#but its where's edwin in this image

[ur-localkiwi]

its everyone's favourite spider who has never done anything wrong in her after life ever

[sometimeswritingsometimesdying]

when edwin does the little curled hand gesture parted lips looking up through eyelashes thing i'm really not surprised the cat king and monty went that insane over him

[majorlb]

She's starts taking the opportunity to be alone in the office as often as she can without it being suspicious. Uses the alone time to be in her own skin, as her instead of him. Or to go to the library and read about gender, gender studies, queer history, and how people like her have always existed and always will.

She's not ready to tell anyone yet. She knows instinctively that Charles and Crystal will embrace her with open arms, but she can't brush off the fear that they'll shun her or look at her with disgust. She knows it's stupid, but Edwin is a product of her time no matter how hard she tries.

She thinks she's being sneaky. Turns out she is not.

One Wednesday morning, while Crystal is at school, before they open the doors to the agency, Charles sits down next to her on the little sofa and is quiet for a really long time. It makes her look up from her book, and the image makes her breath stutter.

Charles is rarely apprehensive when he wants to speak with her. Only when it comes to opening up about his parents does he look reluctant and withdrawn, but this isn't that. No, the way he's biting his lip and looking everywhere but at her makes her feel anxious about what is about to transpire.

"Edwin." It's not a question as much as it is a grab for her attention and she gives it fully, sits up straighter and closer and puts the book down.

"Whats on your mind, Charles?"

He finally looks at her, and as much as ghosts don't have reflections in objects, she sees herself mirrored back in his eyes and bites back a flinch. Sometimes, she forgets what she looks like.

The action isn't unnoticed, and she immediately regrets the visible sadness that colors Charles's beautiful face.

"Did I do something?"

"No!" She flings herself forward to grab his hands, holding them tenderly to emphasize her point even further. "No, Charles. Why do you think that?"

"You're pulling away." Of course she's not as sneaky as she thought she was, but the thought that she's been hurting Charles through her actions stabs at something tender in her chest. The ache furthers when the words spill from Charles as if pulled from him. "You've been running away and lie badly about what you're doing and why I can't join you. You're always pushing me and Crystal to go do things, and you refuse to join us. You don't seem to want to hang out anymore, and I, it's- I don't know what I did Edwin, but I'm sorry"

This is terrible. She's terrible. She's the worst friend in the world, and she should fling herself back into hell. She would, but Charles would just run back down and get her, and it would only further prove that she is the worst.

She should've just said something. Anything. Half-truths. 'I'm reading about sexualities and it's embarrassing and I'd rather do it alone' instead of just lying lying.

She scoots even closer to Charles and embraces him as hard as she can. "You didn't do anything wrong. You haven't done anything, I promise. You have nothing to be sorry for. I'm sorry I made you think you did."

Her breath hitches when Charles hugs her back, holding her just as tightly and buries his face in her neck. She's still not ready, but she can't keep going as she has.

"You're my best mate, Edwin. You're allowed to have secrets. I just... I don't like it when you're pushing me away."

"I didn't mean to." She didn't, she didn't even think she was doing anything like it, but then looking back, she clearly did.

"I know, maybe it was for the best though."

"Now that is a rather confusing notion"

"Yeah, yeah, just.. hear me out." Of course, always, anything you want, its on the tip of her tongue, and yet not a word makes it out. Charles keeps talking, and his lips brush against her throat, and all she can do is sit there and listen.

"It gave me time to think, and the thought of you moving on and away gave me.. It helped me move. Made me realize that I don't want to lose you in any way, because if you move on, where will that leave me?"

He's rambling, and she's only half following his train of thought. Where would she move on to? Hell is still marked as her Afterlife, even if she currently has amnesty to stay on earth.

"I can't lose you, not now when I know how you feel, and I know I didn't give you a full answer, but I did say we'd figure it out"

Oh. Oh!

"I'm in love with you too, Edwin. It sucks that it took you running away from me for me to realize that I can't loose you like this, but better late than never? I hope.."

He thinks she's moved on. From him.

"I don't think I'd ever get over you even if I tried, and I certainly haven't even attempted to do so."

She pulls back from him reluctantly to cradle his face between her hands. She looks into his eyes and for once, since coming to her own realization she doesn't look at herself, she simply looks at Charles.

"I'm in love with you, Charles Rowland, and I always will be"

[smollsmule]

!PLEASE CLICK ON THE IMAGES FOR BETTER QUALITY!

“Do not be ashamed, it is difficult to keep the mind in its place here,” Mnemosyne tells him as she picks up their plates and brings them to the sink. He watches in complete bewilderment as she turns on the water and begins to wash them.  “Are those plates even real?” Charles asks and Mnemosyne laughs.  “No, but I find the act to be calming. Would you like to dry?”

~ To Memory Now I Can't Recall by engineering_madonna on ao3

Notes on the story and the illustration itself under the cut.

THE STORY: I read this fic a little while ago and was utterly enchanted. Just about everything about it resonated with me: the gorgeous writing, Charles as the main character, the mystery around Edwin's amnesia, the amazing character studies. I am not exaggerating when I say that the way this story goes back into and expands on existing canon is something I have never seen before. I laughed, I cried, I was utterly satisfied by the resolution.

Please, do yourself a favour and check it out!

THE ILLUSTRATION: This moment in particular stuck with me. I won't spoil the story, but as soon as I read it I knew I had to draw it. Thank you so much @engineeratheart3 for giving me permission to do so. I had such a blast getting to stretch my wings and going for a full illustration in this style I've never tried. This piece truly was A Process, but I am happy to have tried my hand at interpreting this moment and figuring out all the little details to include (special thanks to @at-heart-a-gentleman @anxiousturtel and everyone else who replied to my post a couple weaks ago when I was asking for ideas for drawings to feature here!) I included two versions, one whose colouring is a little closer to my more moody, original sketch and one where I leaned into the dreamy vibe a little more. Do let me know which one is your favourite!!

[coloursflyaway]

Hi there, I’m not sure if you taking dbda prompts anymore, but I’ve recently fallen in love with your hurt comfort fanfics and your writing style in general. If you want to, I think it would be heartbreakingly amazing if you were to write something where Charles sees his father again (either like his father comes into the agency looking for help, not knowing that Charles works there or like they go to visit him and Charles’s mum) and the kind of anger and hurt it brings up in Charles and then Edwin ✨comforts✨ him

You don’t have to, but know I would read the hell out of this if you did :)))

Hi anon ♥

Thank you so much for the prompt, I am sorry this took forever and a day, but here you go!

I went into a slightly different direction, but I always wondered what would happen if Charles told Edwin about watching his parents in the mirror, so I thought I would combine those things.

It’s something Charles never thought he would be able to share with Edwin, and yet, somehow, here they are.

At least they are in the agency, he reasons with himself as he touches a fingertip to the mirror, willing it to change its image. By now, it should be second nature – he has done this countless times before, after all – and yet, he feels strangely nervous, like it might go wrong, show a different house, a different living room, a different set of people watching TV. Like the act of showing Edwin could somehow make it not work.

But then, the mirror ripples and the agency fades; instead, there are Christmas lights and his mum wrapped in a burgundy blanket, a glass of wine in her hand as she flicks through the channels with the other. His dad, next to her, is reading something, and just like it does every time, Charles’ heart beats a little faster at the sight of him.

For years, he hasn’t been able to make out just what he feels for his father, thirty-odd years away from his scolding, his belt, his words of kindness strewn in between. He still isn’t certain, but it is clearer: there is anger, there is pain, there is love, nonetheless.

“So, this is what you did when you asked me to give you a few minutes alone?”, Edwin asks next to him. Careful, as if he was handling fine china; Charles loves and hates it at the same time. “I never even suspected.”

“Well, that was kind of the point, wasn’t it?”, Charles replies, half a laugh tacked onto his voice, so Edwin won’t be able to tell how strangely difficult this is for him. Shouldn’t Edwin next to him make it better, less confusing?

After all, while those people in the mirror are his parents, it’s Edwin, who is his family.

“I suppose”, Edwin concedes, but he doesn’t sound convinced. “I just- you could have told me, Charles. I might not have understood, but I never would have judged you for it.”

And maybe, Charles knew that on some level, yet hearing the words breaks something open in him, something that feels ancient and yet new.

“I-”, he starts, watching his father put down the book and say something to his mother, who gives him a tired, well-worn smile. Not dismissive, but only half-listening anyway, like it is a conversation they have had a thousand times. “It’s just-”

And all of a sudden, he is crying.

Tears spilling down his cheeks that feel like they have been waiting within him so long they must have died with him, thick and hot in the muted way only ghosts can feel, dripping down Charles’ chin and evaporating before they touch the ground, his shoulder’s shaking as he tries to suppress sobs that rival earthquakes.

“It’s just-”, he tries again, and hears the moment Edwin realises what is happening instead of seeing it: the world is clouded by a new shower of tears.

“Charles”, Edwin gasps and then there are arms around him, thin and yet the most secure thing Charles has ever felt, pulling him against Edwin’s chest, one hand coming to rest on the back of his head, the other pressing firm against his spine. “Oh, Charles… if I had known… you didn’t have to show me, I didn’t want you to-”

“No, it’s-”, Charles tries and fails to get out, hiding his face against Edwin’s shoulder. This, at least, he knows, is real; this is forever. “It’s-”

“Shh, it’s fine”, Edwin tells him, slender fingers brushing through Charles’ curls in a way they never have before, and Charles loathes it, loathes himself and his father and the tangled mess of emotions in his chest for stealing this from him. This should have been a tender moment, just them and the intimacy they are slowly building between them. “I shouldn’t have asked, I should have known there was a reason why you did not share this with me before. I am sorry, Charles, I truly am.”

“It’s not that”, Charles finally forces from his lips, words half drowned in sobs; Edwin hugs him harder, and Charles knows that he could fall apart in Edwin’s arms so, so easily. “I should hate him, I want to, but I can’t.”

And that’s… it.

There are a hundred other things as well – fear for his mother’s safety, the pain of missing her, the ache he sometimes feels when thinking about his old room – but then there is the image of his father, smiling at him across the dinner table overlayed with him snapping the belt against his palm, violence in his eyes and the line of his mouth and the muscles bulging in his arm. The same man, and yet unrecognisable.

