” Lord Koch’s jovial greeting startled you out of your thoughts, making you raise your head just in time to see Hitch’s boss striding towards you. “Today is really one for the books, isn’t it? It’s not every day you get to see both your favorite commanders together in one place.” He said delightedly, giving the lean, black-whiskered man a welcoming hug, a gesture that showed you just how close they were.

“I just hope Commander Pixis doesn’t find this statement too aggravating.” The Military Police commander said in a monotone voice before turning to Mrs. Koch. “Madam Augusta.”

The feeble smile he had managed to put on for her quickly expired on his lips as soon as he was done shaking her hand, and you couldn’t help but smile when you remembered Hitch’s words: ‘he permanently has the face of someone who hasn’t been able to poop in years.’

“Good to see you, Nile.” Mrs. Koch smiled heartily, her eyes turning into the same crescent moons Leon’s did whenever he smiled, confirming your suspicions that it was indeed a family thing. “Hansel still resents Dot for outsmarting him at the regionals last summer.” She explained amusedly. “A sore ego and a thin skin make it difficult for anyone to forget, never mind forgive.”

“Oh I’m sure he’s around here somewhere. Saw him near the brandy earlier.” Lord Koch motioned with a lazy flick of his hand, the indifference in his otherwise enthused demeanor proving that the hurt ego his wife had mentioned was pretty much there. “Dot did win but I wouldn’t say I was outsmarted. Calling his performance ‘brilliant’, like the press did, would be a stretch.”

“Oh I’m sure this year’s regionals will grant you the rematch that you and your ego so desperately crave. I believe in you, darling.” Madam Augusta rolled her eyes, silently contradicting her words. “Hansel will only accept defeat to this man right here.” She explained, pointing at the Commander, who was now shaking Commander Nile’s hand. “Erwin is truly in a league of his own. Hansel is lucky he doesn’t have the time to compete at the regionals.”

“It is my desire to keep a solid friendship with Hansel what keeps me from playing at the regionals, and not lack of time, Madam.” The Commander said, eliciting joyous laughter from everyone, including Lord Koch himself. “How are Marie and the kids?”

Marie and the-

‘I don’t understand how someone like her ended up marrying my boss.’

Hitch’s voice started ringing somewhere deep inside your head, reminding you of the one thing you’d hoped you could forget.

‘She could have married anyone she wanted.’

She said, the warm spring breeze turning unpleasantly bitter all of a sudden, bringing back memories of that snowy winter afternoon spent with your best friend, not too long ago.

‘Eyes bluer than the summer sky, porcelain skin. A goddess.’

She continued, as if listing the participation requirements for a very prestigious competition, one you really wanted to win, but felt you’d already lost.

‘Gorgeous doesn’t even begin to describe her-’

‘…beautiful falls short-’

‘…stunning doesn’t do her justice.”

Her words grew louder the more she spoke, eventually turning into a sharp hissing that threatened to break your skull into a million pieces.

‘Apparently, they used to be close friends back in the day, all three of them…’

No.

‘Both, your boss and mine..’

No. You didn’t want to remember.

‘…were completely smitten with her.’

The last sentence painfully reverberated in your ears, each word feeling like shards piercing through your eardrums, like an unpleasantly loud and very discordant crowd of cicadas making your ears bleed, as they announced the end of the most beautiful sunset you would ever get to see.

‘Did you know…’

No. You were just fine living in ignorance.

‘…she was this close to…’

No. Please don’t say it.

‘…marrying your boss?’

You held his arm tighter, something similar to a heartbeat violently jolting your entire body, the aftershock sending painful shivers throughout your skin, all the way to the deepest, darkest part of you, where your chest stung and ached in a type of pain you were already growing quite familiar with.

And you wondered if Commander Nile was acquainted with it himself because, although his inexpressive eyes were difficult to read, you could have sworn that you saw them narrow, the mild bags beneath them darkening even more at the mention of his wife’s name.

His wife’s name…

You looked to his right abruptly, your heart racing as if to match the crazed speed of your thoughts.

If Commander Nile was here, then probably his wife…

You looked to his left, and then around; your eyes embarking on a journey of anticipation and uncertainty as they navigated the sea of faces surrounding you, each little glance holding the potential of familiarity for any wistful eyes wishing to spot her, or the dread of recognition, in your very particular case. The dread to discover, among the countless expressions, the telltale features Hitch had so poetically described, the golden hair, the porcelain skin, and the blue eyes that had stolen his heart all those years back.

-

next chapter

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[danjaley]

Book-Blog Intermission:

Wonderful Journeys through Time and Literature with Nils Holgerson

Like most of my generation I grew up with the 1980 anime series. And, as I'll say at every opportunity, it spoiled me for pretty much any other TV-show. A good series should follow a literary original - and quite closely. It should have gorgeous aesthetics and music. A plot centered around adventure, history, tradition, loyalty and faith. Plot-decisions should never follow external factors like availability of actors or stale marketing formulas. And it should end when the story is told out.

My mother had the mad idea to try and read the book to me when I was about 5. I didn't understand a word of it. She had a very boring copy too, without any pictures.

Aged 25 I bought the cute edition on the right and made it a reading-project. After each chapter I watched the corresponding episode of the series. And I repeat: It shows the quality of the series that you can do this. Still is was super interesting to note everything they changed. Some things only made sense to me then. Like the story of the parade towards to icy mountain. As a child it just impressed me with its scariness. But in fact it's a parable of which plants can grow how far north.

Cute as it is, the left edition was so badly translated that I went ahead and learned Swedish to read it in the original (middle). In the meantime the German book-market also spoiled me with an up-to-date state-of-the-art unabridged translation (right). So I don't even need to use a dictionary :)

There is one other edition in the house and that's my grandmother's school-copy. As it is well know, Nils Holgerson was written as a reader for Swedish schools, covering geography, history and natural history of Sweden. Since it is an absolute masterpiece, it soon became a school-reader in many other European countries too.

Especially Germany in the 1930s had a fatal obsession with all things Nordic. So every school-child had to learn all about Swedish castles too. I always wondered why nobody at least tried to write a rip-off set in Germany. Only recently, in the course of my current research, I found out that someone did. Tamara Ramsay: Wunderbare Fahrten und Abenteuer der kleinen Dott (images not mine). But it only came out in 1941 and never made it to school-reader status.

My grandmother and her class enjoyed Nils Holgerson so much, they wrote collective fan-mail to Selma Lagerlöff. She replied too. She wrote that she got her German translator to decipher their letter and that she was very glad they enjoyed her book. The translator must have been the same Pauline Klaiber-Gottschau who first translated the book into German.

The original wild geese can of course be consulted at the International Youth Library in Munich. The building (Schloss Blutenburg) is the cutest little medieval castle that's been forgotten on the edge of the city. And in winter and spring you can meet the geese spending the winter in the moat. As a child I always regretted that Nils Holgerson ends just as the geese plan to cross to Germany. I'd have loved to see their Schloss Blutenburg adventure!

My Grandmother also appears to have read most other books by Selma Lagerlöff. At least she ticked them off in the list in her copy of Nils Holgerson. The only other one to survive in her collection is Gösta Berling (here in blue).

While the dated German bothered me a lot in Nils Holgerson, I deeply enjoy reading other Lagerlöff novels in as old editions as I can get hold of (here the much-mended red Gösta Berling). In old German print they just feel like they came from the dawn of time!

Those two have actually both been major inspirations for the McCarrics. Gösta Berling includes more or less the model for Fergus' dying-scene (if you ever want to see the subject treated by a nobel-prize-winner). And Herrn Arnes Schatz (Herr Arnes penningar) has the ghostly sister as well as badass Scotsmen (here unfortunately as the bad guys).

[etherati]

Taproot - (1/25)

To celebrate finally finishing this monster of a fic after 4 goddamned years, I'm going to be posting the full chapters here on Tumblr, serialized like in the olden days, to make it easier to digest a bit at a time. Expect an installment once a week. This is a sequel to Wellspring, and is a post-S2 AU with, at this point, established Trephacard--plus some historical flashbacks, family drama, bloody showdowns, and a lot of secrets waiting in the wings. And feels. All the feels. If you like those things--or, for reasons I cannot disclose at this time, dear old Leon Belmont--consider giving this one a spin.

Summary from Ao3:

Taproot (n): The oldest, most central root; that from which all else arises.

Every family has its roots, diving down into the shadowy, secretive earth--and there's no such thing as a bloodless inheritance.

🎵 Music pairing: The Old Ways - Loreena McKennitt

Next -- >

Go to part: one | two | three | four | five | six

Sunrise over the Black Sea—golden light spilling into the water like its own sort of glowing, glittering liquid, diffusing through the brine and illuminating it in hues of orange and amber and violet-pink—is one of the most beautiful sights the natural world has to offer. There are other striking sunrises to be had, and other bodies of water prone to making a person feel overwhelmingly small, but nowhere else do the two combine into such a spectacle, delighting the eyes even as it harrows the soul.

At least, nowhere else that Sypha has been, and she has been a lot of places.

She twists the end of her walking stick into the damp sand and gravel. This means that she’s close; she can tell by the particular mineral-laden smell of the salt and the angle of the light that she’s still a bit north of Enisala, but not by very far. There’s no shame in having arrived at the sea slightly off from her target. The only truly accurate navigation is by the stars—and the lingering presence of the night creatures and the winter’s bitter chill have had her travelling mostly with the sun.

Overhead, the keening cries of shorebirds as they dip and weave, coming in low to gather at the waterline, to pick over the tide pools and sandbars. The breakers beat the rocky shore, relentless. There’s a stark beauty to the place, to the way life struggles forward despite its days being filled only with further struggle. Tenacity. Tenacity, she understands, and all the spoils it brings.

This would be a lovely place to bring Adrian and Trevor to, she thinks; let them see this dawn, let the three of them roughhouse in the waves and drink sweet fruit wine in the sun and make love in the cool, damp sand once twilight settles in, all softness and blue-black shadows and the murmur of the tide. When the weather is warmer. When the sea is greener than it is grey, and the wind coming off of it doesn’t threaten to peel the skin from her face and hands. When they feel safe, leaving the castle unguarded for a while.

That time is, with certainty, not yet now. But she’s working on it. She’s still not gotten used to travelling alone, honestly hopes she won’t ever have to, but sometimes needs must. And that’s the entire point of this, of having to be away from them for so long.

She misses them—misses her family, too, but that’s an old ache that she’s grown accustomed to. Missing Adrian and Trevor is a different kind of hurt, sharp and fresh, made worse by knowing how badly they’re missing her in return. When she was growing up, travelling constantly on journeys measured in seasons, a month had felt like nothing. Now, it feels like an eternity.

There’s no snow and ice out here, this close to the water; there never is, in her experience, until you get to the deep, deep north. The sand is wet and the coarse stone crushed into it grinds under her staff. It’s blunt and thick, as writing implements go, and there’s no way to get any detail—and anyway, she’s no artist.

She still leaves a chunky, lopsided heart in the sand, as if marking the spot to return to later—as if the waves won’t wash it away mere hours after she’s left this place.

The sun is high overhead by the time the crumbling stone fortress of Enisala comes into view on the horizon. It feels wonderful, even if winter sun never warms one through the same way summer sun does; she drops her hood to bask in it, shifting her pack on her shoulders.

The ruins themselves are all beige-grey rock, the sky even more devoid of color, stormy and brooding. As she gets closer, though, she can see little pops of color all around the perimeter of the old fortress—blanket-draped caravans, colorful paper lanterns, artifacts of every culture the trains have come into contact with over the past year. Anything to make the space lively.

This place has always felt oddly significant to her—with its ruins that no one will claim ownership over, that seem to belong only to themselves, like slumbering giants from the birth of the world. Really, anywhere on the eastern edge of a landmass would do, for the Speakers’ winter solstice celebrations. But this is where her family group has always come, and so she knows she will find them here. For a week on either side of the solstice, many trains gather here in the sprawl of the mysterious ruins, and they eat and dance and share stories, all the stories of the year before, and Sypha knows she has a few that will make even the elders jealous.

She smiles to herself, framing the narrative in her head as she sets off down the narrow, meandering path to the gathering below.

“Sypha!” a familiar voice calls out, along with the clatter of scattered and dropped firewood; she’s barely made the edge of camp, is still lost in thought, but that voice would snap her out of just about anything.

“Kiri,” she oofs out, as the woman barrels into her, catching her up in a crushing embrace that’s more robes than anything else—layers and layers of them, to keep out the damp chill. Sypha hugs back just as hard; she’d been expecting her family and the others, the ones she’d watched leave Greşit all those months ago and then had to say farewell to again late in the spring. She hadn’t been expecting Kiri, Kiri who knows all her secrets and remembers what she looked like when she was young enough to go about with her hair unshorn, who she spent more time with growing up than she did her own family—throwing rocks into rivers and climbing trees and playing rough games with the boys. Testing every limit, challenging every rule, pushing for every wild dream.

Kiri, who’d been away from their clan for at least three years now, off studying the healing arts with the Ottoman scholars in the east when their own collective knowledge had proved insufficient for her. Three years that now feel like nothing—and isn’t it odd, how the friends of childhood are so often forgotten when the demands of adult life catch up, but the body never forgets what it’s like to hold them?

“I’m so glad you made it,” Kiri says, her face buried in Sypha’s hair. “My first Solstice back with our people and you weren’t here! I was getting worried.”

“What, did you think I would miss it?” Sypha asks, faux indignation through her own laughter. “Never.”

“Well, I’ve been told that you have your hunter, now,” Kiri says, pulling away, a sudden swell of distance blooming between them. No wonder—too often, Speakers who marry outside the tribe never quite find their way back. She and Trevor hadn’t been that to each other the last time she’d seen her family, had just been circling ever closer without quite making contact, but fair assumptions could be, and often were, made. “And your sleeping soldier?”

“Mm, yes,” Sypha says; it’s been a long time since she’s thought of Adrian that way, though he’s never stopped fighting for them. “But this is important, being here. And seeing everyone again! How have your studies been?”

Kiri’s eyes flash with excitement, bright against the wind-bitten redness of her cheeks; her skittishness evaporates in an instant. “It is incredible, Sypha! The things they know, in the south—the things they’ve kept track of, that others have forgotten. There is a book one man there has written on how to repair a person as if they were a torn garment or a broken wagon. It’s remarkable.” Adrian probably has a copy of that, somewhere in his mother’s medical library—if not, she’ll have to remember to track one down. “I understand why we do not record our stories, but after three years there, I wonder if we are foolish to not record knowledge itself? Raw knowledge I mean, the kind that is hard to frame in the context of a story.”

My people are idiots, she remembers saying, during that

interminable stay in the Belmont hold; she’s usually more inclined to be generous, but there’d been an infectious kind of frustration and cynicism they’d all been fighting, after a certain point. 

“I’ve wondered that, too,” she says now, far more diplomatic; the journey has done her outlook a lot of good. “About an entirely different body of knowledge! Not something that would be as useful as the medicine you’re learning, but yes—if having something written down can save a life, how can that be wrong?” 

“Don’t let the elders hear you say that!” Kiri admonishes, laughing.

Sypha blows a dismissive breath through her nose. “I am sure they already think I’m a terrible member of our tribe, just for raising a hand against the enemies of humanity. I cannot imagine their opinion of me can get much worse.”

Kiri throws an arm over her shoulder, pulls her in. “It’s not that bad,” she says, trying to be encouraging, but there's a tension there. “Our Sypha, the warrior of Wallachia. But I always knew you were destined for something special.”

Sypha frowns in thought, takes a few steps in silence. Did you? She wants to ask, and she wants to ask, Why?

Destined. Destiny is too large an idea, is the sort of thing that hovers around other people, people with remarkable families, with mysterious pasts. Sypha is a magician like any other Speaker magician; her father was the same, and his mother before him, and there is nothing unusual about any of it. These things run in families, and magic users are common, and sure, she'd gotten herself sucked up into an epic story because of it, but it could as easily have been another.

Couldn't it have?

Would another scholar of magic have done just as good a job? Would another magician have melded into the team as well as she did, have communicated in battle so effortlessly, have picked up the slack the other two dropped and protected them when they needed it? Could just any magician have snatched Dracula’s castle out of the aether like it was a feather on the breeze?

Would another Speaker have tossed aside the principles of a lifetime to stand up and fight, or is there really something dark and burning in her that sets her aside?

If there is, is that a good thing or a bad thing? Is that even the question to be asking?

“...how does it feel, to fulfill a prophecy?” Kiri asks, as they start to make their way toward the rest of the camp. It’s clear from the suddenly uncomfortable undercurrent in her voice that she’s not talking about the whole killing Dracula part; that story, her family has already heard, and it’s surely made the rounds. No—she’s talking about the rest of the prophecy. The part that’d had Sypha so uneasy clambering down into the catacombs and so defensive when she awoke there in the face of a hunter; the part that she’d like to believe any random magician would not have been able to fulfill.

“Strangely?” Sypha says, pitching her voice low. “Like I did have a choice in the matter.”

“Truly? You did not feel fate’s hand pushing the issue?” A pause, a few scuffing steps in the snow. Then, carefully: “Or another hand entirely?”

And oh, Sypha understands why her old friend is concerned, understands all too well given the way the world has sometimes treated their people. How non-Speaker men have often regarded them—worldly and experienced and incapable of ever saying no, as if rejection of the church’s self-loathing, oppressive morality somehow made them into succubi. But the implication is so absurd in context that she still laughs, conspiratorial. “No. My God. I had to push them. I thought I was going to go crazy.”

A smile then, more genuine. The tension drains out of the arm across Sypha’s shoulders. “What kind of heroic warriors are they, if they’re not fighting for the hand of maiden fair?”

“In what world, I wonder, would I be considered a fair maiden?” Sypha asks, smiling despite herself. Her robes are ragged with wear, her hair recently chopped short again, her feet swathed in cloth bandages beneath her sandals to keep out the cold. Fair indeed. But she knows that society outside of their caravans frames the world in certain ways. “And they were fighting with me, not for me.” 

“Still. Most would expect some sort of reward for saving the world—even if only from fate.”

Sypha shakes her head, remembering that sunrise through the castle doors, the way they’d all started drifting apart before she’d pulled them back together. Those first few hours of having no idea what to even do with themselves, in this tomorrow that they hadn’t expected to see. “We were all shocked to still be alive, in the end. I imagine that would be reward enough for anyone.”

Kiri looks to her feet, swallows. They walk in silence for a moment. It had, perhaps, been unfair to go into such dark territory—to invoke how close they’d all come to dying that night. But these are the stakes Sypha has gotten used to, the way she’s become accustomed to thinking of the world. Speakers don’t fight; they are always in danger from those who don’t understand them, but that is a danger that brings itself to one’s door. The memory of choosing to walk across an enemy’s threshold, certain she would not ever cross it again, is uniquely hers.

“If you met them,” she says, gently bringing the topic back around, “you would understand. They honestly are good men. They understand what trust and respect are.” And they have enough baggage to fill an entire wagon, between them both, but that’s not for her to say. She’s not so dense as to think that they’d been dragging their feet just to frustrate her. “They do respect me, and I had to do nothing extraordinary to earn it—only what I’m truly capable of. We are equals.”

“Enough so that they trusted you to make this journey alone,” says a voice from her other side, mild and gentle, and Sypha turns without thinking, throwing herself into her grandfather’s arms.

“My angel,” he says, stroking her hair, and as it always does, the endearment makes her heart clench up a little around something—something hard and painful, like a rock in her chest, that she has never understood.

She huffs a laugh against his robes, pushes through it. “It was more a matter of whether I trusted them to survive a month without me.” Kiri laughs then, and her grandfather does too, and it warms her to know, with this kind of certainty, just how lucky she really is.

“…and it was in this way that the houses were joined, the scorched land of one family and the usurped fortress of their oldest enemy, and from the ashes of tragedy and loss and centuries of discord arose the hope of an unexpected and brilliant future.”

A long silence, broken up by the crackle of logs in the fire, by the quiet rustle of voices from elsewhere in the camp. There’s no need to pronounce the end of a story here, not if one is half decent at telling it; Sypha knows that they are just letting it sink in.

“A remarkable story, more so even than the first telling, which we have all heard,” one of the elders says, one she isn’t familiar with. In front of the old woman’s feet, a pair of young children are still staring raptly at Sypha. The elder’s voice is warm, pleased. “It will be quite a thing to add to our memory stores. And quite a thing to know that one of our own played a role, in such a difficult time for our country.”

“One of ours, one of Dracula’s, and one of their own that they threw out,” says a young man a few places to Sypha’s left; his voice carries the twist of a smile. “I wonder how the church must feel, in the face of such irony.”

And oh, that’s a thought that has given Sypha much satisfaction over the last year—to be a fly on the wall when the heads of the church met to discuss what had happened!—but the old woman frowns. “I imagine they feel as though they nearly caused the extinction of all human life in Wallachia,” she says, a touch sharp. “Perhaps that is enough?”

One of the children at her feet giggles, a Look who’s in trouble kind of sound, and the man ducks his head. But he’s not in trouble. That isn’t how they do things. “Pardon me, Elder,” he says, “but I disagree. That they made a horrible mistake is knowledge that can fade or be downplayed over time. That they were saved by the very people they ostracized and cast out—that carries weight that cannot so easily be shrugged off. Even if we cannot share this with the rest of the people of Wallachia, that lesson should at least be preserved.”

Because it is about hubris as much as it is about blame, she can remember saying, after that first meeting they’d had with Acasă’s strange new church. Blame can be washed away with a convincing enough apology, and hubris will make the same mistakes over and over again. Both must be undermined if any progress is to be made.

It had been a hard sell. Adrian tends to want to place blame if only to have something to aim all of his anger and sadness at, now that he’s allowed himself to start navigating them; Trevor only wants the world to feel more just than it is. But in the end she’d brought them around: more needs to be done than to just rub the church’s nose in the mess it’d made.

Which is why they’d agreed, in the end, for her to finally tell the story in its entirety—nothing masked or obfuscated, no details left aside. Only for her people’s ears; a closed telling, a rarely invoked practice used when the full story needs preserving but would put the participants in danger, should it get out into the general populace. The people of Acasă are just now starting to truly accept Trevor for who he is; tolerating a witch and a vampire is a bit much to expect of them, just yet.

“For whatever it’s worth,” she says now, “as a participant in the story? I agree. How this was ended, and by who, is just as important as who started it in the first place. There are lessons in both of those things."

The elder regards her for a long moment, thoughtful. Then nods, just a tiny dip of her face into the firelight. “Very well. This story will sit alongside the previous version. The nature of Wallachia’s saviors is to be preserved, as a means of emphasizing the church’s shortsightedness and the need for it to not repeat that mistake.”

Sypha nods deeply, a long and slow dip of her head nearly to her knees. “My thanks, Elder. May your tribe live happily and well, in the coming year.”

“And yours.”

The crowd disperses, some going to hear or tell other stories, some retiring to their caravans for the evening meal. One figure stays nearby, hunched over a nearby fire, close enough to have heard her telling but not actually part of the group receiving it. In the fading light, the shape is just that: a shape, a silhouette, blue-black against the blue-white of the snow, limned in the cold violet light of sunset. They have a branch in their hands, are stripping it of its side-shoots methodically, tossing them one by one into the fire.

It’s a silhouette Sypha would know anywhere. 

“What stories have you to tell,” Sypha asks, settling down alongside her, the ritualistic question feeling strange in her mouth, “since this time last year?”

Kiri huffs a laugh. “None as exciting as yours. You’re a hard act to follow, Sypha.”

“You seemed excited about all the knowledge you’d gained, earlier.”

Twist, pull, snap. “That’s nothing, compared to having a grand destiny.”

“I still say that destiny is too strong a word. We basically fell down a hole.” 

“Directly into the vault of Greşit’s sleeping soldier. At precisely the time the three of you were most needed. That sounds like kismet to me.”

Sypha can’t help but laugh, remembering. “It felt more like incredible clumsiness, from where I was standing.”

“Falling.”

“From where I was falling, yes.”

A stretch of quiet, then, broken only by the crackling of the fire.

“So,” Kiri says after a while, tossing an entire handful of twigs into the flames. There’s a smile on her face but the firelight has turned it bitter, all shadows and edges. “Your soldier is a vampire.”

“Dhampir, really,” Sypha corrects, kneejerk. For so long, it’d been Trevor she was correcting, then after a while, Adrian himself; she’s used to being quick on the draw with it, because either of them saying vampire had generally been a sign of badness brewing.

Kiri breaks another few twigs free from the branch, twists them in her fingers. “I don’t know what that means.”

Right. Of course she doesn’t. “It means his mother was human.”

“Oh,” Kiri says, seemingly still not sure what to do with this information. “I knew that, I guess. From the story itself. I didn’t realize the distinction mattered.”

“Yes, it… it matters. A great deal. I do not think a true vampire would have ever sided with humanity.”

"Still. I wonder if I would have been able to guess, had we met in the summer instead of the winter."

Sypha plucks at the scarf around her neck, the wool scratchy but warm, dyed in a hundred vibrant colors. It’d come from the market in Acasă, knitted by an old blind woman, and had been a gift—gratitude for the work they’d done securing the town against the demon attacks. They had saved her son’s entire family, and gone home that night and celebrated it, a battle with no casualties save the demons themselves. She’s wearing it because of the cold, but she knows what Kiri is asking. "Perhaps."

A huff of breath. “So much for your gentle warriors.”

“You would probably be surprised,” Sypha says with a shrug, not even bothering to take offense on Adrian’s behalf, because she can tell this isn’t what Kiri’s actually upset about. Some people compare words to weapons, and it’s truer than they know; you can dodge and feint and mislead with them as well as you can with steel. “But that isn’t—Kiri. What’s going on?”

For a long moment, no reply. The fire cracks and pops, splitting the wood apart in a spattering of sparks. Kiri throws the whole branch into it like a spear, a hard burst of frustration.

“Taerna married, this summer,” she finally says, the words quiet. 

That stops Sypha cold, her fingers poised in mid-reach for a branch of her own. She curls them back up around the empty air, feels the nails bite into her palm. “She always said she would wait for you.”

“Why should she have bothered? We were only friends.”

“You were more than that.”

“She married,” Kiri repeats, short, face tightening as if to hold something inside. “Like all of my friends and sisters did. Marriage and children and… it’s all anyone does. We had plans. We were going to, to travel, and she was going to hunt our food and I was going to heal people and we were going to see the world together. But this is the only life anyone seems to care about.”

And even you’re going down that path, Sypha can hear, unsaid. You and your prophecy, your exiled hunter and your inhuman soldier. 

Sypha closes her eyes, takes a breath. “She cares about you.”