“Oh, Charles”, Edwin breathes into his hair, so soft, another first touch stolen. “It’s alright, it’s okay. I understand. And I don’t think any less of you for it.”

Another sob, wrenched from somewhere deep, deep within Charles, and he clings to Edwin like he’s the only thing left keeping him upright.

“And if it helps”, Edwin adds a moment later, fingers still stroking slowly through Charles’ curls, “I’ll hate him enough for the both of us.”

And perhaps, he is.

[gregorysarmy]

“Another David” FNAF Theory (scroll down for TLDR)

The premise of the “Another David” FNAF theory is the belief that Gregory (otherwise known as “GGY”) was SELECTED purposely and made into a mimic follower to replace “David Murray” from the Tales of the Pizzaplex.

To understand why this is the case, a short summary of the relationship between David Murray and the mimic is required. To put it simply, David Murray is the mimic’s purpose. We learn this through the main conflict of the book, “the mimic”, when Edwin Murray (the creator of the mimic and father of David) made the mimic in order to keep David Murray occupied in his father’s absence. This allowed Edwin Murray to neglect him in order to favor his work at Fazbear entertainment and provide for the both of them as a single father.

After Edwin created the mimic, David immediately fell in love with it, playing with it every day. Most notably, David would draw with the mimic and even taught him his own form of sign language as Edwin didn’t give it a voice box. During this time, the mimic did not display any violent behavior towards anyone, in fact, it only reflected David’s compassion. The mimic would even make childish mistakes like going into Edwin’s study to steal costumes to dress up with David.

However, this all came to a halt with David’s sudden death. The boy was struck by a vehicle when he chased a ball into the rode. As a result, Edwin fell into a depression and the mimic became confused. The mimic, that was created to take care of a little boy, suddenly had no one to entertain.

One day during Edwin’s mourning, the mimic came up to him timidly. It brought its robotic arms to its face and ushered a scooping motion. Edwin recognized this as David’s invented form of sign language and understood the mimic was asking for ice cream. A treat both the mimic and David adored. This lead Edwin to become enraged upon seeing the mimic copy his late son, and unintentionally taught it its first seeds of violence by bashing it on the ground with a metal pipe.

Because of this, the mimic becomes infused with Edwin’s agony as well as his violence. While the mimic learned the seeds of cruelty that day, he never truly forgot the love that David taught him.

As the first paragraph states, Gregory became a follower to replace David for the mimic. This is implied heavily throughout the books and items in the games. First and foremost, I’d like to make it clear that the mimic is capable of experiencing emotion. We see this in the sticky note room where he indulges in playful drawing as well as learning.

In binary code, the mimic asks why he exists. This is a clear example of his consciousness developing through interactions with humans, and in turn, it’s an example of him developing feelings and emotions. One prime example of this is when he associates words like “goodbye” with being sad (he draws a sad face next to the word) and “Hello” with being happy (happy face next to the word). He also has a strange sense of possession, using words like “mine” and “my” in many of his drawings.

It’s also important to note that he only does this when his handwriting gets better, meaning that, like a child, he is slowly assigning meanings to these words instead of just writing them. He is able to establish scenes, and images, depicting what simple vocabulary truly means to him in his own creative way. This is unlike an emotionless AI.

With that established, we need to compare David’s characteristics with Gregory. David, while being four, is described as being tall for his age (a little over 3ft). Additionally, he has fair skin, brown messy hair, and dusty freckles on his face. He loves to play and rough house, leading him to sometimes get himself in trouble because of how reckless he can be. For his age, he’s extremely intelligent as he manages to develop an entirely separate language to communicate just for the mimic.

When compared to Gregory, their personalities are basically the same. The same can be said for their appearances too as, while Greg is canonically 15 years old, he’s 3ft in the code. The TFTP books even point out that Gregory is unusually short and childish in appearance. During the chapter “GGY”, Tony makes a point to describe Gregory as being a “wide eyed kid” and the smallest in their class.

Gregory too also displays energetic behavior and he’s artistic similar to David. He loves to draw and we see some of his pieces throughout ruin. It is also implied that Gregory did some of the graffiti in ruin as one of the vandals signed their name as “GREG” on a garbage bin.

(Side note: I don’t believe Gregory is the only graffiti artist here either. The mimic also had an interest in drawing and there is a suspicious graffiti art that reads, “He was OUR superstar.”. Perhaps this was made out of anger towards Freddy as Freddy was the reason Gregory escaped (discovered by @dasketcherz on twt and tumblr))

It’s not just their likeness that is important here either, rather, the way Gregory is treated by the mimic is way different. Vanessa as a mimic follower was acquired through connivence. This basically means she wasn’t targeted, but she put herself in a position that made her a viable target.

However, through conversations in the Scott games files, we can see that Gregory was chosen and intentionally targeted. While originally the Scott games conversation was thought to be Vanny and Afton communicating, we know now that it was the mimic asking Vanny to choose a target to kidnap and convert. This target was revealed to be Gregory later on in the book “GGY”

Logically, there is no good reason to purposely acquire a child to serve you when you can instead acquire adults who will have an easier time following orders due to their dominant role in society. Truly, there is zero benefit in possessing a child purposely to gain knowledge unless gaining knowledge isn’t the mimic’s only goal. If anything, having a child obey you would be a hinderance due to the hoops you would have to jump through in order to keep them (law enforcement, parents, more resources dedicated to helping kid). However, obviously, this was a hindrance the mimic was willing to take.

Once you make the connection between Gregory and David, all of the mimic’s planning makes sense. He never intended for Gregory to be a normal follower, he wanted Gregory to be his friend. This is even directly stated in the books when, The mimic, disguised as Gregory, edits Tony’s paper about GGY. He changes it to state that “GGY” was “the wizards most favored apprentice” with the mimic being the wizard and Gregory being his favored apprentice.

So many illogical happenings become solved by the mimic loving Gregory, like, why did he allow Gregory to attend school? Why did he let Tony and Ellis be his friends for 6 months? Why did he let Gregory go to therapy? All these questions can be simply solved by the fact that the mimic is trying to care for Gregory, but he has never been taught how.

We can also confirm why the 8 missing kids (excluding Gregory as he is the 9th) died. We know that Tony Becker is one of them, and considering the fact that any therapists who got close to the truth of Vanessa and Gregory got murdered too, we can say with close certainty that these children were friends with Greg. Similar to Tony, they got involved in situations they weren’t suppose to, and the mimic decided they needed to be eliminated to protect Gregory. This might also be why Gregory was a fairly new kid in “GGY”, he may have been moving schools to conceal his identity.

On top of Gregory’s friends and therapists, thanks to the last therapy session, we know that Gregory’s parents are dead. The details of their deaths are vague but they are referred to in the past tense, meaning they are no longer in the picture. Obviously, their deaths have something to do with the mimic as Gregory was forced to cover them up. With Vanessa, she was allowed to tell the truth about the abuse by her father as well as her mother’s death because it didn’t relate to the mimic. Seeing as Gregory’s sessions aren’t similar means that the mimic obviously had something to do with their demise, implying he went further in isolating Gregory so the boy became complicit in his role as David.

That’s not even all, we actually find Gregory’s bed in the pizzaplex and it’s literally in the same room as the mimic’ lair. To emphasis why this is important, Vanny’s room is in Fazerblast. She’s way farther than Gregory to the mimic, like the mimic didn’t care to keep a tight leash on her like he did for Gregory.

(Side note: Gregory’s bed is personalized , unlike Vanny’s, he has little stars on his and it’s blue. Almost like the mimic took the care to try to find him a blanket he would like.)

There must have been a reason the mimic wanted Gregory’s bed so close to him, like he was terrified of Gregory leaving his sight. David died because he wasn’t supervised properly, perhaps the mimic is directly learning from Edwin’s mistakes. Additionally, BB’s world (the arcade machine theorized to be Gregory’s princess quest keeping him trapped) is also in the mimics lair.

Despite being dead for over 40 years, the mimic still remembers David. This is made clear in the burntrap ending when the mimic curves his arm as if he was holding a plushie. This was noted as copying David’s behavior in the books as he too curved his arm to carry his tiger rock plushy. This means that the mimic still remembers AND copies David, meaning it’s not impossible for him to copy David’s love still.

With that established, we can even answer some unanswered questions about ruin. There would finally be an explanation as to why Vanessa brought Gregory down to the pizzaplex and how they didn’t die trapping the mimic. Instead of coding MXES, Gregory was likely used as bait. He, being small enough to crawl through vents, lured the mimic into an enclosed area and when Vanessa finished setting up MXES, escaped through the collapsed vent that leads to the MXES system room.

We see that the mimic struggled to let him go due to the large claw mark on one of the vents walls, like he was reaching for the boy as he scrambled away. This vent is also conveniently where Gregory’s backpack is.

What likely happened is that after the vent collapsed, the mimic became trapped but Gregory was so spooked by the event he immediately ran off, forgetting his backpack in the process. We also know for a fact that Gregory was in the mimic’s prison at one point because the mimic has Gregory’s faz-talkie. There would have been no other way for him to get one of those besides Greg dropping it out of haste/fear.

Additionally, we can deduce that if the mimic dropped the elevator, he did it to lure Gregory back down into the pizzaplex. Once Gregory heard the elevator drop, it’s likely he would attempt to save Cassie, falling into the mimics hands once again.

To end this off, I’d like to emphasize the mimic’s purpose. Yes, he was made to copy, but that wasn’t his JOB, his job was to love David. We see time and time again in the epilogues that the mimic follows his “break heads and limbs “ orders to a T, so what makes his debt to David less valuable. In the end, the mimic seems to be attempting to create what he understands as a family, and that includes David, his most favored apprentice.

Edit: additional information has been found pertaining to Another David theory

In Security Breach, there is no mention of killing Gregory. In fact, any lines that state Vanny intending to kill Gregory, were removed. I assume this was due to a miscommunication in the story between Scott and SW, but we can use it as evidence to assume that none of the animatronics actually kill Gregory when they find him.

Additionally, Chica has a lot of lines pertaining to family. She beckons Gregory to come out multiple times with the promise she would escort him to his mom and dad. As we already know, Gregory no longer has a family, so this attempt to persuade him to come out would be futile; however, what chica is saying makes way more sense when you look at it from the mimic’s perspective. The mimic truly believes that Gregory is his family. Whether he believes Gregory is a brother, a son, or just a really good friend, the mimic treats him as if he was his. As such, he would obviously believe that Gregory would want to come back to him instead of hiding.