“She also cares about her hound.”

“She loves you,” Sypha says, insistent.

Kiri laughs, bitter, tears threatening. It’s like watching an old dam crumble, flawless limestone threading through with cracks and stress fractures, and then: an outrushing of things held back for far too long. “Not enough,” she says, curling forward over herself, arms tight around her belly. “Not more than she loved the idea of having a child. Not enough to be with me.”

“Oh, Kiri. I’m sorry,” Sypha says, threading an arm over her shoulders, pulling her in. “I’m sorry.”

“Do yours love you?” Kiri asks after a moment, muffled by the layers of robes. “Enough to change the world, to defy everything for you?”

Sypha thinks about Trevor punching Dracula in a ridiculous, suicidal attempt to keep him away from her, thinks about Adrian in her garden, enduring the sun to make her happy—about a castle and a watchtower and the ending of the story she’d told, and her grasp on her friend tightens. “They do. And each other.”

A laugh into her shoulder, rough and wet. “I’ve always thought it would be terrible, to be involved in a prophecy,” she says, barely audible. “I never thought I’d be so jealous.”

There’s a stream that runs past the ruins, a narrow but swift-moving current that cuts through the ground here like a knife. It leads into the tough, gnarled pines and firs that grow this close to the sea, into these dark and uninviting woods that are nevertheless filled with a thousand secret places.

Sypha follows it, as she always has, year after year. 

Things are different, this year.

She finds them by the water, bundled up and talking quietly. There’s a fire burning, but it’s been banked and allowed to subside down to embers, giving off heat but very little light. In the heavily filtered winter moonlight, they look like faery folk—Arn with his delicate, dignified features, Lily with the luminescent white bone beads threaded into hair the color of pitch, both of them beautiful and earnest.

They look up when she steps closer, their faces dark, shadowed. Painfully anxious.

She sits down on the ground, near to them, facing them. She is just as filled with anxiety. She has never done this, has no idea how to approach it—she knows they are not being blindsided like Kiri was, knows they have had time to adjust to the idea of this, but all she can see is her old friend’s face, broken up in grief over a friend-love she—and everyone else—had thought was something more. For once in her life, Sypha cannot find the words.

Then Lily smiles, the brilliant, passionate smile Sypha remembers, and holds out her hands, and Sypha lets herself fall into the woman’s arms, nearabout crushing her in the embrace.

“It’s all right,” she whispers, against Sypha’s ear. “You’ve found your loves. It was always bound to happen to one of us.”

Sypha nods against her, feeling the tears welling up. Turns to embrace Arn, the familiarity of his touch painful in this context, in knowing what she has to do.

“Are you set to marry?” Arn asks, quiet, solemn.

Sypha shakes her head. “I haven’t brought up the subject yet. There are a lot of complications—no human establishment would ever welcome us. But...”

“But you would like to.”

“Yes.”

“Will you come back to us then, for the ceremony?” Lily asks, and her voice sounds like the fear of paths diverging, not knowing if they will ever converge again. “Or even just to visit? You know there are none here who wouldn’t welcome all of you—or if there are…”

“Lily will convince them to change their minds,” Arn finishes for her, a small smile at the corner of his mouth.

Sypha closes her eyes, takes Lily’s hand. “Of course. I could not stay away for long. And you can always visit us—we’ll have a lot of space, once we rebuild.”

Visiting, seeing old friends: it’s not the same, won’t ever be the same. And sometimes things change, and people change and what they are to each other changes. But these two were always dear friends first and foremost, and that will never—can never—be any different. She gathers them both into her arms, and it’s a sweet, comfortable place to be.

“Please tell me,” Arn whispers into her hair after another long moment, “that Belmont at least bathes regularly, now?”

And like that, the seriousness of the night vanishes, goes up like a twist of smoke into the black. Sypha laughs, and keeps laughing, until it turns to tears again and she can’t sort out which she’s feeling more of. 

“Yes,” she says, with a little hiccup of sob-laughter. “He does. He fights the darkness and protects the innocent—like he was born for. And washes the monster blood off, after.”

“Good,” Arn says, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “We could tell from the beginning, that he was capable of being more than he was pretending to be.”

A long measure of silence, only the water rushing past, too swift to freeze even in the heart of winter.

“Will you let us give you a proper farewell?” Lily asks, hesitant. “Do they know—”

“They know,” Sypha says, biting her lip. “I talked with them about it before I left. They don’t mind.” As long as it’s a farewell, she hears Trevor saying, laughter in his voice even as he’d tried to be serious about this. And not a ‘till next time’.

Adrian had just been quiet, and had smiled softly in that way that is always disarming to her, and had simply said that traditions, and closure, are important. For everyone involved.

“Do you want this from us?” Lily asks. “Whether they mind is not the only question.”

It’s secluded in the little copse of trees, even the starlight blocked by the arching branches thick with green needles, and warm from the banked fire. Sypha nods, and reaches out with both hands, palms up in invitation. They each press a kiss to her open hands, and they hold her and she holds them, all of them swathed in the shadows of this secret place. She lets them say goodbye to this part of their collective lives, lets them put their hands and their mouths on her and push her to giddy exhaustion—one last gift from her youth, and one that will have to hold her over through the winter chill until these two weeks are out and she can begin to make her way home.

When they wander back to camp late that night, appetites sated and tension shaken away, things are different between them, always will be different, now—but that’s all right, in the end. Change, like liquor in a wound, can sting, but it is sometimes the only thing that makes the blood run truly clean.

The next day passes quickly and well. She gives her grandfather the gifts that Adrian and Trevor had sent along with her; scouring the castle library, Adrian had found a rare volume of supposedly true stories from the far east that he thought the tribe would appreciate having to add to their memory stores, and    Trevor, feeling some cabin fever in all of the early season snow they’ve gotten, has taken up carving—which is to say, he isn’t very good at it yet, may never really be. But the two simplistic figures he’s sent are easily recognizable as rough caricatures of priests, one missing a finger and one missing an eye. In memory of the day we all met! he’d said, performative, trying to disguise the sentimentality as tactless humor.

Her grandfather laughs to himself as he holds the figures up, and she can tell he’s trying hard to mask how entertained he is; violence is so anathema to their people and yet, somehow, this particular act of violence never seems to have unsettled him. Context, she supposes; Trevor had been acting specifically to save his life, and he could have done far worse.

She wanders the camp, looks at all of the lovely exotic decorations, and plays with the children, an odd pang in her heart as she watches their innocent games. She helps prepare lunch, lighting the fires for the ones doing the cooking, chopping vegetables and kneading dough for flatbread, and she goes into the woods with Kiri to gather more firewood—they will need a lot of it, tonight. 

They don’t talk, while they gather. It’s not awkward, just an understanding that the space between them needs some quiet, needs time to breathe.

She visits with the others in her family, with the surrogate aunts and uncles that are not actually related to her by blood, with the childhood playmates and the mentors, and with Taerna and her husband, a man from another tribe who’d chosen to join hers

instead of the other way around, had chosen to take her name. He seems sweet enough, and Taerna seems happy, if a little haunted around the edges of her eyes. Everyone she asks says that yes, of course they will be there, tonight.

Last night had been for stories, and tomorrow will be as well. But tonight is for celebration. All things in equal measure.

Hours in, Sypha drops onto one of the logs around the edges of the clearing; she slumps forward with a happy groan, reaching to rub the knots and strings out of her calves. Her walking muscles are conditioned like no others, but dancing muscles are a different story. It’s a good ache, though, like that burn in the cheeks that comes from too much smiling, too much laughter. She feels overheated from the exertion and the fire, no matter the chill in the air, and she unwinds the scarf, loosens the top layer of her robes to let the air move through.

Between where she sits and where the fire burns, silhouettes move, a chaotic display of human joy and beauty. They have no structured dances, really, though longtime partners often grow into each other’s steps. She can smell warm food nearby, bread and stew and hot mead, sees all of her family and friends and the strangers that come here as well, all her people, all dressed as she is, and wonders again: could any of them, the ones with magic at least, have done what she did?

She stares into the fire, remembers the feel of the castle’s engine between her fingers, the way she’d felt reality bending and brittle fracturing around her, so much more power at her disposal in that moment than she’d ever brought to bear conjuring fire or ice—and she thinks that no, maybe not. She’s met other magicians; she’s not sure any of them have ever trapped an eldritch monstrosity or blown apart an Enochian ward or—or done the things she’s come here to learn how to do. The things her father and her grandmother could do.

Later. Later, when the Nasaii tribe arrives. They should be here by morning. She will learn what she needs to, and she will go home, and she will be able to protect that home more thoroughly than she ever has before.

In the meantime, she watches the dancers, contemplates getting some stew, contemplates whether her legs will fall off if she tries—watches Arn and Lily together on the far side of the clearing, twisting in a tight curl that makes Lily’s hair lift, the fire lighting up her bone beads and glinting in Arn’s eyes. Watches the children imitating the adults, the youngest pairing off with their siblings, stumbling all over each other. Watches strong, tough Taerna with her husband, insisting on leading him, as much as anyone can lead in this sort of dance. 

Watches the elder she’d told her story to last night, sitting across the fire from her, watching Sypha right back with a gentle smile that says Don’t worry,  that says You will be with them soon.

And there’s nothing inherently romantic about these dances on the solstice—friends dance with friends, parents with children, and many dance alone—but she remembers being young and everything being about those early, tentative relationships, remembers that there was a thrill in getting the chance to dance with those people she called heart-mates, or to be asked to dance by someone she wished to be that close to.

So she can’t help but smile when she sees Taerna whisper something to her husband and break away from him, sidling hesitantly up to where Kiri sits. She’s poking at the dirt with a crooked, bare stick, and her sandals haven’t touched the dance ring—are clean of the dust and soot that coats the ground here, the

remains of a hundred years of bonfires.

Taerna holds out a hand, uncertain.

It won’t solve all of the problems, won’t make Kiri’s love hurt less or magically mend things between them. But there’s something of healing in Kiri’s eyes as she reaches up to take that hand, leaves the stick behind in the dirt, lets herself be pulled up and into the ring of dancers, the two of them falling into each other’s space with an ease that says We belong here, that says Even if we must change, there is still us, that says You will never be a stranger in these arms.

Next -- >

Go to part: one | two | three | four | five | six

[no-where-new-hero]

Tagged by @cheesenames!! Many thanks for thinking of me :)))

20 Questions for Writers

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

Six! A seventh is definitely in the works. Will not promise more

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

29,982

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Emily series, The Blue Castle, Tale of the Nine-Tailed

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Barney Snaith POV is the runaway favorite with 63

Feral Fox Girl with Angst coming in at 48

Hurt/comfort in a hotel at 25

My half-finished historical AU (RIP) at 23

Aaaaaand my other two LMM fics are tied at 15

5. Do you respond to comments?

Always, though unless the comment has feedback or is hugely gushing, it's typically a pretty standard grandma "thank you, that's sweet, hope you enjoyed"

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Probably the Dean fic? Feral Fox Girl is definitely the angstiest story, but at least it has a mostly happy ending

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Probably Barney Snaith POV simply because TBC is a happy book

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Not unless there's a stealth discord of secret haters I don't know about

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Not in this incarnation of my fandom self, though a little PG-13 sexuality isn't unexpected

10. Do you write crossovers?

No, but that's not to say that I might not someday

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Hopefully not

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Nope

13. Have you ever co-written a fic?

No, but that's another thing that I would be open to doing someday

14. What's your all-time favorite ship?

Don't know if I have one? At least not one that I will write a fic for

15. What's a WIP that you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

God, at this point I'm so dubious that I'll ever finish my chaptered TOTNT1938 fic. I'm sad about it because that fandom gave me so much joy to write again last year, but I just ,,, do not have the same voracious interest in the show to spend time on writing it. Somehow the TBC rarepair fic gives me more delight; I am determined to get to some kind of ending for that story someday!

16. What are your writing strengths?

Pretty prose, interweaving exposition and action

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

I tend to go on and on. Too much worldbuilding when the story doesn't need it

18. Thoughts on writing in another language in a fic?

I'm sadly not fluent enough in any other language to ever do this

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Ignoring the fanfic-adjacent stories I wrote in my early teens that were heavily based on The Hero and the Crown, the first "real" fanfic was kpop rpf

20. Favorite fic you've written?

Probably my Dean one, what can I say. A Dean/Emily fanfic ("euchronologie") was one of the best things I ever read and opened my eyes to fanfic in general, plus I needed to write a story for them that was the way I saw them, if that makes any sense

Tagging (if you have not already been tagged): @mollywog @thesweetnessofspring @arizonapoppy

[bellasbookclub]

A Blue Castle read-along? You bet! 🏰💙🌿

Join us at 8PM EST on Wednesday 1/17 (Thursday AM for Aussies) on our Discord voice channel as we take turns reading out loud from chapters 9-11 and 25+ of The Blue Castle (bring your best Uncle Benjamin impression.) Everyone is welcome to listen or jump on in!

How does the read-along work?

Jump onto the Bella's Book Club Discord

Just here to listen? Go to our voice channels (at the bottom of channel list with a speaker icon🔊)

Connect your audio (we suggest joining muted by clicking on the mute button)

Want to take a turn reading? Let the mods know in the #read-along-chat channel before you click on over to the voice channels and join in the chin wagging!

Reader turns are usually approx. 10 minutes each (mods will keep track and ping you at the 1 minute mark.) Read along from your own copy or keep track via our livestream of the text.

Have fun!

[throwbacktears]

Source

Due out on digital July 25 and DVD/Blu-ray/4k on September 19, Rob Marshall’s The Little Mermaid gets a gorgeous limited edition physical release courtesy of Best Buy’s SteelBook collection. That’s not all; there will also be a standard release DVD/Blu-ray as well as a Walmart exclusive with a pin. Among the special features, which may vary depending on which version you pick up, you’ll find an array of behind-the-scenes goodies. Sing Along Version Sing along with your favorite songs while watching the movie with on-screen lyrics. Hotter Under the Water Discover how director Rob Marshall and his team brought the story of The Little Mermaid to life with this documentary in five chapters: A Tale of the Bottomless Blue – Join Rob Marshall on the set of one of the most ambitious and challenging films he’s ever directed. I Know Something’s Starting Right Now - Join cast members Halle Bailey, Melissa McCarthy, Jonah Hauer-King, and more and learn how they were cast in the film and what it was like to bring director Rob Marshall’s vision to life. Down Where It’s Wetter – Dip your toes into the virtual ocean and learn about how the breathtaking underwater world was created with visual effects, imagination and a lot of talented artists. Explore That Shore Up Above – From Prince Eric’s castle to the beach, explore the above-the-sea locations and the elaborate production design behind them. Do What the Music Say – Discover how legendary composer Alan Menken teamed up with Lin- Manuel Miranda to write new songs to accompany the original classics Song Breakdowns “Wild Unchartered Waters” – Prince Eric, played by Jonah Hauer-King, gets his own song, written by Alan Menken and Lin-Manuel Miranda. Go behind the song, from the writing to the recording, to the filming on a practical ship. “Under the Sea” – Get a first-hand look at how professional dancers helped bring director Rob Marshall’s vision to life as they stood in for the various animated sea creatures that sing and dance in this showstopping number. “Kiss the Girl” – Float along and get a frog’s-eye view of the beautiful set built to film the live-action version of this classic song. “Poor Unfortunate Souls” – Join Melissa McCarthy (Ursula) as she takes us on the journey of making her character’s signature song. Featurettes The Scuttlebutt on Sidekicks – Dive in and meet Sebastian, Flounder, and Scuttle, who not only have their own song, “The Scuttlebutt,” but also fresh looks as they work hard to make sure Ariel and Eric kiss before Ursula’s deadline. Passing the Dinglehopper – Ariel met Ariel when Halle Bailey worked with Jodi Benson—the voice of Ariel in the original animated movie—who appears in a clever cameo in the live-action film. Bloopers – Laugh along with the cast as they have the time of their lives making The Little Mermaid.

[kingedmundsroyalmurder]

Blue Castle chapters 25 and 26

"He was coming. Valancy heard Lady Jane Grey far back in the woods. Her breath came a little more quickly. Nearer—and nearer—she could see Lady Jane now—bumping down the lane—nearer—nearer—he was there—he had sprung from the car and was leaning over the gate, looking at her."

I love the pacing of this passage. It's got such a great rhythm to it; you can really feel Valancy's heart racing.

I like a lot of the language in chapter 25. I feel like LMM is playing with language even more than she usually does. Valancy interrupts Roaring Abel "politely and unmistakably." She "takes [the chance to ask Barney to marry him] with a canter". The living Stirlings do nothing. Just a whole host of great lines that sort of mark the divide in Valancy's life. Before, she was living for other people. Even at Abel's, she is still there to keep house and look after Cissy. She wants to be there, of course, and she chose it herself and regrets nothing, but she does technically answer to Abel. Now, she answers to no one, and so we get full uninhibited Valancy. As it turns out, uninhibited Valancy is snarky as heck.

In other news, Barney Snaith has got it bad and is trying to pretend like he hasn't noticed. There's been a lot of good discussion in the tag about the one-two punch of Cissy dying followed by Valancy's diagnosis. And yet here he is getting excited about Valancy seeing the island and promising her that she'll like it and joking with her about dead wives. Never mind the kiss at the end of chapter 26, of course. But you just know he is resolutely refusing to examine any of this, just like he absolutely only took her to the movies as a friend.

(Amusing sidenote: what do we think Olive would say if she learned that she didn't feature in Valancy's fantasy wedding at all? "No bridesmaids" might as well be code for "no Olive," given Valancy's lack of other friends or same-age relatives.)

[sjsmith56]

Across the Waters - Chapter 26, Lord Buchanan

Summary: A delegation from the southern lands brings word of the existence of a supercomputer requiring Bruce’s expertise. An incident at their destination involving Magnus threatens everything.

Length: 5.3 K

Characters: Princess Maria, King Steven, King Thorn, Lord Buchanan, Bruce Banner, King David, Prince Arthur.

Warnings: Theft of Magnus, injury to Magnus, parent fury resulting in physical discipline to child.

Author notes: Brooklyn and the lands to the north and east are higher in elevation than in our world. New York City and New Jersey are under water. Most of the east coast of the U.S. was destroyed by the calamity. This chapter begins the third part of the book, introducing new characters that will share much of the story of Lord Buchanan. It’s where the muse led me.

<<Chapter 25

⛵️ 🌅

The delegation from the Kingdom of Blue Waters that met with King Steven the following day set the stage for the biggest transformation to be felt in the kingdom. Originally enemies who had been duped by Prince Loke into attacking his brother and by extension King Steven's kingdom they became the missing piece of what was needed to mount a joint effort to destroy the asteroids that threatened their world.

The leader of the delegation, Princess Maria, was a no-nonsense woman who had obviously trained as a warrior from a young age. As the only child of the king she had also been educated to a degree unseen in most women of her social rank. Her intellect was keen and she had publicly disagreed with her father over his decision to follow Prince Loke into battle against the northerners. For that she had been imprisoned until the remains of his army barely made it home. The public outcry against the old king had been so strong that he had abdicated in all but name and turned over the running of his kingdom to his daughter. It was her, who upon hearing of the desire for coffee by the northerners had encouraged the pedlars to learn what they could about their distant neighbours as part of a simple trade relationship. From their tales of the scientific discoveries and inventions that were flowing from the creative minds in the north she began searching out the modern women and ancient structures alike in her own realm. Like the northern kingdoms she learned they had also received an influx of modern women into their kingdoms, all with technological skills and knowledge that had long been lost to them. When word of the discoveries of ancient structures in the northern kingdoms reached their ears via the coffee pedlars who had undergone the long journeys back and forth between their kingdom she ordered the nobility to begin searching their lands for ancient structures as well. Two missile silos had been found, as well as the remains of libraries, hospitals, and observatories. They had also witnessed the close encounter of the large meteor that exploded in the atmosphere and from their own observations had concluded that the space threat was greater than any other.

Barely three days into her delegation's visit she made the decision to enter into an alliance with King Stephen and King Thorn to pool their scientific resources together. It happened after two specific events. First was the demonstration of the Queen's Guard put on just for her on the first day, with Queen Peg leading them. The Queen shared her experiences of being a soldier and leader of men in her own world before landing in this one, then impressing the warrior princess with her views of women having equality with the men of this world. Next, with King Steven and King Thorn she met with Bruce Banner at Lord Buchanan's castle after travelling there. Despite his size and skin colour she handled the meeting with candour, asking him questions about his intellect. He was impressed with her scientific knowledge, asking if she had learned from modern scientists. She acknowledged it then asked to see the computers; her eyes widening when she saw them, resulting in her peppering him with questions.

"How do you power them? Where did you get the software to reformat them? What calculations are you running on them?"

He answered all of them then asked why all the questions.

"They discovered a super computer in a kingdom we are allied with," she said. "Our combined scientists have tried to get it to work but have been unsuccessful. We believe it belonged to the ancient's space agency and is in a city once called Abilene, the next kingdom over. There are indications it was moved from its original location in a place called Houston before the asteroid impact that sent a massive tidal wave over the southeastern part of the country that existed at that time. The King and Queen would have come on this trip but she is late in her confinement, and he has his own share of civil unrest. They charged me with representing them. Is it possible you could travel there and try to get it working again?"

"That's a long way and I'm too big to ride a horse," said Bruce. "What are the land conditions between there and here?"

"Not good," she admitted. "We use ships, transport our horses on them, arriving at one of their coastal settlements. My father's kingdom is based in what was Atlanta according to the modern worlders at my palace. It had a higher elevation and was further inland than Houston so it became a refuge from the waves. Much of what was the southern part of the country is under water now although it is quite shallow in places."

"Have you found any television or video cam equipment in your searches?" asked Bruce. "Any transmission towers still standing?"

"Yes, quite a bit of equipment," she replied. "The towers I would have to check. What are you proposing?"

"Site to site broadcast," said Bruce. "Your computer experts could show me what they are doing, the commands, the responses, etc. and I could give them real time suggestions."

"Would my scientists know how to set that up?" she asked.

"I'm sure they would," replied Bruce. "But it is contingent on connecting the transmission towers and that might take time we don't have."

"We don't have the resources," she admitted. "That's why we've asked for metals in trade so that we can fabricate solar panels, wind turbines and the like."

"Salvage," said Bruce, thinking out loud, then explaining his thought. "Let me run some simulations. We know that people survived the tidal wave in this area but to the west which is significantly lower elevation the area was decimated. Our highest elevation here is about 2200 feet and slowly goes higher the further north and east we go so the wave wasn't that big when it reached here. If the original impact was closer to the Gulf of Mexico that's where the highest tidal waves would be. It would sweep everything in a path inland then the surge back would drag debris with it. I can make an educated guess where you could find the remains of wires from the original transmission towers."

A slow smile spread across Princess Maria's face. She looked at King Steven, King Thorn, and Lord Buchanan. "We must have an alliance," she said. "There is just no other answer. This man, Dr. Banner, is brilliant and if we're going to save our world from any more impacts I need him to help get that super computer working. Our scientists, based on records they've found in Abilene believe that the space agency knew about this killer asteroid, their words, not mine, and were desperately trying to come up with a plan to send the missiles there. They faced pushback from the military over it and that was what ultimately killed them. They had all these missiles and no way to reprogram them without the military's help. There is no organized military now, except what each lord has but you have three full missile silos and we have found two. The empty silo, that commander tried but he didn't have the right ... what is the word?"

"Trajectory," said Bruce. "Because he didn't hit it in the right spot he was only able to break a small piece off it and it wasn't enough. If they were tracking that one then they were likely tracking more of them if they were using a super computer. She's right; I need to be there onsite. That machine can out perform all the computers I have set up here in a fraction of the time. We need to get it running. How long will it take to get to Abilene by boat and then walking?"

"Two weeks, minimum," she said. "We can build a cart for you. There are teams of oxen that can probably pull your weight so you wouldn't have to walk."

Bruce looked agonizingly at King Steven, King Thorn, and Lord Buchanan. The King made it easy for him.

"Go," he said. "If that computer can do so much more and give us that much information then that is a priority. You have trained Stark, and the others well and they can probably do much while you're gone. We can start looking for those transmission towers, perhaps even build some of our own on higher ground. Princess, you are welcome to take one of the ham radios with you. Bruce can set it up. Their range is much greater than the regular radios. That way we can keep in better contact. An alliance it is for us. Thorn?"

King Thorn stuck his hand out and she took it firmly, shaking it in return. Then she shook King Steven's hand.

"Would you object if I came?" asked Lord Buchanan. "I have travelled by ship before. I've been to the Holy Land. I can search out other trade opportunities, goods, food stuffs, natural medicines."

"That would be acceptable," she said. "Your wife will not object?"

"I wouldn't say that but she is a modern woman and a Queen's Guard," he said. "She understands the need to serve the kingdom and she is well equipped to manage my estate's affairs."

Three days later Bruce Banner and Lord Buchanan, along with his horse Magnus were all on a ship heading south. It would take a week to get to Atlanta, where the Kingdom of Blue Waters was centred. They would take on provisions then go on to the west to what had been Texas in the ancient world. Long-distance messenger falcons had already been sent requesting a cart be built to accommodate Bruce Banner. The falconer had whispered the directions to the creatures, sending three in case any were injured along the way. Princess Maria affixed her seal to the message they carried so her people would know the order came from her.

When they arrived in Atlanta after a week Magnus became unruly and it was necessary for Buchanan to ride him off the ship first then gallop him for some time to release his pent up energy. Princess Maria watched the horse with interest during the journey, impressed with his stature, recognizing his superior bloodline.

"Do you think Lord Buchanan would be interested in his horse being offered to stud while we pick up provisions?" she asked Bruce. "He is a magnificent beast, one of the finest stallions I have ever seen. I have several mares that should be in heat right about now. Their foals would be fine horses that would invigorate our herds."

"He might agree just to get rid of some of Magnus' nervousness," he said. "He is quite particular with the horse. Only he, his wife and best friend have ridden it."

"I will ask," she said, "I have something to offer in exchange he might be interested in."

Later, in her palace, she introduced the two men to her father, the King. He was impressed by Bruce's size and colour but after a time seemed to retreat into himself and eventually the Princess called for his attendants to take him to bed.

"Our modern doctors say he has dementia," she said, sadly. "It was why he was so easily led by Prince Loke's delegation to join him against your kingdom. At least once that fiasco was over he had enough of his senses to make me his regent."

"My father had it also," said Buchanan. "He lived long enough to see his first grandchild, my daughter, then he died shortly after. I was thankful for that much. Dr. Banner tells me you are interested in Magnus as a stud. He has had his share of trysts with other mares on my estate but all have taken place in an open paddock, with no restraints. Are you comfortable with that?"