We also see this construction of a family life in the sticky note room too, as the mimic attempts to create a perfect household with staff bots. He wants Vanny and Greg to have a family dynamic with him and is imitating that through his art.

Additionally, we can see Gregory mimic characteristics of David in SB. One of Gregory’s main tools in SB, the fazwatch, causes Gregory to curve his arm in a similar way to David when he’s holding his tigerrock plush. This is how Gregory is depicted in the game’s poster, as well as in a lot of the promotional art, meaning this pose is significant. Curving his arm, just like David did, and just like the mimic taught him to.

THE CANDY CADET STORIES AND HOW THEY RELATE:

I’d first like to mention that there are TWO candy cadet stories and under this theory, BOTH have importance. I’ve seen a lot of people simply ignore the first one as they cannot connect it to anything/believe it is a joke, however I interpret it differently.

The first candy cadet story talks about a family that “missed a once in a lifetime opportunity” through an analogy about pizzaplex food discounts. This is the mimic talking about how Gregory and Vanessa left him, abandoning the makeshift family the mimic was creating. Additionally, the story states that since the family did not take the once in a lifetime deal, they all died. As we already know, the mimic tends to act like a bratty child occasionally, and this story would be a reflection of that. He is imaging a world where Gregory and Vanessa are punished for leaving him instead of being finally being free from his madness.

In the second story, it talks about a woman who defeats a witch. This one is a bit more complicated so I have to copy and paste the script to analyze each line.

''Now let me tell you a story,

a young woman who, when she was little, was led into a dark forest by a witch and almost eaten

She had escaped before being thrown into the oven but would have a **scar** for the rest of her life.

When she had grown, she sought revenge on the witch and entered the forest again willingly, this time with the confidence of age and experience.

She was greeted at the mouth of the forest by a young boy who offered to help guide her through the darkness

“Come,'' the boy said, ''rest here before killing the witch.''

The young woman was tired and would kill the witch in the morning.

She followed the boy into the house.

The oven door closed.

The witch would finally have her meal.''

For the first 2 lines, it talks about Vanessa creating MXES and trapping the witch. While this sounds like she defeats the witch, she doesn’t. In ruin, the mimic is still alive and waiting for her and Gregory to return.

In the third line, it talks about Vanessa entering the pizzaplex again to stop the mimic after Cassie is dropped in the elevator and the mimic is free, this time, she intends to kill the mimic.

Gregory waits for her at the door, offering to guide and protect her in the pizzaplex. She accepts this help and they venture down to finally get rid of the mimic.

When they get inside, Gregory tells her to rest. When she finally sleeps, Gregory is taken/controlled by the mimic and the mimic deceives Vanessa into thinking they are still together.

Under this belief, she continues to follow Gregory further down not knowing he has been compromised.

The witch having her meal would be Vanessa’s death; this story is predicting her fate. While it may seem unbelievable at first, when combined with the fact the Mrs Hippo is an important character in HW2 that also intends to predict the protagonist of HW2’s fate, it becomes less superstitious. This is not the first time candy cadet has predicted the future. He does it in ruin too, before Cassie frees the mimic. Candy Cadet is telling the events of Vanessa and Gregory’s last mission together

TLDR: Overall, to summarize, the mimic either believes Gregory is David, or is attached to him because of his resemblance to David, and hence forcing him to become a follower against his will.

[geniarts]

BillFord is canon

This was the title of a post I made on my previous tumblr account 6 years ago (acc was banned for unknown reason and I can't see my posts). Now, with the kind help of @decaying-dimension who gave me HD scans of the Book of Bill pages, I want to make a new summary of the subject.

You know, a month ago I was really surprised to see all those BillFord posts. Like people only realized it just recently even though there were plenty of hints in the series and especially in Journal 3. Back then, when I tried to say something about Bill and Ford relations, I got only hate and accusations. So now I feel a sense of triumph as all my thoughts were correct. Now let's see why we can say BillFord is in fact a canon.

Ford's feelings. Well, this point is so obvious that I'm really amused some people still can't take it right and keep talking about abuse, manipulations, etc. Yes, Bill used Ford to achieve his goal and then broke his heart, but those two years before his betrayal were the happiest years of Ford's life.

Ever since his childhood, Ford was teased for his fingers and had such deep communication issues that he gladly moved to a secluded place in the woods. He wished to someday become famous and show all his abusers that they were wrong. He wanted to be a hero, not a freak. He needed attention, admiration, recognition, and Bill gave him just that.

Ford called himself a Cipherholic, and that he was. Just think about a guy who turned his own house into a shrine. He was so obsessed with Bill that he collected every Bill artifact he could find, and in addition, surrounded himself with glass pyramids and dozens of hand drawn portraits all around his study.

Some people said that this wasn't a romantic feeling, just a religious one, but you know what? If you don't love someone with all your heart, you wouldn't be eager to see him in your dreams, you wouldn't reflect about the complex fates that brought you and him together, you wouldn't choose him over your only loyal friend. (Speaking of fate, in the Book of Bill there's a picture of baby Ford reaching for a yellow triangle as a sign that their destinies will be tied together) My, Ford even saw Bill's image in the stars! This was the most romantic thing in the whole Journal 3.

Ford trusted Bill so much he let him into his body and mind, and this is the highest level of trust a man could ever give. Bill was his beloved Muse, his sunshine, the center of his life, and he didn't want to hear anything bad about him. Ford ignored all the warnings like some blind lover and even kicked Fiddleford because he trusted Bill more than his old friend.

So now we clearly see that Ford didn't consider Bill just some kind of deity, but his partner, his closest friend, his beloved.

I won't speculate if there was something between them during "karaoke night" as I'm sure in this case Ford wouldn't behave the same way he always did (or maybe he just forgot the ending of that night :)) but the whole picture of them drinking together and the excitement Ford felt at that moment... well I'm sure he wouldn't mind if "one thing led to another" to its peak ;)

Bill's betrayal wounded Ford very badly and I can understand why he vowed to take revenge on him. He spent 30 years seeking information about Bill and building a weapon capable of destroying him, so we can say the most part of his life was dedicated to Bill in one way or another. Even now that he's reunited with his family, he can't get rid of his thoughts about Bill, and I doubt he will ever be able to.

Bill's feelings aren't so obvious as he's a hardened liar and pretender. That's why most people saw only one side of his personality, but even 6 years ago there were some hints of his inner thoughts and motives. The Axolotl said Bill was pretending to be happy, but deep inside he missed his home that he couldn't even return to. Hirsch also said that he used the concept of Flatland (a book written by Edwin Abbott) where triangles were one of the lowest classes, so this was another reason for Bill to seek power and to show others they were wrong about him (just like Ford).

Now in the Book of Bill we clearly see him having issues after destroying his home dimension. Even though he tries to deny his guilt, these thoughts are torturing him, and "the ghosts of his family are haunting him still” (a code from TBOB). He even called himself a monster while talking to Ford! There's no way such an egomaniac would call himself that if he didn't realize he deserved this. After his break up with Ford, he went to the bar to get drunk and forget, but he couldn't. He said Ford was his pawn, but in fact, Bill needed Ford more than Ford needed him.

After losing his home Bill didn't find a place where he could be happy again. He gathered some interdimensional scum around him and tried to numb his pain by torturing and abusing inhabitants in other worlds. He spent trillions of years doing this, but he still didn't get what he wanted - to be needed, to be loved. And he got all of this from Ford.

Ford's sincere adoration and devotion made Bill feel something new, something so important and necessary, but also something he didn't know how to deal with. He was scared, he never thought that he was able to make such a deep connection to another person... to a _mortal_ one. His phrase "handcuffing your happiness to a mortal is like gluing yourself to a time bomb ‘till death do us part’” is the saddest thing in the whole book. Bill tried to convince himself that their breakup was the right thing because these thoughts were really unbearable for him.

But despite all of this, he tried so hard to get Ford back. He invited him twice, and the first one was right after Ford's attempt to kill him. Moreover, it was during that moment Bill was sure he became the ruler of Earth and didn't need Ford's assistance anymore, so he asked him to join just because he wanted Ford to be with him.

What he didn't understand was that Ford hated him for all the pain he caused him and his family. For Bill it was just entertainment, so he couldn't understand why Ford was so upset. But I think there's a potential opportunity for both of them if Bill finally finds courage to admit his mistakes and to improve himself. He just has to look deeper inside himself and allow his remorse, his pain and his true wishes to take place in his soul. And I'm sure if he sincerely asks for help, Ford wouldn't turn his back on him.

[irish-dress-history]

Irish dress history sources online:

A list of sources for Irish dress history research that free to access on the internet:

Primary and period sources:

Text Sources:

Corpus of Electronic Texts (CELT): a database of historical texts from or about Ireland. Most have both their original text and, where applicable, an English translation. Authors include: Francisco de Cuellar, Luke Gernon, John Dymmok, Thomas Gainsford, Fynes Moryson, Edmund Spenser, Laurent Vital, Tadhg Dall Ó hUiginn

Images:

The Edwin Rae Collection: A collection of photographs of Irish carvings dating 1300-1600 taken by art historian Edwin Rae in the mid-20th c. Includes tomb effigies and other figural art.

National Library of Ireland: Has a nice collection of 18th-20th c. Irish art and photographs. Search their catalog or browse their flickr.

Irish Script on Screen: A collection of scans of medieval Irish manuscripts, including The Book of Ballymote.

The Book of Kells: Scans of the whole thing.

The Image of Irelande, with a Discoverie of Woodkarne by John Derricke published 1581. A piece of anti-Irish propaganda that should be used with caution. Illustrations. Complete text.

Secondary sources:

Irish History from Contemporary Sources (1509-1610) by Constantia Maxwell published 1923. Contains a nice collection of primary source quotes, but it sometimes modernizes the 16th c. English in ways that are detrimental to the accuracy, like changing 'cote' to 'coat'. The original text for many of them can be found on CELT, archive.org, or google books.

An Historical Essay on the Dress of the Ancient and Modern Irish By Joseph Cooper Walker published 1788. Makes admirable use of primary sources, but because of Walker's assumption that Irish dress didn't change for the entirety of the Middle Ages, it is significantly flawed in a lot of its conclusions. Mostly only useful now for historiography. I discussed the images in this book here.