"My mares have been bred that way before," she replied. "I have a gift to reciprocate if you agree. Taste this."

She poured each of them a half glass of a dark amber liquid. Bruce smelled his and smiled, downing his in one gulp.

"That is very nice bourbon," he said. "How old is it?"

"This particular bottle is from one of many casks found after the calamity," she said with a smug smile. "It was dated 2023. The King's spirit maker has replicated the process to make an acceptable Tennessee style whiskey. For as many mares as your Magnus can mount while we reload the ship I will give you a full cask of the aged product for yourself, one for your king and one for King Thorn, plus an agreement to ship a significant amount of the replicated product to your kingdom on the return trip. Here is the replicated product."

She poured from a different bottle and toasted their health. Banner downed his in a single gulp, indicating it wasn't bad as a replica of the original. Buchanan tasted both, indicating he could see the superiority of the first drink but that the second would be liked by many. The Princess added that the liquor could be used in cooking, giving a distinctive taste to many recipes which she could also provide. If the product proved popular then she could enter into negotiations with the King for a formal agreement. Buchanan agreed and they went out to introduce Magnus to his harem. He didn't disappoint, mounting more than a dozen mares in the afternoon that had been teased first by a young stallion to make sure they were ready. Princess Maria was both pleased and impressed with his efforts, celebrating the great horse’s efforts with a meal of ribs using a bourbon sauce that both Buchanan and Banner found tasty. A courtier arrived to say the ship had been provisioned, the tide was high and about to turn so they loaded Magnus back on. The princess loaded her mare then they themselves boarded before the ship's captain set a westerly course towards the setting sun.

With a strong easterly wind they made the journey in three days, having to pick a specific course to avoid shallower portions of the sea. A delegation from the King of the Western Plains was there to greet them. As promised a large cart pulled by a team of eight oxen waited at the dock to carry Bruce. He felt like he was on display but was treated with deference by the officials and ignored the stares as they rode the dry and dusty road to Abilene. The King, a tall well built man with hands like a mason waited outside the lab where the super computer was housed. He was dressed in workmanlike clothes and admitted he was a hands on type of man, except for the computers as he still didn't quite understand them. He also was quite taken by Magnus, having already learned of the stallion’s prowess with the Atlanta mares. He offered to buy him from Buchanan, an offer that was refused with a smile. When they entered the building Bruce turned to the King in surprise.

"You have air conditioning?" he asked. "How?"

"The same pipes that bring up heat from deep inside the earth in the winter bring up cooler air in the summer," he replied. "With the fans powered by the sun we are able to distribute the air throughout the building. We use ice in the super computer lab as well to further reduce the temperature. When we first failed to make it run it was thought that was the problem but it is something else. Please, come and wash up. We have clean suits for you to wear inside the lab."

They entered a washroom and all of them cleaned up, put head coverings on over their hair then donned white coveralls before entering the lab. It was significantly cooler in there but Bruce was sure it was cold enough. He was introduced to the team and before they could ask he told them where his PhD was from pre-calamity. Accepting his CV they began telling him everything they had tried in programming, trouble shooting and environment. As they began to get more into the workings of the computer Buchanan, the Princess and the King began to feel left out and the King motioned for them to leave the scientists to work on their own. Outside of the lab they removed the coveralls and the King invited them both to ride to a nearby residence to eat and drink. They stepped out into the heat of the sunny day where the monarch ordered the grooms to bring their horses. They looked at each other uneasily before sharing what the problem was.

"Your Majesty, your horse and Princess Maria's horse are still here but the Prince took the black stallion," said the head groom. "He said you were buying it for him and he wished to try it out. He has been gone this half hour."

Before Buchanan could say anything the King exploded in fury. "Blasted child!" he fumed, then turned apologetically to Buchanan. "My Lord, I am sorry. My eldest is a most obstinate and headstrong boy. He coveted your horse from the moment he heard of it. Now he has shamed me once again by taking it without permission. I will send my King's Guard for him. We will find him and your steed. I promise."

He gave the order to the King's Guard and retreated back inside the air conditioned building to wait. As Buchanan paced angrily back and forth the King tried his best to make amends but the proud Lord said nothing, just showing his fury on his face. At last, the commander of the Guards entered the building with news.

"We have found the Prince and the stallion," he said hurriedly, eyeing Buchanan as he reported to the King. "The Prince is fine but the stallion is injured. I am sure the Royal Veterinary College can treat him for his injury."

Buchanan whirled on the King. "In our lands a horse thief is no better than a murderer," he said angrily. "If I found him on my land I would be within my rights to run him through with my rapier. Pray that the injury suffered by Magnus is not a serious one."

The King took the outburst with grace. "It is our law as well, Lord Buchanan," he replied. "This isn't the first time my son has shamed his station. It will be the last. Commander, order your men to take Prince Arthur into custody. He will never be fit to rule if he insists on behaving this way. Provide Lord Buchanan a horse to ride. Come, sir, let us see what damage my fool son has done to your magnificent beast."

A horse was provided and the three rode out with the Guard commander. The Prince, sitting in the shade and drinking a beer rose insolently as his father and the others approached. Buchanan almost struck the boy when he dismounted the borrowed horse but instead he went straight to Magnus who favoured his left front leg. A veterinarian was already there. The King did strike his son and ordered him arrested for horse thievery.

"Why Father?" he asked as he was bound. "If the horse was mine why should I not ride him as I please?"

"Because he was not yours!" roared the King. "There was no purchase. My offer was refused and you in your arrogance stole that which did not belong to you. You are a horse thief and my hands are now tied as you must be punished as one."

"But I am a Prince," said the boy. "Do not I have station or rank above ordinary people? Am I not permitted to take what I want for that is how I have been raised, that all this will be mine someday."

"You foolish child," said the King. "That horse comes from another kingdom, here on a diplomatic mission. It isn't mine to give and it wasn't yours to take. No man's horse is yours to take even as a prince or a king. The kingdom would have been yours but you have shown you cannot be trusted to conduct yourself accordingly. I disown you and strip you of your rank and privilege. You are no son of mine.  I have no son."

The King turned from the boy and strode to where Buchanan and the veterinarian were still assessing the injury. He ignored the pleas of his son as the guards took him away. The veterinarian began wrapping the left front forelimb of the horse and Buchanan stood, his hand stroking Magnus' neck.

"It is a tendon injury," he said to the King, "but she is unsure if it is a strain or a tear and will wrap it to reduce the swelling. We must get a wagon to transport him to your stables so she can ice the leg. This horse has been my closest companion for ten years. I found him in the Holy Land and we bonded like brothers. Only I and two others have ever been allowed to ride him by his consent. I see the marks of a whip on his withers and excessive pull on the bit. I'm sorry but your son ...."

"I am sick with shame," said the King. "He is my only son and I admit I let him get away with much. But this, this is too much even for me to overlook any more. Please, let me gift you one of my finest horses to ride while you are still with us and take home with you when you return. It is the least I can do."

"Do you plan to execute him?" asked Buchanan, his anger cooling. "Is there no other punishment for a headstrong foolish boy?"

"Banishment perhaps," said the King. "But he has no idea of how to look after himself, no idea how to conduct himself as an honourable man. I have failed him."

"Perhaps he can return to the Broken Lands as a foster," suggested Princess Maria. "No one would know who he is and he could learn to be a good man. I think he would have a good teacher."

She looked directly at Lord Buchanan as she spoke, who coloured and shook his head. "I am still too angry with the boy to even consider fostering him," he replied.

"Yet I heard several stories of your sense of justice and moral code," she said. "For a man born as a peasant you seem to have the respect of many noble born Lords in your kingdom. Perhaps what the boy needs is to be taught how to be a prince by someone who knows what it is to be low born."

The King said nothing, his shame still too great to even ask if Buchanan would entertain the idea. An oxen drawn cart arrived to carry Magnus back to the king's stables and the three mounted their horses after Buchanan helped Magnus step onto the cart. He rode closely on the borrowed horse, beside the cart for the entire trip while the veterinarian stood with his horse, keeping him calm. When they arrived at the stables Buchanan went with her to make sure that Magnus was properly set up. The veterinarian, a modern woman, looked hopefully at Buchanan.

"Magnus took the trip well," she said. "I hope it is just a strain. He is a beautiful horse and I will do my best to heal him."

He nodded his head gratefully then took the saddle which had already been removed from the horse's back and placed it on the saddle rack beside his stall. Taking his saddle bags in his arms he was led by the King into the palace. Word had already reached the Queen about her son's crime and it was said she had taken to her bed, being in the last month of her pregnancy with what was now hoped to be another son, after four daughters. Wordlessly the King showed Buchanan to his rooms and bowed before he left to console his wife. A dresser came out of the bathing room, informing Buchanan that a warm bath had been drawn for him.  The man offered to take the saddle bags to remove his clothes and press them before wearing. Buchanan informed him there was a trunk as well and the servant assured him it had already been unpacked. When he had undressed and slipped into the warm soothing waters he looked at the dresser, Jose, who stood at the ready.

"That is a different name, and you speak with an accent," said Buchanan. "This is not the kingdom of your birth?"

"No, M'Lord," he replied. I come from further south, a mountainous country, under no king's rule. I was fortunate to come here, even more fortunate to get a position in the palace. Someday when I have enough saved I will open a coffee plantation."

"It is this kingdom that grows coffee?" asked Buchanan.

"No, it is in the lawless country where it grows although I have found places in this kingdom that with careful preparation of the soil and the addition of good shade plants it may be possible to grow the coffee plants," he answered. "Since the influx of modern women the demand for good coffee has grown so it is worth it to invest in such a venture."

"What can you tell me about the Prince, truthfully?" asked Buchanan. "You may speak frankly in my presence. I give you my word it will remain between us."

"He is a troubled boy," said Jose in a low voice. "As the only son and heir to the kingdom he has been subjected to great pressures since he was a child. They even started looking for a wife for him before he was ten years of age. His mother coddles him, his father is overly strict and the result is a boy that doesn't understand the limitations of a prince or a person. Is it true he stole your horse and injured it?"

"It is true," replied Buchanan. "Yet it has been suggested I may be able to help the boy by fostering him in my estate far to the north and teach him to be a good man and a good ruler. I admit my first instinct was to run him through with my rapier but I am a guest in these lands and that would be unacceptable. The thought of having him live with me is ... unnerving."

"It would unnerve me also, M'Lord," said Jose. "I will leave you to your thoughts and have these travelling clothes cleaned."

"Thank you, Jose," said Buchanan. "I appreciate your candour."

Buchanan bathed, then was assisted into clothes for dinner after. They spoke no more of the young prince but it weighed on his mind heavily. He found out where Bruce was being housed and knocked on his door but was told he still worked in the computer lab. Of all the people whose counsel he wanted Bruce's voice was sorely missed. In the hallway on the way to the dining hall he met with Princess Maria and offered her his arm as a gentleman.

"I apologize for putting you on the spot," she said. "It was not meant to force you into taking an unruly boy into your care but part of me believes there is still something in him that can be redeemed. King Steven told me that he was fostered with you and your father and that he was not the best of children either."

"No, he wasn't," replied Buchanan, "but his nature was one of a prankster, not a criminal. Princess, I have an unrelated question for you. You export coffee to us but I have learned that the coffee comes from a lawless country. How do you acquire it?"

"It is true that much coffee comes from the mountainous region immediately to the south," she admitted. "There are also lands further south, a month's journey by ship whose rulers are more in line with ourselves. We deal with them more than the lawless ones. But for the right price anyone can make an arrangement with those bandits who control that region. I just chose not to as they are not to be trusted. King David is attempting to set up his own plantations but the plants require just the right conditions and it is difficult to replicate it in this land."

They arrived at the dining hall where Buchanan was introduced to the Queen and her four daughters. She was large with child and Buchanan noticed her eyes were puffy from the news of her son, the Prince. Nothing was said of the boy through the meal. After it was concluded the King asked Buchanan to come to the stables for an update on Magnus' condition. Unfortunately there was no change and Buchanan returned to his rooms disheartened by the news. He opened the door to his rooms, surprised to see the Queen and one of her ladies in waiting seated beside his window.

"Your Majesty," he bowed respectfully, "this is most unseemly and I must ask you to leave my rooms."

"Lord Buchanan, my lady in waiting will stay with us to assure you that all is proper," she replied. "I would speak to you about my son, the Prince. First, I am sorry he stole your stallion and injured him. You must understand that I had trouble conceiving and carrying a child to term, losing three children before he was born. It made me an anxious mother and I excused a lot of poor behaviour from him as he grew. His father tried to correct him but we worked at cross purposes and the result is what you witnessed today."

"Your Majesty," he began but she held her hand up as tears formed in her eyes.

"I understand Princess Maria suggested he go back with you to be fostered and taught how to be a good man," she said, her voice beginning to break. "I beg of you to consider this. He is my only son as I carry another daughter according to our soothsayer who has never been wrong. Our laws do not allow a woman to succeed the throne and if he is disowned or executed the kingdom will be passed on to my husband's cousin who has already threatened to do away with any trade agreements we have with other kingdoms. He is also anti-technology and has indicated he will destroy the super computer. Please sir, Lord Buchanan, I beseech you to help my son."

He took a deep breath, feeling sympathetic for a mother's plight. "Madam, I can only promise to consider it," he said, unwilling to commit. "You have given me much to think upon. I seek another's counsel before I make my decision and will not make it lightly. That is the only assurance I can give you at this time."

She nodded sadly and her lady in waiting extended her arm to her Queen to assist her to stand. With great dignity the pregnant woman walked past him without words and left his rooms. When she left he summoned Jose.

"The Giant, is he still at the super computer?" he asked, to which Jose nodded. "I wish to be awakened the moment he returns. Can you make sure that happens?"

The servant assured him he would stay up himself. Buchanan dismissed him and began undressing himself. Then he made a decision and put his jacket back on, deciding to see one other person before he saw Bruce.

Chapter 27>>

Series Masterlist

Please like and reblog if you enjoyed this chapter.

[libraryofnika]

Last Reads of June

Full Review below ✨

𝐎𝐧𝐞 𝐂𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐑𝐨𝐬𝐞 by Rebecca Zanetti

Information is power, and those who control it live like gods. In my world, billionaires play deadly games of insult and influence where magic is the dirtiest weapon of all. Here, even a powerful princess can be swallowed by the darkest of shadows . . . My name is Alana Beaumont, and due to a recent tragedy, I’m the sole heir to Aquarius Social, a family business being systematically dismantled by an unseen enemy. My father’s solution is to give me in marriage and create a coalition with a competing family, so I’m torn between my thirst for revenge and my duty. Now I just have a week to finish my hunt before the wedding. There’s nothing like an assassination attempt to cut short the best of plans—even worse is my unwanted rescue by Thorn Beathach, the Beast whose social media empire is driving Aquarius under. The richest, most ruthless of them all, he protects his realm with an iron rule: no one sees his face. When he shows himself to me, I know he’ll never let me go. Adam may think he can lock me in his castle forever, but I’m not the docile Beauty he expects. If the Beast wants to tie me up, I’m going to take pleasure from every minute of it . . .and we’ll just see who ends up shackled.

Release Date: June 25, 2024 Date Read and Review (Goodreads): June 24, 2024

Ratings: 2⭐

I'm definitely excited and hoping to like this novel, considering a mutual of mine in booksta did enjoy this novel, so it added to my expectations.

I'm not gonna lie, the first half was enjoyable, the writing really gave this thrilling and suspenseful kind of atmosphere in my opinion so I was hoping that the momentum would continue in the later chapters until the end.

However, it didn’t turn out like that. It ended up quite dragging and flat for me. The characters became tedious, and I really didn't like the developments going on, especially the romance. This is another case of trope and concept that's not executed well, in my opinion.

Overall, it did quite fall flat for me. I was really hoping that it wouldn't turn out like that.

Thank you, Headline Eternal and author Rebecca Zanetti, for the e-arc opportunity.

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐫 by Marni Mann

A scorching hot, he-falls-first, touch-her-and-die, billionaire romance from USA Today best-selling author Marni Mann … The first time I saw her, I wanted her. The second time I saw her, I knew she had to be mine. Beautiful blonde hair. Cornflower-blue eyes. Body to die for. All things I knew I couldn’t live without. But after one night, she ghosted me, leaving me desperate for another taste. I was usually the one to walk out the door before the morning light came. This time, it was her, but not without becoming my obsession in the process. Lily was a mystery. She had a past shrouded in secrets she was unwilling to divulge. She was running from something, and I was determined to find out what it was. And once I did, I’d do anything to protect her. They called me the sinner for a reason. Because I wouldn’t hesitate to burn down the world or cross any line to save her.

Release Date: June 27, 2024 Date Read: June 23, 2024 Date Reviewed (Goodreads): July 2, 2024

This is my first time reading from the author and I would say I had my expectations quite set a little bit high considering there's a bunch of 5 and 4⭐️ ratings so I'm quite excited about it.

The synopsis, although not to my liking on how it was presented, piqued my interest. I'm quite drawn to the obsessive and touch her and die trope so you see, once again, I had expectations.

Long story short, it felt flat. I don't mind a love at first sight or lust at first sight trope as long as it's written well, but unfortunately, the writing here wasn't something or something that endeared me.

It was pretty disappointing, considering the plot really had potential if just the writing did execute well and utilises the trope in a better light as well as the characters.

Overall, I didn't like it. I really wanted to like this, but I just couldn't.

Thank you, Valentines Pr and author Marni Mann, for the e-arc opportunity ♡

A Dream of Blood and Magic by Olivia Boothe

DNF at 55% 1.5⭐️

Don't get me wrong, the premise sounds intriguing, and I had high hopes for it. But it was just so boring for me. I couldn't take another page from it, and it feels like I will be in a slump if I forced it.

Thank you, Netgalley, the publisher, and the author for the e-arc opportunity.

You Belong With Me by Mhairi McFarlene

1.5 ⭐️

°

I knew I should have just DNF this, but my guilt and conscience is so strong since I just DNFed a book.

Long story short, the novel is EMPTY AND EXCRUCIATINGLY PAINFUL TO READ.

The characters aren't likeable at all. I couldn't connect to them and the romance.

The concept is waste, and I feel like the author jusy wrote this for the sake of writing without passion because that's what I feel when reading this.

Thank you to the publisher and Netgalley for the e-arc opportunity.

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[pebblysand]

[LET'S TALK WRITING] - FANFICTION STATS - UPDATE

Hello, hello! I hope you’re all doing well. 

As you may have seen, I recently (by which I mean, months ago lol, time flies) received this anon as part of a truth or dare tag game daring me to share my AO3 stats. 

If you’ve been following me for a while, you might remember that I already posted a detailed analysis of my fanfiction stats back in January 2023 (which you can read in full here). However, I thought this anon would be a great opportunity to revisit that post, review my stats again over 18 months later, and see what has changed.

General disclaimer: All the disclaimers from my original post still apply (I’m not an expert, avoid this if stats aren’t your thing, I’m very fortunate, my methodology isn’t perfect, etc.). I won’t be repeating much of the previous analysis but will focus on the changes over the past 18 months. I recommend reading both posts together for the full picture.

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GENERAL OVERVIEW

As of the day of writing, 29 June 2024, here are my general stats as they are made available to me by AO3. I am including the same screenshot dated 25 January 2023 (from my old post) for comparison.

So, what can we see? 

I wrote 183,191 words in 18 months, which is terrifying. Per Nano standards, that’s three novels and a bit. 

Last year, I’d commented on my subscriber count being relatively “low” - that’s still the case. I think the reasons I speculated about last year remain valid, and I still find the smaller number somewhat reassuring.

I’ve gained a pretty sizeable chunk everywhere, so thank you all, haha, that’s thanks to you. 

As of the day of writing, 25 January 2022, here are my general stats as they are made available to me by FFN. I am including the same screenshot dated 25 January 2023 (from my old post) for comparison. 

As most of you know, I don’t really use FFN much anymore, so it's not surprising that the numbers there are quite low. The only thing I still update on FFN is castles, which still gets some readership.

There's a historical difference between my FFN and AO3 catalogues. When I transitioned to AO3 in 2013/2014, I only moved content I deemed "worth" transferring. So, there's work on FFN that isn't on AO3. Similarly, I now post all my one-shots exclusively on AO3. This explains some of the discrepancies you'll see later between the two platforms.

Interestingly, my AO3 word count has finally surpassed my FFN word count, and this is even before posting chapter 22 of castles on FFN (ugh, this is on my to-do list for this week, I swear). So, yay! I’m officially more of an AO3 girlie.

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GETTING THE FFN STATS OUT OF THE WAY

I think we can all agree that AO3 has now surpassed FFN as a website (though I do have issues with AO3, I won’t lie), so I will focus most of this post on AO3 stats and beyond. However, I will say that as a platform, FFN provides authors with much better statistics than AO3 does. That is because they’ve fallen into a capitalist hellscape and probably sell all of our data to advertisers but … you know. As such, while I don’t want to spend too much time on these, I still think there are a few things we can learn. 

I will go into my top fics on FFN v. top fics on AO3 and why I think they differ in a later section. But at this point, I’d like to focus on two things: 

The Country Breakdown:

To me, this remains the most interesting feature on FFN, that you don’t get on AO3. Unfortunately, it only gives you this information on a monthly basis (you can’t aggregate the top countries of all time), so the below includes last year's screenshot (January 2023) and this year's (June 2024). Both were taken at the end of the month, so I reckon they're relatively representative.

(views are blue, visitors are yellow. for an explanation on the difference between views and visitors, see here. this is cumulative of all fics i have published, but ffn gives you the ability to break it down per fic if you’d like)

Thoughts: The first thing that stands out to me is that my overall view count on FFN has plummeted over the past 18 months. Initially, I thought this might be due to a general decline in FFN's usage, but when I look back at my February 2024 stats, they match what I saw in January 2023. This suggests the decline is more likely due to my not posting castles for four months, rather than anything else.

All the other conclusions I drew in my old post still hold true.

Interestingly, the top five countries for my readership almost perfectly align with our top countries for the podcast. This correlation makes me think AO3 stats (if available) would show a similar pattern. It raises the question of which drives which: are the podcast stats like this because of my fanfic audience demographics, or is my audience shaped by the podcast's reach? Or, is it that just generally, English speaking countries are more likely to consume English-language media and/or be in fandom? It's an intriguing chicken-and-egg scenario.

The Chapter by Chapter Breakdown:

i am selecting here January 2023 and March 2024. March is the last month where I posted on FFN, so it's more interesting to study that one.

Let me know if you spot anything else in these screenshots, but here’s what stands out to me:

The numbers are generally eerily similar

Drop-off after Chapter 3: There seems to be a more noticeable drop-off in readership after Chapter 3 compared to previous data. This makes sense because that’s when Hinny break up, so hardcore shippers might rage-quit at that point. However, after Chapter 3, the decline isn’t as steep, indicating that if people stick around past that point, they’re generally committed for the full ride.

Uptick in Latest Chapters: In both cases, there’s an increase in readership for the latest chapters. This could be due to FFN update notifications, which have been unreliable. It’s possible that people are finally receiving emails and catching up on the last 2-3 chapters they missed. But this is just a hypothesis.

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MOVING ON TO AO3

Unlike last year, I’m going to stick to HP here, because I don’t think anyone cares about my stats in other fandoms, but please let me know if you’d like a detailed breakdown of that as well. Also, I'll just repeat that this acknowledgement still stands.

I think the only thing really notable here is that in 18 months, almost everything on castles has more or less doubled, if not more. I'll write more about that below, but I don't necessarily think this means my audience has doubled.

Regarding the kudos/hits extension, I wrote this last year:

My hits/kudos ratio was a lot worse on non-HP fandoms, which is still the case. When it comes to the second point, this also seems to still be the case, with a couple of things to note:

the rare firing of wild cannons is still an outlier. I think for the same reasons exposed above.

ce ne sont que des cailloux has "finally" come down to that 8-11% range all my other one shots seem to be in. I'm not sure how to explain it. As you'll see below, it hasn't gained/lost that much more traffic/kudos this year compared to previous ones, so I really don't know.

As I'd predicted, louisville is now also in that range.

vicious as roman rule has seen a dramatic drop. I wonder if this is because it was posted at the end of 2022, so relatively close to my first post, and was the thus artificially high? I think this is a fic that is very linked to castles (although it can be read as a standalone) and it's also a bit unusual (written in future tense) so maybe that's why people don't "like" it? we only said goodbye with words seems to be the only other fic in that range, and that one is also very linked to castles. It could be the result of people clicking in, realising they haven't read the wider story and don't understand much, and clicking out.

Regarding "secret" bookmarks:

Bookmarks on AO3 are a way to "save" fics on your profile. People use this feature in various ways:

Tracking Reads: Some use bookmarks to track all the fics they’ve read.

Recommendation Lists: Others use bookmarks to build recommendation lists with varying levels of detail. For example, some treat bookmarks like Goodreads reviews, adding comments such as "2/5 fic, do not recommend," while others might simply tag the fics or note why they liked them.

Additionally, AO3 allows users to "secretly" bookmark fics. These private bookmarks are only visible to the user who created them and do not appear on their public bookmark list. I personally use private bookmarks as a TBR list for fics I plan to read but am not ready to recommend yet.

As an author, you can see the total count of both private and public bookmarks (though you can’t read/know who left the private ones). This is why, for instance, my public bookmark count on castles is 279, while the combined private and public count is 417.

From my observations, about 40% of all bookmarks on fics are private. This holds true even for castles. I know that for long works, lots of people assume that the "secret" bookmarks are people bookmarking "TBR when finished" but the numbers seem to suggest otherwise. Castles does not have a disproportionately high number of private bookmarks compared to my other fics. It seems that private bookmarks are in fact just generally used as TBRs (long works or not) or by people who prefer to leave more "honest" personal reviews without the author seeing them, which is perfectly fair.

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MY TOP FICS, AND WHAT THEY CAN TEACH US

Top 5 FFN (by favourites):

This is last year’s screenshot. For this year, you’re going to have to take my word for it because the filter no longer works (thanks ffnet lol). 

As of 29 June 2024, the top includes the same fics, but in a different order: (1) Castles, (2) Cannonballs, (3) Slipped, (4) The Things That Will Likes, (5) Before. 

It's interesting to me that slipped has come up two places and I've only had one extra review for it in the past 18 months.

Top 5 AO3 (by kudos):

Interestingly, no changes in the top 5 between January 2023 and now, bar from the fact that the gap between castles has widened. 

Thoughts: I was re-reading my thoughts from last year, I’m just going to copy and paste here because everything more or less tracks. 

Slipped is now on par on both sites but I think everything else tracks.