Chapter 18: Dress and Personal Adornment from A Smaller Social History of Ancient Ireland by P. W. Joyce published 1906. Suffers from similar problems to An Historical Essay on the Dress of the Ancient and Modern Irish.

Consumption and Material Culture in Sixteenth-Century Ireland Susan Flavin's 2011 doctoral thesis. A valuable source on the kinds of materials that were available in 16th c Ireland.

A Descriptive Catalogue of the Antiquities in the Museum of the Royal Irish Academy Volumes 1 and 2 by William Wilde, published 1863. Obviously outdated, and some of Wilde's conclusions are wrong, because archaeologists didn't know how to date things in the 19th century, but his descriptions of the individual artifacts are worthwhile. Frustratingly, this is still the best catalog available to the public for the National Museum of Ireland Archaeology. Idk why the NMI doesn't have an online catalog, a lot museums do nowadays.

Volume I: Articles of stone, earthen, vegetable and animal materials; and of copper and bronze

Volume 2: A Descriptive Catalogue of the Antiquities of Gold in the Museum of the Royal Irish Academy

A Horsehair Woven Band from County Antrim, Ireland: Clues to the Past from a Later Bronze Age Masterwork by Elizabeth Wincott Heckett 1998

Jewellery, art and symbolism in Medieval Irish society by Mary Deevy in Art and Symbolism in Medieval Europe- Papers of the 'Medieval Europe Brugge 1997' Conference (page 77 of PDF)

Looking the part: dress and civic status and ethnicity in early-modern Ireland by Brid McGrath 2018

Irish Mantles, English Nationalism: Apparel and National Identity in Early Modern English and Irish Texts by John R Ziegler 2013

Dress and ornament in early medieval Ireland - exploring the evidence by Maureen Doyle 2014

Dress and accessories in the early Irish tale, ‘The Wooing of Becfhola’ by Niamh Whitfield 2006

A tenth century cloth from Bogstown Co. Meath by Elizabeth Wincott Heckett 2004

Tertiary Sources:

Medieval Ireland: An Encyclopedia edited by Sean Duffy published 2005

Re-Examining the Evidence: A Study of Medieval Irish Women's Dress from 750 to 900 CE by Alexandra McConnell

[galacticlamps]

Three: The Themes & 6b

[Context] // <<previous bit // next bit>>

[[Here I'm just gonna copy that final paragraph from the last part bc like I said, the thought process wasn't really intended to be broken up like this but I don't wanna make it longer writing a better transition]]

For all the more superficial similarities, for all the analysis on how the narrative structures of each serve to bolster the most interesting aspects of these characters where another might have compressed them or just neglected to turn them into something so striking and developed - actually, at the end of the day, the real reason Two & Jamie and Edwin & Charles resonate so strongly is because they are, ultimately, alone together (and always both at once) in a way that sets them apart from other characters in the same or even more visibly-similar fictional scenarios.

And of course that's so deeply related to the rules of their universes, and the very particular niche they each inhabit there, even though it seemed like none of that mattered too much at the start. Why should it have? They aren't royalty in some high-fantasy epic or major players in a hard-science fictional satire - for all the ways that they're ultimately revealed to be Different, unique, changed by their experiences or else just misfits and outsiders of a kind to begin with (and sometimes all of the above) - they are also very crucially just normal guys, who want most of all to be left alone to get on with their (after)lives - together. It's right that we meet them & grow accustomed to them first on their own terms - traveling randomly through time and space, or taking cases in London's supernatural community - before we learn about the Time Lords or the Afterlife's Lost & Found Department, and the degree to which their way of existing is so deeply condemned in-universe.

For Two & Jamie, the fullness of this realization comes rather late in the day, but - again, connected to the way television was made in their era - the reveal of the Time Lords & their strict non-interference policy was a direct by-product of and natural next-step for the Doctor's story as it had been taking shape throughout the 60s already, so I have no issues with retroactively taking it into consideration when viewing the Second Doctor's entire tenure. (For what it's worth, I think it's also significant that most people viewing 60s Who these days aren't picking it up at random either - it's safe to assume some familiarity with the modern show's premise, which includes a general sense of taboo surrounding the Time Lords & altering history to begin with - but I digress).

By the time Two shows up on the scene, we already know life on the Tardis is inherently transitory - it's a travel story, first and foremost, but it's also significant for having no set or even proposed end destination. Companions have been coming & going for years, and we've just learned that even the Doctor can fully reinvent himself, even if he won't literally disappear (looking at you, Celestial Toymaker). We know it's itinerant, and not meant to last. Still, in the form of Jamie joining in his second-ever story and remaining longer than any other companion ever had or will more than 50 years (& counting) later, we begin to see a really clear stability emerge from that setup - a change so constant, it becomes its own kind of permanence. Tardis life already has a certain liminal, not-quite-normal - even allowing for the scifi of it it all - quality to it, which these characters seem to be wrangling into the shape of a home against all odds, well before we meet the Time Lords.

Once we do, the rest slides into place straightforwardly enough: the image of the Doctor as a fugitive of this all-powerful but distant, cold, unfeeling culture. The fact that no one great event (a war had often been speculated, before) led to his flight, since all he cites to his companions & while on trial are disagreements over their fundamental philosophy of Not Getting Involved. And what could make more sense? If there's one thing we know about the Doctor - any Doctor, but certainly this Doctor - it's that he meddles. He gets involved, he gets attached to people, he brings them out of their assigned place in space and time, often willingly now, and has come to care about them and feel at home among them in a way that we're not surprised to hear is definitely not sanctioned by the world he comes from.

The change we've watched the character undergo since 1963 is much larger than the change between William Hartnell & Patrick Troughton. Instead, it's an arc both of them have been playing all along - the only sensible conclusion to reach, really, considering the shape of a show that opened with Ian & Barbara joining him: companions make us better people, change the way we look at the world, turn us into fuller versions of ourselves. Getting involved is messy - comes with all kinds of complications, ranging from keeping history on-track to watching out for all the tricky human emotions that come into play once people begin becoming important to one another - but at the end of the day, is also worth all the bother in the world.

Doctor Who the show has been so pro-getting-involved since the instant it started with two concerned but nosy schoolteachers poking around a junkyard - and the Second Doctor exemplifies this so well in his character, more madcap and undignified than his predecessor, flying by the seat of his pants a bit more, it's true, but also freer and happier with himself and his companions - of course the greatest threat to him, and the thing that both created him and sent him running, is a society where meddling is anathema, and permanently cut-off erasure (of the War Lord, of your own memories, of the person you are right now, even) is at once the most serious punishment they have, and the preferred method by which they set things "right."

It's large part of why The War Games feels like a deeply queer story, casting a queer light both backwards & forwards over the rest of the series, before we even go anywhere near considering if the two guys at its center, fighting to remain part of each other's lives in a world insistent there is no room for something as simple and harmless as that, would ever do anything we'd categorize as "actually" gay.

It's also why I think 6b is as attractive a concept as it has proven to be in the years since, as a subject for fanwork & official spinoff material alike. We've gotten more 'canon' stories detailing it in some pretty recent years, but even before that, the bones of the idea were clear enough, and it never just existed as a theory because anybody was really desperate to have more gaps in which to set potential Two & Jamie stories - including the one the show itself had given us in 1985 (Simon Guerrier took a shot at making that actually work within the confines of Season 5 in an audio drama in 2015; it did nothing to detract from the appeal of 6b, which is currently the setting of Big Finish's ongoing Second Doctor range). It's because putting a figure like Two - the misfit, outsider, sympathetic meddling 'cosmic hobo' - into conjunction with the Time Lords at their most all-powerful and controlling, is a recipe for a very particular kind of drama. Positioning him there with Jamie only adds to the layers in which they're both bound.

It's a way for this Doctor to be more in control of his travels than he ever was (we can't forget that the tv Tardis of the 60s was 100% unpredictable), but also to give him Serious Boundaries in a way he never had to deal with before, either. The two of them are freer, in some ways, and absolutely trapped in others. They're 'doing good' in the sense that, by definition, we know missions the Time Lords send them on would be carried out with or without their (ironically now state-approved) involvement, but with them & their hard-won more human approach, we can hope they'll be handled with a compassion and care that would otherwise be absent. It lends totally new aspects to their characters, simply having that kind of responsibility, that stamp officialness but lack of authority, new situations they can be forced to deal with - and yet it does so while just reiterating and reinforcing that central premise we loved about them before - two constants in a world of danger and adversity, making an impact and caring (about the worlds they visit, and about each other) under conditions they're really not supposed to be okay with. They are always generally presumed to be happy that they're together in this situation, because that must be one of the few bright sides to being stuck under the thumb of the people most dangerous to them, and likely why they submit to it in the first place.

Do I even need to type out the words "they should want to move on but don't, because they have each other" for it to become clear why this setup was what came to mind while watching the ghost boys struggle to carry out their business?

[Context] // <<previous bit // next bit>>

[are-you-fucking-with-me-rn]

okay so I always wanted to work on a show soundtrack so here's some songs I would put in s2 because since its probably maybe not gonna happen these can be canon in my head

Stupid Cupid by Connie Francis - okay so imagine if you will. The episode starts out jarring, maybe some payneland smooching out of nowhere, makes you go back to the last episode thinking you missed a scene. But then Edwin opens his eyes, he's lying on the ground or something, and is immediately thrust into the middle of a fight scene(this is where the song starts playing). He had just been temporarily knocked out and had some dream sequence or something idk. The fight scene is in a fancy restaurant or smth and it's close to Valentine's day and it's all decorated with hearts and stuff. This song is diegetic, playing in the restaurant.

Flaws by Bastille - I'd probably put it during end credits/end of the episode. It feels very transitional to me. It's a song on the Charles playlist so of course it's gonna play after a scene with Charles heavy lore or something. Maybe Charles's dad dies, and the song starts at the beginning of the funeral scenes. Then, long after everyone's already left, Charles goes and stands in front of the gravestone and his mom is just there kneeling in the grass in front of him and doesn't know he's there and yeah. It's like, the start of Charles's Actually-finding-peace-and-confronting-trauma arc or smth.

Girls on Film by Duran Duran - good for a montage of like Crystal adjusting to having rich, showy parents. She thinks maybe if she helps them out with their big projects, which she assumes the old her didn't do, maybe they'll start seeing her and caring about her like parents should. Going to grand openings and being photographed/interviewed, being in the public sphere all the sudden. Crystal's overcompensating for being a major jerk in her past life and is now bending over backwards to be nice to everyone (which, from experience, isn't exactly healthy either)(aka she's gone the "obsess-over-being-good-enough" route that Charles's gone down)(yikes).

The Killing Moon by Echo and the Bunnymen - I honestly have no vivid images for this one. I just like the song, I think it matches the mood of the show. Maybe something about Crystal and David? A final confrontation? Cus I saw someone (I'm sorry I forgot who) say they thought it would be interesting if Crystal's powers get "contaminated" by David cus he's still buried by the tree. So like a final standoff.

Swan Upon Leda by Hozier OR Eurydice by Eugénie - I think s2 would be more about Charles' journey the way s1 was more about Edwin BUT i'm also curious about Edwin's life. Something happens where Edwin maybe ends up at his old house, or relives his memories and it's all in slow motions and more calm than Charles's in ep4. They're not all bad, but Edwin was different and outcasted and the likes. George Rexstrew said himself that he thought Swan Upon Leda described Edwin really well, but also Eurydice gives off a sort of melancholy floatiness that fits with a boy 100+ years dead reliving an upbringing that now seems to foreign to him, and yet is ingrained in every part of himself.

Since listening to music is my #1 hobby, I will probably find more songs down the line and add on, but this is what I got for now.

[mimicfied]

SOTM TRAILER SPOILERS ‼️‼️

Guys we won.. we actually won… talesgames deniers where you at?

THE MUSHROOM COSTUME FROM TALES?? THE JESTER??

SOMEONE BRIGHTENED THE IMAGE AT THE END OF THE TRAILER.. WHAT IS THIS???

THE GAME SEEMS TO BE TAKING PLACE AFTER *THE MIMIC* BOOK FROM TALES SINCE FOR ONE, IT MENTIONS IN THE BOOK THAT THE SECOND FAZBEAR ENT TEAM SENT TO RETRIEVE EDWINS STUFF WAS SENT A WEEK BEFORE CHRISTMAS AND GUESS WHAT, ITS SNOWING..

WE’RE BEING SENT INTO HIS WAREHOUSE TO RETRIEVE THE MIMIC AND EDWINS STUFF HE CREATED FOR FAZBEAR ENT.

EDWIN IS MISSING AND THEY’RE AWARE THE MIMIC IS KILLING PEOPLE..

THERES A ARM STICKING OUT OF / BEHIND ONE OF THE MASCOT COSTUMES. ( LIKE OTHER PEOPLE WERE HERE… )

WE ARE SO BACK…. THIS IS SO HUGE FOR A FNAF GAME.. LIKE SO HUGE.

I AM FREAKING THE HELL OUT RIGHT NOW GUYS… ONLY 121 DAYS TIL SECRET OF THE MIMIC RELEASES….. I AM NOT SANE RIGHT NOW….

THIS MIGHT ACTUALLY BE THE BEST FNAF GAME…. LIKE ACTUALLY..

ALSO THE MIMIC LOOKS DIFFERENT, WHICH IS ACCURATE I JUST DIDN’T EXPECT STEEL WOOL TO ACTUALLY DO THAT…

[fuckyeahbaldursgate]

Viconia - Plot Support extraordinaire

Just to preface this as I don't want this to seem like I am hating on BG3 as a diehard fan of the original series because I really do love BG3. I've completed it twice now and think it will absolutely be joining my annual rotation of BG1/SOD/BG2 playthroughs but it has its problems, much in the same way that the originals themselves have problems as well.

So after my Sarevok post I wanted to treat Viconia to the same critical analysis as unfortunately I think she also gets the short end of the evil plot stick. I get it, evil characters can be hard to get right but again similar to Sarevok, in my opinion, her character regresses to evil Shar mook number one rather than actually being Viconia. Worse still she's entirely at the mercy of being wrapped up in ShadowHeart's backstory.

Anyway this is a bit of a deep dive into Viconia's issues in BG3. Spoiler warning for both BG3 and BG2.

1. No Grey DeLise.

Again, similar to Sarevok, another prolific voice actor that has done recent video game work seemingly not approached for the role. I can't help but think that some of this is down to the rushed nature of act three generally and Larian just having to get whoever they could for the job in the time that they needed it. Unlike Jaheria and Minsc there's no attempt to mimic her original VA or get someone who sounded like her so she ends up sounding completely and utterly different.

This version of Viconia sounds haughty and stuck up which while the original Viconia VA has a degree of arrogance, she is also pretty sultry. Haer'dalis even comments that she has 'the throaty voice of the most expensive courtesan' and Viconia deliberately plays on the stereotype of the sensual female drow with certain male party members for her own benefit e.g the male Bhaalspawn, Edwin, Sarevok and even Anomen (I cover this a bit here and here).

2. Her in game design...just isn't great.

Let's be honest, combined with the voice, Viconia's design basically makes her unrecognisable. She looks like a generic old drow lady to the point that I did have 'Is that meant to be Viconia?' moment when I first met her.

Now I appreciate there is minor controversy with Viconia's original BG2 portrait (which is probably the most recognisable image of her) because the artist actually used a famous porn star as the base for it.

For info, this was a common practice at Bioware at the time as they used to use lots of different images as bases for portraits. They finally got into legal trouble for it in NWN where due to various copyright claims they had to change quite a few portraits.

More recently, I think that Beamdog actually did quite a good job of recreating a faithful adaption of her original portrait in Siege of Dragonspear while presumbably navigating the original copyright issue.

In comparison to her BG3 portrayal, my first impression was she looks incredibly old. Now as far as I'm aware we've never been given a canon age for Viconia but we do know she was around for House DeVir being defeated by the Do'Urden house so she has to be at least 100 years old by the time of BG1... but her character level is between 2 and 6 (depending on the party's XP) so a relatively inexperienced cleric. With that in mind I definitely assumed she was on the younger side (maybe 200-300?). Either way 5e elves can live between 750 to 1000 years although there are instances in the Forgotten Realms books of drow living to over 2000. Now tack on the additional 120 years for BG3 in my mind it would definitely put her in the middle aged category but not necessarily anywhere near the end of her life. Critically she would be aging much slower than Jaheria but with those wrinkles she looks WAY older than her. I honestly feel cheated of an interaction between the two about how hagged and old Jaheria looks in comparison to herself.

In terms of her outfit, although initially she wears the Sharite mask and hooded outfit, which is good for concealing her identity, we eventually end up with Viconia in a spider adorned dress. This seems like a strange choice given the spider motif when she literally stopped worshipping Lloth for Shar - maybe she's being ironic? The lack of armour,when she's a cleric that knows there's a good chance she's about to have a fight seems kind of stupid. If you do choose to fight her, she then looks entirely comical in her light dress accompanied by an enormous oversized shield and mace.

For me though this really identifies her design problem: her leather armour was a critical part of her original design. Given that we only see portrait style headshots of BG characters, the decision not to include her leather corset with the three straps and the head band is really what makes her unrecognisable. It would be like removing Minsc's head tattoo or Jaheria's braids or Sarevok's armour (which even with all the problems I talked about in my post, at least he got to keep that).

My hope is that some enterprising modder out there makes a more BG2 accurate version of her in future. Larian, please give my lady her leather armour back or maybe even a justicar outfit!

3. Ignores her BG1/2 alignment, motivations and twists her original epilogue.

Now I do appreciate BG3 deliberately assumes that the events of BG1/BG2 are a little bit fluid, which Jaheria confirms this when she talks about the bards that tell stories of her slaying gods or bedding them depending on which one you listen to. But the game goes onto confirm certain events in Viconia's history that don't really make sense:

A.) The game confirms that Viconia did travel with the Bhaalspawn but not for the entirety of the game. Minsc informs you that after trying to dissect Boo she was expelled from the group. I have to admit this story didn't gel with me at all because it implies Viconia is some sort of chaotic evil idiot (reminder: Viconia is neutral evil with a 16 INT score and 18 WIS score in BG2) who would deliberately provoke a giant raging berserker man by murdering his beloved pet. Like that's the sort of thing I could see Xzar (who is completely and utterly mad) doing but not Viconia. What benefit would she get out of it? Maybe it would be a good tribute for Shar but that would be a pretty short term benefit. In fact in BG2 Viconia offers begrudging respect to Minsc for his effectiveness in battle, she knows he's powerful and she wants to be on the right side of that. Minsc for his part does what he does with many of the female characters, particularly in BG2 and makes her a proxy substitute for Dynaheir offering to protect her. That's not to say she won't insult people (Aerie and Jaheria or characters who she perceives as weak often get the brunt of it) but she's generally smart enough to stay out of an actual fight. Important to note that in any of NPC conflicts that end in a fight in BG1/2 (e.g. Kivan, Ajantis, Keldorn) it's never Viconia that's starts the fight.

B.) The Waterdeep cult.

In Viconia's epilogue, which you only get if you kept her for the end of Throne of Bhaal and you didn't romance her, Viconia goes on to do a few things which you can see below (obviously massive spoilers for BG2) :

So it feels like Larian has taken the first part of this ending but nothing else, which really leaves a lot of questions. We know Shar isn't entirely happy with Viconia based on her diary entries so why is Shar still giving powers to a woman that basically killed a whole bunch of her followers? Why is Viconia still working for a goddess that hates her? Why is she so accepting of Shar's plot to groom Shadowheart as her replacement? Why on earth hasn't Viconia got the fuck out of dodge, which is pretty much what she has been shown to do in the past? And this comes neatly onto my next point.

4. Viconia is just a plot device for Shadowheart.

I love Shadowheart and I love her arc but honestly Viconia being the Mother Superior just felt like a way of inserting her into the game in a way that didn't really fit especially when Viconia's diaries in BG3 show that she knows that Shar intends for Shadowheart to essentially replace her as one of her prominent followers/chosen. The whole plot ignores two critical points about Viconia and her backstory:

Firstly the reason Viconia left the Underdark in the first place was because she refused to sacrifice a child to Lloth and Lloth turning her brother into a drider after he saved her from being sacrificed. Now Viconia is many things, she's self serving, cruel and dedicated to her own survival at the expense of anything and anyone else (quintessential neutral evil through and through) but at the same time she threw away her position, caused the downfall of her house and got most of her family murdered to save a child. You're telling me she would then willingly go along with Shar's plan to deliberate plan to kidnap and repeatedly torture a child for YEARS whilst also training said child to replace her? My girl doesn't have many lines in the sand but harming children definitely seems like one of them. I actually wandered whether Shadowheart not liking to harm children / prefers saving them is not just about her being a secret Selunite but also a potential a hint of Viconia's influence.