A couple things to note: 

Interestingly, while it has a similar number of hits (21.5k on AO3 and 20.4k on FFN), castles does a lot better on AO3 than on FFN (...)

In the past 18 months, the difference between hits on AO3 and FFN has widened. I’m now close to 50,000 hits on AO3, but am only at 33,000 views on FFN. I do think this shows an overall decline in usage of FFN as a platform. 

However, I did find out something recently, that is sort of worth noting. I’m not sure what you make of it but if you search for: Harry/Ginny, canon compliant, post-war fics excluding fluff (if you’ve read castles, this selection will make sense), castles is the 4th most kudo-ed fic in the list. If you search for all of these, minus the Hinny pairing, it is on the second page (so’s the wolf’s just a puppy). That is including finished, and unfinished works, which is wild.

Castles is now respectively 3rd and 15th in these searches (so on the first page for both), which is even wilder to me. On the second search, I’m on the same page as a fic by senlinyu!! lmao. 

I'm not addressing anything else I said aside from the fact that as I'm now approaching 50,000 hits, those numbers are even more mental.

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NOW, ONTO THE HOMEMADE GOOGLE SHEET

(for more details on how it is created, see here - scroll down to the same section. having said that, do note that this is all based on kudos. i do not get notifications for bookmarks, subs, etc. so that would be much more difficult to track. thus, for the purposes of these graphs, i'm only relying on kudos to know if my fics are doing "well" or not. i, of course, get a lot of joy from comments and they are what i most cherish, but my email notifications are turned off on those, for reasons that i can explain if you are curious (if so, just send me an ask). as such, i can't track them as easily. also i’m more interested in the content of my comments than in their number. kudos are a good general indicator, though very imperfect.)

AVAILABLE GRAPHS AND THOUGHTS

1. CONSISTENTLY, CASTLES ACCOUNTS FOR ABOUT A THIRD OF HOW PEOPLE FIND ME

[the methodology is explained in more detail in the original post but for the purposes of this: "new" readers means all total kudos left that year, minus guest kudos and "repeat" kudos (i.e. people who have already kudoed at least one of my other fics in the past)]

This is so interesting given it’s the opposite conclusion from the one I’d drawn in 2023 (see here). It turns out that 2022 was an outlier. Having said that, I do think it’s interesting to note that since January 2023, I’ve not posted any major other fics that were not castles. I’ve posted some smaller one shots but generally speaking, my last major one-shot was probably louisville. so, this may be why castles is still accounting for this many first kudos. It will be interesting to see what these graphs look like next year, when I’m no longer posting new chapters. 

2. DO PEOPLE REALLY FIND YOU OFF THE FRONT PAGE?

That was the conclusion I’d drawn last year, but looking at 2023, I’m now not too sure. For the record, I posted castles in May, July, October and November. I also posted smaller one shots in January, July and August. The assumption there is that if people find you off the front page, then you should get an influx of new reader kudos when you post.

It's evident that the months I posted new content had higher engagement than the months I didn’t. However, the spike in November is particularly striking. The only explanation I can find is that I posted chapter 19 of castles in November (a.k.a the 9/11/"barn" chapter). This chapter had the highest engagement by far, possibly tied with chapter 22 based on my current inbox feedback, but we'll see how that pans out.

The way I'm interpreting this is that in the wake of 19 being so well-received, people who had been reading castles silently for a while finally left kudos for the first time, counting as "new" readers, even though they technically weren't. So, maybe, the new conclusion to draw here is that angst serves me? I know that fluff does better in the Hinny fandom overall but my readers probably follow me for the angst and so when a particularly angsty chapter comes out, they’re more excited about it and kudo more? Again, I’m just guessing. 

3. FICS STABILISE AFTER THE FIRST YEAR

It's fascinating to observe this trend over the span of four years. Looking at my flagship one-shots like slipped, the wolf, the fault, watch and lousville, a recurring pattern emerges: each initially garners a significant portion of kudos in its first year (typically 12% or more), then stabilises to 7-10% in subsequent years. I'm particularly curious to see if castles will follow a similar trajectory after it's completed.

[total number of kudos per fic, all kudos included]

Also, building on last year's third observation (“bad fics don’t do well, regardless of how shippy or fluffy they are”), I think what’s interesting to me here is that the opposite is true: fics like louisville (Harry/OC) and the fault (Deamus) which have very unpopular ships still do extremely well on their own and seem to attract readers. This is however not a phenomenon you see with my oldest non-hinny fic ce ne sont que des cailloux (Bill/Fleur). The way I explain this is two-fold:

I think the French title might hurt ce ne sont que des cailloux. Maybe casual readers think it’s in French? 

ce ne sont que des cailloux is the first non-hinny fic I posted, and it was also posted in January 2021, at a time where my readership was very limited compared to now. This goes to my earlier point about readership. Now that I have one, I reckon that if I re-posted ce ne sont que des cailloux, it would get a lot more kudos from my followers. At the time, I was relatively new in fandom, and thus no one read that fic. It never ended on rec lists, etc., and to this day, is still hindered by this initial slower start.

Having said that, generally speaking, I still think the fics that are doing the best are my best ones. I think audiences are (generally) right (at least on my level). There are definitely fics where I don't really understand why they're doing so well. I talk about watch below. spring rolls is another one that I find a bit meh and where I'm not sure why it's holding 8% of the pie. But there aren't any fics where I'm majorly like "ugh, I wish this was getting more attention." Apart from ce ne sont que des cailloux, maybe.

4. DO LONG FICS REALLY ATTRACT A LOT OF GUESTS?

That was my conclusion based on 2022 numbers, showing a massive discrepancy between the number of guests+repeat kudos and the number of new kudos in castles. However, this seems to be another case of 2022 being an outlier. If you look at the figures for 2023, that is no longer the case.

However, I do think it’s interesting that the fault in faulty manufacturing still seems to be a fic that brings me a lot of new readers, compared to the total of kudos it brings me. All the other fics seem somewhat similar, bar from the fault that has a two point difference. I wonder if this is because part of the drive for this fic is the slash end of the fandom which may find me from this particular fic because it’s my only slash one? 

5. DOES SHIP MATTER? 

I think the one conclusion I’m drawing, looking at these pie charts year on year, is that yes, ship matters… to a point. I think when you look at one-shots like slipped and the wolf (and, to an extent, watch), as well as castles, they have undeniably greatly contributed to my relative popularity. Lots of people found me because they ship Hinny, and I write Hinny, simple as that. And following, I also think that if wrote an even more popular ship (say: Dramione or Drarry), my kudo counts would certainly be higher.

Having said that, the reason I’m saying it only matters to a point is that what I’m seeing with more recent non-Hinny work (the fault and louisville) is that these get read regardless. Why? Humbly, because I think people like my writing and are willing to branch out of their favourite ship to read my other works. The more pre-existing readership you have, the less the ship you’re writing matters. If someone like senlinyu or MissKingBean69 were to write Bill/Fleur, with the pre-built audience they already have, I would venture that would become the most popular Bill/Fleur fic in fandom in no time.

Lastly, I think one interesting thing I’m noticing for 2024 is that for the first time ever, the wolf (which has been my flagship Hinny one-shot since it was first posted) is doing “worse” than slipped and other non-Hinny one-shots. I find this very interesting given that the wolf was such a driver for so long. I wonder if this is because the fic has generally reached everyone it was meant to reach and is now plateau-ing, or if it’s something else? I’m interested to see what this is going to look like for the rest of 2024. 

. 

LASTLY, SOME NEW GRAPHS

GENERAL GROWTH

These graph tracks my general kudo growth, all fics included, between January 2021 and May 2024. The second one is aggregate.

As you can see on the first graph, you can pretty much track when I posted and when I didn’t, following the line up and down. My three biggest peaks were: May/June 2021 (which I already addressed here), August 2023 and November 2023. 

August 2023 is a mystery to me. I didn’t post castles. The only thing I did post was spring rolls, which is a tiny 800-word fic that I genuinely don’t think should be this popular lol. Is it simply because over the summer, people have more time to read? 

November 2023, was chapter 19 of castles, which, again, did incredibly well. It interestingly doesn’t even compare to the peak I got in February 2024 where I posted two chapters of castles, and still didn’t get anywhere close. So, again, angst drives my readership. 

What I think is interesting on the second graph is that we’re pretty much in a straight line here. Caveating that this starts at zero because that’s when I started tracking, it’s not actually when I started posting so I had pre-existing kudos. But yeah, it took me 16 months to hit my first 1,000 kudos, then 14 months to hit 2,000+ and presumably another 12/13 months to hit 3,000.

CASTLES GROWTH

Interestingly, per this graph, the growth of castles is also steady overall. It’s not as steady as the general one but I typically tend to hit 200 kudos every 10/11 months. I will say that if you look closely, you’ll notice that in the last year (May 2023 to May 2024), the growth is a little bit steeper at times, but did flatten towards the end (Feb to June 2024 - when I didn’t post) which means that generally, we’re only at +266 kudos. That’s still more than 200, but not that much more. 

I think what’s interesting is that this doesn’t seem to track with my overall, anecdotal impression of my readership, which I feel has been constant in terms of numbers since 2021, if not declining a little. I generally feel I’m getting less interactions with readers since, I would say, the summer of 2022. So I think what this shows isn’t that my readership is growing, it’s that it’s perpetually replacing itself. My sense is that people will typically read up to the most recent chapter, stay involved with the fic for maybe six months to a year, then drop off, and be replaced by new readers. I don’t think this is bad, I think it’s the natural laws of fandom. I also think there was an abnormal spike in engagement around the pandemic where people had nothing to do but go online and read fic. As a writer, it can be hard not to attribute people dropping off to your own failings (my writing quality has decreased, my chapters are too long - whatever it may be), when in fact, the turnover is generally pretty consistent. 

When comparing the lines of overall kudos, I think this confirms that generally speaking, castles is the main driver of my kudo influx.

Bar a few exceptions, the two track. It’s clearly not the only driver because there is a pretty sizeable difference between line levels, but it is the main one. This is especially clear since October 2023, which is a period of time in which I’ve not been posting anything else. 

OTHER TOP 5 FIC GROWTH

Regarding the wolf (above), this confirms what I was saying previously: this fic is currently flatlining hard. It took me: two months to hit 100 kudos, seven months to hit 200, eight months to hit 300, and thirteen months to hit 400. I’m not upset by it, I feel like this fic has done its time and it’s probably past its prime (lol) but that’s interesting. It used to be so popular and my main driver of kudos aside from castles, and it’s definitely not anymore.

In terms of the other fics, you're going to have to believe my word because tumblr is preventing me from adding more screenshots to this post (sigh) but the trend is the same, though the flatlining is less pronounced.

When it comes to slipped, like the wolf, it also seems to be growing slower since the end of 2022, albeit less dramatically. It took five months to hit 100 kudos, twelve months to hit 200, and eighteen months to hit 300. I’ve always thought the difference in popularity between slipped and the wolf (which were more or less posted at the same time) was down to the wolf being posted as part of a fest, which wasn’t the case for slipped. But it could also be that the wolf is just a better written fic (in my opinion, at least). The fault follows a similar trend, on a different scale. It took me six months to get 100 kudos, then eighteen months to get to 200.

Interestingly, watch, however, seems to have had a steady-ish growth since its six months anniversary. The flatlining is less pronounced than for the others. I’m honestly not sure why. It’s a fic that I never in a million years expected to be in the top five, I was very surprised it did well at all. I like the style of it but it’s very much what in the TV-show fanfic realm we’d call an “episode tag”, meaning a short fic that explores a scene from a different angle/POV. I don’t think it really brings anything new to canon, and I don’t think it’s particularly novel. I’d be curious to see if it stays in the top five in the long run to be honest.

When comparing the lines of overall kudos to each of the individual fics (again, trust my word), they don't seem to correlate as much as castles does. Bar from watch, they all caused a spike at the time of publication, but then each have tiny odd peaks that don't reflect in the overall graph. They also don't really have other big peaks, just sort of hover between 5 and 15 kudos/month throughout. I would assume that whilst the numbers may be different, this is probably the same trend you see in most finished long fics.

.

CONCLUSION

I can't believe you got to the end of this. Please let me know if you found it interesting/have questions!

[aishangotome]

Elbert Greetia: Blind Love Ending Epilogue

Blind Love Chapter 25

♡———♡

Several seasons have passed since we started living in Crown Castle.

Occasionally, we have days like this--when we can't get out of bed.

Kate: Mmm... Lord Elbert... we should go eat soon...

Elbert: ...No.

When I try to gently remove the arm that's hugging me from behind, my already limp body is rolled over, and he hugs me from the front again.

Elbert: ...Today, I'm not taking a single step outside.

Kate: Ah, ah--

Elbert licks and bites all over my body, leaving marks as proof of his possessiveness and obsession.

--The trigger is always trivial and sudden.

In a locked room, we made love until we were both drenched in sweat, then dozed off and woke up to eat in bed. As we chatted about silly things, before we knew it, we were melting into each other again – as if losing the contours of our bodies.

Kate: Wait, Lord Elbert...

Elbert: ...No?

He lifts his head from my chest and tilts it.

His blue eyes waver anxiously beneath the smooth sway of his golden hair, and the depths of my chest tingle sweetly.

Kate: ...No, I don't dislike it...

Elbert: I see... That's good.

Kate: But...

Elbert: ...But?

My face grows hot, and I hug Elbert's head tightly to my chest.