Secondly, that plot seems to ignores Viconia's other primary driver, which is to survive: it's why she leaves the Underdark, it's why she travels with the Bhaalspawn, it's why she worships Shar and it's why she murders an entire cabal of Shar's followers after one person betrayed her. Now if we ignore that she has qualms about children, you're telling me that she would instead essentially train her replacement to be an amazing cleric who is 99% likely to murder her? I'm pretty sure Viconia would have tried to kill Shadowheart way before her becoming a justicar or simply skipped town as she has done before.

The alternative?

Personally I would have liked to have seen Viconia ultimately involved in a plot to overthrow the Mother Superior or maybe doing something even crazier like going after Shar herself out of revenge following her fall from grace after the events of the Waterdeep cult. Maybe she works with the Absolute to get her revenge and keep her divine powers - hell who better to help Ketheric with the Nightsong in Shar's temple then an ex priestess of Shar?

If not the Absolute then Shar's got plenty of enemies and Viconia has converted before. Maybe she could have joined the team to achieve a particular goal while giving fans of the original series the opportunity to have one of the original evil characters to join the crew. I would have loved to see the contrast with Minthara who is still fairly fresh from leaving drow society and a complete blunt instrument compared to Viconia's more subtle ways. Maybe Viconia would take the paladin under her wing, maybe introduce her to a new patron god (something I don't think is ever explained is how Minthara still retains her divine powers given neither Lloth or the Absolute are fueling them anymore). Shevarash the elven god of revenge, would be a fantastic fit for both of their back stories (which would also be a nice little throw back to Viconia's heated / sometimes fatal arguments with Kivan in BG1) presuming that Viconia could get over her disdain for the elven pantheon by that point in the timeline. The fireworks with Jaheria of course would be grand while Minsc I feel would be very conflicted given his mind's tendancy, as noted above, to sub in any female magic user as Dynaheir.

[aletterinthenameofsanity]

Payneland Doctor Who AU!

So, uh, I got this image in my head of Edwin Payne as the Ninth Doctor and Charles Rowland as Rose Tyler and just went a bit insane. Like, 'wrote this thing in an hour' insane. If anyone here is a fan of Dead Boy Detectives and Doctor Who, this is for y'all. Hope y'all enjoy!

The thing is that Edwin gave Charles a choice. Stay behind, or take off for the stars, for solving mysteries across time and space. Chasing the stars into infinity.

And the thing is- Charles knows that he could have turned Edwin down. He could have given up Edwin Payne and his strange ship and his clipped voice and his easy insults and his suit worn like goddamn armor. He could have gone back to his life, and that basement where he was trapped under his father’s belt and his mother’s inability to save him. He could have done anything except step inside the TARDIS and its yellow, beaten-up walls and worn-down police box exterior and a million red flags.

Except he couldn’t have, could he?

There is no way in hell that Charles Rowland could have done anything other than follow Edwin Payne across the universe after Edwin pulled him out of a near-death experience, nearly drowning after being beaten half to death by a group of bullies because Charles dared to try and save a kid’s life, grabbed Charles’ hand, and told him to run. After Edwin looked at him with those eyes and told him a story about stars and detectives and a whole wide universe to investigate and explore.

Sure, Edwin tried to stop him. Tried to say that he was bad with people. Tried to explain that to follow him would be only chasing Charles’ own death. His own doom. His own hell, hotter than a supernova.

But Charles just grinned and said, “Well, I’m aces with people, mate. So where do we start?”

[onpointedfeetandbrokendreams]

Day 4 - DBDA Week

Day 4 of Dead Boy Detectives Appreciation Week: 10th-16th June by @dbdcentral

Prompt: Reunion

Relationships: Edwin Payne&Charles Rowland&Crystal Palace&Niko Sasaki

Tags: Post-canon, Paranormal Activities

TW: None

--

“Crystal, we have to tell you something,” Charles started one day out of the blue.

He looked giddy, mischievous, the expression you would find on a kid about to confess that they stole one of your freshly-baked biscuits. And while that in itself wouldn’t be such an unexpected image, what made the entire thing almost unreal - assuming a world like ‘real’ could even be applied to a psychic, living with ghosts, solving supernatural crimes - was that behind him, Edwin was wearing a matching grin.

Crystal raised a questioning brow as a form of reply, she had no idea where the conversation could possibly be going.

“Ok, so, you know we are ghosts, right?” Charles rambled.

Luckily, before Crystal could make a sarcastic remark, or curse at him, Edwin had mercy on them both and took the lead of the conversation:

“We have this little tradition. Every Halloween we go to a Haunted House in the countryside, where people pretend to be detectives of the occult, with useless equipment, and we… Well, there’s no other way to say it, we tease them a little.”

“You- what?” Crystal was having trouble reconciling the image she had of the other two with this new information. It probably struck her for the first time since she met them, that they were just two kids, trying their best in this cruel world they had been ripped out from too soon. Her gaze softened. “Why didn’t I know anything about this?”

“It’s your first Halloween with us, isn’t it?” Charles said, sounding a lot more like his usual, confident self.

“We used to have quite the nice reviews on the newspapers,” Edwin continued. “Then, they stopped writing those, but people still visit the house and they have a lot of fun when something actually happens.”

Crystal fished her phone out of her jacket’s pocket and looked at Maps for a while, searching for ‘haunted houses’ until she found it. 

“Is this the place?” She asked, turning the phone to Edwin so he could watch the screen.

“Yes, it is!” He said. Crystal had never seen him this excited before.

“Wow, this has so many reviews, I wonder why I had never heard about it. They love it.”

Charles preened. “Of course they do, we are professionals.”

Taking the phone back to read some more comments, Crystal had to laugh. It was probably the only self-indulgent thing they had allowed themselves all those years. One well-deserved night of fun without witches, or demons, or Death. She just felt a bit sad that she couldn’t join them.

As if reading her mind, Charles said:

“We were thinking that you could dress up as one of those ‘detectives’, so you could come with us, if you’d like?”

–

The outfit the three of them had put together was absolutely ridiculous. Crystal had a big yellow jacket with a stylized ghost on one arm, thermal goggles perched on top of her head, and a backpack with something similar to a vacuum cleaner attached to its side.

“Am I supposed to, like, capture the ghosts?” She said, while looking at herself in the mirror.

Edwin snickered. Full-on snickers. “Of course you know that it would be impossible, right?”

“But they like to think they can. You will blend in perfectly,” Charles finished for him. They were still doing that thing where they looked like they shared two halves of the same brain, but in that moment it was less like the usual dead married couple on acid, and more like two twelve-year-olds trying to pull a prank on their parents.

“Ok, I’m ready then,” Crystal nodded, unable to hide the fond smile in time before they could see it.

Crystal found out there was an actual tour bus taking people to the Haunted House and she managed to secure herself a ticket. It was painted in black and decorated with neon green and splashes of fake blood, and it was filled with similarly dressed people, carrying all sorts of weird equipment on them. Some people had laptops, others had devices that looked like small radios, and others that didn’t look like anything she had seen before.

Absolutely none of them had any drop of actual arcane energy.

When the bus started its way up the hill where the house stood, everyone went silent, anxiety and anticipation both equally filled the air. It required an extreme amount of self-control for Crystal not to burst out laughing, knowing that the very ghosts who supposedly haunted the house were riding on that same bus, elbowing one another and giggling, while making a list of what to do this time to scare-but-not-too-much the visitors.

It was a very run-of-the-mill paranormal experience, when compared to the much weirder and scarier things Crystal had already seen in her life. But Charles and Edwin were right, people absolutely loved it. Everyone took their time to set up their equipment and the ghosts patiently waited before starting to open some windows, slam doors, make pieces of paper fly. Crystal would lie if she didn’t admit that it was fun.

Until a second bus arrived, and time stopped. She couldn’t focus on anything else, other than the buzzing sound in her mind, her gaze fixed intently on the people entering the house. Or, more accurately, on the person.

“Niko,” she breathed out, running towards the white-haired girl like her life depended on it.

“Crystal! You’re really here!” Niko said, with tears forming in her eyes as she returned the hug and squeezed Crystal tight.

A few seconds later, she felt four other arms wrap around the two of them, followed by a lot of loud complaints from the people that came with the second bus that the haunting had stopped too soon and they wanted a refund.

When they separated, all four of them had matching glistening eyes.

“I came back to the mortal plane thanks to my sprites,” Niko explained. “I didn’t know how to find you, but then I remembered Edwin mentioning this Halloween tradition. So I thought it was my best chance. I am really glad you are actually here.”

“And she forced us to wear these ridiculous outfits too, which, for the record, should be a crime,” someone said from behind her.

“You tell them, Litty.” 

Crystal looked closely, and she recognized the faces of the two people, except in her memory they were a lot smaller.

“I don’t know what happened to them,” said Niko with a shrug, ignoring the former-sprites comments.

“We’ll start researching The Case Of The Grown Sprites first thing tomorrow,” interjected Edwin, taking Niko’s hand and motioning for the door. “For now, let’s go home, tell us everything.”

[fanficapologist]

Of Dragons and Maelstroms

Themes and Warnings: slow burn, enemies to lovers, blood, violence, explicit language, sexual violence, period-typical misogyny, sexual themes, smut, tension, marriage, jealousy, pregnancy, childbirth, miscarriage, attempted sexual assault, breastfeeding, major character death, divergent timelines

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon/Fire & Blood/Game of Thrones characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.

Chapter Fifty-Four

Many happy weeks passed, and the couple began to find their rhythm with one another. Aemond spent most of his time preoccupied with his duties as Master of Coin as Aegon seemingly needed his brother more than ever. The one-eyed Prince devoted his time to keeping account of the receipts and expenditures from the royal treasury, assessing where necessary cuts could be made in order to fund the war effort.

His work often extended late into the night, with the glow of candlelight illuminating their shared chambers as he delved into scrolls and ledgers. Maera, understanding the demands of his role, would patiently beckon him to come to bed, a routine that played out more than a few times before Aemond eventually relented, finding solace and respite in the warmth of their shared space.

Meanwhile, Maera found her own routine, returning to spending her days with Helaena, carrying out her original plan of serving her Queen not as a lady-in-waiting like before, but as her sister. Helaena, facing more frequent trances and odd visions she couldn't comprehend, welcomed Maera's company, finding comfort in the bond they shared.

The new Targaryen Princess also took on the responsibility of fostering relationships on behalf of her husband’s House, by corresponding with noble ladies from various Houses. She had already initiated correspondence with Lord Edwin Tarth’s wife, since their children would be linked through marriage, as well as Lord Stokeworth’s eldest daughter, who’s loyalties were known to sway, recognizing the strategic importance of maintaining alliances in a realm rife with political intricacies.

In addition to her royal duties, Maera developed a routine of visiting the Sept a few times a week. Sometimes with Queen Alicent and Helaena on the day of the Mother, but other days, she would visit the Sept alone, embracing the quiet holy atmosphere. There, she dedicated her prayers to the Mother, the Maiden, and the Warrior on their respective days. To the Mother, she prayed for guidance in her newfound responsibilities and the strength to fulfill her role as a wife by eventually producing heirs. Although she would secretly beg the Mother to be gracious and give her some time before this happened, wanting her life to belong to herself for just a little while longer.

To the Maiden, she sought blessings for a harmonious marriage and the ability to navigate the complexities of court life. Finally, to the Warrior, she prayed for courage and protection, both for herself and for Aemond as he faced the challenges of his duties, as well as the Realm as the war waged on in the background. The Dance of the Dragons they were calling it, a pretty name for such a gruesome war, Maera thought.

Despite being aware that her marriage to Aemond was far from perfect, Maera found an unexpected comfort in its imperfections. The passion that flared during their intimate moments was undeniable, yet both Maera and Aemond possessed a stubbornness and inner fire that ultimately led to disagreements.

It was a common pattern, particularly when one of them was frustrated or angry. At the end of a long day of attending to tireless duties, making small differences that would benefit the Realm but ultimately no one appreciated, the tension bubbled to the surface and one of them would usually take it out on the other, spitting venomous words and fixating on imperfections. The receiving partner would not take this, retaliating with equal defiance until one finally relented, causing the argument to lead to intense passionate fucking, with Aemond taking control most of the time.

The dynamic seemed to work, and after a time, the pair seemed to notice that the argument in between wasted time, and they came to understand a certain look that each presented to know just what the other needed, bypassing the argument altogether.

Maera would notice how his violet eye blazed with a combination of anger and lust, creating a captivating intensity. The sharp contours of his nose and the prominent, clenched jawline emphasized the inner turmoil he carried. His fists would be clenched, and the subtle flicker of his tongue licking across his bottom lip enticingly, adding a layer of anticipation to the charged atmosphere. She was only too happy to drop to her knees and unlace his trousers in order to serve him as a good wife should.

She understood his frustrations. The Prince felt at a loss being the second son, serving his idiotic brother. He needed an outlet, a way to gain control, to own something that was his and his alone, that would submit to his every whim. Aemond seemed to relish in the power he knew he had over his wife. And she dutifully enjoyed playing this role, although this was something Maera would not admit outside of their passions. He was stronger, harder, crueller than her, and Gods did he want to break her, to have her bend to his will and put her in her place.

The Princess seemed only happy to oblige. After all, Aemond was the only man she had ever been with like this. It was not the sweet and gentle lovemaking the poets had wrote about, but she supposed that if it had been that way, she would not have been happy. She was no helpless maiden, and her husband was no gallant, gentle knight. And whilst she appreciated the first week or so of getting to know him on a more intimate scale, her cunt was drenched more than ever when he started to become rougher and show his true colours.

Maera happily bore his love bites on her neck, breasts and thighs, almost proud to possess such honours decorating her body. She embraced the hand that squeezed hard on her throat, becoming dizzy and breathless as the Prince fucked roughly into her. She absorbed his teasing and degrading words, which were swiftly followed by praise and numerous beautiful sounds from her husband’s mouth, including the moan of her name.

While Maera certainly enjoyed the intensity of her passions with Aemond, there was a different, quieter pleasure in their shared breakfasts. The atmosphere during these moments was more serene, a contrast to the fiery passion they often shared. As they sat together, the Red Keep's morning light casting a warm glow over the room, Maera found herself enthralled with Aemond's updates about the upcoming war.

He painted a clear image with his words about the progress of the Greens and the Blacks, meaning Maera was now well aware of the conflicts occurring in the Seven Kingdoms. The Vale, the North and the Riverland factions led by Ser Elmo Tully, were all sworn to Princess Rhaenyra’s cause. However the Westerlands, the Stormlands, the majority of the Riverlands had pledged their loyalty to Aegon.

Despite his usual reserved nature, Aemond chose to share these details with her, and Maera appreciated this glimpse into his thoughts. It created a unique bond between them, a shared understanding of the challenges that lay ahead, and it reinforced her role not just as his wife but as someone he trusted with the intricacies of his responsibilities.

Things were good. Better than Maera thought they would be, actually. But then the nightmares returned, more horrifying than she remembered. They began like they always did; within the corridors of Rain House, Maera followed the eerie echoes of groans and wails, a disconcerting symphony that led her to her mother's chambers. There, in the dream's shadows, Lady Gael appeared – dressed in a flowing nightgown, her thick white curls framing a face with haunting violet eyes.

“Muña?” Mother? Maera whispered, tears beginning to stream down her face. She had always called her mother by the Valyrian title as it was easier for her to say as a young girl. She remembered Lord Jasper attempting to correct her on a number of occasions, but Lady Gael would simply smile, ecstatic her daughter addressed her in her mother tongue.

“Ivestragī issa ōregon ao, tala,” Let me hold you, daughter, the spectre breathed in response, a soft smile of her face as she extended her arms, beckoning Maera to come to her. Torn between reality and the dream, Maera clung desperately to her mother. The dream world allowed her to feel Lady Gael's presence, breathe in her scent, and trace the softness of her skin. Though aware it was a phantom embrace, Maera tried to etch every detail into her memory, as she always did.

Then came the part she dreaded. As Maera reluctantly withdrew from her mother's embrace, an unsettling transformation gripped the dream. Lady Gael's visage, once adorned with serene bliss, contorted into a mask of horror. A chill enveloped the chamber as their eyes met, and Lady Gael cast her gaze downward. Instinctively, Maera followed suit, only to be confronted by a nightmarish tableau.

Between Lady Gael's legs, a crimson stain marred the purity of her white nightgown. Panic etched across her mother's face, Lady Gael desperately clutched at the fabric, her hands now tainted by the ominous hue of blood. The once-peaceful dream morphed into a grotesque scene, and Maera, paralyzed by the unfolding horror, could only watch in helpless disbelief as the nightmare spiraled into a macabre dance of shadows and anguish.

Although there was nobody there, shouting and panic echoed through the chambers.

“We cannot stop the bleeding, my Lord.”

“We are losing her, apply more pressure. May the Mother help us.”

Among the horrified voices, Maera picked out one she could identify easily. Her father’s. “Gael? Gael! Stay with me. Our children, they need you. Please?” To hear such a composed man sound so desperate and frightened was haunting, and Maera could still hear it, clear as day.

Lady Gael crumbled to her knees, the ominous tide of blood staining her nightgown spreading down her legs, leaving a haunting trail on the cold stone floor. The once vibrant hues drained from her face, replaced by the pallor of impending doom.

In the nightmare's cruel grip, Maera rushed to catch her falling mother. Frantically scanning the empty corridors for aid, she knew help would not arrive. Desperation etched across her face, Maera looked into her mother's fading eyes, grappling with the crushing weight of helplessness.

“Skoros kostagon nyke gaomagon, muña? Ivestragon skoros naejot gaomagon!” What can I do, mother? Tell me what to do! Maera weeped, holding onto her mother’s form as if her life depended on it.

Lady Gael, weakened and dying, reached up to tenderly brush a strand of hair from Maera's face. A feeble attempt at a smile flickered on her lips. “Ziry iksos vējes, Maera. Volpe ondoso Jaehossas.” It is fate, Maera. Foretold by the Gods. The colour then drained from her violet eyes, the smile faltered, and Lady Gael succumbed to the relentless grip of the dream's cruel reality.

With a sudden jolt, Maera sat bolt upright as she awoke from the nightmarish reverie, her heart pounding and breaths erratic. The echoes of the dream lingered, a haunting reminder of the ephemeral nature of solace and the persistent ache of loss. Clutching the sheets to her bare chest, she felt her heart racing beneath the fabric, a tangible echo of the fear that still gripped her.

As she grappled with the residue of the nightmare, the sheets rustled beside her. A sudden warmth enveloped her bare thigh, sending a shiver down her spine. The unexpected touch beneath the sheets startled her, and her breath caught as she strained to discern the source, her senses heightened by the lingering echoes of the dream.

Maera's eyes adjusted to the dim light as she looked down, finding Aemond lying on his side facing her. His arm was outstretched, a large hand gently rubbing her thigh in a comforting gesture. The touch conveyed reassurance, grounding her from the remnants of the nightmare.

Lying back down, Maera turned on her side to face her husband. Aemond's hand now rested on her hip, his fingers tracing patterns onto her skin. In the subdued lighting, his straight silver hair appeared messy, and the sapphire eye revealed, as he didn't wear his eye patch to bed. His expression carried a hint of mystery, but the slight furrow of his brow betrayed his concern for her well-being.

“A nightmare?” The Prince asked in a hushed tone.

Maera shifted closer to Aemond, seeking comfort in his presence. Her brown hair, along with the distinctive silver streak, adorned the pillow, a stark contrast to the darkness of the room. “It seems the Gods only saw fit to grant me a few weeks of reprieve from them,” Maera sighed, shaking her head. “I thought I had found contentment.”

In an attempt to lift her spirits, Aemond continued stroking her hip before he said teasingly, “And you thought you found find that in your marriage to me?”

However, her response carried a tinge of sadness. “It does not matter. Evidently, the past still lingers, like an unwelcome storm cloud,” she admitted, her eyes meeting his with a vulnerability that transcended the jest.