Kate: When we spend time like this... my body feels strange for a while after...so it's a bit troublesome.

Elbert: ............

Elbert: ...You're cute even when you're troubled.

Kate: Oh my...That's the one thing that really troubles me, you know...?

Elbert: ...Ah, I apologize.

Elbert: But... you're still cute even when you're angry.

Kate: ...

Elbert: ...hehe.

His shapely lips kiss the tip of my nose, leaving me speechless.

--Elbert, smiling happily, is the most beautiful person in the world.

-

William: Elbert has become more of a "greedy queen" than before, hasn't he?

After dinner the next day--after seeing off Alfons and Elbert, who had been called away by Victor, William raised his teacup to his lips and laughed cheerfully.

Kate: Is that so...?

William: Yes. Perhaps it's because he's learned to desire for himself... not for the sake of gaining someone's approval.

His hand reaches out and brushes away the hair that had fallen on my shoulder.

His fingertips touch the exposed nape of my neck.

Kate: ...William?

The memory of Elbert's lips leaving a mark of obsession there resurfaces, and my cheeks heat up.

William: This is a cute mark.

William: But Elbert's desires, from now on--may even consume your hands, feet, eyes, and ears.

William's red eyes narrow as if testing me.

The mark Elbert left tingles sweetly.

Kate: ...I understand.

Happiness, love, heart, body, life... fleeting things slip through our fingers no matter how tightly we cling to them.

I know the urge to capture, bind, consume, and not lose them burns within him.

(But Elbert... is a strong and gentle person.)

I know he suppresses his desires day and night so as not to hurt or sadden me.

I know the reason he occasionally locks me in that room is because the suppressed desires reach their limit and overflow.

(So... even if Elbert's kindness is one day consumed by desire--)

Kate: ...If it satisfies Lord Elbert,

Kate: I'd be happy to offer my arms and legs...

My whispered voice was, even to my own surprise, dreamily ecstatic.

William: ...Elbert truly found a wonderful jewel.

His fingertip traced the red mark and then left my skin.

William: I look forward to seeing where your love will lead.

Elbert: --Kate.

Kate: Ah, welcome back Lord Elbert...

Before I could turn around at his call, he pulled me closer.

Elbert: ...Come.

(Ah, there it is again.)

You look at me with such longing, covetous eyes.

I will gladly bear the sin of your greed once more.

-

As soon as we returned to his room, Elbert embraced me.

Elbert: ...I apologize.

Elbert: I try to restrain myself, to not take you away like this so you won't suffer...

Elbert: But...

His fingertips trace the spot where William touched.

Elbert: ...I couldn't.

His blue, ocean-like eyes are moist with a dim obsession, filled with pain.

(The happiness and pain Elbert feels right now)

(It's all my fault.)

Along with the guilt, a tingling pleasure runs down my spine.

He looks so pitiful, so adorable... so lovable, seeking me as if drowning in pain.

Following the feelings welling up in my chest, I kissed his lips.

Elbert: ...Kate?

Kate: You don't have to restrain yourself.

Elbert: Then... why do you look so pained?

Kate: ...Because I'm happy.

Kate: I'm happy that you desire me... that you're suffering.

Kate: I'm so happy that my chest aches...

Elbert: ...

Kate: I'm the one who should apologize, for being happy that you're suffering...

Elbert: ––Quiet.

Kate: Mmm...

Our tongues entwine deeply, our kiss stealing each other's breath, sending a tingling sensation through my head.

Elbert: ...If I don't have to restrain myself,

Elbert: I want to make you forget the feeling of being touched by anyone other than me... right now.

Kate: ...

His gaze, dark and burning hot, falls on the nape of my neck, and once again, my heart trembles with joy.

(I want to be branded with all of that possessive love--)

Kate: Please... paint me all over with you.

Elbert: ...Kate.

Elbert's hand rougly sews my wrists to the wall.

Kate: Nngh--!

I felt a sweet pain as he bit my neck, crucifying me like a butterfly.

The body that had made love in a sloppy manner just yesterday only picked up pleasure from the pain, overflowing with nectar.

Kate: Ah, ah....Nnn.....

Elbert's soft, hot tongue brushed the deeper red marks, caressing my throat, collarbone, and chest, making a watery sound.

Elbert: ...Let me expose you even more.

Elbert: Let me touch you deep inside, where only I can touch you...

My wrists were released, and I was about to collapse, but I was still standing with my back pressed against the wall. Elbert wet my entire body from top to bottom with his lips, tongue, and fingertips, opening my blouse, and removing my skirt and underwear.

It was as if he was carving my entire body into his own.

Kate: Lord Elbert...

Elbert: Hm...What...?

Kneeling at my feet, Elbert looked up at me, running his tongue along my trembling thighs.

His ocean-blue eyes, stirred as if to churn up the obsession lurking in their depths, melted into a muddy pool. The deepest part of my body, a place only Elbert could touch, ached madly for him.

Kate: ……I love you.

Elbert: …… Ah……

Elbert: I love you too.

Elbert: My –– my only, Kate.

Avaricious love erodes the gentle him.

While I cherish his kindness, I dream of the day when I will be robbed of everything by his greedy love.

That day will surely come, someday--

It will be the best happy ending for us.

-

Roger: Hey …… What do you think about El's fate?

Roger asked the man next to him, watching Kate from a distance, groaning while looking at the flowers wet with morning dew.

Alfons: El's fate …… "To die without gaining or fulfilling anything," was it?

Alfons, who was asked, leans languidly against the pillar and looks towards Roger's line of sight.

Alfons: I interpreted it literally to mean that nothing would remain in his hands……

Alfons: But if it means suffering from an endless desire for love……

Alfons: I think it's too romantic to call it a curse.

Roger: ……Are you envious?

Alfons: I'll hit you.

Another figure appears in the garden.

A man with golden hair that is dazzling even from a distance and a beautiful appearance like a bisque doll finds Kate in the flower garden and calls her name in a voice sweeter than any flower nectar.

Elbert: Kate.

Kate: ! Yes, I'm coming.

Picking a flower, Kate runs.

A fluttering butterfly, as if lured by a flower.

Roger: Haha, she looks happy just being called by her name.

Alfons: …… If I could smile like that.

Alfons: The pain of love would be just a little spice.

-

Elbert: That flower is ……?

Kate: I was looking for a flower that suits you, Lord Elbert.

I gently decorate the pure white rose I found in the garden on his hair that looks like it was spun from gathered light.

Elbert, adorned with roses, blinked his eyes.

Kate: Look ……It's very beautiful. As a thank you for the flower crown the other day.

Elbert: ……I have more things to decorate my room with again.

Kate: Shall we make it into pressed flowers?

Elbert: That's a good idea. ……Put it in a frame so it doesn't break.

Kate: Hehe, then I have to buy a nice frame.

Elbert: ............

Kate: ……Lord Elbert? What's wrong?

Elbert: ––Nothing.

Elbert: I was just admiring you again.

Elbert: You are the most beautiful in the world today, smiling happily.

Let's stay together until the best happy ending.

While embracing the joy and pain of loving each other ––.

----

Both Ending Clear Epilogue

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[Return to Ikevil Masterlist]

[missbubblesoda]

early in the morning, especially when it rains, and a little before noon. (2)

erwin x fem!reader

chapters: (1) | (3) | (4) | (5) | (6) | (7) | (8) | (9) | (10) | (11) | (12) | (13) | (14) | (15) | (16) | (17) | (18) | (19) | (20) | (21) | (22) | (23) | (24) | (25) | (26) | (27) | (28) | (29)

summary: I basically took Isayama’s work, forced it into a romance story, and made Erwin the love interest. Commander meets cadet and they fall in love (not instantly though)

notes: very berry canonverse (but some events were modified to fit my narrative), wasn’t intended to be this long, but it all is in the details right?

content warnings: smut where it fits (or where I make it fit. Also, reader is NOT underage, so likewise, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, please.) slow burn (I really mean it. I’m not olympic diving into any form of smut for the first chapters.) no angst. I dislike angst. I would never. I could never. (Although angst can be somewhat subjective so take it with a grain of salt?)

wc: 1.2k

A mellow breeze blew against your face, making your horse’s mane dance freely. Above, the clouds drifted lazily across the blue sky. And beneath them, vast grasslands extended into infinity. Or until wherever the walls allowed them to, for that matter. But if the walls weren’t there and you didn’t know any better, you would be forgiven for thinking you were a character in one of those fairytale books you liked to read as a little girl. But sadly, you knew better, you knew this was no fairytale kingdom, and you also knew that no castle stood at the end of the road, and most definitely no prince on a white horse awaited for you.

The Garrison was the lukewarm option. You tried to rationalize your seemingly impulsive, and potentially deadly, decision. You didn’t like lukewarm. No, actually it wasn’t that you didn’t like lukewarm, it was more like you were physically unable to understand the concept itself. You operated under this strict all-in-or-nothing policy that you were sure would eventually lead to your own demise. But hey, if you were going to die eaten by a titan anyway, you might as well choose the cool way out and die with the wings of freedom attached to your back. They were rather cool. You inspected the hunter green cloak you now wore, and something about the way it blew in the wind pleased you.

But despite the fair weather, you knew it wouldn’t take long for your busy brain to find something that didn’t please you. And sure enough, this time it came in the form of that sinking feeling that seemed to originate in the pit of your stomach every time you tried to imagine what your new lifestyle would be like. You weren’t even there, yet you already felt so inadequate and scant. You dreaded feeling incompetent. You dreaded being perceived as pathetic and useless. And yet you had voluntarily placed yourself in the optimal situation for that to happen.

It also didn’t help that your now fellow soldiers were none other than the top students of the pack. You liked them. They were nice. But it was just too much. Reiner was an absolute unit. Mikasa, a force to be reckoned with. Armin, clever beyond logic. Jean, a natural leader. And Eren, well, the boy was a fucking titan.

You wanted to sigh so deep and so loud to see if it would relieve some of the tightness in your chest. So you did.

“We’re almost there, soldier.” Your superior said along with a reassuring smile, which you tried your best to reciprocate.

And he wasn’t lying. In the distance, nestled in a pine forest, an imposing stone structure started to grow in size as you approached, getting bigger and bigger until you finally reached its gates. And there it stood, rising proudly among the tall trees: The Survey Corps headquarters, and your new home.

-

It did kind of look like a fairytale castle after all, you thought. Very old, very tall and very…

“Don’t be too impressed” your superior warned “It’s nothing more than an old converted castle. Charming in its way, sure…”

Very charming.

“Okay, everyone, take your horses to the stables and feed them. Then come back and meet me here. We’ll start with the interviews right away.”

Interviews. Great. As if the pit in your stomach needed any more reason to grow larger.

Actually… maybe it was a good thing, you thought. You could be honest and upfront with them from the start and cut the bullshit right and there. No false expectations meant no disappointments awaited farther along the way. And if Erwin Smith’s speech was anything to go by, the scouts seemed to be very upfront about everything. You were a scout now, you might as well do it the scouts’ way.

“Sir, I’m not proficient at hand-to-hand combat and my physical skills are restricted” Very restricted. “I do handle the ODM gear well. And what I mean by ‘well’ is ‘with the steadiness and precision that is expected from a Training Corps graduate so that it can take them from point A to point B without major inconveniences’” this was true, otherwise Shadis would have never let you graduate, and given the fact that you just quoted the exact same words he repeated to you over and over again, you wondered if he would have been proud “my stamina and endurance, however, decline rather quickly.” Very quickly. “Therefore I don’t think I will be of significant assistance out there in the field. Please consider this if and when you are planning to send me out there, as I might get devoured by a titan a mere 5 minutes into the expedition.” You stated in a flat, matter-of-factly manner. “I have been told by my evaluators that my organizational skills are outstanding, and that my academic performance is satisfactory. Please note that this doesn’t necessarily equal intelligence, just responsibility.” That’s why I thought the MP would be the perfect place for me. But saying that would be inappropriate, wouldn’t it?

The two veterans interviewing you stared back at you with underlying suspicion. They must have thought that you were trying to downplay your abilities in order to avoid putting your life at risk. But if they did, then they must have been too polite to tell you because the next thing the man said was “Okay. We also deal with tons of paperwork here. And cleaning, repairing, cooking, tending the horses. You name it.”

“Don’t worry, we’ll find something you can help with.” said the woman beside him.

Fair. You thought. This was a big castle. Surely there was something for you to do.

-

“It’s such an honor to work- no, I’m truly honored to work under you”

The sound of footsteps on solid timber floors echoed in the empty hall along with the lines you had put together the night before. Outside, songbirds had already began to sing their melodies to the beat of the delicate raindrops falling upon the roof.

You had always found peace in that kind of weather. ‘The rain melts all the troubles away’ was something you told an old diary once. But maybe it wasn’t the rain, maybe it was your honest confession from a couple of days ago the one to thank for lightening the burden. After you were done with your interview, it felt as if a building had been lifted off your shoulders. At least partially. But whatever the reason, you realized you hadn’t felt optimistic in days, so the sensation felt as foreign as it was welcome.

You also realized you had done pretty much nothing but complain to yourself since your goal of joining the Military Police proved to be unattainable. And by the second morning in your new home, your pessimistic approach had already started to get old. One of the only perks of getting tired easily, you thought as your featherlight optimism knocked on the solid wood.

“Come in” said a voice you had heard quite a few times in recent days, mostly inside your head.

The blond man sitting at his desk looked up as you announced yourself. And that was the first time icy blue eyes met yours.

-

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