Aemond remained his usual stoic self, his expression unyielding. As she spoke, he moved the hand from her hip to cup her face, his thumb gently rubbing along her cheek. In the dim light, Maera's heart fluttered at this tender gesture, finding solace in the touch that spoke more than words.

Maera, appreciating his concern yet wanting to shift the focus, then redirected the conversation. She met Aemond’s gaze with a soft smile, her green eyes reflecting a desire to move past the unsettling dream. Shifting the topic, she gently probed, “And what of your light sleeping, valzȳrys? I have noticed your tossing and turning.” Aemond responded with a noncommittal hum, his gaze distant as Maera reached for him and began tracing her finger up his toned muscular arm.

Aemond in turn moved the hand on her cheek up into her dark brown locks, his fingers occasionally tugging on her roots gently, a sensation that Maera found surprisingly enjoyable. Unsatisfied with his attempt to distract her, Maera persisted, “You were not always like this. I do not remember you being such a light sleeper when we were children. Unless, of course, a particularly history book fascinated you so that you could not put it down.”

Aemond diverted his gaze and cleared his throat, hesitating before confessing, “It is my eye. Or, rather, lack thereof. It can be painful at times.”

Confused, Maera furrowed her brows as she asked, “What do you mean?”

Aemond sighed, his expression pained. “It throbs, and I get headaches. Sometimes, the pain is so intense… it feels like my eye is being carved out all over again.”

Maera’s eyes widened with realization, sympathy replacing confusion. Instinctively she reached her hand up to his face and traced the contours of the scar that marked her husband’s missing eye. Her touch was feather-light, a gentle exploration of the rugged terrain on his face. A moment of silent understanding passed between them as she moved even closer, her lips pressing a tender kiss on Aemond’s forehead.

Her anger simmered as she stroked Aemond's face. "Has the Maester given you anything for the pain?" she inquired, concern etched in her voice.

Aemond nodded, "A balm with the milk of the poppy. It helps sometimes, but not always."

Frowning, Maera asked, "What do you do when it doesn't help?"

Aemond sighed, "I distract myself – with reading or writing or training. Anything to keep my mind off the pain."

At her husband’s confession, Maera’s anger flared like wildfire. During that moment, as she gazed upon his face, she did not see the man that she was married to. Instead she saw that little boy with the jagged bloody stitching across his missing eye on the day he returned to the Red Keep from Lady Laena’s funeral. That day had changed Aemond, for the worst, and their friendship had demised.

"I wish I had been there for you that night, at Driftmark," Maera expressed aloud, her anger boiling over. Aemond raised his eyebrows inquisitively.

Clutching the sheet tighter, she asserted, "Every one of Rhaenyra’s bastard sons would have lost an eye that day if I had known what it would do to you. To us." The fierceness in her voice revealed the depth of her protective instincts and the regret for the pain he had endured alone.

Aemond, propping himself up on his elbow, his silver hair cascading like a curtain, smirked at Maera’s fiery declaration. “As entertaining as that would have been to watch, issa dāria, it would have no doubt let to your execution.”

“A common theme in my life, it seems,” Maera replied with a shrug, their shared chuckling echoing through their chambers, a moment of understanding and lightness in the face of past hardships.

There was a look in his violet eye, a look that Maera was unsure about. Nevertheless she did not have much time to think on it as the Prince leaned down and his lips met hers in a slow, deliberate dance. The sensation was soft, yet charged with an unspoken connection that transcended physical desire. As their lips pressed together, there was an unhurried exploration, a shared rhythm that mirrored the beating of their hearts.

Maera's hand found its way into Aemond's silver hair, her fingers gently grazing the strands as they deepened the kiss. The warmth between them was not merely a product of passion; it held a profound sense of contentment, as if in that moment, they had found solace in each other.

As they parted, Aemond's gaze seemed momentarily distant, fixed on one of the walls. Curious, Maera turned to follow his line of sight, realizing it led to her sword and dagger hanging beside his.

Aemond's smirk returned as he looked back at her. "I think it is time your weapons revisited the courtyard," he suggested playfully. “I cannot have a weak wife.”

Maera's eyes gleamed with a mischievous spark, understanding his unspoken challenge. "I accept your challenge, husband," she replied, a shared excitement flickering between them.

Notes: Happy December. Just throwing a fluffy lore chapter in here before we return to our usual horny and dramatic programme.

Tags: @blue-serendipity @watercolorskyy @manipulatixe @marvelescvpe @shesjustanothergeek

Thank you so much for reading! Comments, feedback, likes, and reblogs are greatly appreciated 🖤

[regretsofaghost]

Day 21- My love for you is true, I swear it is, it just will kill you in the end

AO3 link to chapter 21- here Tumblr link to chapter 20- here Tumblr link to chapter 22- here

Word Count- 1100

The office looked the same of course, the books on the walls overflowed their shelves, the desk was as centered in front of the window as it could be, ignoring the fact that the window was off center by forty centimeters.

There was one notable difference though, and that was the fact that Edwin was not present.

Well, for that matter, neither was Charles.

You see, Charles can mirror travel just fine on his own, but it was a lot easier when the destination was somewhere he was familiar with, somewhere he would know just as well as his bag of tricks or the office they’d resided in for twenty-odd years.

And, well, ghost rules never dictated that the place they were travelling to had to be a where and not a who.

It was always easier, for Charles to think only of Edwin before he stepped through a mirror.

So, when Charles stepped through the mirror, he was not imaging their office, with all its cozy over-crowdedness, but Edwin.

And Edwin, apparently, was not in the office.

Edwin, instead, was sitting in front of a piano, one hand poised over the keys as he played the same repeating tune.

Low-low-high-low.

Low-high-low-low.

Edwin’s other hand was trapped in his mouth as he bit down on it, spit dripping down the side and onto his trousers unnoticed, and Charles’ heart was shattering.

Ever watchful Edwin, ever wary, ever cautious, had not even noticed Charles stumble in through the mirror.

Ever presentable Edwin, ever proper, ever formal, had ruffled hair as if he had been running his fingers through it wavy strands sticking up at odd angles. His jacket was missing and he had been left with just his sweater vest and undone bowtie, the buttons of his shirt collar popped opened and showing the smattering of hickies left by someone Charles did not know.

It took hardly a second to take it all in before Charles rushed forward, hands reaching for Edwin’s.

The flinch the other gave was enough for his already broken heart to shatter further.

Turning him around, Edwin’s eyes met his, the murky blues and greens clouded, unfocused. Charles could feel the wetness of saliva on his hand, and he hoped that there was no blood mixed in with it.

This was bad.

This was, not how Charles left him.

Oh Edwin.

“Oh, Edwin,” Charles whispered, not entirely sure when he had knelt down in front of the other. Edwin’s hands were still trapped in his, even as the other tried weakly to pull away. Charles squeezed his hands, one more so than the other. It tended to help, to center Edwin, to bring him back to where they needed him to be after the potion.

Why had he allowed himself to be chased out?

Had Edwin- Why had Edwin taken more of the potion?

“Eds-Edwin” Charles said, just a bit more forcefully than he wanted to. Edwin’s eyes were wandering away, as if ready to go somewhere Charles could not follow. “Why’d you take more of that potion?”

So many questions, too many.

Where was this place?

How had Edwin found it?

Why- why had he never told Charles about it?

Edwin’s eyes welled up with tears, as if just waiting for the opportunity to shed them.

“I-I-jus’“ Edwin slurred out, eyes going down to where Charles held his hands, and Charles squeezed his non-damaged one tighter.

Was Charles imagining the dripping?

He couldn’t check, couldn’t take the chance that Edwin would vanish in the second it took for him to look.

Like he had when Charles let himself lead, when he had tried to protect Edwin from the Night Nurse and instead the fucking demon who owned his fucking soul leap at the opportunity to take Edwin back.

Like when he had led again and nearly lost Edwin to Lust.

Charles didn’t ask this time, he simply leaned forward and pulled Edwin into a tight hug.

He squeezed him tighter when the first sounds of his sobbing filled the room, and tighter when it seemed as if Edwin would lose his breath from how hard he cried.

There were slurring words, words that Charles couldn’t understand because Edwin was pressed so firmly up against him. There was a distinct smell from Edwin, a sweet smell, with hints of Christmas trees and just a touch of alcohol.

How had he never connected the symptoms.

Did he just- ignore them?

“It’s okay, I gotchu,” Charles murmured into Edwin’s hair, the angle awkward but neither willing, nor able to move from it.

Edwin was leaning against him, nearly laying on Charles from his higher position, and Charles would thank any god that had answered his prayer, as Edwin did not try to fight against him, did not try to hurt himself further.

It was definitely blood, dripping off his hand, staining the floorboards.

It didn’t matter.

Edwin mattered more.

“Di-did you look?” Edwin’s voice was soft, wrecked from his tears and weak from emotion.

“Not yet,” Charles answered, pulling away slightly to catch Edwin’s eye, “Did you? Look for yours?”

“Didn’ think you remembered.” Edwin said, words carefully felt in his mouth before he spoke them, if the cautious way he was speaking was any indication.

“Hid it before Crystal’s accident didn’t I,” Charles tried to smile, and found he did not have one to spare. “We have to talk, when you’re normal again.”

“I’s a new potion,” Edwin muttered, “Does’t give magical boost, too espensive.” He continued, leaning forward to rest his forehead against Charles’ shoulder. “Haven’t timed i’s effects yet.”

Charles just sighed, squeezing his friend tighter.

He was supposed to take care of Edwin.

Supposed to keep him safe.

Supposed to keep both Crystal and Edwin happy.

“Let’s get you back to the office for a proper cuddle.” Charles began to pull Edwin to his feet, catching him when Edwin leaned too far forward and would have fallen face first on the ground. “Careful.”

It was strange, uncomfortable, scary.

How was he supposed to help Edwin?

It had never been this bad.

Edwin was loosely following Charles, his undamaged hand held tightly in Charles’, arms wrapped around Edwin’s back. Edwin’s normal grace lost to the potion’s effects, feet stumbling over each other, and he would have fallen many times if it weren’t for Charles’ firm grip on him.

Thoughts swirled in Charles’ head, too fast, too many to count, once they were on the couch, Edwin’s head on his chest, hand carefully wrapped to prevent further blood loss.

He had failed.

It hurt quite a bit.